Hot Shot

by M. J. Fredrick

  “Surely you questioned her.”

  “I didn’t have to. She said she was baking with her mom, joking she couldn’t last an hour in the kitchen.” After hearing Doug was arrested on the same evidence, he hadn’t made the connection. Hadn’t wanted to, even now. “But for her and Kevin to both have lied about where they were—who’s to say they didn’t lie about how they got the burns?”

  “Are you listening to what you’re saying?” Jen demanded, stepping in front of him. “You’re accusing Kim of being the arsonist. The woman who’s worked beside you for at least three fire seasons, the woman who worships the ground you walk on. She could no more set this fire than Doug could. She’s a firefighter, not a firebug.”

  “Jesus.” He passed a hand over his hair. “Look what this is doing to me. Causing me to doubt everyone.” The person he’d trusted the most on the job. “Sorry.”

  Jen put a hand on his arm. “It’s understandable. But put it out of your mind. The president of the United States is waiting for us.”

  “Yeah.” But as Gabe followed Jen out of the tent, his instincts were screaming that he was forgetting something.

  Gabe and Jen arrived at the airfield in the second jeep, and the president was already whittling down his following. They boarded the plane with two Secret Service men, leaving disgruntled aides on the tarmac.

  Gabe would have happily traded places with them, but how did one say no to the president of the United States?

  He wondered what the president, who sat facing him, would think if the hero who saved little girls used one of the barf bags in the back of the seat in front of him.

  To think Jen had wanted him to go back to smokejumping.

  The pilot, Tony, knew Gabe and his aversion to flying since his last accident, and still took great glee in the sharp turn the minute the plane cleared the trees. Gabe hoped everyone attributed his groan of dismay to the roar of the engines.

  “I hope there’s not so much smoke we won’t be able to see.” The president pressed his forehead against the window like a little kid.

  “You may not see much of the actual fire because of the smoke, but you’ll see a great deal of the devastation, like the ridge where the four Hot Shots died, and perhaps where Gabe and the campers were trapped,” Jen said from beside Gabe.

  Jen kicked his boot to get him to say something. Why was she still pushing him? She had nothing to gain by his success anymore.

  He opened his eyes to see the president watching him expectantly.

  “I said, I understand you saved them by taking them into a cave,” Hutchinson repeated.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “How did you find out there were caves there?”

  “Gabe always makes a point of studying the terrain on his way to a fire to make sure his crew has an escape route.” Then, as if it explained everything, she added, “He was on Angel Ridge.”

  Gabe swallowed bile and looked back out the window. That didn’t help, so he squeezed his eyes shut.

  “Angel Ridge?” Hutchinson asked.

  A moment of silence hung in the air before Jen took it upon herself to tell the story. Just as well. Gabe didn’t think he could relive it again this week.

  “We lost fourteen firefighters in 2003 when a fire blew up, using a gully as a chimney and racing in a firestorm that overcame some helitack pilots, Hot Shots and smokejumpers, including one of our good friends,” Jen concluded.

  “I was one of the firefighters who retrieved the bodies then too,” Gabe said at last. “I’d never seen anything like it. They hadn’t had time to deploy their shelters, and if they had…” He shook his head. “I always plan a way out when I go in.”

  “I certainly underestimated the difficulty of your job out here,” Hutchinson said. “Oh, good Lord!” He leaned against the window and watched flames leap above the treetops. “How do you begin to fight a fire like that?”

  Gabe shifted away from the window and started explaining the basics of firefighting to the president of the United States of America. It helped keep his mind off of Peyton. God knew where she was.

  “Why don’t you put slurry on it?” the president asked after Gabe explained the firefighting tactic of dropping chemicals from modified bombers.

  “Because the slurry only knocks it down for a little while. Once the plane drops it, you have to have a crew on site to take advantage of the lower temperature and higher humidity and stop it altogether. And each run of slurry costs thousands of dollars. Plus the pilots can’t always fly, if the wind gets too bad, or the smoke does. So there really isn’t just one way to fight a fire. It’s a massive collaborative effort with different agencies, and right now it’s all running through Jen here. She’s doing an awesome job on her first command. I wouldn’t do anything different.” It wasn’t a lie. If he considered going into management, Jen would be a good model to follow.

