Hot Shot

by M. J. Fredrick

  “Well, Michaels, we’ve got our spot staked out by the ninth hole,” Cooper said by way of parting. “I imagine you’ll be heading back to the motel now.”

  His implication that she would rent a room, for a nice shower and a soft bed raised her hackles. Oh, good. At least some part of her body could move. “I have a tent. I’m up for the whole experience.” Only moments ago she’d been ready to call it quits, had been fantasizing about a shower and a bed, the easy way out. Why did Cooper have to be the one to get her fired up again?

  And what did it matter? She couldn’t just react to challenges. She had to find the commitment in herself. But for now, she’d take his challenge.

  He nodded. “You know where the mess is, and the showers are in the trailers out by the road.”

  As wonderful as being clean sounded, she didn’t want to stand as long as it took to get all the grime off her body. She would hardly be the only dirty person in this camp. She staggered away in search of a flat place to lose consciousness.

  The next morning, after just enough sleep to leave him groggy, Gabe shoved out of his sleeping bag fully dressed and crawled out of his tent. He never used to wake up so stiff. Golf courses were free of rocks, but who knew such pretty green grass could mask such hard ground?

  He staggered toward the mess tent with one word on his mind—caffeine. He didn’t glance left or right until he got to the big overworked coffeepot and only then to find something larger than those pathetic Styrofoam cups for his coffee. Facing a definite lack of choices, he poured two cups and downed one in a single swallow before refilling it and heading out.

  “Gabe!” Behind him, Jen’s voice was panicked. Christ, he didn’t have the energy for her now, and her tone was familiar enough for him to realize she didn’t have good news for him. Hell, she rarely sought him out period.

  He kept walking.

  “Gabe!”

  She ran up and grabbed his arm. If he’d been in a better humor he might have taken solace that she appeared more exhausted than he felt.

  “Hey,” she said, looking up at him, worry darkening the eyes he’d once known so well. “I have some Girl Scouts trapped about five miles up the main road. Sheriff Bosquez tried to raise them and can’t get through, and the fire’s blocked our way in.”

  “Maybe they got out.”

  “Maybe,” she conceded with a nod. “But they’re unaccounted for at any of the evacuation sites. It’s some kind of scout camp. You know, with kids. You’d think if they got out they’d notify the parents. You have to go in and make sure they’re out.”

  Adrenaline chased fatigue from his body as the surprise of the request wore off. His feet itched to move out. He couldn’t let her see it, though. He couldn’t let her know he still felt the thrill.

  She’d never seen it when they were married, always pushing him toward a supervisory position, but he’d wanted to stay in the field. Year after year his friends left for full-time office jobs and grew sticks up their asses, but he couldn’t do it, couldn’t confine himself inside four walls.

  Jen hadn’t understood his lack of ambition. His satisfaction with his life looked like complacence in her eyes. She’d wanted her husband to be more than a mere ground pounder, even if he was one of the best. The harder she’d pushed the more he’d resisted and the more they fought.

  “Fine, all right.” He braced his feet apart. “Give me what you’ve got.”

  She spun on her heel and he followed her into the strategy tent, pulling his map from his back pocket.

  “We’ve got fifteen girls and three counselors trapped at McIntosh Ridge.” Jen walked around the table and gestured to the map pinned to the bulletin board. “Trees surrounding it, dirt road going in. The road is useless, though. The fire’s hooked below.”

  “Got it.” He scanned the map once again and compared it to his.

  “Did you hear me, Gabe?” She put her hand over the map, trying to force his gaze to hers. “The fire’s hooked below.”

  “I heard you.” She was emphasizing the danger so he had the whole story, but the truth was, he didn’t have a choice. He had to go in. “If they’re still up there, we’ll get them out.”

  He pushed out of the tent and collided with the soft body of Peyton Michaels. She must have found the showers, because her hair was no longer black with soot, and some fruity scent floated up from her, but he couldn’t stand around smelling her, thinking of her as a woman, as anything other than a reporter. His mind already moved ahead to the mountain. He acknowledged her with a nod and set her aside.

