Hot Shot

by M. J. Fredrick

  “As do I. Everyone knows my feelings about Doug.”

  If she said the thought hadn’t crossed her mind, she’d be lying. Guilt washed through her for even considering it. She may have only known Gabe three days, but she understood him, the kind of man he was. If someone accused him, she would stand in his corner, and not just because of the great sex. “If we’re going to go that direction, say that he’s being set up, then being accused is something you have to be prepared for.”

  He shot her a sidelong glance. “Do you think I did it, Peyton?”

  “Of course not.” The words came like a reflex, but they weren’t a lie.

  He must have realized this too, because his posture relaxed. “Why not? You’re ready to believe Doug did it.”

  “Because you have honor. Look, I liked Doug when we were on the mountain. He was a real affable guy. But I don’t know him well enough to make the call. And I don’t know firefighting well enough to know why someone would start a fire and blame it on someone else.”

  “A firefighter wouldn’t do this. Trust me.”

  Half a million dollars to let Doug out of jail. Gabe couldn’t fathom that kind of money.

  Doug had looked like hell. His bridge was missing, and someone else had broken his nose this time. Gabe could understand—Doug was being held with people whose homes and livelihoods were threatened by the fire.

  A lot of reporters milled in front of the white-bricked Grecian-style courthouse in Bounty, including microwave towers from all the major news stations across the country. If Gabe had been thinking clearly, he and Peyton would have changed out of their Nomex gear before showing up. The yellow and green uniform acted as a magnet for the reporters, who mobbed them, shouting questions he didn’t have answers to.

  Questions he’d asked himself since he’d heard.

  Only a matter of days ago, Gabe would have been happy to let Doug rot. Now it was public sentiment driving him to get Doug out of jail, not any softening toward the man. He was still a son of a bitch. But not a son of a bitch who deserved to be in jail.

  Jesus, this was a nightmare, like learning about Doug and Jen all over again. A betrayal to the soul. At first, when Jen had told him she loved Doug, he’d denied it to himself, needing to believe Doug would never risk their friendship. They’d been through too much to split over a woman.

  And now to find the same man accused of arson—it was almost worse, somehow. Everything he knew about the man was at odds with the idea he was a firebug. The man loved his job. Grudgingly, Gabe could see him being swayed by a woman, but not by the lure of the dragon.

  Peyton stood nearby, on the phone with Jen, one palm pressed over her free ear. He didn’t understand why she had trouble hearing—he could hear Jen just fine, freaking out over the bail.

  “Half a million?”

  “If we get a bondsman, we only have to pay ten percent.”

  Why was Peyton saying “we”? She was trying to calm Jen down, but there was a limit to his willingness to get involved. Hell, he didn’t have any money, and as career firefighters, Jen and Doug probably didn’t either. And ten percent of five hundred thousand dollars was still fifty thou.

  “Doesn’t matter. I don’t have it!”

  Definitely freaking out.

  Peyton murmured something into the phone and folded it closed.

  “She said she’ll try to get it.”

  Gabe hadn’t heard her say any such thing. “She doesn’t know anyone with that kind of cash.”

  Peyton tucked the phone in her front pocket, not meeting his eyes. “Yeah, she does.”

  Damn inscrutable woman. “Who’s she going to ask? The president?”

  “There’s a thought,” Peyton said sarcastically, moving toward the window to look out at the crowd of reporters. “What happened to him inside?”

  “Jail, you mean?” He joined her at the window, close, but not too close. Her story about her husband still had him off-kilter. He didn’t really want to let her out of his sight. What was the next step? If it hadn’t been for Doug, would she be on her way already?

  He kind of hated himself for being relieved she had to stay.

  “It’s bad for him in there.”

  Goddamn, he hated standing with a woman he cared for and talking about Doug. “Yeah, it’s not good. Those are the people who live here, whose lives are threatened by this.”

  “He has to get out.”

  “Peyton, we don’t have that kind of money.”

