Smoke and Fire

by Julie Cannon

  “Be the head of McMillan,” Nicole said, choking out the few words.

  “Start from the beginning and tell me what’s going on.” Charlotte settled back in her chair and sipped her coffee.

  “We’re doing a job and the president of the country insists I go and make sure everything is being done.” Charlotte sat patiently. “I can’t do it.”

  “Why not?”

  “I haven’t been to a job site since the accident.”

  “I know,” she said softly.

  Nicole jerked her eyes up from her cup of coffee and looked at her. She saw nothing but concern and love.

  “I still have my sources, young lady, so don’t even think about doing anything your daddy wouldn’t approve of,” Charlotte said. “Tell me.”

  “I have nightmares, of the accident,” Nicole added, to be more specific. “I wake up and can’t breathe, my heart is racing, and I’m shaking like a twig. I need to run, get out, and get away.”

  “Isn’t that to be expected after what you went through?”

  “That’s what my shrink said. Kind of like post-traumatic stress disorder.”

  “What are you doing about it?” Charlotte never let Nicole look at a problem without also searching for a solution.

  “I have relaxation techniques.”

  “Do they work?”

  “Most of the time.”

  “But not when it comes to this.”

  “No.”

  “Do you have medication? I understand there are all kinds of things to help with this kind of anxiety.”

  “Yes.”

  “But?”

  Charlotte knew her too well. “But I don’t want to take it.”

  “Why not?”

  Nicole suppressed her sigh of exasperation. Charlotte had to be on question number eighteen by now. Who knew when she’d stop? “Because I don’t want to.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I don’t want a chemical to control my brain.” She’d had this conversation with her shrink this afternoon and was at the end of her rope with the topic.

  Nicole preempted any further questions. “Don’t ask anything else about this, Charlotte. The subject is closed.”

  Charlotte held up her hands. “Okay. You don’t have to bite my head off.”

  Nicole dropped her head and shook it. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for that to come out as harsh as it did. Obviously I’m under a little stress. My temper is short, my anxiety high, and my patience thin. I just somehow have to get through the next three days.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Nicole stared at the two little blue pills in her hand. One would make her drowsy so she could sleep. Two would knock her out. If she put them back in the bottle the twenty-hour flight to Greslikstan would be unbearable.

  The first time she’d tried to go to a site, she’d actually landed and made it all the way to baggage claim but turned around and booked the next flight out to anywhere. She’d tried on several occasions after that but never got any farther than boarding the plane. No one was expecting her so it wasn’t a big deal that she didn’t. But to Nicole it was one more strike against her as being an effective CEO of McMillan Suppression.

  Her father had always made periodic visits to the sites. Of course he couldn’t make it to every one, but he went out enough that the crews knew he continued to understand what they were up against and was supporting them every way necessary. Nicole believed the same way, and not being able to go made her reevaluate her position every time she tried.

  The Qatar Airlines lounge for the flight to Greslikstan was crowded with eager travelers mixed in with a few obviously road-weary travelers. Nicole spent a few seconds looking at each one and imagining their story. Why were they going to Greslikstan? Work, personal? Were they transferring planes in Turkey like she was? She doubted it. None of them looked like oil workers or had anything to do with oil production. She was hoping she could spot one and strike up a conversation to distract her for the next fifty-five minutes until the flight was scheduled to board. Instead she checked her carry-on at the concierge desk and went for a walk through the international terminal.

  The exercise helped calm her nerves. She was able to move around and shake the restlessness from her limbs. Nothing in the extensive bookstore caught her attention more than the book she’d brought to read. She also had work to do. If she could get lost in a good book, or plow through the pile of work that had piled up in the last few weeks, or watch one of the mindless on-demand comedy movies on the transatlantic flight she could keep her mind busy. Nervously looking at her watch she reversed her steps, retrieved her bag from a different concierge, and waited for the gate agent to call her row.

