Rescued by Her Rival Page 14

  “Do you want to know my best day?” The question came softly, as if he knew he’d just set her internal compass spinning and felt guilty.

  Hearing anything about him was a salve to the new cycle of self-criticism she teetered on the edge of. She nodded.

  “During the fire season, my best day is doing what we did the day of Treadwell’s heart attack.”

  “Helping someone you care about?”

  “No.” He shook his head. “Burning and digging. Figuring out how to beat the fire, how to control it. I don’t enjoy going into the blazes. I hate it. It’s part of the job, so I do it. But my best day? Carving that line in the earth. Protecting the land behind you, the homes, the families, the wilderness, the animals. Being the barrier between. That’s my best day.”

  Not what she pictured at all when she thought of fighting fires. Digging felt like busywork, even if she knew it wasn’t.

  “You hated going into the fire last night,” she said again, thinking out loud. “Even before we found them.”

  His actions hadn’t been as sure as they normally were. He’d deferred to her there, but in the field always stormed ahead and left others to follow, or not. He didn’t want anyone to suffer, not people, not animals, but he didn’t get joy out of the rescue, because it meant someone had to suffer first, and suffer later.

  “Yes,” he admitted, and opened his mouth to say more, but that damned siren blasted again, like last Saturday all over again.

  * * *

  They reached the field ahead of the others, Beck’s question still ringing in her head.

  It was early enough that to the west the sky still faded into night. Lamps dotting the field provided enough light to see, not that she was paying much attention yet.

  What if Beck was right? What if she’d only come here out of some juvenile rebellion?

  She gave herself a mental shake.

  Focus. Something was going on. No time to be self-absorbed. Siren meant emergency, the right mind-set was preparation.

  And yet? She couldn’t shake it. It was only her future. It was only what she’d been working toward for two years. Everything she’d thought she wanted, right up until he’d asked that stinking question.

  Sure, she’d had some unease after bungling that first jump, but they’d worked on that. Knowing what to do next in the field wasn’t instinct yet, and she definitely gave herself regular hell over even slight mistakes about anything, but she’d learn.

  She’d always heard about her failures from her father, her self-criticism was worse than his. It drove her to fight for perfection. And she learned from that, just as she’d learn now.

  “Kolinski,” Beck said quietly at her side, jerking her from her thoughts. She turned in time to see the lieutenant jogging in from the admin buildings.

  Seeing them, Kolinski snapped and pointed to the mess hall. “You two, we’re taking more people out today.”

  “What’s going on?”

  “Lightning storm up north. Three separate fires started and not enough rain to put a damper on it. Biggest cut across the border to Nevada, and it’s racing up the Donner trail toward Tahoe.”

  “The whole wagon train in the olden days where they ate each other?” Lauren asked, because for some reason that was the part that stuck out to her. That and the ruggedness of the terrain.

  Kolinski and Beck looked at her strangely and her brain caught up.

  “And, of course, the lake, where people vacation. Ringed by forests. Needing protection. Right. I’m with you.”

  “Because of the unseasonably warm spring, we have more people camping and exploring than usual.”

  “Families?” Beck interrupted, alarm in his voice—already convinced of the worst-case scenario. Not simply preparing for it, but sucked back to that dark place he’d been last night.

  Kolinski seemed to pick up on it too, and nodded slowly. “Anything’s possible. The storm was violent and sudden, and sparked separate locations. It’s a big area.”

  Lauren tapped Beck’s arm to get his attention, and jerked her head toward the main hall.

  Kolinski left to inform others as they arrived.

  “Does he mean more digging or jumping?” she asked, as much to pull his head back to the job as to know.

  “Both,” he answered.

  Something in his voice made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. Or maybe it was the lack of words. He’d become more talkative this week. And Both was back to one-word answers.

  With how much she understood he hated fires, she didn’t even wonder what it meant.

  * * *

  Twenty minutes later, Beck sat behind the wheel of his truck, driving them both to the airport. They’d eaten quickly, dressed in flight suits, and he’d somehow talked her into driving there with him instead of going on the bus. Not just because he needed to get her alone, but she’d need transportation back to camp if he could get her to agree to his request.

  “You’re quiet.” She unfastened her seat belt and slid closer, then buckled back in.

  “Preoccupied,” he answered.

  They were a good fifteen minutes ahead of the bus—corralling more people took longer, thankfully.

  “Worried about the fire?” she asked, hesitation in her voice saying that no matter how close they’d gotten, she still felt the need to tread lightly after their interrupted conversation, even if she still wanted to be closer.

  He’d intended on getting to the airport before picking another fight, but dodging wouldn’t win him any points.

  “Trying to figure out how to talk you out of going up.”

  She stiffened beside him, and even with his eyes on the road he could feel her stare.

  “Bet you regret getting closer now.”

  “Bet you’re right,” she grumped, then unbuckled and slid her rear right back to her original seat. “All that talk was about making me quit? You said I’m ready, that I’m doing great. What’s going on?”

