Under Fire

by Beth Cornelison

  Lauren narrowed her eyes, uncertain where his peculiar story was leading.

  “Before lowering the bridge, though, he looks around for his son and discovers the child has climbed down and gotten stuck in the bridge mechanism. Lowering the bridge will crush his son. He can’t free his son and also get the bridge down in time to save the lives of the people on the bus.”

  Jackson’s expression grew pained. The fire light cast tortured shadows across his face. “Which should he choose? The life of his son or the lives of the fifty people on the bus?”

  She blew an exasperated breath through her teeth. “Geez, I don’t know.”

  “Choose!” he barked.

  Lauren jumped, startled by his rough tone. “I don’t—”

  “You don’t have time to debate it. That bus is coming. Fast. Pick!” He pounded the ground with a clenched fist. “Your son or fifty strangers. Who dies?”

  “I—I’d lower the bridge. The needs of the majority have to outweigh the needs of one person.”

  Jackson stared at her for tense seconds with a horror-stricken expression. “You’ve never had a child, have you?”

  Hearing censure in his tone, she drew her shoulders back and raised her chin. “No.”

  “Didn’t think so.” He turned away, his silence as condemning as the haunted expression in his eyes.

  Lauren shifted, her mellow mood forgotten, her discomfort more internal than because of the rocky ground. She’d made the right choice. She knew she had. How could he blame her for wanting to save the lives of fifty mothers, husbands, brothers and sisters over the life of one boy?

  The question was hypothetical anyway. Why was he making such a big deal over it? And why did his unspoken condemnation bother her so much, stirring up all the ways he’d dismissed her abilities throughout the day?

  She shouldn’t care what he thought of her answer any more than she should care about his opinion of her job or her ability to do it. She’d proven her competence—no, her excellence on the job—to herself and to the other smokejumpers over and again.

  Lauren scowled at Jackson as he turned to stare into the campfire. A campfire she’d made, damn it. Without matches, thanks to him.

  She snatched up a pinecone lying near her and threw it into the fire with enough force to make a shower of sparks fly up then rain down on them. Jackson cut a sharp accusing look at her.

  “What?” she barked.

  “Nothing.” He turned away again.

  “No, talk to me, damn you! What does it matter that I’ve never had a kid? I made the only choice I could! Saving fifty lives is more important than saving one!”

  “But if it is your child, that one life is fifty times more important to you. A million times more important.”

  Passion snapped in his dark gaze, and understanding punched her in the gut. Of course. Emily.

  He shoved to his feet, stalked toward the river and crouched at the water’s edge.

  Lauren followed, stopping behind him as he splashed the cold water on his face. “Your daughter is going to be all right. You have to believe that. Thinking anything else will only drive you nuts.”

  Bracing on his good arm, he hung his head and let water drip from his nose and chin. “I can’t lose her. She’s all I have left.”

  The agony in his voice sliced to her core. She knelt beside him and stroked his back, feeling inadequate to soothe this man’s deep ache and fear for his child. He held so much grief inside him, unwilling or unable to express it.

  “We should make the state road by mid-morning tomorrow. From there we’ll hitchhike into Redmont, and we can be at the sheriff’s office by afternoon. With any luck, the police will have located the cabin and rescued Emily by nightfall. This time tomorrow it will all be over. You’ll have her back and everything will be fine.”

  He angled his head to look at her. “You don’t know that. Anything could happen.”

  When he tried to look away again, she grabbed his chin and said pointedly, “I will get you down this mountain. And I will stay with you until we get help for your daughter. That I do know.”

  He pulled away from her touch and sighed heavily. “I’m that bridge keeper, Lauren. I chose to save Emily, thinking I could still save the innocent people Rick wanted to destroy with the Stabilzon.”

  Jackson plucked a pebble off the ground and tossed it in the stream. The stone plunked in the water with a hollow splash. Moonlight reflected off the concentric ripples.

