Under Fire

by Beth Cornelison

  Jackson said nothing. He tried to process what the man was saying, but all he could think of was Emily. How these men had let her down. How he had let her down.

  But never again.

  “Great,” he scoffed and crossed the room to the window. He looked out at his backyard, where leaves were already fading to shades of brown as the autumn chills encroached. “I thought you people checked the background of the people you hired. What kind of security checks did you run on Menendez before you let him work on Black Cloud?”

  “The usual. He passed all our screenings and background checks with flying colors. Someone got to him after he was in place.”

  “Like they got to me?” Jackson shot Rangard a narrow-eyed look over his shoulder. “Where was all the security I was promised when Carson broke into my house and drugged me? Where was my security when my daughter and I were dragged up a mountain and terrorized?”

  “Menendez, being on the inside, was able to circumvent—”

  “No.” Jackson whirled around and threw up a hand. “Save the excuses. I don’t even care now. I just want out.”

  Shoving his suit coat out of the way, Rangard jammed his hands in his pockets and pursed his lips. “You know too much for us to let you just walk away.”

  Jackson clenched his teeth and felt the muscle in his jaw jump. “I’ll sign something then, promising not to talk to anyone about my part in Black Cloud.”

  His gut clenched remembering how much he’d already told Lauren.

  Rangard lowered his eyebrows and scowled.

  “I can have all my files ready for you by the end of the week,” Jackson added. “I will cooperate fully in transferring everything I have, including the Stabilzon samples, to your people, but that’s it. I’m not your man any more.”

  “No dice. Give us six more months. Finish the clinical trials. The project is at an important crossroad now, and we need you on the team until this round of testing is complete.”

  Jackson hesitated, sized Rangard up. “Then I walk away, free and clear?”

  “You have my word.”

  A sick, cold feeling settled in Jackson’s gut. He didn’t want any further ties to Black Cloud, couldn’t stand the thought of staying on the project, with Emily in harm’s way, a second longer.

  But he honestly hadn’t expected Rangard to be even this accommodating. He had an out after six more months. An official end to his affiliation with Black Cloud.

  Bile surged in his throat, and he choked it down. “You have a deal.”

  *

  “So what’s the deal with McKay?” Birdman shouted over the rumble of the jumpship.

  Lauren pulled her gaze from the jagged mountain range below and cast a dubious gaze to her new jump partner. “What do you mean?”

  “Well, is it serious? Will you be hanging up your chute to have babies soon?”

  Lauren’s heart leaped thinking of the last time she and Jackson had made love. They’d had no protection.

  I need this. I need you. Even then she’d known what Jackson had needed went far deeper than sex. The connection they’d shared, especially in those precious moments when their bodies were joined, had rocked her to the core.

  The airplane bounced through a pocket of turbulence, shaking her from her thoughts.

  “Am I right? Are you thinking about marriage and settling down?” Birdman pressed.

  She raised her head to discover his question had caught the attention of the other jumpers waiting to exit the Twin Otter.

  “Why, John, is that some kind of proposition?” She grinned and tipped her head.

  Whitefeather laughed. “You know I don’t think of you in those terms, Mike. I need a good jump partner more than I need a girlfriend.”

  Lauren turned back to the window. “Yeah, well, apparently Jackson feels the same way. I don’t think he’s looking for a new wife.”

  “And how do you feel about that?” Birdman asked.

  Hurt. Disappointed. Lonely.

  “Guard your reserves!” their spotter called.

  Lauren sighed, the sound lost in the roar as the team’s spotter opened the jump door. She missed Jackson more than she’d imagined possible.

  “I’ll live,” she shouted over the racket.

  “All right, jumpers,” the spotter called, “Showtime!”

  Lauren took a deep breath and watched as the first set of red, blue and gold drift streamers were tossed out the door. The streamers fluttered and swirled in their descent, showing the jumpers where the dangerous air currents were and providing a gauge of what to expect with this jump.

  She felt a hand on her shoulder and turned to face Whitefeather. Their first jump together as partners. He held up a fist, and she balled her hand, bumped it against Birdman’s. “For Boomer and Riley.”

