Tempt the Flames

by Marnee Blake

“Same.” Her mom shrugged, and her face split into a half grin. “Nothing much changes at urgent care. How was your day? How are things going at the air center?” The question was mild, guarded. They both knew her mom didn’t want to know what happened at the air center.

  “Fine.” They were talking but they weren’t saying anything.

  Meg dropped into the recliner next to the couch. Elbows on knees, she rested her face in her hands.

  These kinds of conversations…pointless. After every talk she’d had with Will, Hunter, and now Lance, it was clear that no one was better off by everything they left unsaid. She was angry. She hadn’t known that until tonight. There was no other explanation for why she hadn’t accepted Lance’s apology. And it made her even more mad to be controlled by something she didn’t understand.

  She inhaled a deep breath. “Lance Roberts is back.” She tried to ignore the stiffening of her mom’s back, forging ahead. “He’s in this year’s recruit class. With Hunter. Did you know?”

  “No. I didn’t.” Her mom scooted back, sitting up. “What the hell was Joe thinking? He should know better.” Her forehead firmed, emphasizing the creases that had become more prominent over the past decade.

  “You sound like Will and Hunter.” It sounded like an accusation. Maybe it was. Lance didn’t deserve this reaction. “And why would he know better? As far as I can see, he wasn’t in that plane with Dad. He has as much right to be there as the rest of them.”

  Her mom’s mouth fell open, and her eyes widened. “You have to be kidding.”

  “It’s been long enough. Lance spent the past ten years doing the same things Hunter has. Volunteering, working on a hotshot crew, helitack. He’s not different.”

  “The Roberts men…” Mom folded her arms over her chest, her knuckles white on her sleeves. “They’re dangerous.”

  “Lance was like another son to you.”

  Her mom swallowed and when she spoke again, it was softer. “You didn’t grow up with JT. He was reckless, took unnecessary risk.”

  “No, but I grew up with Will, Hunt, and Lance. I know about unnecessary risk.”

  Her mother’s eyes narrowed. “I can’t believe I have to explain this to you. JT is the reason your father is dead.”

  “He was never formally accused. It was an accident.” She had no idea why she was pushing this, especially tonight when she was already so raw.

  “An accident thanks to a whole bunch of careless mistakes.”

  “What mistakes?” Meg asked, but she wasn’t sure she wanted to know.

  Her mom shook her head. “You don’t need to hear this. It was hard enough on all of you.”

  “It’s still hard, Mom. Can’t you see that? Nothing has changed.” Meg’s voice was a whisper. “Don’t you think I deserve the truth?”

  Her mother’s eyes were hard, boring into her. Silently, they stared at each other. Meg breathed hard, her fist clenched. She didn’t want to fight, not with her mother, but the frustration from talking to Lance, from arguing with her brothers…it was too close to the surface, boiling over.

  Her mom looked away first. She sighed, and her voice was small when she spoke. “JT talked your father into going to the most dangerous side of the flames, but then he convinced him to stay there, battle the blaze from that flank. Joe said that when he told them to back up, to get away…it was Lance’s father who convinced Jason to stay. That they were making progress. Joe gave up and left them, and it probably saved his life. He set up a fire shelter away from danger.” She glanced back at Meg. “They found your father and Lance’s under a shelter too close to the flames.”

  Meg had heard bits and pieces of this story over the years. The part about how they were on the wrong side of the fire, how they were together under one shelter, and how the flames had gotten too hot where they were set up.

  Where was the rest of the detail, though? “How can you be sure any of that was Mr. Roberts’ fault?”

  “They have a recording, of him convincing your father to jump. Joe said that JT lost his shelter or ripped it or something. He didn’t have it. So your father had to share his with JT. Maybe if they’d had that, they could both have protected themselves.” Her mouth twisted. “Instead, your father sacrificed himself, to try to save him.”