  He stared out at the water for a moment before continuing. “I thought I could find another option, a way to save both the bus and my child. I’m a scientist, for God’s sake. I should have come up with an alternate solution. But now I can’t be sure I’ve spared anyone. I can’t protect Emily from here, and there’s still a chance Rick could get his hands on my research without me. I told him enough classified information that—” He paused, hung his head. “Hell, what have I done?”

  The raw emotion in his voice twisted inside her, drew her to him.

  Lauren smoothed a hand along his jaw, dragged her fingers through his thick hair until she cradled the back of his head. Pulling him closer, she whispered, “We’ll find a another solution, Jackson. We will.”

  His brow creased. “We?” He shook his head. “I have to fix this. It’s my responsibility, my problem. Not yours.”

  “You’re wrong. It became my problem the minute those terrorists shot at me and my friends. This is as personal for me as it is for you. It’s too late for Riley, but we can still do something to save Boomer and Birdman. And Emily.”

  His penetrating brown eyes held with hers. Probing, as if searching for something. She felt a strange crackle of energy arc between them, a connection. Two weary souls battling for the same cause. Powerful. Hypnotizing. Magnetic.

  His gaze dropped to her lips, and beneath her fingers, she felt the tremor that raced through him. Something in the atmosphere shifted. The air grew thick and hot, making it more difficult for her to breathe. She allowed her own gaze to drift to the grim set of his lips. Her pulse staggered at the prospect of kissing that hard mouth, but the desire to taste Jackson swamped her.

  Slowly she closed the distance between them. Her lips brushed his gently at first, and feel of his firm mouth against hers sent shockwaves through her. She nipped at him, seeking a response from his unyielding lips.

  But he didn’t move.

  Horrified that she could have misread him, Lauren pulled back, searching his dark eyes. “Jackson?”

  He stood abruptly and stalked away.

  Grimacing, Lauren slapped at the water so hard that she lost her balance. She caught herself on one arm before she tumbled onto her bottom, but Jackson’s quick retreat stung far more than the scrapes on her hands.

  Back by the campfire, Jackson stretched out on the ground, lying on his side with his back to her. “We should get to sleep. We’ve got a long hike ahead of us tomorrow, and God knows what else.”

  Cool dampness from the stream bank soaked through the seat of her fire pants, while a lonely chill seeped into her heart. His rejection hurt more than it should.

  Of course her pride and ego were bruised, but she should be glad he refused her kiss. What had she been thinking? She didn’t need to lose her head with someone like Jackson, a man who second-guessed her at every turn and who made his lack of faith in her capabilities abundantly clear.

  She’d fought her whole life for the chance to prove herself, for respect, for recognition for what she’d accomplished despite the odds. She might not be as perfect and successful as her brothers and sister, but she’d finally done something with her life that she was proud of. No one, not her family, not her teachers, not the instructors of her rookie class at smokejumper training, had expected her to come this far. But she had.

  Lauren dusted off her hands and sighed. Kissing Jackson had been a stupid thing to do. The heat of embarrassment flushed her skin when she considered her awkward attempt to cuddle up to the prickly man. He wore his love
for his daughter on his sleeve, but spent infinite energy battling the rest of his emotions. Control was clearly an issue for him in all areas of his life.

  Yet for all his efforts, Jackson’s pain and compassion, fears and desires lay just beneath the surface. She saw everything he tried to hide, tried to deny written in his expressive eyes. And the warmth of his mouth had sent liquid heat through her body while hinting at the passionate man buried beneath the layers of rigid restraint.

  Lauren clambered to her feet, trying to forget how wonderful even such a small sample of him had tasted. She stoked the campfire, added another log, then took her place beside him. Pillowing her cheek with her hands, she closed her eyes in search of sleep. But images of the tumultuous day paraded through her brain.

  As terrible as the memories of Boomer’s bloody leg and being shot at were, the thoughts that kept her awake revolved around Jackson. His troubling silence concerning his wife. His bossiness and dismissal of her skills. The comfort he’d offered her after they found Riley’s body. His mind-boggling research. The sight of his broad chest when he offered his shirt without hesitation to save Boomer. He was a complex and confusing man. An intriguing man. A hurting man.