  The president turned his attention to her, which had been Gabe’s goal. “How did you end up with the command? I mean, it’s an unusual job for a woman, isn’t it?”

  Oh hell, Hutchinson blew it there.

  Jen bristled, her opinion of the man not improving. “I’m more than qualified. I’ve been on the fire line fifteen years.”

  “I’m sure you are,” Hutchinson placated. “I didn’t mean to offend. It just seems out of the ordinary. Don’t get me wrong. I like out of the ordinary.”

  “You’re in the right place.” Jen sat back in her seat. “There’s nothing ordinary on a fire line.”

  “What are they doing?” the president asked, pointing to two yellow-shirted people in a clearing that had been burned in a fan shape, uphill from where the two women stood. “They aren’t close to a fire.”

  “That’s not good,” Gabe muttered, turning all his energy inward to settle his stomach.

  Jen leaned over to look, sparing him another round of nausea. “It’s the point of origin.” Her tone alerted him. “A reporter went out with one of Gabe’s Hot Shots to see what they could find out about who started this fire.”

  His eyes snapped open and he leaned toward the window despite his twitchy stomach.

  From this altitude, Peyton was nearly impossible to identify. Only her golden hair and her posture were recognizable. Would she remember to keep her wits about her? No one was there to pull her ass out of trouble this time.

  “Kim, Jesus, what the hell are you doing?” Peyton hated the shrill in her voice as she backed away from a pissed-off redhead whose Pulaski rested casually on her shoulder.

  “Taking care of two birds with one stone, as it were.” The smile on Kim’s face was unholy. “Gabe’s lover and the woman who might expose me.”

  She pulled out a drip torch, and Peyton noted the stiffness with which she operated it, like she couldn’t move her hand very well. Like the skin was stiff. Perhaps from a burn.

  She searched her memory, remembered meeting Kim and the others when Jen assigned her to the crew. Remembered Kim’s bandaged hand.

  “Like you did before,” Peyton said softly.

  Kim’s eyes softened in a kind of admiration. “At least you aren’t a dummy, like some of the others.”

  “Why did you set it? To be with Gabe?” Peyton asked, easing back, moving into the black. Above them, she could hear the distant buzz of a plane engine, fading in and out as the wind picked up. Could they see? And if they could, what could they do? There was no place to land around here.

  Kim lifted a shoulder, showing no evidence of hearing the plane. “That was just a side benefit. I mean, we would end up on a fire somewhere. But I wanted it to be here, I wanted him to see Doug and Jen suffer, the way they made him suffer when they betrayed him.”

  “You love him.” She’d hit that one on the head right away. Why hadn’t she carried it one step further? Seen the lengths Kim would go to for him?

  “He doesn’t see me,” Kim said, her voice distant before sharpening again. “He will, when you’re gone.”

  Peyton spun to scramble up the mounta
in, but a blow to her head brought her to her knees. She inhaled a mouthful of ash before everything went black.

  “Jesus, she’s going to kill her!” Gabe’s stomach plummeted as the Pulaski descended, as Peyton fell.

  He damn near forgot he was on a plane, forgot he was escorting the president. Staying in his seat taxed his patience, but the plane didn’t give him much room to maneuver. He had to get out of here, had to get to Peyton. He loomed over Tony’s shoulder in the cockpit, ignoring the tension in the Secret Service agent in the other front seat.

  “Can we land?”

  “Damn it, Gabe, this is a plane, not a chopper,” the pilot snapped. “Sit the hell down.”

  Unwilling to take his word for it, Gabe scanned the land below for a stretch, anyplace he could get off. “I have to get down there.”

  “You don’t have your gear,” Jen said, her voice maddeningly calm as she stepped up behind him and put her hand on his shoulder. “I’ll call Doug’s crew. They can get to her.”

  Gabe whirled, shoving her placating hand away. “I will not sit down and wait while she’s in danger. And you might want to remember where Doug is, and who might have put him there.”