  Meg covered her mouth with her fingers. Good God. The details…

  “Stay away from him.” Her mother shifted, swinging her legs over the side of the couch and staring at her dead on. “You know Lance. He’s like his father. Reckless, careless. For your own good, stay away.”

  She got up then, leaving Meg alone with the images in her head.

  Her mom’s warning was crystal clear. This wasn’t about Lance paying for the sins of his father. It was that he was like him in so many ways. Charismatic, full of swagger. Even if he didn’t deserve to be judged by his father’s past, he was fully capable of making his mistakes in the present.

  She didn’t believe that crap. No one got to choose their family. Apparently, her mom didn’t agree.

  This was too much, too hard.

  He asked for a chance, but being his friend would only lead to heartache. She already had no self-control where he was concerned. She would help him fix his friendship with Hunter, and then she’d leave him alone.

  Lance Roberts was a complication she couldn’t afford.

  * * * *

  When Lance’s phone vibrated later that night, after he was already settled in to his bed at the air center, he swept it up and hurried out the side door. The phone had only been inches away, because he didn’t want it to get stolen like his workout gear had been. When he’d returned from Stack Park, it had all been gone. Just another entertaining prank, apparently. He put as much distance between himself and any prying ears as he could before he answered. “Thanks for returning my call, sir.”

  “Not at all, son. I’ve heard you’re back in Redmond. Welcome home.” Roger Palance’s gruff voice hadn’t changed over the past ten years. Smoker’s lung with a side of grumpy grandfather.

  “Thank you.” That was as good of an opening as he was going to get. “That’s why I was calling. I hoped I could pay you a visit. Catch up on old times.”

  Lance propped his free hand on his hip, staring up at the starry sky. This was an overreach. He and Palance hadn’t been close, and in fact Palance hadn’t even liked his father, if the rumors were true. Said he was cocky, which was true. But, he had something Lance needed, and in his experience, most people weren’t rude enough to deny requests from an old dead friend’s son.

  “Old times, huh?” Palance’s chuckle rumbled over the line. “What old times would that be?”

  Good question. Their families hadn’t been close. “Had a few things I’d like to talk to you about, that’s all.”

  “Seems we’re talking just fine right now.” If Lance didn’t know any better, he’d guess the old guy was having a good time.

  This wasn’t going to work. Palance was too perceptive. Time to get to the point. “I wanted to talk about my father.”

  The chuckle vibrated over the line. “I figured.”

  “You were the pilot on my father’s last flight. I hoped you could answer a few questions for me.”

  “Think I answered a lot of questions back then. Investigators, law enforcement. Professionals. What new questions could a kid have after all these years?”

  He could picture the sort of interrogation Palance had withstood. He’d been one of the last people to talk to the deceased. But it had been a decade since he’d been a kid. “I can understand your frustration. I’m only trying to get a bigger picture. My mom gave me the investigator’s official report, but…”

  “But you wanted to check his work.”

  “No.” Lance exhaled. “Yes. Maybe.” Is that what he was doing? The report didn’t make sense. On paper, he understood. His father was overheard convinci
ng Jason Buchanan to follow him. But why? His father had been jumping fires for years. No way he’d misread the burn so thoroughly.

  Yet that’s what happened. Somehow Jason, Joe, and his dad ended up on the wrong side of the fire, with only two shelters. Then, the newbie came home alive while the seasoned veterans—each with over ten years of experience—were caught in the flames. It didn’t add up. His dad was reckless, but that was practically suicidal.

  “I see.” There was a pause, and then he asked, “What is it that you think I can help you with?”

  “I would like to know exactly what was said on that plane that night. I know it’s been a decade, but you overheard their conversation. I hoped you might help.”

  Lance held his breath. Palance didn’t have to do anything for him. From what he had heard, he had retired over five years ago. Word was that he had a heart attack. The last thing he probably wanted to do was talk to the son of someone blamed for killing one of his colleagues.

  He hated that he was relying on his pity.

