“We don’t have tools, Peyton,” he said, exasperated. “What do you want me to do?”
“We can’t leave without knowing.”
Damn, had she always been this stubborn, or was he just too tired to deal?
“It’s safe now, the fire has moved past us.”
“Haven’t I taught you anything? It’s never safe out here.”
“You know what I mean.” She shook her hands out to her sides as if eager to get moving. “We have to find them.”
Everything hurt, inside and out. She had to be suffering too, but here she stood in front of him demanding he be her hero. Goddamnit. Of course, if he had an uncooked brain cell in his head, he’d tell her she was nuts. They had to get back to camp and recuperate from their ordeal, not put themselves at more risk running all over the mountainside searching for a handful of smokejumpers who could be burned to a crisp. He couldn’t breathe exactly right, and the muscles in his legs felt weak. He couldn’t run from another fire.
But he was not in any shape for another recovery mission.
So he took her arm and headed up the slope. “Stay with me.”
This was a mistake, Peyton realized. Gabe wasn’t up for this. He was struggling to stay on his feet as they hiked, and now and then he swerved into her path, bumping into her. She suspected his grip on her arm was not entirely for her benefit. She hadn’t seen him slouch before. He must be exhausted. Coughs racked his body. He bent double and spat. They were alone up here. What would she do if he collapsed? Yes, she had trained as an EMT, but they had nothing up here. Nothing.
She stopped and he turned to her, impatience overcoming his pain.
“We have to go back.”
“Are you hurt?” he asked immediately.
“I’m worried about you.”
“I’m fine. Just too much smoke.” He started forward again. “Wish we had our packs. I could use some water. Maybe one of those guys up there still has his supplies.”
“I suppose I’ll be docked for losing two packs in a week,” she said, trying to lighten the mood.
He slid her a look. “What did you find that pissed her off?” He waved his hand at the black ground, the stripped trees.
How did he know? The same way he knew she was here? She’d find out the whole story later. Right now his glower prompted her to just answer the question. “A glove, way too small to be Doug’s.”
He laughed, a horrible, rough sound that dissolved into coughing. Again, Peyton wished for water to help him. He shook his head. “Goddamn her. Did she say why?”
Could she tell him? Could she tell him the reason those people died was because of him? How would he react?
His radio beeped and he pressed the button with a sigh.
“Gabe, do you see them?” Jen’s voice was a squawk, and it was impossible to gauge her emotion. Still, Peyton could only imagine what she was feeling, out of contact with her husband, miles away from where he could be dying.
“No. What’s the word on the slurry?”
“He’s on…way. You should see him…minute. Where…drop?” Her voice faded in and out with the poor reception.
Apparently, Gabe was able to decipher her message. “About two hundred yards east of the ridge moving up the mountain. He should be able to see—”
“…sees them! He sees them!” Jen’s voice rang out clearly. “They’re alive, running!”
Just then the sound of a motor vibrated toward them and a plane emerged from the smoke, dropping lower. They were close enough to hear the cargo bay open, to see the rich pink of the slurry against the gray smoke, to hear the splat as it hit the ground.
Three figures moved through the smoke, down the mountain toward them. The smokejumpers were laughing, sliding in the slurry, their posture telegraphing their relief. One of them raised a hand in greeting. Doug, Peyton realized. Gabe must have realized it at the same time, because he lifted his radio to his mouth.
“All present and accounted for, Madame IC,” he said, then dropped to all fours, his body twisted with coughing spasms.
Peyton fell to her knees beside him and wrapped her arms around him, panic seizing her, wondering how he’d made it so far only to collapse now. He’d been more worried about the smokejumpers than he’d wanted to admit. As the coughs stole his breath, she was uncertain of how to help him without any supplies. She looked up the slope to see none of the firefighters had their packs. They must have abandoned them as she and Gabe had, to move faster.