  Nicole took a deep breath and walked down the jetway. It was new and didn’t have the musty smells of the older units. Even though it was about six feet wide, to her it felt like walking down a tunnel into the abyss. The fabricated walls started to close in on her and she was breathing too fast. She moved off to the side, letting other passengers pass, and closed her eyes tight. She was running through her list of mind games to help her relax when Brady’s face flashed in front of her eyes. Nicole saw her smile, the one she used when they saw each other for the first time at Mark’s wedding. The one she used when she laughed out loud. The smile that lit up her entire face and Nicole’s blood pressure. Nicole opened her eyes and, fortified by memories of Brady, took a deep breath and walked onto the plane.

  Stowing her bag in the large bin above her seat, she glanced around the large seating area. She had elected to fly business class instead of coach for this trip, something she normally didn’t do when traveling on company business. But with this trip the last thing she needed was to feel claustrophobic with fellow travelers crushed in front of and beside her. She needed the extra space and freedom the section allowed.

  “Can I help you with anything, Ms. McMillan?” the flight attendant asked. She was a short woman, no more than five feet tall. Nicole recognized her accent as British, her eyes blue and hair blond and cascading over her shoulders in soft waves.

  Nicole’s heart jumped for just one beat. That was what her hair had looked like—before.

  “No, thank you,” she replied, glad to hear her voice didn’t betray her emotions. She didn’t want anyone to think she had a fear of flying. On the contrary, she loved flying, traveling around the world. It was simply the destination on this trip that scared the ever-living holy shit out of her.

  “Just standing for as long as I can. I’ll be sitting for hours,” Nicole replied, coming up with the first excuse she could think of why she hadn’t yet taken her seat. The flight attendant nodded.

  “Yes, that is true, and I completely understand. If I can do anything for you, please let me know. My name is Clarice.”

  “Thank you, Clarice,” Nicole said as Clarice moved down the aisle.

  When it appeared the final passenger had boarded and everything had been stored, Nicole finally sat down in her seat. She had chosen the aisle seat in her row, and luckily the window seat next to her was empty. Thank God for small favors, she said to herself, buckling her seatbelt.

  As the safety-procedure video played on the small screen in front of her, Nicole took out her disinfectant wipes and scoured the area around her. If she stopped long enough to think about the number of hands that had touched her seatbelt, the arms of her chair, the controls for the video, her tray table, and everything else within arm’s length, she would become a Howard Hughes germ phobic. She followed this routine every time she flew, sometimes to the shock of her seatmate, though others asked if she had an extra wipe they could use.

  This particular aircraft offered the option of watching the takeoff from the view of the cockpit. The image was displayed on the screen in front of her, and Nicole took full advantage of it. Another thing to keep her mind occupied.

  The flight was long and she was unable to concentrate on anything she was doing, her mind drifting off to places she didn’t want to go.
Four or five times the beginning sensations of a panic attack tickled the back of her brain, and between walking up and down the aisles and utilizing the coping skills her shrink had taught her, she managed to keep them at bay. She spent some time chatting with Clarice, who was friendly enough to convey to Nicole that she was interested but not enough to offend if she wasn’t.

  Two meals, two movies, eight financial reports, and thirty-two e-mails later the wheels of the big plane touched the ground in Turkey. Nicole had been to this airport many times, it being the transfer point to many countries where she’d been dispatched to kill fires. She’d loved her job fighting fires, doing what she’d always wanted to do. She loved to travel to new places, meet new people, test her body and mind to the max on every job. No two jobs were alike and none was easy.

  Forcing herself to relax, she slowed her pace and made herself enjoy the familiar surroundings. She had shopped in the duty-free shops, had spent many hours in the airline lounge, and dined at almost every restaurant in this corridor. Her bags would automatically be checked to her final destination so she didn’t have to worry about a stop in customs at this point.