  “Let me see what I can do. I’ll call you in a few days.”

  Lance’s face split into a grin. “Thank you, sir. I really appreciate…”

  The line had gone dead. Not one for social niceties, it seemed.

  After staring at the ended call notification for a moment, he slid his phone back into his pocket. He hadn’t heard back from the other two calls he’d made earlier, one to the old investigator, and one to Joe’s jump partner. After the note showed up in his Jeep, he’d decided he couldn’t delay making inquiries. Even if the note wasn’t related, if Joe or Mitch found out about it, it would set off alarms and draw attention he didn’t need.

  Back inside, he settled in his bed, folding his arms behind his head and closing his eyes. It was a start. He would begin with the pilot, and then work through the rest of the witnesses. There had to be more here. Why would his father, a seasoned veteran, jump the wrong way? Especially when the spotter had told him not to. He’d done hundreds of jumps. Why was this one different?

  Maybe one of them made a mistake, but not three jumpers. Something was missing. He was going to find out.

  Meg’s face flitted behind his eyelids. He squeezed them tighter, turning onto his side and jabbing the pillow under his head. What had happened, at Stack Park…she wasn’t ready. Not to hear him out, and not to learn about all of this.

  It was best if he kept her at arm’s length.

  Chapter 8

  The next three days passed in a blur of PT and exhaustion. In that time, he had to tolerate a few more missing items. His sunglasses, some socks. He started keeping the bulk of his stuff in his Jeep or at his grandmother’s.

  Apparently, that encouraged whoever was messing with him to leave a dead snake in his pack.

  Maybe he should consider himself lucky. It could have been a live snake.

  The only times Lance saw Meg was during training. She didn’t stay in the bunkhouse with the jumpers, and that was probably for the best. The less he knew—about her, her whereabouts—the better.

  He was proud of himself. He played it cool, the epitome of professional. It didn’t keep him from watching her every chance he got, especially when he was sure no one else was looking or at least when everyone else was looking, too. While she led their calisthenics, for example, he thought all sorts of things. Things she’d dislike him thinking.

  Unprofessional things.

  He couldn’t control his thoughts, though, could he? At least nothing he’d tried had worked. It was tough to pretend his grandmother was leading training when Meg and her toned body were there on full display for him. Hell, yesterday had gotten warm and she’d stripped down to only her tank top and sports bra. If the damn sexy play of her muscles as she ran in front of them didn’t jack up his libido, the fine trail of sweat at the small of her back definitely did. Her skin glowed when she was hot, and he wanted to put his hands all over her.

  As a distraction, he poured himself into training. He pushed hard, doing his best to sweat out his constant thoughts of her. Though it might work to some degree when he was awake, he couldn’t escape dreams of her at night. Maybe it was exhaustion, but he’d wake up, hard and wanting her. If the physical stress of training didn’t kill him, this might.

  She was really something. All day, he appreciated her strength as she led them through endless runs and calisthenics. She did as many as they did. If she wanted to pass through jumper training, he had no doubt that she could.

  Which made him wonder why she wasn’t here, alongside him and Hunter and the rest of them. If it ever came up again in conversation…

  Who was he kidding? The last thing he should do is try to talk to her more about personal stuff, like he shouldn’t want to know where she was all the time. Because the more he knew, the more he wanted to know. He needed to keep focused on finding out about their fathers off the clock, and on the clock, he needed to keep his nose down and focus on work.

  The trainers—Mitch, Meg, and the two jump specialists—knew exactly how to push them to the peak of their potential and yet keep them out of the hospital. When he was sure he couldn’t give anymore, one of them or one of the seasoned smokejumpers would mention that he could quit, that they’d help him pack, and he’d shut up and push a little further.

  They did endless calisthenics, two daily runs, and pack hikes. In the plus column, their packs were usually lighter. The last hike, he only had to fill it until it weighed ninety pounds. Con? The trails weren’t flat. At the end of the day, he’d fall into bed, a heap of aching muscles.

