Hot Shot

by M. J. Fredrick

“You can’t, and I won’t ask you to. But don’t ask me to stay.”

  “What we have between us, Peyton, it isn’t casual sex. You said you love me.” The words were raw as panic clawed at him, smothering the physical pain.

  “I do.” She stood and approached the bed, tried to smile, but the sentiment was washed away by the tears streaking down her cheeks. “I do. I wish to hell I didn’t, because this would be so much easier.”

  She squeezed her eyes shut, clutching his arm at the same time. When she opened her eyes, he saw her resolve, and it cut him in two.

  “But I can’t do this again. I have to protect myself. It’s selfish, but I won’t survive losing you. And I won’t ask you to be less than who you are. You’d hate me for it, and I couldn’t survive that, either.”

  Tears burned his own eyes, blurred his vision, and he couldn’t blame his pain for being unable to speak. But the words to convince her to stay wouldn’t come.

  She was right.

  Damn it, he’d been a fool to fall in love with her—not because she was a reporter, but because she’d been destroyed once by losing the man she loved. If he was a hero, he’d let her go.

  “I love you,” he managed, watching helplessly as Peyton gathered her fire shirt. She stiffened for just a moment before continuing with her task.

  “Gabe, you’re up! Can we come in?” Jen asked from the doorway. Then, “Oops.”

  Gabe barely spared her a glance, his eyes on Peyton. She walked over to the bed, took his face in her hands, stroked his cheeks. She gazed into his eyes a long moment and through his tears he saw a pain echoing his own before she kissed him goodbye. Her lips were soft and dry, and gone before he could reach up to hold her to him.

  She turned and walked out.

  Peyton was in no shape to speak to Jen, or Doug, who stood in the doorway behind his wife, and shoved past them, hating the desperation forcing her to flee. She pushed through the waiting Bear Claws. If she hesitated even one moment, she would turn and run back to Gabe. And immerse herself in the hell of being in love with a man who couldn’t live without danger.

  She couldn’t be a hero. She couldn’t even love one.

  She’d nearly separated herself from it in her mind, nearly separated Gabe from the risks he took. But the last twenty-four hours, on the mountain, in the hospital, brought it all into sharp focus, the memories of Dan’s death kicking in and overwhelming her. She understood completely that she was freaking out and behaving irrationally, but if this was the only chance she had to make a break from Gabe, she had to take it. She couldn’t live that way again.

  “Peyton! How is he?” a man’s voice asked behind her as she headed toward the elevators.

  She didn’t slow to see who was calling her. One of his crew, probably. They could find out from Jen. She had to get out of here right now. Footsteps echoed behind her and she picked up the pace. Escape was foremost in her mind.

  A wall of men in suits stopped her exit and she looked up in surprise at the human barrier. The men looked down at her without blinking, their faces implacable. Alarm raising the hair on her arms, she tried to swerve around them, but the wall blocked her on one side, a waiting-room chair on the other. A hand on her arm had her whirling, trying to jerk free. Then she froze, face to face with the president of the United States.

  “How is he? Cooper?”

  Why was President Hutchinson in this hospital, dressed in yellow and green Nomex fire gear, for God’s sake, and why was he asking about Gabe with a touch of desperation? Had he been the one calling her? The president knew her name.

  She took a moment to find her voice, professionalism grappling with shock. “He’s fine, sir. He’ll be fine.”

  The older man’s shoulders relaxed. She was struck by how human he appeared, just like any of the other firefighters out here awaiting word. Had he been here all night too? “What happened up there?” he asked.

  She pushed her hair back from her face wearily, not wanting to think about what had happened on the mountain, the terror, the race, the suffocating shelter. Gabe’s hatred of answering questions, of reliving a situation no one should have to live through in the first place, made sense to her now.

  Worst of all, if anything had gone wrong, it was her fault. She gathered herself, pushed the thoughts out of her head, stopping herself before she collapsed at the feet of the leader of the free world.

  “He almost died,” she said quietly. “He almost died trying to bring me back down.”

  And God, if she hadn’t been up there, he wouldn’t have gone up the mountain. Could she have forgiven herself if he hadn’t made it?