  “You are doing great.” He turned down the access road to the airport.

  “Then what? Did I do something at the scene last night to make you think I’m not capable?”

  If only he’d had time to build an argument, but they’d only known about this less than half an hour, and most of that time he’d spent arguing with himself over whether or not he should even try to stop her today. “Let me get us there. The conversation deserves all my attention, not what I can spare while driving.”

  She didn’t say anything else, but he could feel tension rolling off her.

  Three quick turns, a couple thousand miles of access roads to the hangar, where he parked.

  She didn’t wait for him to get going, it was practically a miracle she’d waited as long as she had. “So?”

  “When we were in the apartment last night, you were amazing.” Beck turned in the seat to better see her. “You have a feel for structure fires I don’t have. You know how it acts, the safest paths, and you were fearless. I was very proud of you.”

  “None of that adds up to don’t jump.” She unfastened her seat belt and turned slightly toward him, though her hand rested on the door handle. “You think I do a great job and shouldn’t do it?”

  Yes, it sounded stupid. He couldn’t argue that. All he could do was try to explain.

  “I wasn’t afraid for you in the fire last night. That fire was dangerous, people were hurt, it was upsetting, but I wasn’t afraid for you in that fire.”

  “But you are afraid for me with a fire that’s out in the open?” she asked. “Not jumping or landing, you’re afraid of me being at a fire on the land?”

  “You asked me how I see fire. I thought I’d answered, but I was wrong. I don’t see all fire the same. The monster waiting to take away the people I love? It’s wildfire. I know it’s irrational, structure fires are a thousand times more deadly, but they
don’t feel the same. They feel—”

  “Like things?” she interrupted.

  He nodded, then took a chance and reached for her hand. Although her fingers were stiff, tense, she didn’t pull away. She splayed her fingers, let them slide together, and carefully flexed them to fit his. “You have to tell me the truth. Are you trying keep me from joining? Because that’s not going to happen. Even if you don’t want me here.”

  “I’m not thinking past today, but I think you might be in denial. Honestly. I’d feel better if you just joined another station instead of going back to be under your dad’s thumb, but that’s not what this is about. I only know that if we’re both on the mountain today, I’ll focus on you more than the fire, which does make me more dangerous to everyone else.”

  “Why?”

  “Because something could happen! I know it’s illogical. I’m admitting it’s illogical. I know it’s stupid to think you’re worse off fighting a forest fire than in a building, but it’s not something I can control. Maybe I am too emotional about this, but the idea... I’ve been seeing it in my mind over and over again. Of you being caught. Of you burning. It’s... I can’t have you there.”

  She drew a breath, a slow, stay-calm, deep breath, as if he didn’t know how much his request would grate on her. To her credit, despite the frustration bubbling there, barely controlled in her voice, she still didn’t pull her hand away.

  “This is going to be my job. It took me two years to get here. And they need people today. You heard Kolinski say there may be people out there. They wouldn’t be pulling in rookies if it wasn’t going very badly, if they weren’t fighting on too many fronts.”

  “I know.”

  “I’m not done,” she said. “Just trying to be very deliberate with my word choices.”

  He nodded, giving her hand a squeeze, and stretched across that middle space where she’d briefly been sitting.

  “If you’re planning on going, then you’re being unfair to me. They need bodies, but I’m not going to pull my body out of this if you don’t also. You’re my partner. I don’t care if this is voluntary and not going to count against us if you go and I don’t. If you bow out, I will too. That’s the compromise I’m willing to make. If you stay, I stay. We can try to work on this thing that’s hurting you together. But if you go, I’m going.”

  “And if I said I love you? If I said I love you and I’m... I’m desperate?”

  She pulled her hand free. “If you say you love me to make me stay, I’m going to say you’re treating me like my father and brothers do. I gave you a fair compromise. If you’re not willing to take it, then it’s not about you being afraid of the wildfire. It’s about you not respecting that I can handle myself, and that’s really not okay.”

  “I have to go...”

  “You don’t have to go. You’re a rookie right now. You’re volunteering.”

  “Not that. I mean... If I don’t go...there won’t be anyone there to... If Kolinski or the other captains have to make that decision that it’s not worth risking one life to save a life, I can make that decision for myself.”

  She jerked the door of the truck open and climbed out. “You either trust them or you don’t.”

  “I trust them, but they have different responsibilities than I do.” He climbed out too, and stopped her from storming into the hangar by grabbing her elbow. “I’m putting the keys in the back bumper. So you can drive back to camp if you—”

  “That’s why you wanted to drive? So I could drive back when I meekly accepted your demand to not go?” She jerked her elbow from his hand and launched forward, shoving him back. “And you’re still talking like your life is expendable!”

  The bus rolled into the area and Lauren stepped back, shaking her head and muttering to herself as she stalked inside.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  IT HAPPENED MORE often than Lauren would like to admit, where she got this angry after being love-manipulated.

  Her family did it.

  Troy had done it.