  With a nod, Whitefeather moved to the open door of the aircraft. Lauren pulled on her helmet and followed, waiting for her turn to jump.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  August 31

  Jackson took Emily with him to the Hemmer office the next day. Until Emily felt comfortable about returning to school, she would be tutored in the evenings. Emily’s first session with the counselor was slated for that afternoon.

  Jackson, on the other hand, was eager to get back to a routine. The sooner he finished the clinical trials for Stabilzon, the sooner he’d have his part of Black Cloud behind him. He got Emily settled in a comfortable chair in his office with a book and her Game Boy Advance, then turned his attention to his email. He typed his password into the computer and downloaded his latest batch of correspondence. While he waited for all the messages to come in, he started an encrypted message using coded terms to Nick Rangard. Jackson would send daily reports of his results, following the new tighter security measures set up in the wake of Montego’s breach of old codes and passwords.

  He hit send then clicked over to read his incoming mail. Halfway down the list of new subject lines, Jackson’s eye snagged on one that read “My father is dead, now others must die.”

  A chill slithered down Jackson’s spine as he clicked the message to open it. He scanned the email then reread it more slowly. Horror roiled inside him like a brewing storm.

  Dr. McKay, You may have won the first battle, but the war is far from over. My parents are dead, but I will have revenge. You ruined my plan to get justice for my father, and for your efforts, you and your friends from the Bureau will reap a bitter end. “Accidents” happen in the line of hazardous duty all the time. Fatal accidents. My team is decimated, and soon your team will be destroyed as well. Payback is hell, McKay, and that’s where I will send you.

  A cold sweat popped out on Jackson’s lip. He sat forward in his chair, rereading the message, picking it apart. Icy dread hammered him.

  Your friends from the Bureau.

  He unlocked and snatched open the drawer where he kept his contact numbers for the FBI. He carried his desk phone into an adjoining room, stretching the cord as far as it would reach, and he closed the door so Emily wouldn’t hear. Using the secure line that had been installed months earlier, he dialed Tarver’s number and waited impatiently for the private security-cleared line to be answered.

  Jackson took a deep breath and rubbed the tense muscles in his neck. Judas Priest! He’d thought he left this frigging cloak and dagger crap behind. He couldn’t get finished with Black Cloud soon enough.

  “Tarver,” a grim voice said.

  “Agent Tarver, it’s Jackson McKay. We have trouble. Rick Carson has surfaced. He’s been in touch with me.”

  A pregnant silence followed, and Jackson heard the squeak of an office chair through the phone line. He could picture Tarver rocking forward in his seat and swinging his feet to the floor in shock.

  “I’m listening,” Tarver said.

  “He’s made new threats. He wants revenge against me. And the FBI. He mentioned fatal accidents happening in the line of duty, so watch your back.” He peeked through the window in the door to his office where Emi
ly sat reading. Ice spun through his veins. “And get someone out here now to protect my daughter.”

  “I’ll do what I can. I want you to forward the email to me, save it on your hard drive and print out a copy. I’ll get my analysts on it immediately.”

  Jackson paced the limited distance the phone cord would allow. “Have you found anything yet? Have you tracked Carson’s location at all?”

  “We’re working on it. I can’t discuss the details of the investigation with you.”

  Jackson opened his mouth to argue when he heard a click and looked up. Emily stood in the doorway wearing a scowl. “Dad?”

  “I have to go,” he told Tarver. “I meant what I said. Send someone here.” He hung up before Tarver could answer and forced a smile to his lips for Emily. “You okay, Em?”

  “Why’d you leave?”

  “I had a private call to make.” Jackson stood and tugged the phone cord with him as he moved back to his office and placed the phone back on his desk.

  “Something about the terrorists?”

  He sighed. Terrorist hadn’t been a part of his vocabulary when he was eight. Acid bit his gut knowing his daughter had first-hand experience with the term. “Yeah, hon. But I don’t want you to worry about it. You’re safe now. I won’t let anything happen to you again. I swear it.”

