Under Fire

by Beth Cornelison

  McKay might have gotten the jump on him, but Rick wouldn’t give up. He’d scour this whole fucking mountain until he caught McKay. He could do no less for Pop.

  “Ordinarily, this would be the best way to go, but the fire is here.” Lauren pointed to the map spread on the ground.

  Jackson tried to concentrate on what she was telling him, but too many other thoughts impinged for him to focus.

  Boomer’s injury. Rick’s location.

  Emily. Hang on, honey. I’m coming.

  “Based on the weather information we had when we left base, the wind direction should cause the fire to burn this way.” Lauren dragged her finger across the map, calling his attention back to her explanation. And to her hands.

  Her hands were a contradiction. Slender and feminine, but work roughened. No salon manicure for this gal, yet he’d seen her gentle touch when she helped Boomer, had felt her fingers tremble when she cried over her fallen colleague. But the blisters at the V of her thumb reminded him that the demands and dangers of her job would challenge most men, much less a woman.

  “We’ll have to maintain a good distance from the fire, because even with the best weather information and maps, wildfires are notoriously unpredictable.” She tucked a wisp of cinnamon hair behind her ear.

  Jackson couldn’t help but admire the moxie she’d shown when she squared off with Vince and the way she’d risen to meet the crisis their situation imposed on her. The fire that sparked in her eyes resounded inside Jackson, burrowing to his core.

  Familiar. Vibrant. Enticing.

  Lauren glanced up and caught him staring. “What?”

  He jerked his eyes back to the map. “Nothing. You, uh, were saying?”

  “I said the easiest hike to reach the highway would be to cut downhill here then around—”

  He caught her hand as it glided across the page. “Whoa, wait a minute…”

  From his crouched position, Jackson looked for the sun, turned to face the direction he’d run from the van. “The logging road we were on is there.” He pointed up the hillside. “We came from that direction, that’d be east, right? So we’d be hiking away from the fire.”

  “But the highway is northwest. First we have to hike around the fire, giving it a wide berth, then swing back west.” With an impatient huff, she traced the path again on the map with her finger. “Then hike downhill here—”

  Jackson slapped his palm in the middle of the map, leaning close to her. “You don’t get it. We’re not going to the highway. I have to get my daughter. She’s back that way.” He hitched his thumb over his shoulder. “East.”

  Lauren crossed her arms over her chest and shook her head. “No.”

  “Granted, we can’t just follow the logging road without risking Rick finding us,” Jackson persisted, “but we can sure as hell hike parallel to it.”

  “No!”

  “It’s the only way I know to find the place again.”

  “I mean, no, I didn’t sign on for a rescue mission. We aren’t going after your daughter. We’re heading down the mountain to get help. To get someone who can rescue her.” Her eyes sparked defiantly.

  Jackson narrowed an incredulous look at her then tightened his jaw. “Fine, then I’ll go alone.” He grabbed the strap of the gear bag Whitefeather had given him. “I won’t leave her up there with those scumbags.”

  “You’ll be wasting time.”

  Fury slammed through him. “Excuse me? My daughter is not a waste of time!” He jabbed a finger her direction. “Arguing with you, that’s the waste of time!” He shoved to his feet and stalked away.

  The rustle of leaves warned him she had followed and caught up with him. He ignored her, kept walking.

  Just as well he go it alone. He didn’t need those fiery green eyes taunting him, reminding him of another headstrong woman whose choices had left him and his daughter alone and distraught.

  “Jackson, wait! I only meant that the time it took to find the cabin again could be better used contacting the authorities. Then they can get a search and rescue chopper or SWAT team or something out here.”

  He didn’t stop, but she kept pace with him as he strode through the forest, slapping low branches out of his way. She didn’t even have the grace to sound out of breath, while the altitude played havoc with his endurance. You’d never know he ran five miles a day from the way he was puffing.

  “Even if you do get to the cabin, how are you going to help your girl? You’re injured, out-numbered, out-gunned.”

  She just didn’t quit. Damn it, Janine had been stubborn too. And his wife’s bullheadedness got her killed.