“Jesus,” Doug wheezed, hands on his knees, spraying black spittle. “Jesus, we were almost toast.” He blinked at Gabe, who dropped back onto his butt. “How could you be behind us and not be barbecued?”
Lovely imagery. “We deployed.”
She exchanged a glance with Doug, who took Gabe’s radio. “Jen, we need a medevac chopper up here.”
“…you okay?” Jen asked.
“We’re great. Gabe took in too much smoke. We need to get him treated. And we lost our gear, so some water would be great too.”
“…done,” she said. “I love you.”
Peyton’s attention was diverted from the conversation when Gabe reached over and squeezed her thigh, unable to speak for a time, struggling for breath. Finally he said, “Are you okay?”
She gave a little laugh. Of course he would be more worried about her than himself. Damn hero. “I’m fine.”
Doug dropped the radio back on Gabe’s lap. “The chopper should be here in about ten.”
Gabe waved him off. “I can make it. Is everyone else all right?”
“Everyone’s good. You can’t make it, and you won’t. You’re going down in the chopper.”
“Going down is what worries me,” Gabe said wryly. “Send Peyton back. Kim hit her in the head with her Pulaski.”
“Still trying to be boss,” Peyton chided and rolled her eyes at Doug, who hid a grin.
“Peyton will be just fine,” Doug said. “The chopper’s bringing us water, then we’re out of here. You’re on your own.”
Gabe opened his mouth to say something, but instead coughed until Peyton feared he’d crack a rib.
“Damn it, where are they?” Doug scanned the sky.
God, it hurt to see Gabe in pain, out of control. It hurt even more because his helplessness had to make him crazy, especially in front of Doug. Though she doubted he’d happily show her any weakness.
Above them a helicopter soared by, looped back to hover about twenty feet from where Gabe lay. The rotors kicked up dust and ash and Peyton leaned forward to shield Gabe with her body. Doug covered his face with a bandana and ran toward the helicopter, leaned in to shout something at the pilot before he turned and gestured for Peyton.
“Come on.” She helped Gabe to his feet. He leaned heavily on her and she staggered under his weight. The dust in the air sent him coughing again, halting their progress.
One of the helicopter crew ran out to help her, took most of Gabe’s weight and dragged him to the chopper before dumping him in the back.
“Have you got room for me?” she yelled at the pilot, after inspecting the cramped interior.
Before the pilot could answer, Gabe gripped her wrist. “She’s coming with us,” he choked out. He glowered at Peyton then. “If I have to do this, so do you.”
“Big baby,” she muttered and crawled in beside him. “I’m Mr. Big Hot Shot,” she mocked. “I’m not afraid to fight fires but I’m afraid to fly.”
“I heard that,” he said.
“Good.” She sought in vain for a seat belt beneath her, instead settling for a death grip on the bar beside her head.
The crewman handed bottled water back to them and Peyton released the bar to lean forward. “We need to get an oxygen mask on him.”
“No. We don’t,” Gabe contradicted.
“He inhaled a lot of smoke out there.”
“It can wait. Damn it, Peyton, I hate those masks.” Another round of coughing had Peyton exchanging a glance with the crewman. The man hand
ed her a portable tank and a mask with a pointed look.
“As long as you put it on him.” The crewman laughed.
Gabe tried to look fierce as Peyton slipped the mask on his face.
“Oh, I’m scared,” she said.
He yanked the mask off, struggling not to cough.
“Gabe,” she scolded.
“Peyton,” he echoed, holding her eyes for a long minute before his drifted shut. “You did good out there. Real good.” And then he passed out.
Chapter Sixteen
Peyton pushed off the exam table and walked to the swinging door of the room. They’d taken Gabe away as soon as they got into the hospital, dragged her in another direction to inspect the injury to her head, but had left her in this exam room alone, and with no word of Gabe’s condition.
The sharp smell of hospital antiseptic pierced the smell of smoke clinging to her, bringing with it a pain sharper than the one in her head.