  Foolish. He would have gone as long as someone was in danger, if not this time, another. Of course it was dangerous. Otherwise it wouldn’t hold the same appeal. He lived for the fire, the danger.

  If she held him back, he was miserable. If she let him go, she was miserable. Who needed it?

  And here she was standing in the presence of the president feeling sorry for herself.

  “I’m sorry, sir. He’s-he’s fine. He’s in a room just down the hall, room 411. If you’ll excuse me.” She turned to walk away.

  “He was going crazy trying to get to you,” the president said to her back, his voice gentle, fatherly. “He saw you from the plane and damn near jumped without a parachute to get to you. I don’t think he would have done it for just anyone.”

  Peyton turned around, her heart squeezing. “I know he loves me. But I’m through with firefighting. And firefighters.”

  “Peyton.”

  He closed his hand over her arm to draw her into an alcove, into a seat. The man sat beside her, glancing at his Secret Service men long enough to signal them to back off a bit, before he turned those warm brown eyes to her. The same brown eyes she’d seen flashing with anger and determination on her television at home.

  “Your man inspires loyalty. He’s a hero. So why are you walking away?”

  So she, Peyton Michaels, spilled her guts—and her tears—to the president of the United States. She told him about Dan, told him her reason for writing these articles, about her sister. She told him her fear of losing Gabe for good.

  “And walking away from him isn’t going to accomplish that?” the president asked, incredulous.

  “It will show me whether or not I can live without him. I have to bet I can.”

  “Let me tell you something, little girl,” he said, his voice stern as he shifted in his seat, and she got a much better picture of the man who could intimidate Congress. “There are people who live with these fears every day. Their husbands or wives are cops or soldiers or firefighters. They kiss them goodbye every day and don’t know if they will see them again. But they do it because that person is the most important person in the world to them, and they can’t imagine what it’s like living without them.”

  “That’s right, sir,” Peyton said softly, rising, realizing it was a tremendous gaffe. She just couldn’t listen to him right now. She had to protect herself, and the only way she could was to walk away. “But I’ve made that sacrifice once. I can’t do it again.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  “God, Gabe, I’m so sorry,” Jen said, but instead of leaving him alone to tear apart the room, she settled into the vinyl chair, Doug on the arm. “Our timing was really bad.”

  He snorted his opinion as he ripped out his IV and shoved back the sheet, ignoring the protest of his stiff muscles. “If you have delicate sensibilities, you better look away now.”

  Instead, she got to her feet, trying to intimidate him back into bed. “What do you think you’re doing?” She tossed a glance over her shoulder, imploring her husband to come to her aid. “Doug!”

  Gabe stopped Doug with a glare as he climbed out of bed. Jen grabbed at his bleeding arm but he shook her off.

  “She’s not coming back,” he growled.

  “Of course she is.” Jen glanced nervously toward the door. “She loves you.”

  “She can’t love me. Because
of what I am.” He leaned over to look under the bed, shook off the dizzy spell. Stupid, stupid, stupid. “Where the hell are my clothes?”

  “What do you mean she can’t love you because of who you are?” Jen searched for the nurse call button, finally slapping all the buttons on the side of the bed.

  “I’m a Hot Shot and she can’t handle it.” Where were his clothes? Did they carry him out of the chopper naked, for God’s sake?

  “She didn’t get that you were a Hot Shot?” Jen asked dryly. “I thought she’d figured it out. She seemed smart enough to me.”

  Why bother to explain it? He had to get to Peyton, before she left the hospital, make her understand she was more important than his damned job. God knew Dan didn’t let her know it. “Her husband was a cop killed in the line of duty. She needs someone safe.”

  “So if you go after her, what will you tell her?” Doug asked.

  Gabe glared at his once best friend who stood in front of the door, felt a twinge of regret that it couldn’t be the same. He swayed on his feet and felt a catch in his lungs. “Whatever she wants to hear.”

  “You want a woman who can’t love you because of who you are?” Jen wanted to know.

  Gabe sat back on the bed and clutched the edge of the mattress as coughs gripped him.

