Chasing Fire
Page 18
“Pizza,” Libby moaned, then tried to find a more comfortable curl on her seat. “I never thought I could be this empty and live.”
“Eighteen hours on the line’ll do it.” Rowan yawned, rolled over, and let the voices, the snoring, the engines lull her toward sleep.
“Gonna hit the kitchen when we get back, Ro?” Matt asked her.
“Mmm. Gotta eat. Gotta shower off the stink first.”
The next thing she knew they were down. She staggered off the plane through a fog of exhaustion. Once she’d dumped her gear she stumbled to her room, ripped the wrapper off a candy bar. She all but inhaled it while she stripped off her filthy clothes. Barely awake, she aimed for the shower, whimpered a little as the warm water slid over her. Through blurry eyes she watched it run dingy gray into the drain.
She lathered up, hair, body, face, inhaling the scent of peaches that apparently tripped Gull’s trigger. Rinse and repeat, she ordered herself. Rinse and repeat. And when, at last, the water ran clear, she made a halfhearted attempt to dry off.
Then fell onto the bed wrapped in the damp towel.
The dream crept up on her in the twilight layer of sleep, as her mind began to float back from the deep pit of exhaustion.
Thundering engines, the whip of wind, the heady leap into the sky. The thrill turning to panic—the pound, pound, pound of heart against ribs as she watched, helplessly, Jim plunge toward the burning ground.
“Hey. Hey. You need to wake up.”
The voice cutting through the scream in her head, the rough shake on her shoulder, had her bolting up in bed.
“What? The siren? What?” She stared into Gull’s face, rubbing one hand over her own.
“No. You were having a nightmare.”
She breathed in, breathed out, slitting her eyes a little. It was morning—or maybe later—she could tell that much. And Gulliver Curry was in her room, without her permission.
“What the hell are you doing in here?”
“Maybe you want to hitch that towel up some? Not that I mind the view. And, in fact, could probably spend the rest of the day admiring it.”
She glanced down, saw she was naked to the waist, and the towel that had slipped down wasn’t covering much below either. Baring her teeth, she yanked it up and around. “Answer the question before I kick your ass.”
“You missed breakfast, and you were heading toward missing lunch.”
“We worked the fire for eighteen hours. I didn’t get to bed till about three in the morning.”
“So I hear, and good job. But somebody mentioned you didn’t get to eat, and have a fondness for bacon-and-egg sandwiches, with Jack cheese. So...” He jerked his thumb at the bedside table. “I brought you one. I was going to leave it on the nightstand, but you were having a bad one. I woke you up, you flashed me—and just let me insert you have the most magnificent rack it’s ever been my privilege to view—and that brings us up to date.”
She studied the sandwich, the bottle of soda beside it. This time when she breathed in, the scent nearly made her weep with joy. “You brought me a bacon-and-egg sandwich?”
“With Jack cheese.”
“I’d say you earned the flash.”
“I can go get you another if that’s all it takes.”
She laughed, yawned, then secured the towel before grabbing the plate. The first bite had her closing her eyes in ecstasy. Wrapped in pleasure, she didn’t order him off the bed when she felt it give under his weight.
“Thanks,” she said with her mouth full of bite two. “Sincerely.”
“Let me respond, sincerely. It was way worth it.”
“I do have exceptional tits.” She reached for the drink, twisted the top off. “The fire kept changing direction on us, spitting out spots. We’d get a line down, and she’d say, Oh, you want to play that way? Try this. But in the end, she couldn’t beat the Zulies. Have you got any word this morning on Stovic?”
“Now known as Chainsaw. He and his twenty-seven stitches are doing fine.”
“I should’ve kept a closer eye on him.”
“He passed the audition, Rowan. Accidents happen. They’re part of the job description.”
“Can’t argue, but he was part of my team, and I was senior member in that sector.” She shrugged. “He’s okay, so that’s okay.”
She shifted her gaze. “Your hands look better.”
“Good enough.” He flexed them. “I’m back on the jump list.”
“Dobie?”
“He’s coming along, but it’ll be a couple more days anyway. Little Bear discovered Dobie can sew like Betsy Ross, so he’s been keeping Dobie chained to a machine. I won fifty-six dollars and change at poker last night, and Bicardi—one of the mechanics—got half lit and sang Italian opera. That, I believe, is all the news.”
“I appreciate the update, and the sandwich. Now go away so I can get dressed.”
“I’ve already seen you naked.”
“It’ll take more than a breakfast sandwich for you to see me naked again.”
“How about dinner?”
God, he made her laugh. “Out, hotshot. I need to hit the gym, put my time in and work out some of these kinks.”
“To show what a classy guy I am, I’ll refrain from making any of the obvious comments to that statement.” He rose, picked up the empty plate. “You’re one gorgeous female, Rowan,” he said as he walked out. “It keeps me up at night.”
“You’re one sexy male, Gulliver,” she murmured when he’d gone. “It’s messing with my head.”
She put in ninety in the gym, but kept it light and slow to avoid overworking her system, then hit the cookhouse.
Feeling human again, she texted the basics to her father.
Killed the fire. Am A-OK. Love you, Ro
She headed to the loft to check the chute she’d hung the night before. She began to check for holes, snags, defects.
She glanced up when Matt and Libby came in.
“Well, don’t you look flat-tailed and dull-eyed.”
“Remind me never to eat like a pig before crawling into bed.” Libby pressed a hand to her belly. “I couldn’t settle till after five, then lay there like a beached whale.”
