Passion to Protect (7 page)

Something hairy nudged him. Misty. She had come back for him. When she licked his face and pawed at him, he stood and grabbed her collar.

For a while he kept walking with her, not knowing and not caring which way she was leading him. Then, finally, he fell again as his legs gave out.

Chapter 6

I
t would be so much easier to lie down, to allow the smoke to blanket her and then drift off into darkness. Off to a place where she knew her father would be waiting. Maybe Cody, too, by now, since she’d lost him somewhere. And Jake, who had surely sacrificed his own life attempting to help them. Who had deserved far better than the cold shoulder she’d offered him. Who had, at the very least, deserved the whole truth about her reasons.

In her mind’s eye they smiled at her, and Cody stepped into a ray of brilliant sunshine. “Come see, Mommy! There’s no smoke here. Look how shiny everything is.”

But Kenzie’s persistent wheezing kept Liane moving beyond the trees, a climb that burned her muscles and tormented her lungs.
Just a few steps higher,
her mind repeated in an endless loop.
Just a few steps more...

With a groan, she sank to her knees, her body quivering with exhaustion. Laying Kenzie on a nearby flat rock, she brushed the tangled tawny hair from her daughter’s ash-smudged cheek. With no medications on her, there was nothing she could do, nothing except get her daughter to a hospital before she passed the point of no return.

“Sweetie, wake up,” Liane urged, tears streaming down her face. “I need you to walk a little. Please, Kenzie, open your eyes. I can’t...”

Kenzie coughed, her clumped lashes fluttering. “Too tired,” she finally rasped, and when Liane tried to lift her, her daughter remained limp and listless. Was it simply exhaustion, or had the combination of heavy smoke and asthma deprived her brain of too much oxygen?

Looking down the slope, Liane could see that her effort hadn’t been sufficient. They hadn’t made it high enough, and smoke and heat would overcome them if they didn’t move. So she breathed a silent prayer for strength and staggered to her feet.

But no matter how she struggled, she couldn’t pick up Kenzie, and she would rather die here, too, than leave a second child behind. And she would rather lose her own life than turn her back on even the slimmest chance of help from any quarter.

“We’re over here!” she cried, her own fit of coughing making it almost impossible to speak above the crackling of the fire behind her. Trying again, she added, “We’re halfway up the ridge! Please—we need help!”

She sat back down on the rock, her daughter’s limp form cradled in her arms. Twice more she tried shouting, then stared into the smoke-charged darkness, half hoping and half dreading Mac would appear.

When, finally, a form took shape, she could only blink, her voice choking down to nothing. When Mac saw her, would he kill her instantly, or would he drag her with him to torment at his leisure?

“Please,” she sobbed, “she’s dying. Whatever you want to do to me, I don’t care, but she needs help before it’s too...”

Before her eyes, the form emerging from the smoke changed, morphing from the ex she’d been expecting into—

“Jake!” she cried, rising to hug him close. “Thank God. I thought you were—I heard the shots, and—”

“Thanks for calling out, or I never would’ve found you. Where’s Cody?” he asked, looking around frantically.

“Lost,” Liane said, her heart shattering at the thought of her son out there somewhere, frightened and alone. “I—I couldn’t carry them both, and Kenzie—I told Cody to hold on to me, but when I looked back, he was gone. I thought I saw him moving in this direction, but I...I lost him. Jake, I lost my son.”

Her gaze flicked toward the leaping flames, tears choking her as she thought of her child out there somewhere, terrified. Because of her weakness.

“I’ll find him, I promise. But first, we need to get you out of here,” Jake said, and she noticed that ash coated his skin and clothing. His left eye was swollen shut, a painful-looking mess of black and purple. After crouching to check Kenzie, he scooped her up as if she weighed nothing.

“The wheezing’s gotten worse,” Liane said. “I couldn’t make it any farther.”

He dropped his head to listen for a moment. “Did you bring an extra inhaler?”

“I—I did, but it was on the horse, too,” Liane said, hating herself for her shortsightedness. Hating Mac McCleary even move.

“Hey there, Giggle Girl,” Jake murmured, giving Kenzie a light shake. “Are you ready to get back home to your own bed?”

Kenzie didn’t stir at all, her head tipping bonelessly against him, her lips faintly blue. Pressing his fingers to her neck, he told Liane, “Carotid pulse is weak and rapid. We have to get her out of here fast.”