  Nostalgia washed over her, taking the place of the overwhelming current of anxiety that had accompanied her since the day she’d agreed to make this trip. She could do this, she told herself, trying to keep a positive attitude. She had to. The reputation of McMillan was at stake and her own sense of self-respect was on the line. Squaring her shoulders she entered the gate area for the flight that would take her to her biggest fear. And to Brady.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Ann had arranged a driver for Nicole in Greslikstan, and he would be waiting for her outside customs. Her first stop was the hotel to drop off her bags, and then out to the site. Tomorrow she’d meet with President Charsea and soothe his ruffled feathers. Hopefully she’d need only one trip to the site, then be able to get the hell out of here.

  The line in customs crawled and Nicole shifted her weight from foot to foot, more nervous and anxious now that she was on the ground. Taking stock of her surroundings she noticed eight military guards, each carrying very big, ugly looking weapons. Their expressions were hard and serious.

  The soldier to her left touched the radio earpiece in his right ear, stopped scanning the crowd, and zeroed in directly on her. He stood a little straighter, his hand tightening on his gun. Trying to appear calm she glanced around and saw that two other soldiers had the same level of interest.

  She tensed, her heart racing even faster. Why were they paying attention to her? Sure, she clearly wasn’t a national, with her blond hair and fair complexion, but she’d always been out of place in most of the countries where she worked. Never to this extent, though. What about her had drawn their attention?

  She moved her backpack from her left shoulder to her right, and all three of the soldiers took a step forward. Of course! That was it! She was so nervous and anxious she couldn’t stand still or stop fidgeting. Telling herself to calm down, she looked at the soldier closest to her and smiled. No terrorists wanted to call attention to themselves, and making eye contact was one sure way to be remembered. All McMillan employees had extensive training in how to identify potential threats to their personal safety and security. Rarely did they go to a country that hadn’t been affected by some type of armed conflict. She knew what to do and, most important, what not to do, and she turned her focus away from herself to the current situation.

  Careful not to make any sudden moves, or any moves for that matter, Nicole repeated the same acknowledgement to one of the other two soldiers. To do all three would show that she knew they were watching her, and that in and of itself could be construed as a signal that she was up to no good.

  Finally she was at the counter with her bags open and two of the three guards somewhere behind her, the third in her peripheral vision to her right. Her bags were searched more thoroughly than those of the travelers in front of her, which told Nicole the customs agent was instructed to do so. Finally after her bags had been searched like they were looking for a microchip, Nicole slung her backpack over her shoulder and headed toward the exit.

  She frowned when she didn’t see the driver waiting for her. He should have been just outside the exit holding a sign with her name on it. And looking around, she didn’t see anyone that fit that description. Then she heard her name.

  “Brady?” she said aloud. What was Brady doing here? When she got close enough she asked.

  “I needed to come into town for a few supplies and volunteered to pick you up.”

  Nicole was surprised to see her, and it took her a few moments to catch up. When she did she immediately felt the comfort of a friendly face. “You didn’t have to do that.”

  “I wanted to,” Brady said seriously.

  Nicole’s stomach tingled. She studied Brady’s eyes to detect…what? She had no idea. She had to stop second-guessing everyone’s motives for wanting to spend time with her. Brady was waiting for her to say something. “Okay, after you.”

  Brady’s smile was genuine and Nicole’s heart did a little pitter-patter. Brady took her bags and Nicole followed her out of the airport.

  “How have you been?” Brady asked cautiously after they were buckled inside the truck. Brady had expected Nicole to be surprised to see her, but she seemed to be on edge instead of happy.

  “Good, keeping busy. There’s always something to do.”

  “I’ll bet. How long are you here for?”

  “Not long. I’ll go out to the site after I check in, and tomorrow I have a few meetings with government people, then probably back out the day after that.”

  Brady was disappointed that Nicole wouldn’t be staying longer. When Flick had mentioned she’d be in the country Brady had hoped she could spend some time with her. But then again when in the hell would she do that? In the twelve hours between her shift? Where would they go? To the chow hall? Get a grip, Stewart.

