Radclyffe - Firestorm

Jac didn’t think she’d ever get used to seeing Mallory with the clouds at her back, sunlight glinting in her hair. Her face was flushed with exertion and pure exhilaration. She looked happy. Mallory hadn’t looked happy in the loft that morning. She’d looked confused and uncertain and reluctant. Making Mallory unhappy was the last thing Jac wanted to do. Hell, she hadn’t even gotten close to Mallory yet, and she was already screwing things up. What she needed to do was back off. Give Mallory space. That ought to be easy enough to do, if she could only figure out how to stop thinking about her. And keep her heart from stuttering to a standstill every time she unexpectedly caught a glimpse of Mallory out of the corner of her eye. If she could only manage not to tighten up inside at the mere sound of her voice. Then it ought to be easy to maintain some distance.

“You ready for this?” Ray said.

“Huh?” Jac said.

“This exercise.” Ray gave her a look. “Where’s your head at, Jac? You need to score some points with the boss.”

“You can say that again.”

“Huh?”

“Never mind.”

Above them, Mallory said, “Hooker, take your place. On my mar—”

Hooker dropped off the edge, tucked, landed, and rolled.

“What the fuck was that?” Ray whispered. “Wasn’t he supposed to—”

“Yeah,” Jac muttered. “He was.”

Hooker was testing Mallory, subtly ignoring her authority in front of everyone. Jac just couldn’t figure out why. The guy must’ve known who was in charge of the station when he signed up, so if he had problems with Mallory, why didn’t he opt out of the placement? What did he think he was going to gain by antagonizing her? She’d wash him out at this rate.

Hooker sauntered over, a satisfied smirk on his face. “Piece-a-cake, ladies. You all will be fine.”

Mallory climbed down the ladder and walked over. “Too much wind up there, Hooker?”

He pulled off his helmet and shrugged his shoulders. “Nope. Felt great.”

“So you weren’t having a problem hearing me?”

He looked at her innocently. “Nope.”

“Want to explain why you took off early?”

“Hey,” he said nonchalantly. “You said you wanted me to demonstrate, I demonstrated. Any problems with my…technique?”

“The exercise isn’t just about technique,” Mallory said steadily, her gaze never wavering from Hooker’s. “It’s about performance. And part of performance out here is following protocol. Protocol keeps us all alive.”

Hooker’s jaw tightened. “Does it? That’s real good to know. Considering.”

Something hard stole into Mallory’s eyes, and a wave of heat surged in Jac’s chest. She clamped her jaws so hard, her ears ached. She wanted to challenge Hooker, hell—she wanted to kick his ass.

“Russo,” Mallory said softly. “You’re up.”

“Roger that.”

Jac waited for Mallory to lead the way up the ladder, watching the rigid line of her back as she ascended, knowing Hooker had drawn blood and wanting to filet him for it. Up on the platform, the wind blew Mallory’s hair around her face, and Jac ached to catch some of those strands on her fingers and tuck them behind Mallory’s ear. Any excuse to touch her. Maybe a futile gesture to ease her pain. Words, sympathy, even having been there herself, couldn’t touch the private wound, and she knew it. Still, the helplessness ate at her.

“Questions?” Mallory asked.

“No.”

“Repeat the sequence for me, please.”

Mallory’s tone was mechanical, remote, distant. She’d gone someplace inside, behind the barriers that helped deflect but never blocked the pain.

Jac did the only thing she could. Her job, just like Mallory. “Step to the edge. On your mark, step off, turn in the air, tuck my chin, land and roll.”

“Good.” Mallory rapped Jac on the back of her hardhat. “Don’t forget your chin, Rookie.”

The slight reverberation of Mallory’s knuckles against the protective headgear shot through Jac like a hot caress. Her breath caught in her chest.

“Right.” Jac stepped to the edge.

“Ready,” Mallory said, her voice the only sound. “Go.”

Jac pushed off and pivoted, searching for Mallory. She found Mallory’s eyes fixed on her, steady and intent, and calm suffused her. The next second, she hit hard, harder than she’d expected, and the breath rushed from her chest. Coughing, trying to suck air back in, she immediately rolled onto her side, and some of the shock dissipated. Thankfully, she managed a breath and got to her feet. Her legs were still a little wobbly. She chalked that unsteadiness up to the hard landing. She wanted to pretend her moment of disorientation hadn’t been all Mallory. But it was. Pretty pathetic that a casual rap on the head would turn her upside down. She hustled out of the landing area and made her way to the back of the line.

“Not bad,” Hooker said.

“Thanks,” Jac said, working hard to keep her voice steady. Her lungs didn’t feel fully expanded yet, and she was still air hungry. Her right shoulder was a little sore, but she’d remembered to tuck her chin, and Mallory hadn’t come down to criticize her drop. She’d take it for the first time out.

Hooker leaned too close to her, his big body crowding her. “Probably scored some points with James.”

“That wasn’t high on my list,” Jac said, standing her ground. “I’d just rather not break both my legs the first time I jump from the plane.”

“All the same,” he said, “I get the feeling muffins aren’t gonna get you where you want to go with her.”

Jac tensed. She hadn’t seen him on her coffee and muffin run, but he’d obviously seen her. Careless of her not to be on alert. “Hooker—”

“Hey, babe, good luck thawing that out.” Hooker grinned suggestively. “Whoever named her Ice wasn’t kidding. I don’t think you can get through with a blowtorch.”

She wanted to take him on and she couldn’t, for so many reasons. She’d get booted from the program. She’d probably make the news, and her family would have one more “humiliating escapade,” as her father termed it, to suffer through. Mallory wouldn’t want her to cause problems for the team. Mallory didn’t need her to defend her. “Hooker, are you always such a moron, or am I just the lucky recipient of your idiocy?”

He chuckled. “You really think you’re gonna get over on that one?”

“I don’t think anything at all. What is your problem?”

“Not a thing.” He turned so his back was partially to the platform, and his friendly expression went feral. “If you get a piece of her, congratulations. Maybe you’d even like to share. I’ve got plenty to go around.”

Jac actually drew her fist back, and his gaze flickered to the movement.

“You really do have a hard-on for her.” He laughed. “What are you going to do, hit me?”

Jac turned and walked away.

“Russo?” Mallory called. “ Russo. Problem?”

“Just winded. Fell wrong,” Jac yelled back without slowing. She kept going until she reached the shack. She hung her pack on the peg, put her gear away, and pulled off her jump suit. She jogged out of the building, across the yard, and into the woods. The cold mountain air dried the sweat on her skin, but didn’t cool her fury. She had no destination. She only wished she had an IED waiting for her, anything to defuse her frustration and helplessness.

*

Mallory finished writing her evaluations, stacked the forms neatly on the upper right-hand corner of her desk, and stared at the small brass wind-up clock that had adorned her father’s desk until his death. Five o’clock. The sun would set in less than an hour, and the mountains would become a dense, dark labyrinth. No one ventured into the wilderness after dark unless life and limb depended on it. Jac hadn’t returned to the loft to catnap or change clothes or unwind. She was probably in the gym or grabbing an early dinner in the canteen. Maybe playing cards or comparing war stories with the other rookies. Somewhere doing what smokejumpers did while waiting for the action, somewhere safe and sound.