“But I can’t leave Cody.” Liane’s voice broke on her son’s name. “I won’t.”

“Your daughter needs you right now,” he said. “And I need to get you both to safety so I can come back and search for him.”

With that, he started up the ridge, moving so quickly that Liane could barely keep up. Moving toward a new sound above them, the propellers of a helicopter that she prayed had come in time.

* * *

Jake hurried toward the ridge, intent on flagging down the rescue chopper and getting Liane and Kenzie both to safety. Between the smoke and the terrain, there would be no landing anywhere nearby, but they would attempt a basket rescue if he could find some way of gaining their attention.

Pale and limp as Kenzie was, there wasn’t a second to spare. Though the shifting wind made a gift of fresher air, he was all too aware that the damage might be done already, with the insult of heat and ash producing so much swelling in her trachea that not even pure oxygen could reach her fragile lungs.

Reaching the top of the ridge, he put Kenzie down long enough to strip off his jacket, the dark green now a mottled gray, and wave it desperately, praying that the movement would be spotted.

The helicopter continued southward along the ridge.

Panting with exertion, Liane asked, “Where are they going?”

“Didn’t see us. But they’ll be back. We’ll need to—”

Liane peeled off her red jacket, and as the helicopter came in for another pass, she whipped it back and forth over her head.

This time the pilot saw them, and the chopper hovered so low that they were sandblasted by the flying dust and debris. But in under a minute two search and rescue personnel were lowered to assess the situation.

Recognizing a friend of his, a tall guy with red hair named Mike Stinson, Jake leaned toward him and shouted, “We’ve got a six-year-old female, asthmatic, with tachycardia and cyanosis. You’ll need a basket for her and a harness for the mother.”

“We’re lifting all of you out,” Stinson yelled back, while his partner radioed to have the necessary equipment sent down.

“Negative,” Jake told him. “There’s another child, an eight-year-old boy, somewhere nearby. I have to find him. Then I’ll meet up with the hotshot crews, or—”

“Conditions are deteriorating,” Stinson argued. “And you look injured. You’ll have to let the hotshots or search and rescue—”

“Retired or not, I
am
a hotshot, and I’ll be damned if I’ll leave that boy here to die.”

* * *

Hours later, propped up on pillows in her hospital bed, Kenzie wore a mask, which was delivering another noisy nebulizer treatment to loosen her lungs. She’d responded well to the first two doses, reviving as her pulse oxygen saturation rose to near-normal levels. Still, the doctors were carefully monitoring her progress, and Liane refused to leave her side.

“Here, take this.” Liane’s best friend and boss, Em Carmichael, pushed a cup of coffee into her free hand. The other, grimy with soot, rested on the tiny, sheet-draped lump made by her daughter’s foot.

“Now drink,” Em ordered gently, folding her nearly six-foot frame into another chair. Compassion filled her blue eyes, so bright in contrast to her short, Nordic-blond hair. “Your hands are freezing, and a little caffeine will do you good.”

Keeping her voice low so Kenzie wouldn’t wake from her doze, Liane said, “Thanks, Em. While you were getting the coffee, did you hear anything? Anything at all about Cody and Jake?”

Em swallowed a sip from her own cup and shook her head. “Remember what the nurse promised? She’ll come straight here the moment anyone has news.”

Liane’s lips trembled, and hot moisture made her vision shimmer. “Cody was right there, Em. Right beside me. And I left him behind.”

Em’s fair complexion reddened as she struggled with her own emotions. “You can’t blame yourself for this. I won’t let you.”

“I left him alone. In that burning canyon.”

“Not alone,” Em insisted, laying a manicured hand on Liane’s shoulder. “Jake’s out there, doing everything he can.”

There was a certain proprietary note in her voice that had Liane tensing, hating the reminder that Jake had ever been with Em, who, for all her finer qualities, was known around town as a serial man-eater. It was ridiculous, Liane knew, to keep thinking of him as hers, as if he were no more than a cast-off plaything she might choose to pick up again at will.

As if he would ever want any part of the woman who’d once disdained him, the woman who had come back broken, both inside and out.

“But I swear to you,” Em continued, “the next time I see that man, I’m gonna plant one right on that gorgeous mouth of his. Because Kenzie needs you right here.”