  He’d die before he let Rick anywhere near Emily.

  Emily nodded then walked back to her seat where she leaned her head back against the wall and stared up at the ceiling.

  “You want a Pepsi?” he offered.

  She nodded without looking at him.

  “Okay. I’ll be right back.” Jackson shut Emily in his office and walked a few steps before returning to lock the office door. He wouldn’t take anything for granted until Rick was behind bars. Or dead.

  He dug change for the soda machine from his pocket as he walked down the hall, replaying the hateful email in his mind.

  Fatal accidents happen in the line of hazardous duty… Those words in particular sliced him to the quick. He knew all too well about hazardous duty and fatal accidents. And whether Janine’s death was the result of a Pentagon assassin or a street punk with a grudge against cops, Janine was just as dead.

  Jackson’s thoughts shifted as he fed his quarters into the drink machine. The news that morning had included a report on a fire near Kalispell to which smokejumpers had been dispatched. He thought of the fire that had facilitated his escape, which had brought Lauren and Whitefeather and Boomer on the scene. The smokejumpers had encountered more danger than normal on that jump thanks to him, thanks to Rick and Vince.

  Punching the button for a Vanilla Pepsi, Jackson sighed. He knew that every time he heard of a new fire outbreak, he’d worry about Lauren. While Janine was on the force, he hated wondering if the woman he loved would be coming home alive or in a body bag. But here he was again. And being so far from Lauren added to his anxiety. He knew every time the news reports mentioned the deployment of a team of smokejumpers from the Bureau of Land Management, he’d wonder if Lauren was among them.

  Jackson stooped to pluck out the can that dropped in the machine.

  And froze.

  Bureau of Land Management.

  Your friends from the Bureau.

  Rick could have meant—

  “Lauren…” Jackson’s pulse slammed into high gear. He raced back to his office and unlocked the door with shaking hands. An icy knot of nausea balled in his gut as he punched in the numbers for the BLM base in Boise.

  Emily walked over to the desk to retrieve her Pepsi and frowned at him. “What’s wrong, Dad?”

  In his ear the phone at the BLM base rang. “Nothing I hope. Just…”

  “Bureau of Land Management. May I help you?” a female voice answered.

  He asked to speak to Lauren, and after being placed on hold, the woman informed him Lauren was out working a fire. Jackson pinched the bridge of his nose. He turned his back to Emily and lowered his voice. “Would you tell her that Jackson called? Tell her it’s an emergency and to call me as soon as she gets back.”

  After leaving his home and office numbers, he hung up.

  Accidents happen in the line of hazardous duty…

  Lauren and her smokejumper friends had been instrumental in disrupting Rick’s plans, helping Jackson get to the sheriff, foiling the Carsons’ master plan.

  The more Jackson thought about the ominous warning in Rick’s email, the more he was certain Lauren and the other BLM jumpers were Rick’s new target. Punching in the code to connect his secure line again, he dialed Tarver’s number.

  “The smokejumpers,” he said without preamble when Tarver answered. “Carson might have meant the Bureau of Land Management with his threats. You’ve got to send someone to Boise to protect Lauren Michaels and the other smokejumpers.”

  “Hmm. I suppose it’s a possibility we should consider…” Tarver replied.

  “Damn straight. Retaliation against the people who helped me. We’ve got to warn them. Someone’s got to protect Lauren—”

  “All right! Slow down! I’ll call the Seattle office and get someone to look into it.”

  Jackson’s nerves jumped. Restless energy, a need to act burned in his gut. And he made his decision. “Listen, Tarver…scratch sending a man here to watch Emily. I’m going to Boise myself, and I’m taking Emily with me.”

  He had to make sure Lauren was safe, and he’d do the job himself.

  Jackson shook the kinks from his legs following the long trip to Boise and headed inside the main office at the National Interagency Fire Center headquarters. He’d called the BLM base in Boise numerous times the previous afternoon, only to be told Lauren and Whitefeather were both out on the Kalispell fire and not due back for several hours.