  “There’s irony. And you always accused me of trying to change you. Peyton did it with a flip of her ponytail.”

  A nurse rushed in. All she had to do was push him to make him fall onto his back, he was so weak. Damn it to hell.

  “Gabe?” Jen drew his attention as the nurse fussed over him.

  “I love her, Jen,” he said between coughs. “I didn’t think I could again.”

  The tenderness on her face warmed to amusement. “A reporter, huh? That must’ve been a slap in the face.”

  He narrowed his eyes at her, but doubted he was very intimidating in his little hospital gown. “Isn’t that what you intended? Did you give her to me to hurt me, Jen?”

  Her eyes widened, like she was shocked he would think that of her. “No! She wanted the best, and you were the best I had.”

  Gabe lifted his brows and inclined his head toward Doug. Jen had the grace to redden, and he felt a momentary twinge for making her uncomfortable. She was here for him, after all. And she’d done everything in her power to help him get to Peyton. He couldn’t figure out where the mercy he felt came from, because he hadn’t been feeling very merciful when she and Doug walked in, interrupting his last moments with Peyton.

  “The best crew chief. You know what I meant.”

  “Sure I do. No other motive? Like punishing me?”

  Her eyes softened as she looked at him. “None other. You’re the best at what you do. I’d be happy to work with you again.”

  Gabe appreciated her recognition of his ability but no longer craved her approval. Still, he didn’t know what to say.

  Jen seemed to understand. She sat back. “I had to come thank you, Gabe. For bringing Doug back, for risking everything to help him. I know it wasn’t easy.”

  He took a deep breath to reply. He had some issues of his own to clear up before he ran after Peyton.

  But Jen, as usual, ran over him. “I’ve made some big mistakes, but I’m learning what’s important.” She curved a hand over her belly, put her other hand in Doug’s.

  Gabe battled the pain, not as sharp as it had been. He had to make an effort, put this behind him. “Look, I wasn’t thinking about you when you told me you were pregnant.”

  She shifted in the chair and studied her hands. “I hardly expected you to jump up and down, but I wanted you to hear it from me.”

  “No, I—look. As long as you’re happy, I’m happy.” He glanced at the door as if half-expecting to see Peyton walk back in.

  Jen didn’t miss it, but she didn’t comment. “That’s very adult of you,” she said.

  “Yeah, I’m all grown up now.” He was rewarded by her laugh, dragged a hand over his face and grimaced at the growth of stubble. He had to say it, had to put it in the past or he couldn’t move forward, couldn’t go after Peyton. “You’ll be a great mom.” The hell of it was, he meant it. Jen would give motherhood the focus she’d given her job. And she and Doug loved each other. Their children would grow up understanding that. But now, when he pictured his own children, their mother was Peyton. God. Another jab to the heart.

  “Cut it out, Gabe.” Jen pressed her fingers to her eyes. “You’ll make me cry.”

  Gabe glanced at Doug in alarm. “You don’t cry.”

  “Hormones,” Doug said with a casual wave of his hand. “You can’t talk to her anymore.”

  Gabe relaxed marginally. “As long as it wasn’t me being nice.”

  She snuffled a watery laugh. “Trust me, that’s more shocking than anything. Listen, I’ve decided to finish out this season, but they’re going to need another good man in management. If she doesn’t like you being on the fire line, maybe that’s something to consider. I’d be happy to recommend you.”

  He waited for the resentment. Still trying to change him. But it didn’t come. Hell, he even considered it—for about a second. It might be nice to have some control and not run up a damn mountain. He was getting old for this.

  She stood and bent to kiss his cheek. He closed his eyes to brace himself against the onslaught of emotions but instead felt—warmth. Just warmth and affection toward the woman who had ripped his heart out. He opened his eyes to meet Doug’s. Doug nodded his acknowledgement of the change in Gabe and slipped his hand around Jen’s elbow to lead her outside.

  Jen paused at the door. “Don’t let her walk away, Gabe. Not if you love her.”

  No, he wouldn’t let her, he decided, as the nurse worked to repair the damage he’d done with the IV. He’d made that mistake once.