  “And if you did manage to rescue her, you’d still have to hike back down the mountain to get help, to get food and water and medical attention.” As he plowed on, a branch he released swung back and struck her. “Ow! Crap! Would you watch it? That hurt!”

  Jackson slowed, turned. She was cradling the side of her face. Compunction plucked at him. “Sorry.”

  He pulled her hand away to see what damage he’d inflicted in his ire. He wasn’t mad at her. Her argument made sense, damn it. He was just mad. Mad at Rick, mad at God, mad at the way his life had disintegrated in the last two years. Even before Janine’s death, he’d seen their marriage starting to pull apart at the seams and hadn’t known how to fix it.

  He bent to get a better look at her cheek.

  She slapped his hand away.

  “I’m all right,” she growled. “Just be more careful.”

  He backed off, raising his hands in surrender, hating that in the heat of the moment, she’d been the one to think in practical terms rather than emotional ones. He was the scientist. He was supposed to be logical.

  But he was a father first. Every instinct screamed for him to get back to Emily. Now.

  His daughter. His heart. His responsibility.

  Lauren shifted the pack on her back, the bulky bundle of supplies they’d recovered from the airplane drop, and she returned an impatient frown. “You asked for my help. Well, you’ve got it. But we do this my way or I’m out. And somehow I don’t think you know your butt from your elbow when it comes to wilderness survival or navigating.”

  “Maybe not, but I’m not stupid either. How hard could it be?”

  Her expression reflected an instant of surprise, a flicker of hurt. The wounded look gave Jackson pause, before her expression morphed to something hard.

  Steely resolve glimmered in her eyes. “Typical. I should have known you’d be an arrogant ass.”

  “Arrogant?” he sputtered. “Wh—”

  “I may not have your fancy degree, but I’m not stupid. Now do you want my help or not, Dr. McKay?” She said his name as if it were some foul thing on her tongue.

  Jackson studied her, stunned by her hostility. “I never said you were stupid. You’re the one who said I didn’t have the good sense to hike down this mountain without you holding my hand.”

  He gritted his teeth. They were still arguing. Hell and damnation! Why was he standing here debating with this woman when terrorists were holding Emily at gunpoint? He had a madman combing the woods, intent on shooting them like wild game, for Christ’s sake.

  “I worked very hard to become a smokejumper, buddy. The intensity of the training is in the ranks of the Navy SEALS and Army Rangers. Plenty of people wash out of the program, but I—”

  “All right!” He waved a hand to shut her up. “So you’re a real tough gal. That’s great. Congratulations. But can we compare resumes some other time?”

  She curled her lip at him as if he were a bug in her soup. “Are you going to listen to me? Stop bossing me around, second-guessing my decisions and let me do my job?”

  Jackson swallowed the frustration climbing his throat and sucked in a slow, deep breath. “If it will get us moving, I will kiss your sweet little feet.”

  Anger snapped in her eyes. Shifting the pack on her back again, she spun on her heel and marched the direction they’d just come.

 
Okay, he could have answered without the sarcasm. In the interest of cooperation and getting help to Emily, he’d try harder not to push her buttons. But something about Lauren Michaels rubbed him like an ill-fitting shoe rubbed a blister.

  He picked up the smaller gear bag Whitefeather had given him and jogged to catch up to her. “Let me carry the backpack. It’s got to be heavy. You take this bag.”

  She stopped so abruptly he almost ran into her.

  “I can handle it,” she said tightly.

  Breathe. Don’t argue.

  He rolled his head from side to side, stretching his tense neck muscles. “I’m sure you can,” he said, infusing his tone with a calm he didn’t feel. “I’m trying to be a gentleman.”

  “You’re being a prick.”

  “By offering to help carry a seventy-pound pack?” he shouted. To hell with calm. The woman was exasperating.

  “Actually, because of my firefighting tools and camping equipment, it’s closer to one hundred pounds. But I’m fine.” She turned and continued walking. “Besides I’m trying to spare your shoulder. Aggravating your injury will only slow us down.”

  Great. The woman thought she had to pick up his slack. That sure bit his ego.