  And now Beck. Beck, the one who was supposed to be different. Beck, the one who had helped her overcome the major obstacle to her making the team.

  Beck, who apparently still thought he was expendable.

  She rounded the open doors and inside the hangar sat the plane and a ton of parachute packs, ready to be put on.

  So do that. Give her hands something to do besides punch him, because, as violent as she generally wasn’t, it crackled in the back of her head. One cranial lightning strike after another, composed of the words she wanted to shout at him.

  She grabbed the first chute, and he stepped up beside her, scowling as he went about suiting up as well.

  “You know, my family manipulates me that way. ‘If you love me, Lauren, you’ll find another job.’”

  “I’m not doing that.”

  “The hell you’re not. This is brand-new, this is the first jump after...” She stopped, realizing her voice had risen and even if they were alone, she didn’t want to be shouting about her sex life anywhere they could be overheard. “You love me? Tell me then, how would you feel if I was the one telling you that I was ready to run into an unsurvivable fire for any living creature. Tell me how I’m supposed to feel when you have this outlook.”

  “Are you saying you love me too?”

  “Yeah, but you’re a jerk and I’m not sure you deserve me loving you and worrying about you. Your worry isn’t worth more than mine. The difference is that I’m willing to trust you. Which is kind of stupid considering I’m not the one who keeps saying that I’ll take almost certain death on the tiny little chance that I could save a dog—even as someone who loves dogs, as I do. So, really, if anyone should stay on the ground, it’s you.”

  “I know that.”

  “So stay. Stay and I’ll stay, and we’ll figure something out.”

  “There is no way out of this!” His voice went up then. “You think me going to talk to a counselor is going to magically make me okay with someone dying if I could save them?”

  “You can’t save everyone, Beck! You just can’t. There are no-win situations. They’re things that exist, and if you can’t see that, you shouldn’t be going out there.”

  The others began piling into the hangar, effectively shutting down their fight but doing nothing to shake the helpless feeling from her shoulders.

  She checked the straps, making sure they were buckled right and tight enough, and grabbed another snack from nearby stashes so she’d have the energy needed for this, while Kolinski began checking gear before letting anyone onto the plane. Beck edged up to her and made a show of checking her buckles. “Tell me what I’m supposed to do.”

  “There are people around.”

  “So tell me quietly.”

  “Damn it, Ellison,” she muttered. “You’re supposed to hold yourself to the same standard you hold me to. It’s not rocket science. But you hold yourself to the I’m expendable standard, and hold me to the fragile flower standard.”

  “I don’t hold you to the fragile flower standard. And you know, if you were honest on your application, you wouldn’t be jumping right now anyway.”

  That sounded...very much like a threat. Despite the heat roiling through her, a cold wave swept down her spine.

  Escalating further would make this go exactly the wrong way for her.

  “We’ll talk about this later. The line’s shortening.”

  She scooted that way, but he cut in front of her.

  Probably so she could still back out. God, how did she keep getting these meatheads who thought so little of her capabilities?

  He moved forward and upon reaching the lieutenant stopped and looked at her pointedly.

  His body swayed lightly as the straps were checked, and when Kolinski cleared him, he didn’t step onto the stairs up.

  He kept looking at h
er. Not just looking, his gaze bored into her with so much anger it bordered on something darker.

  “What are you waiting for?” Kolinski asked, and Beck faced their leader, jaw clenching, clenching, clenching, her stomach right with it.

  He was going to tell Kolinski.

  More cold. She’d planned to come clean before taking the job officially at the end, but not now. It was her call to make, her confession to make.

  “Is there a problem with you two?” Kolinski asked. “I thought this was sorted out.”

  “It is sorted out,” Lauren said, shaking her head, and when she looked Beck in the eye again, his held through several thundering heartbeats, then he wordlessly climbed aboard the plane.

  “You sure everything is sorted out?” Kolinski asked as he got on with checking her straps.

  The answer was a lot more final in her head than it had been this morning when they’d been wrapped up in each other.

  “I’m sure.”

  Sure it was over. He hadn’t actually ratted her out, but it had been on the tip of his tongue. And that was his starting position? It had nowhere to go but worse.

  Kolinski took her word, even if it was obviously another lie on her conscience, and she climbed onto the plane to find her place in line.

  * * *

  Lauren’s jump and landing were flawless. Other, more experienced jumpers landed in trees, but not her. Beck had jumped just after her so he could make sure she went where she was supposed to go, and had followed her with one spin to land lengthways across the bare spot she’d aimed for.

  He’d be proud if he wasn’t presently angry at pretty much everyone. Himself for being irrational. Her for not listening, not even once. The fire, for being a fire.

  Twenty minutes later, he had a shovel and a saw on his back, and moved with a group of five others—including Lauren—to where they were supposed to dig and cut. With simultaneous fires breaking out all over a national forest where people camped and hiked, they were spread as thinly as possible while still making any headway. By the time this was over, Beck feared the forest would look like it had been clear-cut.