  A knock sounded at the door not long after Jen and Doug left. An older man who looked more tired than Gabe felt stepped inside. “I’m Agent Devlin, FBI. Are you up to talking to me about Kim and Kevin O’Doul?”

  What the hell kind of invalid did the man think he was? Gabe sat higher in the bed, wishing he’d had the foresight to move to the chair. He didn’t want to project any kind of weakness. Bad enough he’d had an arsonist on his crew and hadn’t suspected.

  “I don’t know what I can tell you.”

  Agent Devlin stopped beside his bed, consulted one of those flip notebooks. “According to your crew, Kim was closest to you.”

  Gabe shifted. “She hung around a lot. I wasn’t her confidant, or anything.”

  Devlin nodded. “It can happen. But maybe she said something to you to help us locate her and her brother. We’ve tracked down every member of her family, no one has seen her, no one will tell us where she might have gone.”

  “I don’t know what I can tell you.” It wasn’t like he hadn’t thought about it. The woman had nearly killed Peyton, after all.

  “Try.”

  Gabe sighed and rubbed his forehead. “She’s from back east. Her parents didn’t want her to do this job, thought it wasn’t feminine.” Huh. Almost sounded familiar.

  And shit. That was what it was. That was what had bugged him about her burn story. She’d said she was cooking with her mother. She didn’t even like her mother.

  Goddamn, he was an idiot. Why hadn’t he been more suspicious? Bev would be alive.

  “Why did she join anyway?”

  “I’m not sure. I think she washed out of college. She’d wanted to be a zoologist or something, an outdoors kind of thing, but she couldn’t get the hang of—damn, I don’t remember. Some biology class.”

  “It’s a leap going from zoologist to firefighter.”

  “She was a ranger for a bit, with the fire seasons so bad lately, she was drawn to it.”

  Devlin looked up. “You don’t think she started any of the fires you worked on before, do you?”

  Gabe jolted. “No. No, she couldn’t have.”

  “Why not?”

  Why not? She’d started thi
s fire when he’d had no clue. How did he know she hadn’t started others? “They say she did this to get me to pay attention to her.”

  “Who said?”

  “Peyton Michaels, the woman Kim attacked on the mountain, told my ex, Jen Sheridan.”

  Agent Devlin consulted his pad with a graying eyebrow quirked in amusement. “The woman you were sleeping with told your ex-wife one of the women on your crew was in love with you.”

  Didn’t that make him sound like a player. The blunt words grated on Gabe’s nerves, but he didn’t correct the man.

  “Ms. Michaels is returning to Chicago, right?”

  Chicago. Gabe hadn’t known where the woman he claimed to love was from. She hadn’t been forthcoming, and damn it, questioning her about it had seemed too needy. He planned to find out, though, as soon as he got out of here.

  “She left a couple of hours ago,” he admitted.

  “I’ll get in touch with her again. Now, you know Kevin as well?”

  Gabe resented the new direction of the conversation. “Very distantly.”

  “You spoke to him just days ago. What indication did he give to raise your suspicions?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Jen Sheridan said you suspected it was Kim the minute you saw the list you’d had her get of firefighters who had been in the area when the fire started. Did you suspect Kevin before you saw his name?”

  Gabe shook his head. “Nothing jumped out at me till then. His hatred for Doug Sheridan when I talked to him this week was over the top. I mean, Doug’s a pretty mild-mannered guy. Most everybody likes him.”

  “Except you.”

  He rubbed a thumb between his eyebrows. “Yeah, well, I had good reason.”

  “He stole your wife.”

  “Glad you have all the gossip,” Gabe muttered.

  Devlin shifted. “I do have to wonder why you were so all-fired anxious to clear his name when he was such a shit to you.”

  Because that’s what heroes do, according to Peyton. “I knew he couldn’t have done it.”

  “But you didn’t feel the same about Kim?”

  “I didn’t want to believe it was a firefighter at all. I wasn’t convinced it was Kim till she hurt Peyton.” The memory rose up, dragging anger with it, choking him with it. Because he’d trusted Kim, so had Peyton. She’d almost died because of it.