  Kevin washed out. There was no fanfare when he left. At the end of the second day, his room was cleared out.

  That left the six of them, vying for four slots.

  He hadn’t done much to befriend any of the other guys. Digger and Rock seemed nice enough, and under other, less competitive circumstances, they might have been friends. Digger didn’t say much, and Rock said too much, but both were decent enough guys.

  Something about Sledge, though, rubbed Lance the wrong way. He was too…perfect. Everything Lance wasn’t. While Lance set his sights on final outcomes, looking for every way to reach the desired result, Sledge followed every rule, focused entirely on the minutiae.

  As far as Lance could tell, the physicality of this phase would prepare them for the intensity of detailed and job-specific training to come. While Sledge focused on the intricacies of each task, Lance settled for pushing himself to the limit. It might be ugly, but he went all out. The better prepared he was physically, the easier the rest of this would go. The two of them had taken the first and second spots in the class—Sledge for his attention to the intricacies, Lance for his balls-to-the-wall approach.

  As a result, Sledge had set his sights on Lance as his main competition. It started with remarks about his performance under the guise of helpfulness. Suggestions for how he should sort the contents of his pack, for easier lifting. Lance mostly gritted his teeth and stayed quiet through all of that.

  On the fifth day, they learned the fundamentals of a proper exit from an airplane door. Then, they were introduced to the exit tower.

  The exit tower looked like a cell tower, but at the top, a fake airplane door was rigged to a zip line. They would hoof it up the flights of stairs in full gear, and practice their exits. They learned about the proper form, how to tuck their knees, how to fall. The rest of the crew’s procedures. They’d jump and then ride the sturdy cable to the ground, unclasp, and run back up the stairs. It was the closest they could get to simulating a real jump without being in the plane.

  Of course, Sledge offered Lance pointers. Again, Lance tried to ignore the guy. He had no desire for full-scale war with one of the other rookies.

  There were limits to his tolerance, though.

  At the end of the session, as they stripped out of the custom-made yellow jumpsuits that all smokejumpers wore, Sle
dge couldn’t seem to stop running his mouth. “If you keep your knees in, Roberts, I bet it would help,” he offered, his voice deceptively innocent in a way that made Lance’s jaw clench. “You’d think, with your father, that you’d know better.”

  Lance’s fingers halted on the zipper of his suit. “What would I know, Hammer?”

  When he found out the guy’s full nickname was Sledgehammer, he’d immediately nicknamed him Hammer in his head. Because the guy was as subtle as a hammer.

  Sledge’s smile sharpened. “That careless mistakes can get people killed.”

  Lance stepped up, right into the guy’s face. This had gone on long enough. He didn’t want a fight, but he wasn’t going to back down from one if it was brought to him. “If you have something to say, just say it. All this pussyfooting around is for pussies.”

  “Fine.” Sledge dropped his gear on the ground, his chin jutting out. “I think you’re a risk. You push when you should be cautious. You aren’t careful enough. In fact, you’re borderline reckless. Word around the Redmond hotshots is that it runs in your family.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “You should know I’m watching you.”

  Though Lance didn’t look away, he could feel that the others had gone silent.

  So…this happened faster than he’d expected. He assumed that the other rookies would hear about his father. He’d only hoped it would take a few more days, maybe into next week, after they’d had more time to formulate their own opinions about him.

  What pissed him off the most was that Sledge’s words weren’t entirely false. Sure, he could be reckless. Caution wasn’t exactly his default setting. He focused on getting the job done, not about making it pretty. And fine, he took risks, but only if the benefits outweighed the costs.

  That should mean something, shouldn’t it? After all, he worked his ass off and he wasn’t sloppy, not when it mattered.

  This was a blatant play to discredit him with the rest of the rookies.

  “You’re full of it, Hammer,” he gritted out. “I’m not afraid of you.”