Radclyffe - Firestorm

“I’ve been busy,” Jac said.

Mallory handed Jac her jeans. “Put these on.”

“Thanks.” Jac grasped the pants without looking at Mallory and jammed her legs into them. “What are you doing here?”

“Your father has a fund-raiser Friday night. He wants you there.”

“I can’t make it.” Jac zipped her fly and buttoned her jeans. Her stomach felt hollow, as if she hadn’t eaten in a long time, but the thought of food made her nauseous. The loft was cool and she was bare-chested. Her nipples tightened.

“Could you excuse us for a few moments,” Mallory said, getting to her feet, “while we get decent?”

Mallory spoke with what some might call a pleasant tone, but Jac knew better. The ice in her voice barely disguised the razor edge of temper. Mallory was pissed.

“This doesn’t concern you,” Nora said dismissively, not bothering to look at Mallory when she responded. “Jac, whatever game you’re into here isn’t as important as your father’s fund-raiser. It’s bad enough we couldn’t reach you for his nationally televised acceptance speech. Your father is going to be the next president of the United States, and it’s time for you to grow up.”

“Grow up,” Jac whispered, thinking of her months overseas, her weeks on the fire line last summer, the last few days doing SAR up in the mountains. She’d faced death, beaten death, wasn’t that enough? Wouldn’t anything ever be enough? “I’m not playing, Nora.”

“Whatever you think you’re doing is beside the point. The family needs to present a united front now. You’re needed at home.”

Jac shook her head. “That would be new. I thought he wanted me MIA.”

“Jac,” Mallory murmured, grasping Jac’s arm.

“It’s a little late to feel sorry for yourself, Jac. Most of your problems you brought on yourself.” Nora glanced at the rumpled sleeping bags as if indicating the evidence. “Considering you’ve practically made it your life’s work to entertain the media, your father has little choice. He can hardly pretend you don’t exist.”

Mallory said, “It seems to me he’s been doing a pretty good job of that so far.”

Fleming flicked arctic blue eyes in Mallory’s direction. “Perhaps you’d like to excuse us. This is Jac’s business.”

“Actually, this is my business too.” Mallory retrieved Jac’s shirt and handed it to her. While Jac took the shirt, Mallory stepped slightly in front of her, facing Nora. “I’m Mallory James. I’m the ops manager of this station. Jac’s not going anywhere.”

“Well that’s very convenient for you,” Nora said. “Is sleeping with your subordinates a regular part of your program?”

“Nora,” Jac said sharply. “This is private.”

“Not really.” Nora bent down, opened her thousand-dollar briefcase, and withdrew a manila folder. She slid out a photograph as she walked to Jac. “I wouldn’t exactly call this private.”

Jac’s stomach curdled. She only had to glance at it for a second to recognize the image. Her and Mallory, apparently about to share a kiss. “Did they ask for money?”

“Not yet.” Fleming put the photograph back in the envelope. “Since you’ve obviously gotten yourself into another”—Fleming raked her eyes over Mallory—“situation, you need to let us contain it. I think you’ll be better off at home. Your father agrees.”

Mallory slid her arm around Jac’s waist. “This is a situation, all right, but one you probably don’t understand. Jac’s not going anywhere. She’s on my team, and unless I say she goes, she doesn’t.” When Fleming looked like she was about to interrupt again, Mallory held up her hand. “Furthermore, our relationship is our business, and no one is going to tell us what we can and cannot do.”

“Mal,” Jac murmured, “we ought to talk about this.” Mallory might be used to parachuting from a plane into the face of a wildfire, but she had no idea how dangerous it would be taking on Franklin Russo. She wouldn’t just get burned, she’d be incinerated.

Mallory spun around, her back to Fleming, and cupped Jac’s chin. “Look at me.” When Jac averted her eyes, Mallory gave her head a little shake. “Look at me, damn it. You think I’m going to let you walk away after”—she gestured to the sleeping bag—“this? After what we did up on that mountain?” She kissed her. “Sometimes, Russo, you are just without a clue.”

From behind them, Fleming sighed loudly. “Well this is all very touching, but what you two play around at in your spare time is of no consequence to the greater issue. The fact remains, Jac needs to get onboard for her father’s campaign, and that means not being publicly associated with any kind of unsavory relationship.”

Mallory laughed, and Jac looked to be sure Mallory wasn’t holding any kind of weapon, although without doubt, she could wring Nora’s neck with her bare hands.

“Okay,” Mallory said briskly. “We’re really done now. You are in a secure area of a government facility, without a pass, and unescorted. That means you need to get out of here. Now.”

Fleming’s eyebrows rose. She glanced at Jac. “You need to come with me. The car is waiting.”

“No,” Jac said.

“I suspect a large part of the funding here is state,” Fleming said, almost as if she were talking to herself. Then she smiled at Jac, circling like shark to prey. “The same friends of your father who pulled strings to get you here could make your girlfriend’s job disappear.”

“That’s absurd,” Mallory snapped.

Jac pulled away from Mallory’s grasp, her face blank. “That would be a hell of a lot harder than getting me a position I was already qualified for.”

“You think so?” Fleming asked coolly, watching Jac as if sighting down the barrel of a sniper rifle. Focused, unblinking, sure. “Do you really want to take that chance?”

“Don’t do this, Nora.”

“Don’t make me. You know you won’t win.”

“How long?” Jac asked, her head throbbing.

“Jac, what are you doing?” Mallory exclaimed.

Jac didn’t look at her. She couldn’t possibly explain to Mallory the power her father wielded, legitimately and maybe, behind the scenes, not so legitimate. Only someone who had felt the pincer crush of his methodical attack for years would believe what he was capable of. He could do more than make Mallory’s job disappear. He could probably make this entire station redundant. Nora was more than his campaign manager, she was his fixer—when problems came up, she had free rein to do anything she wanted. Nora Fleming did not make idle threats. “How long do I need to pretend to be the perfect daughter?”

“As long as we need you. Your father is running on a decency campaign. I don’t have to tell you what that means.” Fleming laughed, completely without mirth. “Powell has a lesbian daughter. Your father needs to show he’s done a better job with you. Admittedly, he’s got his work cut out for him.” She laughed again. “But luckily you clean up well.”

“Jac, don’t let her railroad you into this,” Mallory said urgently. “This is your life, Jac.”

Jac wanted to say, No, it’s your life , but Mallory wouldn’t believe her. Or if she did, she wouldn’t care. Mallory’s life was about responsibility—taking care of everyone else, no matter the cost to her. Jac didn’t plan on being another person Mallory sacrificed part of herself for. She wasn’t going to drag Mallory into the soul-draining vortex her life was about to become. Besides, with her gone, whoever had taken that photograph would have no more reason to stir up trouble. Mallory would be safe. Jac nodded at Fleming, who smiled, pleased with her victory.