She’d been back by the mobile command unit, out of sight of the warehouse, her one concession to Dan’s concern that she was on the scene. Her heart had thundered as she listened to the terse voices of the commanders, communicating with the snipers, with the entry team. Dan’s team. She could hear the tension, the underlying excitement in his voice as he said the last words she’d ever hear him say.
“We’re going in.”
And all hell had broken loose. Gunfire, shouting, the strangled cry of Dan’s best friend Robert screaming, “Officer down! Officer down!”
She’d started running when she didn’t hear Dan’s voice in the cacophony, felt hands pulling at her, pulling back, but she twisted free and reached the warehouse.
Saw Dan’s feet outside the door, sprawled awkwardly. Lifelessly.
She’d made it to his side, dropped to her knees and gathered him to her before she looked down at his face that was—gone, then across his body at Robert before she collapsed.
She pushed the door open to peer into the hall, only to be ushered back by a harried nurse in colorful scrubs. “You have to wait inside there. The doctor will be in to release you in a minute.”
“Gabe Cooper, the firefighter.” She struggled to steady her voice. “How is he?”
The woman shook her head, her stern expression at odds with her playful clothing. “I can’t divulge that information right now. You have to get back in there.”
What the hell did that mean, she couldn’t divulge the information? What was wrong with him? Damn it—
“Miss Michaels.”
She turned toward the voice, expecting a doctor, ready to light into him, but the man who approached wore an ill-fitting sports jacket and nondescript tie, and the face above the tie was round and florid. The fluorescent lights glinted off the federal badge on his waist.
Ah.
“I’m Agent Devlin with the FBI. Are you up to talking?” He looked past her to the nurse, who opened her mouth to deny him but Peyton seized on the opportunity.
“Can you find out how Gabe Cooper is for me?”
“Sure, I can—”
“She should be resting,” the nurse said. “She had quite a blow to the head.”
“That’s what I want to talk to her about, but if she’s not up to it—”
Peyton shook her head, fought the wave of dizziness. “I’m fine.” But she had to walk back to the exam table with her hand in front of her. She hated that the nurse needed to help her back on the exam table. Gathering her wits, she lifted her chin to address the agent. “Have you heard anything about Kim?”
“Not yet. Her brother either. Hard as hell to imagine firefighters were capable of this.”
Peyton rubbed the bandage on the back of her head. “She might have died in her own fire.”
“Maybe. But then how would her brother have known to disappear?” He dragged a plastic chair over from the corner of the room and settled his bulk on it, his notepad on the leg he crossed over his knee. “Tell me what happened up there.”
Gabe hated the sweaty, suffocating feeling of the plastic mask on his face. Without opening his eyes, he shoved it off. Gentle fingers slipped it back in place.
“That’s at least the twentieth time you’ve done that.”
He opened his eyes a slit. Peyton leaned over him.
She’d made some effort to wipe the soot from her face, but she’d done it in a hurry because a black ring circled her hairline and soot darkened the curves of her ears. Her nose and eyes were red from smoke, her skin tight with first degree burns and her pretty hair hidden under filth and blood, part of it shaved away to accommodate the stitches.
When she noticed he was awake, she gave him the most beautiful smile, one he’d feared he might never see again. She was safe. He touched her cheek lightly, then reached for the mask.
“I hate this thing.” He nearly choked on his own words.
“You need it.”
Peyton moved back. They were in a hospital room. The one thing he hated worse than flying was being in the damned hospital.
“Your oxygen level was real low up on the mountain and you passed out.”
He rubbed both hands over his eyes, smelled soap. “How long ago?” Damn, it hurt to talk.
“Well, it’s almost nine a.m. now. You were out all night.”
He tried to sit up, only to be pushed back by a determined female. “Sweetheart, I lie still for too long, I’m not going to get up. Last time I lay down this long, it took me a week to walk right again.”
She twitched the sheet and blanket in place, making him feel like a damn invalid. Only Peyton could get away with babying him right now.