  Brady tossed out a few more softball questions, and it was obvious Nicole didn’t want to talk. Was she embarrassed about what had happened at the wedding or at dinner? Or maybe she didn’t want to say anything for fear Brady might bring those situations up. They rode in silence the remaining ten minutes to her hotel.

  “Are you my driver to the site?” Nicole asked, breaking the quiet.

  “Unless you want someone else.”

  “No, not at all.” Nicole replied quickly, the first emotion Brady had seen from her since she picked her up.

  Brady pulled into the circle drive of the hotel. “Great, I’ll wait for you in the lobby. Take your time.”

  Brady nursed a Coke while waiting for Nicole to return from her room. God, it was good to see her again. She looked better than Brady remembered, and she remembered a lot. Especially when her head hit the pillow. Nicole’s voice, her scent, the feel of her body against hers.

  Someone stopped in front of her. Brady looked up from a pair of scuffed work boots, well-worn jeans covering long legs, a dark long-sleeved work shirt with a McMillan logo over the left breast pocket, and into Nicole’s eyes. She held a hard hat in one hand and a pair of safety goggles in the other. Brady had seen Nicole dressed for work and dressed up for the wedding, but standing in front of her in work gear she was just plain hot. She jumped up and tried not to stammer—or drool.

  “Ready?”

  “As I’ll ever be, I guess.”

  Brady detected more than a little trepidation in Nicole’s voice and wondered why. She risked a glance at her sitting in the passenger seat and saw her hands clenched in her lap so tight it looked like the circulation had stopped. She looked terrified. She was about to ask if she was all right when they entered the well site.

  Brady stopped the truck in front of the office and turned off the engine. “Here we are.” Duh, that was pretty obvious. “The crew quarters are over there.” Brady pointed out the windshield. “The chow hall is to the right and the equipment corral behind that.” Nicole didn’t seem to be interested and hadn’t
moved since the truck came to a stop.

  Brady touched Nicole’s hands, which were as cold as ice. “Nicole?”

  Hearing her name seemed to break whatever trance she was in because Nicole turned to her. “Thanks. I’ll check in with Flick, then take a look around.”

  *

  Something was wrong with Nicole. Brady knew it. She could sense it. She’d been watching Nicole since she exited the office two hours ago wearing a pair of McMillan coveralls. She walked next to Flick and checked every piece of equipment and talked to whoever was manning it. She was asking questions and nodding her satisfaction with the answers, but her body language said otherwise. No one else seemed to be picking up on it, but for some reason Brady was attuned to Nicole and knew that something just wasn’t right and wasn’t getting better.

  Brady walked over to her and stopped just behind Nicole’s left shoulder. “Done any more dancing?” she asked. Flick had stepped away to answer a question and Nicole was standing by herself.

  She saw Nicole jump, then relax a little.

  “No. Have you?”

  “Now where would I have an opportunity to go to a fine establishment and dance with someone as charming and witty and beautiful as you?”

  “Not much night life here, huh?”

  “Not the kind I’m interested in. But that’s okay. For some reason it’s not the same anymore.”

  Brady kept up the benign conversation, keeping it light. The more they talked, the more Nicole seemed to relax, but she still seemed on edge. The stiffness in her shoulders subsided but didn’t completely go away, and her hands remained in her pockets but not tightly fisted like they were before.

  When Flick returned, Brady said, “Whenever you’re ready to head back, Ms. McMillan, just let me know.” That gave Nicole an out if she wanted to leave and the information that Brady would return her to her hotel.

  An hour later back at the hotel Brady turned to Nicole. Fear flashed in her eyes for an instant before it disappeared. What was she afraid of? Was she afraid Brady would run back to her crew and tell all? Could be. Then it hit her and Brady felt like an idiot. Nicole was afraid to be alone. No shit, she’d been in a horrible accident and had figuratively come back to the scene of the crime. Who wouldn’t be freaked? She couldn’t leave her like this.