Firestorm

Chapter Twenty-six

Mallory pulled into a gas station on 89S a little after nine p.m. Traffic on the two-lane was almost nonexistent. Much of the highway was obscured by drifting snow, and most of the time she couldn’t see beyond the tapering cones of her own headlights. Late spring snows, when everyone was prepared for the onset of summer and no one wanted to face yet another whiteout blizzard, always seemed to be the worst of the season. The only positive note was storms like these usually blew in and blew out quickly. With any luck, the morning would bring sunshine and a quick melt. But right now, all she wanted to do was get back to base safe and sound. Her eyes were gritty from staring at the endless expanse of white, the surface unbroken by any other tire tracks. Not even a single set of red taillights glowed ahead to help orient her. The Jeep was quiet save for the rumble of the engine, and at times she felt as if she were alone in the universe. Except she wasn’t. Despite the demands of the tricky driving and the terrible visibility, she was always, constantly, aware of Jac.

Jac lay curled up beside her in the passenger seat, asleep. She’d taken a pain pill in the emergency room and drifted off an hour or so after they’d left Gardiner. Wanting her to rest, Mallory hadn’t even turned on the radio to help dispel the monotony. She didn’t mind the silence. Jac’s quiet breathing provided a soothing buffer against the wind that howled outside the windows. She’d never been quite so acutely conscious of another person’s presence before. She’d had to stop herself more than once from reaching across the space between them and stroking Jac’s hair. She really did not want to think about what that meant.

Easing in next to the snowcapped gas pumps, Mallory parked and released her seat belt. The bright lights above the pumps blazed in through the windshield, glaring directly into Jac’s face. Jac muttered under her breath and shifted uneasily. Mallory leaned over and rubbed Jac’s shoulder, settling her. “It’s okay. I’m just going to get some gas. Everything is fine.”

Jac’s eyes flickered open and she frowned, her expression confused and her eyes clouded with sleep and a hint of pain. “Where are we?”

“About a hundred miles from the base.”

“Fell asleep. Sorry,” Jac said, jerking at the seat belt and pushing herself upright.

“No, don’t wake up. I’m going to grab a soda and a couple of candy bars. I’ll get you one if you want.”

“Hershey’s. Dark chocolate.”

Mallory smiled. “You got it. I’m going to leave the motor running so you don’t get cold. Do you need anything else?”

Jac shifted fitfully, settled against her uninjured shoulder facing Mallory with her cheek against the seat, and closed her eyes. “No. I’m fine. Thanks. Sorry. Lousy company.”

“I told you not to apologize.” Mallory gave in and feathered her fingers through Jac’s hair. The dark wavy strands were faintly damp, and she worried that Jac was sweating and in pain. “You’re very good company. How’s your shoulder?”

“Achy. Nothing real serious.”

“And you wouldn’t admit it if it were.” Mallory let her fingers linger on Jac’s throat for longer than she should have, then eased back into her seat. “I’ll only be a minute with that candy bar.”

“Hey, Mal?” Jac muttered, her eyes still closed.

“What, baby?” Mallory said softly around the lump in her throat. She’d never seen Jac look quite so vulnerable, not even when she was dangling against the cliffside by a rope, minutes from death. The urge to protect her, to ease her discomfort, to obliterate anything or anyone who’d ever hurt her, was so strong Mallory ached inside.

“You really know how to show a girl a good time.”

Mallory laughed, her heart threatening to leap from her chest. “Be careful, you didn’t get the chocolate yet.”

“I trust you to bring it.” Jac’s lids rose a fraction and she stretched out one hand, catching Mallory’s fingers. “I trust you.”

When Jac squeezed her fingers, a wave of heat rolled up Mallory’s arm, lodged behind her breastbone, and, with the next breath, radiated outward like a starburst. Her head spun. “Why? Why would you?”

Jac’s eyes opened fully, the bright lights outside reflecting in her dark irises like stars scattered across the night sky. “Because I’ve told you things I’ve never told anyone else, and you’re still here. Whenever I’ve needed you, you’ve been right there.”

“Oh God, Jac,” Mallory murmured, rubbing her cheek against the backs of Jac’s fingers. She hadn’t known how cold she was until the warmth of Jac’s flesh flooded into her. “I don’t think I deserve that kind of trust.”

“Don’t you get it yet, Mal?” Jac traced her fingertips over the corner of Mallory’s mouth. “That’s one of the few things you can’t control. It’s not up to you. Trust lives in our hearts. Like love.”

Mallory froze. Terror slammed through her, followed instantly by racking, agonizing pain. Not the dull throb of guilt or self-recrimination, but the horrible void left behind by those she’d led into the mountains and stumbled out without. A black hole beckoned, threatening to drag her in and crush her. All this time she’d kept the worst pain at bay by blaming herself over and over so she wouldn’t feel anything else. If she let go of her guilt, she’d have to face the bright, lacerating wound of pure and simple loss. “I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“I’m afraid.”

“Of what?”

“I can’t, Jac. Please. Don’t ask me.”

“I want you, you know that, don’t you?”