  She hurried after him and touched his arm. He stopped, glanced from her hand to her bold brown eyes. “Can I help you?”

  She didn’t drop her hand away despite his pointed look. “I want to go with you.”

  “Go where?” As if he didn’t know. Just like a reporter. This was not something he wanted to deal with now, on the heels of dealing with Jen. His shields weren’t all the way back up.

  “To the camp.”

  He glanced back at the tent. Of all the people to overhear, it had to be her. “Eavesdropping?”

  She merely lifted her brows. Always challenging him. “I have ears.”

  “We had a deal. One shift.” He sliced his hand through the air in a gesture of finality, not wanting the responsibility for her a minute longer. “Your shift is up.”

  “But this—rescuing trapped children!” Her voice shook with excitement as she trotted after him. “This is exactly what I’m writing about.”

  He scowled. “I’m not doing this for your amusement, Michaels.”

  She looked stricken he would think so, and he felt an uncharacteristic stab of regret. Hell, what did she think, making statements like that? That she was going to improve his opinion of reporters?

  “No, of course not. But you have to see how important this would be to me.”

  All the wrong reasons to go up on the mountain. He shook his head. “And just what makes you think that matters to me?”

  Her temper brightened her eyes. “Is it just me, or all reporters?”

  He didn’t hesitate. “All reporters.”

  She huffed out a breath. “Here I was all a-tingle, thinking I was special.”

  Here he thought he was starting to like her wise mouth. He didn’t dignify her remark with an answer.

  “What happened?” she pressed, hovering at his elbow. “Someone get on your bad side?”

  “Did you hear I had a good side?”

  A surprised laugh burst from her. Damn, she was cute, all dimples and white teeth. “You know, you’re right. An assumption on my part.”

  “Comes with the job,” he muttered, and she laughed again.

  “What is it?” Her voice was breathless as she tried to keep up with him. He wouldn’t feel sorry for her. “What makes you hate us so much?”

  “It couldn’t be the constant questions,” he said.

  “Sure, it could be, but that would be an annoyance, not downright hatred.”

  He stopped then and faced her. “Will you tell me, right here and right now, what your angle is?” She opened her mouth and he lifted one finger to silence her. “Not what your story is, but what spin you’re going to put on it?”

  “Is that it? You’ve been burned by interviews so all reporters are bad?”

  “See? You can’t even answer a damned question without a question. I need to go get my crew together.” He turned on his heel.

  She came after him, edging around a cluster of firefighters to look up at him. “All right. My series is on heroic jobs and the people who live them. People want to read about real-life heroes.”

  He snorted. “Then you’re following the wrong guy around.”

  “I don’t think so. You forget I watched you out there.”

  No, he hadn’t forgotten. Her presence had been more of a distraction, and not only because of the reporter thing. Distraction on the fire line because of a woman had almost killed him once. He wouldn’t give the dragon another chance
.

  “I wasn’t being a hero.” He dismissed her claim with a shrug. “I was doing my job. I’m good at what I do, but I’m no damned hero.”

  “It’s the real heroes who don’t see what they are,” she said, her voice low.

  He stopped to give her a warning look. “What’d I tell you about the ego stroking?”

  “Come on, Cooper, I can hold my own up there. Let me come with you. I did fine on the fire yesterday.”

  Damn, he used to be better at intimidation. Maybe he wasn’t trying hard enough. “Yeah, I remember how good you were at complaining.”

  “It was my first fire,” she said in her defense.

  “And this isn’t going to be your second.” He started toward his crew’s tents again, hoping she would take the hint. Of course it would be too much to ask for. Damn, what had made this woman so determined? “It’s not a walk in the park, Peyton. We are facing a big fire here. I don’t want to have to worry about those kids and you.”

  “I see your point.” He could see her puzzling it out and the working of her mind fascinated him. “So, you have a lot of experience with kids?”