  “Gabe—” He recognized the stubborn expression on her face, but he was ready to out-stubborn her. Peyton was down there.

  Peyton. He loved her. And she could be dying, maybe dead, goddamnit, and he couldn’t get to her. This was how she must have felt when Dan died, how she thought it was her fault, if she’d only done something differently. If only he’d followed his instincts, the ones that never failed him, she’d be safe now.

  He turned to the pilot. “I have to get to Bounty. I need Doug Sheridan to help me.”

  “Are you insane? We have the president of the United States aboard. I can’t just fly any damn where. Besides, Doug’s in jail. They aren’t going to let him out just because you say so.”

  “Doug Sheridan, the man they say set this monster?” the president asked sternly.

  Jen’s body jerked at the words—crap, the old man didn’t know Doug was Jen’s husband—but Gabe turned to meet the president’s eyes. “He’s accused, sir, but he didn’t do it. That woman down there, and I believe her brother, are the ones who set the fire.”

  “Give me the radio.” The president leaned toward Tony. He gave Gabe a last look. “You’re sure this guy is innocent.”

  “Mr. President, you just saw that woman strike down the reporter. What other reason would she have to do that, unless Peyton found out something?”

  Again, the president hesitated, and Gabe’s chest squeezed in anticipation. Then Hutchinson took the radio from Tony and called dispatch. “Give me the sheriff’s office.”

  Peyton opened her eyes to a blurry world, no longer in the ash, but in grass high enough that she couldn’t see without raising her head. It only took a moment before she remembered where she was, and the pounding in the back of her head reminded her of what she was doing here.

  Kim.

  A scent, a sound too familiar had her blinking and lifting her head from the ground.

  Flames leapt higher than a man’s head in the forest not two hundred yards away and a sense of unreality swamped her. This wasn’t happening again. How many times could one person survive this?

  She blinked, wiped her sleeve over her eyes, already sweating against the pulsing heat from the fire down the mountain.

  Swaying, she staggered to her feet, lifted a hand to the back of her head and pulled it away sticky with blood. She needed help. She scanned the area. No Kim. No pack. She felt at her hip for the envelope sized fire shelter. Gone. Her stomach dropped.

  No help. She was on her own.

  Once again Gabe’s emotions had clouded his common sense. All he could think about was getting to Peyton, tools or no tools, plane or no plane. As long as she was around for him to worry about, he had no business in a command position. Good thing the president had understood his agitation, because those Secret Service guys glowered as if they were ready to throw Gabe out of the plane, which wouldn’t be bad, if he had a parachute and his gear.

  Doug waited for him at the airfield in Missoula, approached the plane matter-of-factly, already decked out in his gear. Joe-fucking-superhero. He nodded to Gabe and moved past him to greet the president, who debarked to follow Gabe curiously. Then Doug turned and gestured for the two men and their entourage to follow him to the barracks.

  “I packed a parachute for you. It’s a little different from the ones you used to use,” Doug said over his shoulder. “I’ll show you how to steer the toggles. We’ll reconnoiter for a drop point before we jump. Just try not to land in a tree, all right?” He shoved a pack at Gabe with a crooked grin.

  Despite Gabe helping Doug the past few days, he didn’t want to be in a position of need. His hands tightened around the pack. He’d vowed never to put on another parachute, but now he had no choice. “Let’s go.”

  Doug stood still, all patience. Sure, he could afford to be. His woman wasn’t on the mountain, her life in danger. And he’d been released because the president himself pulled some strings. Since he hadn’t yet been sentenced, well, here he was.

  “These are my guys, Fred and Josh,” Doug said. “In case we need extra hands out there.”

  Gabe didn’t care for that idea. Two more lives to worry about.

  “In case Peyton or one of us gets hurt,” Doug continued. “Okay with you?”

  Gabe grunted in response.

  “Is he coming with us?” Doug nodded toward the president who watched with avid interest as Gabe suited up.

  Gabe glanced back at the older man and quirked a brow, letting him answer.