“You didn’t make it to the cookhouse,” Matt commented when he brought his chute over.
“Eighteen hours on the line’ll do it.” Rowan yawned, rolled over, and let the voices, the snoring, the engines lull her toward sleep.
“Gonna hit the kitchen when we get back, Ro?” Matt asked her.
“Mmm. Gotta eat. Gotta shower off the stink first.”
The next thing she knew they were down. She staggered off the plane through a fog of exhaustion. Once she’d dumped her gear she stumbled to her room, ripped the wrapper off a candy bar. She all but inhaled it while she stripped off her filthy clothes. Barely awake, she aimed for the shower, whimpered a little as the warm water slid over her. Through blurry eyes she watched it run dingy gray into the drain.
She lathered up, hair, body, face, inhaling the scent of peaches that apparently tripped Gull’s trigger. Rinse and repeat, she ordered herself. Rinse and repeat. And when, at last, the water ran clear, she made a halfhearted attempt to dry off.
Then fell onto the bed wrapped in the damp towel.
The dream crept up on her in the twilight layer of sleep, as her mind began to float back from the deep pit of exhaustion.
Thundering engines, the whip of wind, the heady leap into the sky. The thrill turning to panic—the pound, pound, pound of heart against ribs as she watched, helplessly, Jim plunge toward the burning ground.
“Hey. Hey. You need to wake up.”
The voice cutting through the scream in her head, the rough shake on her shoulder, had her bolting up in bed.
“What? The siren? What?” She stared into Gull’s face, rubbing one hand over her own.
“No. You were having a nightmare.”
She breathed in, breathed out, slitting her eyes a little. It was morning—or maybe later—she could tell that much. And Gulliver Curry was in her room, without her permission.
“What the hell are you doing in here?”
“Maybe you want to hitch that towel up some? Not that I mind the view. And, in fact, could probably spend the rest of the day admiring it.”
She glanced down, saw she was naked to the waist, and the towel that had slipped down wasn’t covering much below either. Baring her teeth, she yanked it up and around. “Answer the question before I kick your ass.”
“You missed breakfast, and you were heading toward missing lunch.”
“We worked the fire for eighteen hours. I didn’t get to bed till about three in the morning.”
“So I hear, and good job. But somebody mentioned you didn’t get to eat, and have a fondness for bacon-and-egg sandwiches, with Jack cheese. So...” He jerked his thumb at the bedside table. “I brought you one. I was going to leave it on the nightstand, but you were having a bad one. I woke you up, you flashed me—and just let me insert you have the most magnificent rack it’s ever been my privilege to view—and that brings us up to date.”
She studied the sandwich, the bottle of soda beside it. This time when she breathed in, the scent nearly made her weep with joy. “You brought me a bacon-and-egg sandwich?”
“With Jack cheese.”
“I’d say you earned the flash.”
“I can go get you another if that’s all it takes.”
She laughed, yawned, then secured the towel before grabbing the plate. The first bite had her closing her eyes in ecstasy. Wrapped in pleasure, she didn’t order him off the bed when she felt it give under his weight.
“Thanks,” she said with her mouth full of bite two. “Sincerely.”
“Let me respond, sincerely. It was way worth it.”
“I do have exceptional tits.” She reached for the drink, twisted the top off. “The fire kept changing direction on us, spitting out spots. We’d get a line down, and she’d say, Oh, you want to play that way? Try this. But in the end, she couldn’t beat the Zulies. Have you got any word this morning on Stovic?”
“Now known as Chainsaw. He and his twenty-seven stitches are doing fine.”
“I should’ve kept a closer eye on him.”
“He passed the audition, Rowan. Accidents happen. They’re part of the job description.”
“Can’t argue, but he was part of my team, and I was senior member in that sector.” She shrugged. “He’s okay, so that’s okay.”
She shifted her gaze. “Your hands look better.”
“Good enough.” He flexed them. “I’m back on the jump list.”
“Dobie?”
“He’s coming along, but it’ll be a couple more days anyway. Little Bear discovered Dobie can sew like Betsy Ross, so he’s been keeping Dobie chained to a machine. I won fifty-six dollars and change at poker last night, and Bicardi—one of the mechanics—got half lit and sang Italian opera. That, I believe, is all the news.”
“I appreciate the update, and the sandwich. Now go away so I can get dressed.”
“I’ve already seen you naked.”
“It’ll take more than a breakfast sandwich for you to see me naked again.”
“How about dinner?”
God, he made her laugh. “Out, hotshot. I need to hit the gym, put my time in and work out some of these kinks.”
“To show what a classy guy I am, I’ll refrain from making any of the obvious comments to that statement.” He rose, picked up the empty plate. “You’re one gorgeous female, Rowan,” he said as he walked out. “It keeps me up at night.”
“You’re one sexy male, Gulliver,” she murmured when he’d gone. “It’s messing with my head.”
She put in ninety in the gym, but kept it light and slow to avoid overworking her system, then hit the cookhouse.
Feeling human again, she texted the basics to her father.
Killed the fire. Am A-OK. Love you, Ro
She headed to the loft to check the chute she’d hung the night before. She began to check for holes, snags, defects.
She glanced up when Matt and Libby came in.
“Well, don’t you look flat-tailed and dull-eyed.”
“Remind me never to eat like a pig before crawling into bed.” Libby pressed a hand to her belly. “I couldn’t settle till after five, then lay there like a beached whale.”
“You didn’t make it to the cookhouse,” Matt commented when he brought his chute over.