  She turned to him, her brown eyes at once solemn and pleading. Pleading for what, he wished he knew.

  “I do.”

  He bent closer. “You do what?”

  “I have the money. If you can swear to me he’s innocent, I’ll post his bond.”

  He drew back, watching her. The pleading in her eyes made sense now. Poor little rich girl, playing at being a firefighter. “Peyton. Rich girl name?”

  She shook her head, turning her attention back to the window. “I wouldn’t ask them for money. No, the PBA takes good care of its widows.”

  This time he stepped back. Widow. Christ. She was willing to give up so much for Doug? Her husband’s pension? Who the hell was she, to make that offer for someone just because he vouched for him?

  “No. I’m not letting you do that.”

  “It would just be a loan. Better than letting an innocent man sit in jail.” She pulled her battered phone out of her pocket. “Look, I’m going to call my lawyer, see if she can recommend anyone who wants to come out here to defend him, all right?”

  “Peyton.” He called her back when she walked toward the side door. “Why are you doing this?”

  She gave him a sad smile. “Because it’s justice. I’m going to go talk to the sheriff, see what he’ll give me.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Peyton ignored Gabe’s questioning expression when she joined him in the lobby outside the jail. She should have waited before coming over here, should have taken more time to gather herself, to think through what she’d learned.

  Gabe’s loyalty to the man who had been disloyal to him touched her. Because Gabe believed Doug was innocent, so did she. But the evidence was really of the oh-hell variety.

  As in, oh hell, it was pretty damning.

  Part of her didn’t want to destroy the faith Gabe had in Doug, not when he’d stepped out of his own resentment to defend the man.

  They had no motive. Sheriff Bosquez had admitted as much to her. As long as he didn’t have motive, she could believe like Gabe, despite the physical evidence.

  She couldn’t help studying Gabe’s hands though. While there was no recent burn, of, say, a metal handle searing into his palm, he had a number of scars, though he wore gloves on the line. So while she felt relief that they couldn’t pin this on Gabe, saying he set up Doug, she had to wonder about the relevance of Doug’s burn scars. Clearly they wouldn’t eliminate a lot of suspects by using lack of scars. All the Hot Shots had them.

  She dropped to the bench beside Gabe with a sigh, looked toward the door where Doug would be released once he was processed.

  “Anything?” she asked.

  “Christ, Peyton. You’re the one who just got back from the sheriff’s office,” he blurted with uncharacteristic impatience.

  Like she could keep anything from him. The man saw right through her, every time. “You wear gloves whenever you’re on the line?” She turned to him.

  “Yeah.” His tone was edged with caution.

  “Even when you’re operating the drip torch?”

  “Especially then. You don’t want to take any chances.”

  She reached for his hand, laid it palm up on her lap, traced her fingers over it. “What are you doing?” he asked, his voice thicker.

  She glanced up with a grin, saw his tightening jaw. “You have a lot of scars, for all the gear you wear.”

  “Been doing this a long time.”

  “But with the gloves, how do you get the scars?”

  He folded his
fingers over hers. “Peyton, what’s going on?”

  “Doug has a scar, a recent one.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  She closed her eyes. When she told him, would he change his mind about Doug? And if he could, was Gabe the man she thought he was? “A scar from a heated drip torch, across the palm. That’s the evidence they have against him.”

  He snorted and dropped her hand, folding his arms across his chest. “And you believe them.”

  “I’ve been a reporter long enough not to take things at face value,” she said. “But you have to admit, it doesn’t look good.”

  He closed his fist. “A lot of firefighters have burns.”

  “This burn could lock him up.”

  He pushed to his feet. “Then we’re going to have to prove he didn’t do it.”

  His loyalty was commendable, and Peyton wondered, just for a minute, what it would be like to be on the receiving end.

  “Did he tell the sheriff how he got it?” Gabe asked.

  “He admitted it was from a drip torch, but on a fire in Yellowstone.”

  “Then we’ll find out when he was there and why he would be using one.”