Closing her eyes, Mallory clutched Jac’s hand between both of hers and fought the insane urge to give in. She longed to lay her head on Jac’s chest, to lay down the suffocating burden for just one night. Could she have one night? Was that even fair? She wasn’t a coward, and she wouldn’t lie. She dropped their joined hands to her lap and shifted on the seat, facing Jac, knowing her face was unshielded in the relentless glare of the artificial sun. “I know. And I want you too.”

Something miraculous passed through Jac’s eyes—not the glint of triumph, not the blaze of victory, but the tender softening of desire. Mallory took a breath, needing to be clear. Needing to be honest.

Jac spoke first. “Right this second, I don’t want to hear the but I know you think I need to hear. So can we just not go there right now?”

“How come you figured me out so easily?” Mallory whispered.

“Ice isn’t all that hard to see through if you just look.” Jac smiled and gestured to the distance between them. “I’m a little slow maneuvering tonight. Do you think you could find your way clear to kiss me before you seduce me with chocolate?”

“I never said—”

“I know.” Jac’s wistful longing pierced Mallory’s heart. “Just let me dream for a minute.”

“Oh, the hell with it.” Mallory pushed over into the space between their seats, not caring that the gearshift dug into her ass. She didn’t care about the storm, she didn’t care about the tiny voice in the back of her brain screaming at her to get a grip. All she saw was the firestorm swirling in Jac’s eyes. And fire was something she understood. She cupped the back of Jac’s neck, spreading her fingers over the column of muscle that curved in a sinuous arc of strength and beauty to the junction of Jac’s shoulder. “You’re so goddamn gorgeous.”

Jac’s lips parted ever so slightly, as if she might speak or laugh, but Mallory didn’t give her time to do either. She brought her mouth down over Jac’s, gently but firmly. Jac gasped, and Mallory skated the tip of her tongue over the silky-soft surface of Jac’s lower lip. She tasted cinnamon and heat. Mallory groaned.

Jac’s arm came around Mallory’s shoulder, and her fingers gripped Mallory’s upper arm, holding her close, as if fearing she might suddenly bolt. Her mouth opened more and her tongue teased out, toying with Mallory’s. Jac’s teeth grazed her lower lip and Mallory tightened between her legs. She wanted to climb into Jac’s lap, straddle her narrow hips, rub herself against Jac’s hard belly. She wanted Jac’s hands inside her jacket, under her shirt, clasping her breasts, teasing her nipples. Oh God, she wanted to come right here and now. Jac’s fingers slid into her hair, tilting her head as she pushed her tongue deeper into Mallory’s mouth. Mallory whimpered.

“God, Mal,” Jac groaned against her mouth. “I want you so much.”

“Your shoulder. The storm…”

“Uh-huh.”

“Bad timing,” Mallory panted. “Really, really, really bad timing.”

Jac laughed shakily. “I don’t think I can stop. You’re the boss. Do something.”

“Just remember you said that, next time…” Mallory marshaled what little strength and sanity she had left and pushed away. Her lips were burning. Her body was aflame. She wanted nothing more than to let Jac’s fire consume her. “I have to get out of the car. I can’t think.”

“Don’t go far,” Jac whispered. “Please, Mal. Don’t go far.”

Mallory shoved open the door, bolted outside, and slammed the door before snow could swirl in. She pulled up the hood on the Gardiner High School sweatshirt and zipped her flight jacket up to her throat. Her hands shook so badly she could barely get the gas cap off. Hunching against the blowing snow, she pumped gas as quickly as she could, capped the tank, and hurried toward the station. She refused to think. She refused to acknowledge the trembling in her blood or the pressure threatening to burst her heart into fragments. She touched her bare fingertips to her lips. Three inches of snow coated the parking lot. Ice crystals hung in the air she exhaled. Frozen tears coated her lashes. And her lips burned. She burned. What had she done?

A lone attendant manned the counter inside the convenience store. Mallory blinked in the harsh white light that bleached everything to a monochrome. Moving mechanically, her mind a blank, she grabbed several candy bars and two sixteen-ounce bottles of soda, bundled everything into her arms, and started for the counter. A sliver of reason penetrated the fog that clouded her brain, and she took stock of what she had picked up. No Hershey bar. She spun back to retrieve one, and the headline on a newspaper in a stand next to the checkout counter caught her attention. She stopped, reread it, and her stomach plummeted.

IDAHO SENATOR FRANKLIN RUSSO CLINCHES PATRIOT PARTY NOMINATION

Underneath the headline, a picture of Jac’s father with arms outstretched, a triumphant smile on his handsome, virile face, took up the rest of the front page. Beneath the image was the caption: “Conservative nominee pledges return to American values.”

Mallory almost laughed out loud. American values. What a joke. If people only knew how he treated his own daughter, with so little respect, so little care, he wouldn’t be seen as some kind of savior. Outrage swelled just thinking about Jac being shunted aside, made invisible, when she was so brave, so kind, so generous and strong. Mallory squelched her anger. Her feelings were not what mattered. What mattered was Jac.

“Help you, miss?” the clerk asked, a note of uncertainty in his voice.