  As he fell in step behind her, Jackson rotated his left arm. Amazing. He’d hardly given it a second thought since the medic worked his magic.

  “You know, whatever your friend Whitefeather did to my shoulder was nothing short of miraculous. All I feel is a little minor discomfort.”

  “Birdman is awesome, but he’s hardly a miracle worker.”

  She leaned forward at the waist to accommodate the weight on her back. The position looked awkward, uncomfortable. It had to be bad for her spine.

  “Are you sure I…” He bit down on the offer to help her. No sense infuriating her, and she seemed damned and determined to do for herself.

  He had other things to worry about. Like his daughter. Like the thugs who wanted to use his research to loose a chemical weapon in the United States with the capacity to kill thousands.

  The question of who carried the backpack paled in comparison.

  Jackson drew a lungful of thin, smoke-tinged mountain air and hurried to catch up with Lauren.

  She couldn’t breathe.

  Emily tried not to panic, but every minute, her chest got tighter. Tighter.

  She didn’t want to die here. Alone. She needed her inhaler. Needed Dad.

  Don’t cry. It will only stuff up your nose and make it harder to get air.

  Emily wrapped her arms around her stomach, curling into a ball, trying to muffle the rattle of her wheezing.

  Montego had a really short temper. Every little thing seemed to set him off, make him shout and wave his gun.

  But if she didn’t get help, get her medicine soon…

  Spots swam before her eyes. Air. Couldn’t get any air.

  Another wave of panic crashed over her. She whimpered and curled the sheet in her hands. Stay calm, her doctor always told her. Take slow, even breaths until you get help.

  Help was back at her house. Her inhaler.

  Home. Tears stung her eyes. She was dying.

  Would Mom meet her and take her into Heaven? That thought gave her some comfort. She wouldn’t be alone. Not like here.

  Dad! Help! Can’t…breathe…

  She gasped. Sat up. Chest…hurt.

  Dizzy…

  Cara came in from getting wood for the fireplace. Looked over at her.

  Help…please!

  “Emily?” Cara dropped the split logs with a loud clatter and raced to her side. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

  “A-a…ma,” Emily wheezed. She wiggled her fingers in front of her mouth as if pumping her inhaler.

  Cara stroked her hair from her face. “Asthma?”

  Emily gave a small nod. Her chest ached too much to worry about whether Cara got mad now.

  “Kenny!” Cara flew into the next room. Her voice held the same fear that pulsed through Emily with each clambering thump of her heart.

  Warm tears rolled down her cheeks. Her windless sob stuck in her throat.

  “Kenny!” Cara screamed into the next room.

  “Shit, woman, what are you yelling about?”

  “Where’s your inhaler?”

  “My what?”

  “Your inhaler! The girl’s got asthma and can’t breathe. Hurry, goddamnit!”

  “All right! Don’t have a cow. I got it in my stuff back here.”

  The room tilted. She was gonna pass out.

  Hold on. She’s getting…help…

  Emily choked. Wheezed. Wobbled.

  The room grew dim.

  “Hurry!” Cara shouted from the door to the next room. She ran back to the bed and pounded Emily’s back. Hard.

  The blows loosened her chest some, and Emily gasped in a little air.

  “Hang on, baby. Don’t pass out on me. You gotta be able to use Kenny’s inhaler.”

  Dad! She wanted Dad!

  Kenny strolled in and held out a small blue object. “It’s the only one I brought. Don’t use it up.”

  Cara lunged off the bed and snatched the vial from him. “Thank God. Here, baby. I’ll squeeze on three. You breathe in as hard as you can.”

  Cara counted a quick one…two…three.

  Emily sucked in with her last crumb of strength.

  “Again.” Cara pressed the inhaler to Emily’s mouth. “One, two, three…”

  More medicine made it into her lungs that time. A bit of her panic eased. A tremor shook her from head to foot. Relief.

  “Kenny, put out the fire in the grate. The smoke’s gotta be making her symptoms worse.”

  “Shit, we freeze so the kid can breathe? Great.”

