“Oh yeah, bright and early.”

Sarah laughed. “Yeah, that sounds like her. Everybody make the cut?”

“So far. We got an injury, though.” Jac turned to rinse her hair.

“Oh hell. What happened?” Sarah’s smile disappeared, alarm flashing through her eyes and just as quickly extinguished.

“One of the guys fell, head injury.”

“Serious?”

“He’s in the infirmary. Not too bad, but Mallory thinks he has a concussion.”

“Damn, just what she doesn’t need, you know?”

Sarah’s expression suggested Jac should know what she was talking about. She didn’t, but her stomach squirmed uneasily. “How so?”

“It’s just—she always takes responsibility for everything that goes wrong on her watch, even the weather, for cripe’s sake. And after last year…I still don’t think she’s stopped blaming herself.” Sarah turned off the water. “She doesn’t need anything else to beat herself up about.”

“What happened last year?” Jac tried to sound casual as she cut off her own shower and grabbed a towel.

“You weren’t around?”

“Iraq. Didn’t get back until the end of July.”

“Oh, that explains it, then. We lost a couple guys the end of June. Mallory was the IC. Just about killed her.”

Jac’s jaw tightened so hard the muscles in front of her ears ached. “That blowup in northern Idaho?”

“Yeah, that’s the one.”

“It happened a few weeks before I got home. I never did hear all the details. Mallory was running that team?”

“Yeah. She spotted the safety zone.” Sarah wrapped her towel around her chest, pushed wet blond strands off her face with both hands. “She blames herself for the guys who didn’t get out.”

“She would.”

“You know Mallory from somewhere?” Sarah asked, cautious curiosity in her tone. “Because I know you haven’t been up here. This is my eighth season.”

Jac briskly rubbed her hair. “Just met her this morning.”

“Oh.” Sarah studied her, one hip canted. “You sound as if…”

“What?”

“Nothing. Just—most people don’t see much beyond her hard-ass attitude. I thought the two of you might be friends.”

“Nope. I’m just another rookie.”

“You know, Mallory doesn’t talk about Idaho. I probably shouldn’t have brought it up.”

“She won’t hear anything about it from me.” Jac had her own secrets in Idaho, and hurting Mallory was the last thing she wanted to do.

*

Jac walked into the infirmary, wanting to check on Ray before lunch. Mallory was just walking away from Ray’s bedside. He was awake and looking a lot better.

“You decide to join the land of the living again?” Jac said, squatting by the side of Ray’s bed. Ray’s color had brightened from clay to pinkish-tan, and his face had lost the pinched, pained look. His eyes were clearer too. Some of the roiling in her stomach settled.

“I don’t feel like puking anymore, which, believe me, is all I really care about.” Ray turned his head, trying to see the back of the room, and groaned. “Damn, I still get queasy every time I move, though.”

“Well then, don’t move, idiot.” Jac rolled her eyes. “You heard what Mallory said this morning. It may be a few days before the concussion wears off.”

“Yeah, and what’s gonna happen to me then? You know she’s gonna cut me loose.”

“I don’t know that. Neither do you. She seems to be pretty fair.”

“Speaking of fair, am I remembering right? You told her you were the one who went off trail?”

Jac shook her head. “I told her the straight story, but I don’t see as how it’s anybody else’s business what went down out there. That’s between the two of us.”

“I’m not letting you take the heat for my dumb-ass mistake,” Ray whispered roughly. “I appreciate it, I really do, but—”

“Look, it’s no big deal to me what anybody else thinks. Until you’re up and around, I’m sticking to the story.”

“What about you? Are you in trouble with the boss?”

Jac grinned. “Nope. She’s crazy about me.”

Ray laughed and immediately winced. “Geez, don’t do that. It feels like the top of my head is coming off whenever I laugh.”

“Russo,” Mallory snapped. “Let him get some rest.”

The woman was like a stealth bomber—you never heard her coming until rounds started landing all around you. Jac winked at Ray. “Take it easy, buddy. Talk to you later.”

Ray closed his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Have fun until then.”

“Intend to.”

Jac straightened and started for the door.

“I need you to sign some forms,” Mallory said. “Come on back to the office with me.”