Mallory jerked, wondering how long she’d been staring at the newspaper, and went back for the Hershey bar. She piled the sodas and snacks on the counter, hesitated, then picked up a newspaper. Jac ought to know, to prepare for what was coming, if nothing else. As much as she’d love to protect Jac from any hurt, Jac did not need to be shielded. She needed to be supported. “Sorry. Just these things.”

He rang up the items with bored efficiency, ran her credit card, and with a short grunt, went back to watching the small black-and-white television perched on the front window ledge. Mallory hefted the bag with the newspaper folded up inside and headed back to the car. Her earlier tracks from the Jeep were already filled with new snow. They hadn’t managed to outrun the storm but were barely managing to keep pace with it. She needed to keep her mind on the road and away from the memory of Jac’s mouth.

Sliding into the driver’s seat, she slammed the door and propped the bag between her thighs. Carefully not looking at Jac, she pulled out the sodas, put them in the cup holders, and extracted the candy bars. She handed the dark chocolate to Jac. “Here you go.”

“Thanks,” Jac said, straightening in her seat. “I’m more awake now. You want me to drive? You’ve got to be tired.”

“I’m really okay,” Mallory said.

“Are we?”

“Sure.” Mallory finished her Reese’s cup in three bites and washed it down with her soda. She stared at the newspaper sticking out of the plastic bag, and before she could change her mind, yanked it out and handed it to Jac. “I guess you better see this.”

Silently, Jac unfolded it and held it up to the light slanting through the windshield. She sucked in a breath. “Well. That’s going to make life interesting.”

“You didn’t know?”

“No. I knew it was likely.” Jac grimaced. “That’s part of why he wanted me out of sight. Tabloid stories about his queer daughter’s escapades were not what his campaign committee wanted to see when he was trying to clinch the nomination.”

Mallory stifled her urge to curse. “He could have told you before you read it in the newspapers.”

Jac twisted in the seat, grabbed her pack from the backseat, and pulled it into her lap. She dug out her cell and thumbed through the menu. “Nora Fleming, his campaign manager, left a message last night. That’s probably what it’s about.”

“What does she say?”

“Can’t tell. No signal.”

“What will happen next?” Mallory asked.

“I’m sure I can expect a visit from the press.” Jac stared at her phone, willing Nora’s voicemail to self-destruct. “God, I’m sorry, Mallory.”

“What for?”

“You have no idea what these people can do. The last thing you and the rest of the crew need is some media circus dropping around to see what the next president’s daughter—prodigal daughter, I might add—is doing.”

“He’s not the president yet.”

“No, and unseating a sitting president is going to take some doing. Especially one as popular as Powell.” Jac’s voice was a monotone, eerily empty. “But I know my father, and he knows how to put on a show.”

“You really think the press will bother you?”

Jac laughed shortly. “Why do you think I’m here, Mal? He wanted me out of the public eye because if they can’t find something to write about him, they’ll write about me instead.”

“Well, there’s nothing much to say about you, now, is there?” Mallory hated the weary, defeated note in Jac’s voice.

“That doesn’t stop them. If they can’t find something, they’ll make something up.” Jac rubbed her face with one hand. “I don’t want you ending up a target.”

“I’m nobody’s target, Jac,” Mallory said. “And I’m not afraid of a little public scrutiny.”

“Right. Probably nothing will come of any of it.” Jac turned the chocolate bar around in her hands, staring at it as if she wasn’t quite certain what it was. “They’ll all be too busy following him around for a while, anyhow. If I stay here, out of the public eye, I just might make it through the summer.”

“I’m so sorry,” Mallory said.

“There’s no need to be. I’m used to it by now.” Jac refolded the newspaper and buried it in the bag along with the other trash. “I’m complicit to a degree. I went along with my father’s demand that I disappear to save my mother the strain of family strife and to give my sister a few more months of a normal life.”

“What about your life?” Mallory caught Jac’s hand and threaded her fingers through Jac’s. Such strong, capable hands.

Jac cradled Mallory’s hand between hers, stroking her thumb over Mallory’s knuckles. “I’m okay, really. I wanted this job long before my father decided it would be a good place to hide me. I’m just sorry you got saddled with me, and now this.”

“You’ve earned your place,” Mallory said. “I’ll admit, I was irritated when I thought you had gone around procedure to get a position, but I understand now what happened. You didn’t make it happen, your father did.”

Jac’s fingers tightened on Mallory’s. Light glanced off the knife-edge plane of her cheek, shadowing her eyes and casting the line of her jaw in sharp relief. “If I’d known this was coming, I wouldn’t have—”

“Wouldn’t have what?” A heavy weight settled on Mallory’s chest. She’d finally stopped running. Or almost. And now, what if it was all for nothing? “You wouldn’t have what, Jac? Wouldn’t have kissed me?”

“You don’t know how vicious politics can get.”

“I don’t care about that.”

“I do.” Jac clasped her hands between her knees, her face averted.

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“I don’t know the answer,” Jac said softly.

“Let me know when you do.” Mallory fastened her seat belt, put the Jeep in gear, and drove into the storm.