  “Can I just—go on the plane?” Hutchinson asked, a quiver of excitement in his voice.

  “You’re the boss,” Doug said with a touch too much arrogance, then turned back to Gabe. “We have the latest on the fire. There were still fuels up on the ridge and it’s feeding on that, moving uphill, about a mile long.”

  He tried to bring Doug’s words into pictures in his mind, tried to visualize what he was up against, what they’d be jumping into, like he usually did. Instead he pictured Peyton running for her life. Hell, she wasn’t even a real firefighter. She would be so scared. He had to get to her. Now.

  He scanned the horizon for planes. “Slurry?”

  “Jen said the fleet’s flying out of Wyoming now. We can’t count on any for a couple of hours.”

  “Let’s go.”

  “Wait a minute.” Doug tugged Gabe’s straps, double-checking their security. “You love her.”

  Gabe looked at his former friend, former rival, for the first time. “Yeah. I do.”

  Doug frowned. “Maybe you shouldn’t go. I can’t have you distracted up there.”

  Anger pushed away any glimmer of friendship. Gabe shoved his face close to Doug’s. “You don’t have to worry about me. Or her, for that matter. If you don’t take me, I’ll just start walking.”

  Doug clapped him on the shoulder, then sent a beckoning gesture to the president. “We’re going. We’ll get them back. Come on.”

  Gabe’s stomach spun as the plane took off. God, flying was bad enough without the memory of landing in a tree and hanging for hours with a broken leg.

  With the cargo doors open, it was too loud inside the plane for conversation, but Gabe caught encouraging glances from Doug, across from him.

  The president was between two nervous Secret Service agents. Gabe wondered if they feared Hutchinson would want to jump too. Hell, the man had already shown a flair for adventure. He imagined the old guy was going to get his ass chewed for coming along with them and putting himself in danger. It must suck to not be able to make your own decisions about your life.

  Jesus. He’d made decisions about his life since seeing Kim strike Peyton, and all of them involved her. Maybe, if she wanted him to quit doing this, well, he’d see about quitting, do what he could to make her stay with him.

  Hell. Oh, hell. He couldn’t
think about quitting, not now. He’d get them all killed.

  Doug grabbed Gabe’s arm and pointed through the open door at the ground. The fire chased fuels up the hill in a Y-shape, very defined even at this altitude. The flames must be pretty damned high, which meant they were getting fed, and the wind that fed them was pushing them.

  In the arms of the Y they could see Peyton’s yellow shirt.

  Where the hell was Kim?

  The fire was too close for Gabe, Doug and the two other jumpers Doug had insisted accompany them to land with Peyton. They’d have to jump uphill and hike down. He could only hope the fire looked closer than it was, or there would be no time to form a plan.

  He couldn’t lose her. Not this way, not any way.

  The plane turned, searched out a clear site for the jumpers to land, and Gabe fought his nausea to focus on a plan. He flipped through their options as Doug motioned toward a clearing maybe half a mile from Peyton. Doug tossed a streamer out the door to gauge the wind, wanting to see how it would carry the jumpers. Not liking the result, he waited till the plane turned and dropped another, then signaled Gabe and the two other jumpers.

  They checked each other’s gear one more time. Doug touched his pull cord as if to remind him which it was, and the jumpers started tumbling out.

  Gabe would go after Doug, on the second pass over the jump site. He refused to think about what he was doing. He would concentrate on how he’d make Peyton pay for this once he got her safely home. It wouldn’t be a goddamn cheap motel room this time, either. Hell, there might even be a Jacuzzi and flowers. And room service.

  He stood to approach the door of the plane, caught a nod of encouragement from the president before he tucked his chin into his chest and let his weight carry him into nothingness.

  Squeezing his eyes shut, he counted as he hurtled through emptiness toward the earth. Hopefully he’d land with all his bones in the right number of pieces this time. He grasped for his cord, felt it from memory and pulled. The parachute opened with a floomph and yanked his body upright. The abrupt change of motion almost made him puke, and he kept his eyes closed as long as he dared before he needed to find a landing spot.