“Okay,” Jac said cautiously. In her experience, paperwork was not only deadly boring, it could be dangerous. Write something down, record it, and you lost control of the facts. People could distort your words, subvert your intentions, or publicize something you might prefer to keep private. Growing up in the limelight of her father’s ambitions and serving in the shadow of Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell had taught her never to commit anything to paper, tape, or image that she didn’t want coming back to ambush her sometime later. “What’s up?”

Mallory walked slightly ahead, all business again. “Incident report. Just routine. I need you to sign off on the summary. Add anything you feel is important that I might have missed.”

“Can’t imagine there’d be anything.” As they passed the plane, Jac noticed a pair of legs sticking out from under the fuselage. Probably Benny, checking the craft. Otherwise the hangar was empty. The rest of the guys were probably in the gym, where smokejumpers tended to congregate in between calls. Working out helped dissipate the boredom better than sitting around watching television. The first thing she noticed when they reached Mallory’s secluded corner was the FAT box standing open on her desk. Rolls of tape, gauze, topical antibiotic, and field dressing packs all lined up in neat rows, everything in its place. Just like her desk. Just like Mallory. Jac had a wild urge to get her messy—just to see the fire leap in her eyes.

“First, take off your shirt,” Mallory said, her back to Jac as she pulled a tube of ointment from the bag.

“Here?”

Mallory looked over her shoulder at her. “I thought you’d be more comfortable here than in the infirmary in front of Ray and Coop, but we can go back there if you—”

“No, no, this is perfect,” Jac said hastily. The less fuss over her nonexistent injuries, the better. Nevertheless, when she pulled her T-shirt up over her head, the stretch of her shoulders caused her to wince. The burning she’d ignored during her run seemed to have escalated now that her shoulders were pressure free. She didn’t intend on letting Mallory know she was uncomfortable, because she planned on jumping with everyone when the time came. She balled her T-shirt up in her fist and turned her back to Mallory. Stealing herself for Mallory’s touch, she concentrated on breathing evenly.

Mallory’s fingertips were cool as they brushed over the back of her neck and the crest of her shoulders. Jac’s stomach tightened instantly, and heat blossomed between her thighs. Damn it, she was never this susceptible to casual touch.

“It still looks pretty good,” Mallory murmured. “Just a few tiny blisters by your hairline. I’ll put some bacitracin and a Tegaderm on it. Ought to protect it.”

The ointment was cool too—icy against her warm skin, and Jac almost laughed aloud. Ice applying ice, and she felt like an inferno.

“So I’m cleared to go?” Jac turned around when she felt Mallory’s fingers slide away. Once again, Mallory faced away from her, almost as if she didn’t want to look at her.

“As of now, yes.”

“Good, thanks.” Annoyed for no good reason, Jac jerked her T-shirt on and jammed it into her jeans.

Mallory held out a clipboard with several sheets of paper on it. “Take your time. Sign at the end.”

Jac read quickly, skimming the standard incident information—date, time, individuals involved, summary of the event, immediate management, outcome, emergency treatment, estimated time of recovery. What really interested her was the box labeled Potential to return to duty.

It was empty. Ray hadn’t automatically been disqualified, even though he would miss several days of training, at least. A ripple of irritation went through her. She’d almost gotten canned for helping him out. Mallory hadn’t cut her a second’s slack, but then Mallory had made it clear that morning she wasn’t going to. Well, that was okay—she was looking forward to showing Mallory she was wrong about her. She might have gotten in the door on her father’s connections, but she’d be staying because she could do the job.

She also noticed that in Mallory’s recounting of the incident, Ray was described as having strayed from the trail, fallen, and sustained a head injury. Jac had assisted him upon noting his situation. Nothing in the report suggested that either one of them had deviated from standard protocol running the course or following the incident.

“You write this like a politician,” Jac muttered.

“No need to insult me,” Mallory shot back.

Jac grinned. “I just meant you don’t give anybody anything to work with.”

Mallory hitched her hip onto the desk. “Do you always look at every situation as if someone is going to make money off it with a front-page article in the Star?”

“Pretty much. The minute I drop my guard, someone usually bites me in the ass.”

“You’re serious, aren’t you?”

Jac hesitated. Sharing personal information, especially humiliating information, did not come easily.

“Forget I asked,” Mallory said brusquely, busying herself with the bandages.

“The last woman I…dated…sold some revealing photos to the tabloids.”

Mallory swung around, her eyes blazing. “That’s unconscionable.”