“You’re going to be fine,” she murmured. “They’ll probably let you go home tomorrow, but not back on the fire.”
“No problem there. Maybe I’ll see if they still have the motel room available. We’ll bring our own protection this time.”
He tried for lightness, but something was wrong. Her mouth stretched in a tight line, an expression he hadn’t seen on her before.
“Kim?”
She shook her head. “They don’t know where she is.”
“Worried?”
An energy was running through her. He could feel it from here as she fiddled with the blinds, the IV lines, hell, the water pitcher. If he had more strength, he’d grab her hand to stop her. Finally she sat in the chair beside him, but energy still vibrated through her.
He waited, not wanting to encourage her. His instincts told him whatever it was, it wasn’t good.
He always trusted his instincts.
“You jumped out of a plane,” she said at last, her hands folded in front of her.
That was why his ankles and knees hurt, damn it. “Yeah.”
“You jumped out of a plane to save me.”
“Peyton—”
“What am I supposed to do with that?”
“You don’t have to do anything.” He reached for her, and she straightened.
Fear seized him, stronger than the fear that had gripped him on the mountain. She was ready to walk. When had he started imagining a future with her? It hadn’t been before their first night together. Then he’d figured she would walk away. But now, he couldn’t let it happen. Comforting her was one thing, but he had the paralyzing feeling she had gone beyond needing comfort. She needed convincing. Did he have the power? “I’m fine. I’m not going to take any more chances. What we’ve got is too important.”
She stared at him as if she was looking at his ghost—or Dan’s.
“Nothing changes, does it?” she demanded, her voice choked. “You could have died up there and I had no way of stopping it. I was right there when Dan died. I had gone through EMT training. And I couldn’t stop him from dying.”
He pulled himself up on his elbow, not without some effort, but he was seeing red. “Peyton, Jesus, he was shot in the face. He died before he hit the ground. Nothing you could have done would have helped him.”
She opened and closed her fists, trying to gain control of herself. H
er eyes had glassed over and he knew she was seeing it again. He cursed himself for his bluntness, tried again.
“You were up there on the mountain. You think I was just going to sit in camp and wait till the fire blew over so I could retrieve your body? You couldn’t have survived on your own. I was your only chance.”
Her shoulders dropped. He’d seen people collapse on themselves in grief, and he knew what was coming. No matter what he said, she was leaving.
The coughing seized him and he doubled over as his lungs tried to come up through his windpipe. Peyton scrambled into action. She grabbed at his shoulders, leaned him forward to stuff pillows behind his back, and shoved a glass of water in his face. He slapped it aside, sending it sloshing over her hand and onto the bed, then glared at her, trying to make her understand.
“It was bad,” he wheezed when he could, “but it’s over.”
“It’s not!” Her voice rang out in the room, and the volume of her own vehemence seemed to shock her. Every line in her body screamed tension. “You’re going to go back up. Someone else won’t be able to survive without you rescuing them. You couldn’t live with yourself if you didn’t go. And if I hold you back, I’ll lose you too.”
The difficulty he had breathing now had nothing to do with the smoke he’d swallowed on the mountain. He didn’t want to hear it, not when his feelings for her were so new. His temper rose as his heart sank, like a counterweight.
“I’m not Dan,” he growled, wishing it didn’t hurt so much to talk.
“No, you’re Gabe Cooper, Hot Shot of all Hot Shots.” She whirled on him, eyes bright, her movements jerky with emotion. He wanted to go to her, draw her into his arms, soothe her, but he could barely sit up. Not the best way to convince her he was healthy. “The mountain calls you. You’re going to fight fire until it kills you.”
“I can stop.” He couldn’t believe the words came out of his mouth. He hadn’t realized he’d do anything to keep her with him.
She was stunned silent for a minute before she shook her head. She wouldn’t look in his eyes, which was probably just as well. He couldn’t imagine the pain that had to be there, the desperation. It couldn’t be pretty.
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