  He ducked his head to hide his smile. “As a matter of fact, I have none.”

  “And your crew? Are they family people?”

  “Not as far as I know.”

  A frown flickered across her face. “Really?”

  He shrugged.

  “I happen to be great with kids.”

  “Is that a fact.” It wasn’t a question.

  “It is. I have”—she paused and looked into the air to think of a number, then pretended to count on her fingers—“six nieces and two nephews. I’m their favorite aunt.”

  “You realize I don’t believe you.”

  “You realize that doesn’t surprise me.”

  God, she was quick. He admired that, couldn’t resist stepping closer to her to see her reaction. She didn’t move back, but wariness flickered in her dark eyes. “So you really know kids?”

  “Enough to know those girls are going to be terrified and having a bunch of big bad firemen come in, all decked out in your gear, will not improve the situation. I think I’ll be able to keep them calm, at least relate to them a little bit.”

  He moved back, considering, and she let out a breath she’d been holding. Did he smell that bad, or did he affect her that much? He was pretty sure he had the answer, and he didn’t want to dwell on the repercussions of it. “Go get your gear and meet me back here.”

  Suspicion replaced wariness. “You aren’t going to head out without me.”

  Now that hurt. “I can be a mean bastard, rookie, but I’m not a sneaky one. You got five minutes.”

  Chapter Three

  Gabe held thirty-seven lives in his hands. The thought remained uppermost in his mind as his crew moved up the mountain, farther north than they’d been yesterday. The slope wasn’t as bad, the trees up to this altitude were saplings, but ahead of them was old growth, and the scout camp. The fire was below them, and now his crew and the campers faced the risk of being caught in the bottom of a horseshoe, with fire all around them. Fire moved fastest uphill.

  He stopped just below the old-growth tree line. Smoke hung low, obscuring the sky, the tops of the eighty-foot-tall trees, and no birds, no insects around. No noise. Nature had perfected the concept of bugging out.

  If the kids were still there in all that smoke, they’d be hysterical. Michaels claimed she could calm them. He was more worried he’d have to keep her calm. She stood apart from the others, hands on her hips, looking toward the forest, ponytail whipping against her neck beneath her hard hat. The fire yesterday had been a backyard barbecue compared to what they were walking into.

  His crew gathered around, eager to get to work.

  “We need to split up,” he announced to his unit, the place and plan clear in his mind, sight unseen. He pointed to his four most experienced crew members. “I’m taking Kim, Chris, Tony and Mike into camp with me. Howard and Laura, you start clearing trees from the camp, moving in this direction, parallel to the fire. It’ll get us out safely, and hopefully slow the fire down. Everyone else, you know what to do.”

  “What about me?” Peyton asked, the only one to question her place. Big surprise.

  Experience told him to put her on the line as far from the fire as she could get. Instinct told him to take her with him. He’d spent a lot of years honing those instincts. He crooked a finger at her to join his group.

  “Maria, flag us in.” The young woman tied pieces of tape around several branches in a line. This was their escape route out of the camp if the smoke got too bad. Gabe turned to his crew. “The minute you see the fire you retreat. In this smoke, once you see the fire it will be right on top of you. I don’t want any heroes here today.”

  As they moved in, his crew strung out to cut line, his newer crew farthest from the fire, his most experienced closer, where they would have to work fast. He didn’t stop to consider they might fail.

  This fire was different. Peyton could feel it already, the urgency of the Hot Shots, the intensity and speed of the flames. Yesterday’s blaze had lain low on the ground. This one was—aggressive.

  The Hot Shots stumbled into the clearing of the camp, only visible to each other through the smoke by their yellow shirts and headlamps. Pulses of heat washed over them. They heard the fire crackling and popping on the mountain below them. If she stopped to think about what they faced, she’d run back to camp. So hot, and the waves of heat brought scents, blistering and terrifying, singeing her nostrils.

  A phwump, like fireworks going off, shook her out of it.

  “What’s that?” she shouted to Cooper.

  “Trees exploding,” he said grimly without a glance in her direction.