  When Doug was escorted out of the jail by two guards, Peyton’s gaze first went to his hands. There was the telltale burn.

  Gabe followed her gaze, and she sensed a bit of disgust from him as he moved toward the other man.

  The relief in Doug’s eyes darkened to concern when he glanced around the lobby. “Where’s Jen?”

  “At camp. She couldn’t get away. The president is coming tomorrow,” Peyton said before Gabe could speak. “She wants us to take you to her.”

  Doug covered his crestfallen expression quickly, blinked. “Of the United States?” He gave Gabe a tight grin. “That cannot be making her happy.”

  “She was a little stressed,” Gabe drawled.

  She was a little stressed. Peyton couldn’t believe this conversation, as if Doug being accused of arson was no big deal, compared to Jen being upset about the president. Who were these people?

  “I don’t know what she did to get the money. I hope she didn’t mortgage the house.”

  Gabe opened his mouth, but Peyton quickly elbowed him and shook her head sharply. Bad enough Jen wasn’t here when he got out of jail. Doug didn’t have to know she hadn’t put up the bail.

  What was it about Doug that made people want to protect him? Lord, she hoped she hadn’t made a mistake believing in this guy.

  Doug hadn’t wanted to eat in town, had been anxious to get to Jen, either to comfort her or be comforted by her. Gabe was just as anxious to put some distance between himself and the Sheridans—his goodwill to Doug only went so far—so he guided Peyton toward the mess tent. They’d been at the courthouse so long, they’d missed lunch, and his stomach protested as they crossed the darkening camp. She was still uncharacteristically quiet as they queued for brisket sandwiches. He could damn near hear the cogs turning in her head. So when it came time to choose a seat, he picked a table away from everyone.

  “What?” was all he said when he set his tray down.

  “You’re going to have a hard time proving he didn’t do it.”

  “I am.” Her words struck deep, in a place already open to pain after dealing with Doug and Jen.

  “You know what I mean.” She didn’t meet his eyes, didn’t apologize. She was pulling away from him, he felt it. Could he lower his pride enough to draw her back?

  “What do you mean by a hard time?” he asked, making his choice to do what it took to keep her. “You said the evidence was circumstantial.”

  “Yes, except for the burn, which you could say is circumstantial as well.” She tucked her hair behind her ear and inspected her sandwich. “But you’re not going to get any help from an arson investigator, or the FBI. They’ve got their man. I think the only way to clear Doug’s name is to find who really did it. And you don’t have the resources.”

  “Which is kind of why I hoped you’d help.”

  “I guess I could help.” She looked at him then. “I just don’t know what we can do. I was only a cop’s wife, not a cop.”

  “But you’re a reporter. You can ask questions, get answers.”

  She gave him a wry smile, one corner of her mouth turned up. “Yeah, it’s gotten me real far with you.”

  He acknowledged that with a nod, his mind working ahead. He shoved his tray away after only one bite of the sandwich. “Well, if we want to prove it’s someone else, maybe we have to think about motive. That’s one thing Doug’s case is missing.”

  “Unless you say he did it to get his wife on as IC.” She lifted her hands in surrender when he scowled at her. “I’m not saying. But they will.” She took a sip of her tea. “You also have to look at access. His drip torch was used, fibers from a smokejumper’s Kevlar suit were found at the scene. Someone who has access to the base camp.”

  “Maybe a smokejumper wannabe?”

  “Or a smokejumper.”

  He opened his mouth to tell her there was no way it was a firefighter when Kim charged over. She plopped down on the bench beside him, hair wild, nostrils flared in frustration. She didn’t acknowledge Peyton, but Gabe felt Peyton tense across from him.

  “I’ve been looking for you everywhere. We’re not on the schedule.”

  He eased back, not sure how many people had heard about Doug’s situation. He didn’t want to be the one to spread the word. And he didn’t know how many people had heard the president was on his way. “We just got back from town.”

  “The crew is restless. Forty-eight hours off is driving them nuts.”

  “Did you talk to Jen?” he asked.