  As he’d stewed over the situation, Jackson had only come up with one way to ensure Lauren’s safety. He had to convince her to leave the smokejumping team, at least until Rick was caught. The idea of Rick sabotaging the jump plane, or Lauren’s equipment, or setting some sort of trap at a fire scene chilled him to the marrow. The number of dangerous scenarios multiplied by the hour as Jackson had driven through the night toward Idaho.

  Now Emily stopped beside him as they both took in the beehive of activity in the building. Jackson experienced a twinge of doubt about bringing his daughter with him. If there was a threat of danger to the smokejumpers, the last thing he wanted to do was expose Emily to that threat. Yet when Jackson considered the same threat had been made against him, he realized the danger to Emily would be the same wherever she was until Rick Carson was found and stopped. There was no way he’d let Emily out of his sight. She was safest when with him, because Jackson would do anything to protect her. Even if that meant killing Rick Carson himself.

  Jackson curled an arm around Emily’s shoulders. “Honey, why don’t you go sit in one of those chairs over there until I can find out if Lauren’s back from the fire yet.”

  Emily nodded and obeyed.

  Turning, Jackson approached the counter where a blonde woman sat, answering incoming phone calls. “Excuse me. I need to see Lauren Michaels. Is she here?”

  The woman eyed him and poked a pencil over her ear. “Are you the guy from Missoula who’s been calling her?”

  Startled, he lifted his brow. “Uh…yeah.”

  The woman rolled her eyes. “She’s not back from her jump yet. Like I told you, it’ll be late today at least before she gets back.” The blonde leaned forward on her arms and narrowed a leery glare on Jackson. “You know there was an FBI agent in here this morning wanting to see Lauren too.”

  Thank God. Tarver had come through on that much at least.

  “Where is this agent now?” Jackson asked, glancing around the lobby.

  “At his hotel room. Waiting for Lauren to get back. I promised to call him as soon as she returned, but I have half a mind to call him now and report you. I’m not altogether sure Lauren would appreciate you harassing her.”

  “Harassing
her? I’m not—”

  “I just find it suspect that she’s so popular all of a sudden. Between you, the FBI guy and that reporter that was asking about her, Lauren’s had more calls in the last 24 hours than she did the rest of the summer.”

  Jackson shifted his feet like a schoolboy called on the carpet for some misdeed. Then the woman’s words registered. “A reporter called looking for Lauren?”

  “Yeah. He asked a bunch of questions about her and her duties as a smokejumper. Her background. Her family. He wanted to do a feature on ‘A Day in the Life of a Female Smokejumper’. I offered to let him talk to one of the other ladies we got working here, but he was adamant that it be Lauren.”

  Jackson’s scalp prickled. “Did you get his name? The paper he worked for?” When the woman scowled at him suspiciously, Jackson flattened his hands on the counter and added calmly, “Please, it’s important. I’m a friend of Lauren’s, and I’m worried she could be in danger.”

  The blonde pursed her mouth then flipped through some papers to find the notepad where she’d scribbled the message. “It was…Jim Smith. He was with the Missoula Independent.”

  He made a mental note of the name and nodded. “Thanks. Is it all right if my daughter and I wait over here for Lauren?”

  The woman rose out of her chair to peer over the counter at Emily. Spying Emily in the waiting area, she tugged her mouth in a lopsided grin. “Go ahead. It’s a free country.”

  Jackson took a seat by Emily, who’d brought her Game Boy Advance for amusement, and while he waited, he called information on his cell phone to get the number for the Missoula newspaper. When he reached the Missoula Independent, he was told that they had no reporter by the name of Jim Smith. Just as Jackson feared. For good measure he also called The Missoulian and received the same response. No Jim Smith.

  Jackson’s anxiety ratcheted up a notch. He had no doubt Jim Smith was Rick Carson.

  His next call was to Tarver, despite the fact he didn’t have a secure line. When Tarver answered, Jackson filled the agent in on his arrival at Boise and what the BLM receptionist had told him about the reporter. “My guess is Rick Carson. I don’t like the idea he’s checking up on her. Can’t you send your guy after her rather than him sitting on his ass in a hotel room waiting?”