  She scanned the camp, the forlorn-looking picnic tables, the snug little cabins ringing it. Not a camper in sight. Had they gotten out? Where could they have gone? Across the clearing, a yellow bus sat in the smoke, so they hadn’t driven out. She pointed it out to Gabe, who nodded. Of course he saw it too.

  With a gesture from Gabe, his crew dispersed to look in the cabins. He reached for Peyton to keep her with him but she shook him off and approached the sixth building.

  The door was wedged shut, and she peered through a dusty window to see what could be blocking it. The light from her helmet fell on the terrified children and their counselors huddled inside. The campers screamed and scrambled back when they saw her headlamp shine through the window. What were they thinking, locking themselves in here? That the fire would blow over?

  Her throat raw, her heart doing its damnedest to run down the mountain without her, Peyton gestured them toward the door and called for the Hot Shots.

  One of the counselors inside came to her senses and lunged for the door. Smoke poured into the cabin through the open door and Peyton stood in the doorway and waved them out. Two women and several children ran to the center of the clearing, where the Hot Shots encircled them.

  Peyton turned to join them.

  “Michaels! We’re missing an adult and a kid—are they in there with you?” Gabe called.

  She opened her mouth to deny it, then turned. Sure enough, in the corner, a counselor crouched near a cot. Peyton hesitated, surveying the cabin through the smoke that filled it. She couldn’t make herself step any farther in.

  “Are you all right?” she shouted.

  The older woman’s terror lit her eyes in the dark room. “Carrie is under here—she won’t come out!”

  From her spot near the door, Peyton crouched to look. Her headlamp reflected the pale face of a small girl.

  “Michaels!” Cooper barked from behind her. “What’s the hold up? We’ve got to move.”

  She whirled on him. What was he thinking, scaring everyone with his impatience? “There’s a scared kid here and your shouting doesn’t help!”

  Gabe swore and strode into the cabin. He grabbed the end of the bed, lifted it to expose the little girl, who screamed and s
crambled into the corner.

  “Get her,” he ordered.

  Peyton forced herself forward and picked up the child, who added kicking to her screaming. Peyton blinked against the flailing fists that knocked back her helmet, gasped against a blow to her stomach from the small feet. The flurry of movement made it hard to see where she was going as she headed for the door. She tripped, and Cooper caught her arm and dragged her with him.

  In the clearing, four girls in various pieces of fire gear hunkered together. Two were wrapped in Gabe’s fire shirt; she only now realized he wasn’t wearing it. Two others held his silver fire shelter about their shoulders, one of them balancing his large helmet on her small head, the other with his bandana about her nose and mouth. The sweaty fabric couldn’t smell good, but it would keep some of the smoke from her lungs.

  Gabe stopped in front of the oldest one. “Why are you still here?”

  The little girl’s lip stuck out. “You told us not to move!”

  He rolled his eyes as Peyton came up beside him.

  “Where is everyone else?” Peyton asked.

  “I sent them out already. We need to get going. Now.”

  Gabe couldn’t hear the saws anymore and didn’t know if the noise was drowned out by the encroaching fire or if his team had been forced to retreat. Embers rained down on them, and his skin prickled with dread. Before the intuition had time to fully form, the wind kicked up and the flames jumped into the canopy.

  God help them, it was a crown fire, fast and loud. At least the smoke rose off the ground and he could see. He lifted the smallest child into his arms.

  “We’re going out under the fire!” he yelled. “It’s in the crown, but it could drop down, all right? So we’ve got to go fast. Michaels, bring up the rear to push them along. Can you run with her?”

  “God, I hope so.” Her eyes were huge in her soot-dusted face as her gaze followed the leaps of fire through the treetops.

  “Don’t look at it. Just move forward as fast as you can.”

  The child she carried still fought her, the strain of it showed on her face. He leaned down to the girl, watching her eyes widen in terror. He must appear monstrous to a small child, with his dirty face and glowering expression, and he used that to his advantage.