Page 274 of Her Reluctant Hero
Gabe grunted in response.
“Is he coming with us?” Doug nodded toward the president who watched with avid interest as Gabe suited up.
Gabe glanced back at the older man and quirked a brow, letting him answer.
“Can I just—go on the plane?” Hutchinson asked, a quiver of excitement in his voice.
“You’re the boss,” Doug said with a touch too much arrogance, then turned back to Gabe. “We have the latest on the fire. There were still fuels up on the ridge and it’s feeding on that, moving uphill, about a mile long.”
He tried to bring Doug’s words into pictures in his mind, tried to visualize what he was up against, what they’d be jumping into, like he usually did. Instead he pictured Peyton running for her life. Hell, she wasn’t even a real firefighter. She would be so scared. He had to get to her. Now.
He scanned the horizon for planes. “Slurry?”
“Jen said the fleet’s flying out of Wyoming now. We can’t count on any for a couple of hours.”
“Let’s go.”
“Wait a minute.” Doug tugged Gabe’s straps, double-checking their security. “You love her.”
Gabe looked at his former friend, former rival, for the first time. “Yeah. I do.”
Doug frowned. “Maybe you shouldn’t go. I can’t have you distracted up there.”
Anger pushed away any glimmer of friendship. Gabe shoved his face close to Doug’s. “You don’t have to worry about me. Or her, for that matter. If you don’t take me, I’ll just start walking.”
Doug clapped him on the shoulder, then sent a beckoning gesture to the president. “We’re going. We’ll get them back. Come on.”
*****
Gabe’s stomach spun as the plane took off. God, flying was bad enough without the memory of landing in a tree and hanging for hours with a broken leg.
With the cargo doors open, it was too loud inside the plane for conversation, but Gabe caught encouraging glances from Doug, across from him.
The president was between two nervous Secret Service agents. Gabe wondered if they feared Hutchinson would want to jump too. Hell, the man had already shown a flair for adventure. He imagined the old guy was going to get his ass chewed for coming along with them and putting himself in danger. It must suck to not be able to make your own decisions about your life.
Jesus. He’d made decisions about his life since seeing Kim strike Peyton, and all of them involved her. Maybe, if she wanted him to quit doing this, well, he’d see about quitting, do what he could to make her stay with him.
Hell. Oh, hell. He couldn’t think about quitting, not now. He’d get them all killed.
Doug grabbed Gabe’s arm and pointed through the open door at the ground. The fire chased fuels up the hill in a Y-shape, very defined even at this altitude. The flames must be pretty damned high, which meant they were getting fed, and the wind that fed them was pushing them.
In the arms of the Y they could see Peyton’s yellow shirt.
Where the hell was Kim?
The fire was too close for Gabe, Doug and the two other jumpers Doug had insisted accompany them to land with Peyton. They’d have to jump uphill and hike down. He could only hope the fire looked closer than it was, or there would be no time to form a plan.
He couldn’t lose her. Not this way, not any way.
The plane turned, searched out a clear site for the jumpers to land, and Gabe fought his nausea to focus on a plan. He flipped through their options as Doug motioned toward a clearing maybe half a mile from Peyton. Doug tossed a streamer out the door to gauge the wind, wanting to see how it would carry the jumpers. Not liking the result, he waited till the plane turned and dropped another, then signaled Gabe and the two other jumpers.
They checked each other’s gear one more time. Doug touched his pull cord as if to remind him which it was, and the jumpers started tumbling out.
Gabe would go after Doug, on the second pass over the jump site. He refused to think about what he was doing. He would concentrate on how he’d make Peyton pay for this once he got her safely home. It wouldn’t be a goddamn cheap motel room this time, either. Hell, there might even be a Jacuzzi and flowers. And room service.
He stood to approach the door of the plane, caught a nod of encouragement from the president before he tucked his chin into his chest and let his weight carry him into nothingness.
Squeezing his eyes shut, he counted as he hurtled through emptiness toward the earth. Hopefully he’d land with all his bones in the right number of pieces this time. He grasped for his cord, felt it from memory and pulled. The parachute opened with a floomph and yanked his body upright. The abrupt change of motion almost made him puke, and he kept his eyes closed as long as he dared before he needed to find a landing spot.