  Lauren rolled to her back and stared at the black sky and winking stars.

  Sleep. She just needed sleep. The day’s stress and fatigue were simply toying with her emotions. A good night’s rest was all she needed to rid herself of this annoying fascination with Jackson McKay. And his kiss.

  *

  August 28

  The next morning Jackson woke to a chilling noise. He tensed, immediately wide awake, and tried to identify the sound—a kind of moaning or low animal growl. Pained. Muted. Coming from just downstream. A bear?

  He rolled over to wake Lauren, and his stiff muscles spasmed in protest. Gritting his teeth, he sat up and glanced to the spot where Lauren had slept.

  She was gone.

  Alarm tingled down his back like icy fingers scratching his skin.

  “Lauren?” He twisted the opposite direction, searching the woods, the water, the cliffs for her. The sound came again, echoing off the rock walls of the ravine. Without taking the time to put on Boomer’s boots, Jackson crept down the line of the trees, around the river bend.

  Nothing.

  Rocks and twigs bit his feet as he edged closer to the wide creek, looking for Lauren, hunting down the source of the dreary sound. As he rounded the bend, he reached a spot where cascades of water, run-off from the mountainside, fed into the river from a sheer rock wall. He savored the beautiful scene for only a moment before he heard the noise again. But the pitch of the guttural moan changed. Became more human. He recognized a sob. A gut-wrenching, soul-deep cry that froze him in his tracks.

  Lauren.

  He hesitated a moment, torn between giving her privacy and going to her, making sure she wasn’t hurt.

  God, please don’t let her be injured.

  He stood there, listening to her heart-breaking sobs, and remembered with a sobering jolt the hurt in her eyes when he’d pulled away from her kiss the night before.

  Guilt sucker-punched him. Was she crying because of him? Because of the way he’d rejected her last night?

  Even while listening to the evidence of her misery, the memory of her soft lips brushing his gave him a hard-on. Heat pulsed through his veins and set his body on fire.

  His withdrawal had been self-preservation. Her kiss had rocked him so hard he’d had to retreat, needing the distance to analyze what was happening. His desire shook him, shattered his control. That he could so powerfully want a woman other than his wife plucked at his conscience.

  But Janine was dead, and he hadn’t been with a woman in nineteen months. Perhaps the bone-deep bolt of desire he’d experienced was just nature, just basic male biology.

  Jackson swiped a hand over his face where, despite the nippy morning air, a cold sweat beaded on his brow and upper lip. Lord, the last thing he wanted was to hurt Lauren. The last thing he’d expected was to feel this electric attraction to her.

  And the last thing he needed was to get involved with another woman in a high-risk career. Worrying about Janine when she was on duty had been hell on earth.

  Involved? Geez, it was one kiss. And he hadn’t reciprocated, much as he’d wanted to. Just because his body practically hummed with sexual energy didn’t mean he was ready to start something with the sassy smokejumper.

  A knot of dread in his stomach, Jackson edged downstream until he spotted Lauren. She sat beneath one of the tiny waterfalls, soaked from head to toe. Her fire pants lay near his feet, safe and dry on the bank. He tried not to think about the fact she was out there in her skivvies.

  Though she appeared unharmed, her shoulders were hunched and her body shook as she cried. He absorbed the agony she projected like a right hook.

  He moved into the water and waded out to her, knowing only that he had to hold her, that he had to do something to comfort her. That he wanted to touch her more than he wanted his next breath.

  “Lauren?” he said as he came up behind her, but the rush of the water drowned out his voice. He repeated her name, louder, and touched her shoulder.

  Gasping, she whirled about so fast she lost her footing on the slick streambed.

  Jackson grabbed for her, caught her waist. Bracing his own feet to fight the current and the slippery rocks, he hauled her up against his body to steady her.

  She seized hold of his arms, her muscles tense, and snapped blood-shot eyes to his face. “Jackson.”