“I know she does, but Cody needs me, too. He’s—he’s only eight, Em, and he must be scared to death, lost out there with everything burning all around him.”

“You had an impossible choice to make, so Jake made a command decision for you.”

“What if he gets himself killed? What if they both—”

“You said yourself, Jake moved faster than you could on that new leg of his,” Em argued.

“On level ground, yes, but he still gets tripped up sometimes on rough terrain, and his eye was swollen shut, like he’d been in a fight.” She trembled at the thought, an image of her ex-husband, with his big fists, roaring up at her. Focused as she’d been on her children’s survival, she hadn’t yet spoken to anyone about seeing Mac, hadn’t found the words to tell anyone what he’d done to her father.

Here in this sterile space, with its calming pale green walls and gleaming, institutional floors, the things she’d seen seemed like memories from a nightmare. Because if her father wasn’t gone, Cody couldn’t be lost in an inferno. Jake couldn’t be rushing straight back into danger. If she didn’t speak of any of it, it couldn’t possibly be true.

“Jake’ll be fine,” Em assured her. “And he’ll bring Cody back. You’ll see.”

“How can you possibly say that?” Liane demanded. “You didn’t see how bad it was out there.”

“I can say it because I believe it. And I believe it because I know what it cost Jake when he couldn’t get to his men. He won’t let it happen again. He’ll get through the fire and bring Cody back safely—or he won’t come back at all.”

* * *

Jake knew the hotshots were on their way, with their Pulaski fire axes and their protective gear and helmets, but he knew, too, there wasn’t much time left to save Cody. As he worked his way back down the ridge, he tried to estimate Liane’s route as best he could from the direction she had pointed out, altering the track where necessary to get around fallen trees or heavier fire.

Though a few patches of clearer sky at the horizon showed that morning had broken, visibility remained poor, forcing him to stop all too often, bending over to rest his hands on the knotted muscles of his thighs and drag in ragged gulps of smoke-charged air. Wishing in vain the helicopter crew had had an air pack to spare, he shouted Cody’s name, but he didn’t really expect an answer. Since the boy hadn’t even called out to Liane when he’d lost hold of her, the chances were high that the smoke had overcome him.

Though Cody could be unconscious, he knew the chances were at least as good that this mission was no longer a rescue but a body recovery. The thought that he might be looking for a small, charred form slashed through him like a reaper’s scythe. In all the years that he’d fought fire, he had found the dead before, usually animals, small and large, who were unable to escape the fire’s path. But in one case, forever seared into his memory, he had nearly tripped over the partially incinerated remains of a missing college student, a pretty twenty-year-old who’d gone on a day hike with her dog. Burnt and blackened as she had been, she barely appeared human, but he would never forget the photos his crew had been shown before they’d gone out—pictures of a healthy, vibrant brunette with her family’s Labrador retriever. Or the contrast of those images with the body he’d found curled beside an old stump, as if, even to the last, she’d been fighting to hide from the flames that had consumed her. Her dog had died huddled at her side, loyal to the bitter end.

Dog. Loyal.
Of course. Why hadn’t he been thinking about Misty?

Instead of calling Cody, Jake began shouting the shepherd’s name, hoping the animal was still alive and able to respond. Staggering beneath the burning canopy, he pushed himself to continue, though his own breathing had grown painful and fits of coughing racked his body. But he saw nothing except the glowing fire and the black wall of thick smoke. The only sounds he heard were the crackling of the hungry flames and the hiss of boiling sap, and then, suddenly...was that barking?

Jake hesitated, unsure of where the sound was coming from. “Misty?” he yelled, then tried to whistle before electric white dots blazed a sizzling path across his vision and another fit of coughing drove him to his knees.

Though dizziness pressed down on him, he knew he needed to get back up. Needed to get the hell out before he, too, became a victim. The flare of phantom pain reminded him that a ruined leg could be replaced. But there was no prosthetic that would ever mend his Liane’s broken heart if he left her son out here to die.

* * *

Sheriff Wallace tapped at the door, then entered, his badge gleaming on his chest and his hat in hand. With his gray hair mussed and coffee spatters marring his khaki uniform shirt, he looked as exhausted as Liane herself felt.

“How’s the little one?” he asked.

Liane ignored the question and rose from her chair to confront him. “You wouldn’t help me last night. You told me I should go to bed and my family would be fine.”