  Cara glared at Kenny. “Just do it.”

  “I don’t take orders from you.”

  Emily practiced the technique Mom had taught her to calm herself. Even out her breathing. Slow. Deep.

  “Why do you have to be such an ass toward me? What’d I ever do to earn your contempt? I loved you like you were my own, but you’ve never been anything but bitter toward me.”

  “Quit it, Cara. I’m not discussing this with you again.” Kenny turned away.

  “We’re on the same side, Kenny. We both love your father. We both want justice for him.”

  Kenny left the room, and Cara sighed.

  Was Kenny Cara’s son? Emily struggled to fill her lungs. The tension between Cara and Kenny scared her.

  Her chest seized, and she coughed.

  Cara gave Emily’s back another hard whack.

  “More?” Cara held up the inhaler.

  Another puff. The strangling tightness loosened a bit more. Her lungs still rattled, but she could get air.

  “Better?” the older woman asked, finger-combing Emily’s hair away from her eyes.

  She nodded. Hugged herself. She couldn’t stop shaking.

  “At least you’re not so pale anymore.” Cara grinned and pulled Emily into an embrace. “God, you scared me!”

  She remained stiff in Cara’s arms for a moment, but the comfort, the motherly hug felt so good she finally collapsed against the woman. Exhausted. Weak. Trembling.

  “What’s going on?”

  Montego.

  Shuddering, Emily squeezed her eyes shut and buried her face in Cara’s rose-scented shirt. Montego’s dark eyes and frown scared her.

  Cara may have saved her life, but now Montego would make her pay for the trouble she’d caused.

  “The child’s got asthma.” Cara rubbed a hand on Emily’s back. “She was having an attack and couldn’t breathe.”

  “Where the hell were you? I thought you were watching her?” Montego sounded mad.

  She felt Cara stiffen.

  “I went outside for a minute to get more wood for the fire. I saw a deer up on the ridge and stayed to watch it.”

  “A deer?” Montego snorted. “Kids, animals…Cara, you’re too damn soft. You’d better not forget what we�
��re here to do or let your sappy sentimentality get in the way.”

  “I won’t. But bringing a child up here was never part of the original plan. She’s an innocent.”

  Emily heard the scuff of shoes on the wood floor as Montego stepped closer. “So were my sister and her children! But that didn’t stop your government from bombing her house while she slept!”

  A cruel hand closed around Emily’s arm and jerked her out of Cara’s embrace. Emily cried out as pain shot through her from Montego’s rough grip.

  “Stop it!” Cara said.

  “Plenty more innocents will die before we are through. That’s the way of war.”

  “War? We aren’t at war,” Cara argued. “It’s not our business to use the weapons, just broker them.”

  “Don’t kid yourself, thinking you aren’t involved if you don’t pull the trigger. We sell war, Cara. Revolution. Justice for the oppressed. We make it happen.” Montego’s nose flared, and his voice got louder as he talked. He was so wrapped up in what he was saying that he spit a little without noticing. His eyes looked wild and frightening.

  Emily shivered and tried to pull away. No luck.

  Cara glared at Montego. Her boldness amazed Emily. Mom had been brave like that. A cop. Standing up to bullies and bad guys every day. She wished she had some of Mom’s courage right now. She was so scared…

  Cara rose and got in Montego’s face. “Just leave the girl alone. Rick gave orders when he left. She’s our leverage with McKay.”

  “Don’t get attached, Cara. No matter what Rick said, the kid is expendable.”

  Expendable.

  Emily bit her lip. She remembered the word. She’d read it in one of the Harry Potter books and looked it up. It meant something didn’t have enough value to bother keeping it.

  Somehow she knew when Montego got rid of her he wouldn’t simply send her home or leave her behind at this cabin.

  If she became of no use to these men, they would kill her.

  Chapter Seven

  The silence was killing Jackson.

  Lauren hadn’t said more than “Watch your step. That rock’s loose.” since they started hiking an hour earlier. He had too much time to think. About what might be happening to Emily. About how close Rick might be. About the danger he’d brought on Lauren and the other smokejumpers.