  Finding her footing again, she released him and stepped back. Heaving a deep sigh, she swiped at her face. “Damn it, you scared me!”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t—” His words stuck in his throat as his gaze dropped to her drenched clothes. In the cold water, her T-shirt and panties had become transparent and her nipples peaked.

  Lightning-hot desire flashed through him. His gaze dipped lower to the wet scrap of her underwear. White cotton had never been so alluring. She might as well have been naked for all the good her wet undies were doing her.

  “Judas Priest,” he mumbled.

  She glanced down at herself and wrapped an arm across her chest. “Damn it. I wasn’t expecting company.”

  “I heard you crying and—”

  “Didn’t take the hint that I wanted to be alone?” Tears burgeoned in her eyes again along with anger. She scowled at him and stepped back.

  “I thought you might be hurt,” he said loud enough to be heard over the swoosh of the water. “I wanted to make sure you were all right.”

  “I’m fine!” she spat. “Just peachy!”

  Okay. She was pissed at him. He’d expected as much.

  Tears spilled on her cheeks. “Just leave me alone!”

  Right. But first… “Lauren, if this is about me, about the way I walked away from—”

  Her dismissive bark of laughter interrupted him. “You arrogant asshole. This has nothing to do with you. Believe me, I lost no sleep over the fact that you didn’t kiss me. It’s forgotten.”

  Yet she’d known exactly what he was talking about. Interesting.

  Morning sun peeked through the highest ponderosa branches and glittered on the moisture in her eyes. “This is about Boomer. And Riley.” Her voice cracked, and her face crumpled. “I lost a good friend yesterday, damn it! A man with a wife and family…”

  He moved toward her, unable to stay away.

  “He was there one minute and then he was…just gone! Murdered.” She hugged herself, and another deep, mournful sob escaped.

  Her grief ripped through him, leaving a sharp ache in his chest. Oh, yeah. He understood well about sudden, tragic loss.

  “And Boomer. Oh God. He’s my best friend. If he dies—” She choked on her tears and buried her face in her hands.

  Balancing carefully on the treacherous rocks, Jackson pulled her into his arms and closed his eyes against the rising sting. Her heartbreak cut close to a fragile bubble inside him where he
kept his own grief for Janine trapped. “Hey, don’t cry. C’mon, Lauren. It’s gonna be okay.”

  With a violent twist, she shrugged free of his grip and glowered at him. “Stop it! I’ve told you I hate platitudes. And nothing’s going to be okay. Riley’s dead! I’ll cry if I damn well feel like it! At least I know how to mourn!”

  Jackson stiffened. “What does that mean?”

  “Forget it.” Shaking her head, she turned and took a few more careful steps away from him. “Just go.”

  He should let it drop. He knew he should. Knew he should leave like she’d asked.

  But some black emotion wrenched free from the corner where he’d shoved it after Janine’s death. “Tell me what you mean.”

  Bracing one hand on the boulder behind her, she faced him, her jaw tight. He tried not to notice how her breasts rose and fell as she huffed angrily. “You haven’t let yourself mourn your wife.”

  He scoffed. “Of course I have. It’s been nineteen months.”

  “Have you?”

  “What’s your point?”

  “I think you’re afraid to grieve. Afraid to give your emotions that much control.”

  A chill spiraled through him. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, his tone sharper than he’d intended.

  “You asked.” She smoothed her wet hair away from her face. “I think you bottled your grief inside you.”

  She didn’t know. She couldn’t. How could she understand the void in his soul, the tempest he fought every day to keep from drowning?

  “I had a daughter to think about. A little girl who’d lost her mother. I had to hold it together for her.”

  “So you could fall apart later?”

  “I’m fine,” he grated through his teeth. His heart beat a wild cadence against his ribs.

  “You can’t suppress it forever, Jackson. Unless…you didn’t really love her?”

  He whipped his hand up, his finger in her face. “Don’t! I loved Janine with all my heart. I—”