  “She sent me to you.” Kim folded her arms on the table. “Between you and me, Coop, this is too much for her. She looks like hell.”

  “She must have something on her mind.” He pulled his sandwich close again, more as a reason not to talk than because of hunger. “Tell the crew not to sweat it.”

  “Maybe you should tell them. You are the crew boss, no matter how you’re not acting like it.” She shot Peyton a glance saying this was all her fault.

  “I’ll talk to them later.” He wouldn’t, though. None of their business. None of Kim’s, either.

  “Can we talk? Alone?” The temper seeped out in Kim’s tone.

  “I’ll go get some more tea.” Peyton rose with her Styrofoam cup, clearly glad to get out of the way.

  Gabe’s own temper heated as he turned to Kim. “What?”

  “You’ve never turned your back on your crew because of a woman.”

  “And I’m not doing it now.” He worked hard to keep his calm. What call did she have to question him? Yeah, they’d worked together for a few years, and he trusted her judgment on the fire line, but not where Peyton was concerned. Kim was too ruthless, too focused, not someone he’d turn to for social advice. He was having a hard enough time being in a relationship without his crew thinking he was soft because of it.

  “Please.” She tossed her head, a very girly gesture. Very un-Kim. “You’ve been off screwing her.”

  His control snapped then and he threw the sandwich aside, the plastic tray skidding across the rough tabletop. “You will not talk about her like that.”

  Kim blinked, and her eyes were wary, but not scared. “What, you love her or something?”

  “Not your business.”

  A flicker of hurt crossed her face, followed by fury, pure and simple. “It is when I’m having to do your job because you’re not. She is no good for you. She is no good for the crew. She’s going to cause more trouble than you know.”

  Despite her words, he didn’t think her fury was directed at him, and a sense of unease had him shifting away. “She’s not, and I’m not discussing this with you. I’ll be back on top of things tomorrow. Right now I have other concerns.”

  He looked toward the incident command tent, weighed his options. If he told Kim about Doug, she would be loyal to Gabe, she would beli
eve Doug was guilty, and would spread the word of his disgrace. He couldn’t allow that to happen. It would hurt Jen too much. Kim would never believe that Gabe believed Doug was innocent, not when Gabe had made his hatred of the man clear when Jen left. It didn’t matter that these were different circumstances.

  Kim had followed his gaze. “Is it because of her? Jen? Is she giving you hell? Is she keeping us from going out on another fire?” The possibility seemed to relieve her.

  “No, that’s not it.”

  Kim’s expression was grudging. “We should have asked for another fire when we found out she was IC.”

  There, she’d proved his point. Her loyalty to him would outweigh the truth, so he’d have to keep it from her.

  Peyton rejoined them then, her Styrofoam cup filled to the rim with iced tea. Kim gave her a look Gabe couldn’t decipher, and shot to her feet.

  “I’ll tell them. But remember what I said, Coop. Remember why we’re here.”

  “I’m telling you, she has it bad.” Peyton sat across from him. “It’s really bad when hero worship combines with a crush. You can do no wrong in her eyes.”

  “Yeah, well.” Gabe picked up his sandwich again, licking barbecue sauce from his fingers. “According to her, sleeping with you instead of hanging with my crew is a sin, so you’re wrong there.”

  Peyton shook her head. “But it’s not your fault, you see? It’s mine.”

  “Don’t worry about her. She’s just a kid. What do you think about heading out to Missoula first thing in the morning, to Doug’s base, see what we can find out?”

  Her eyes brightened, and he got the feeling she liked being on the hunt. Maybe this reporter bit wasn’t so bad after all.

  Jen whipped around, wiping at her mouth when Gabe walked into the tent, intending to tell her about the trip to Missoula. Gabe noticed the wadded napkins at the corner of the table a second before the smell of vomit hit him.

  “Are you all right?”

  She glanced away, not meeting his eyes. Her face was strained, her mouth tight. “I may as well tell you. Can we sit down?”