Twice the Heat Read online

  “If you take one, please take both,” she whispered to the fire gods. That was why they’d dated twins in the first place. As much as they drove each other crazy on occasion, she never wanted to live further than next door from her sister. Finding a way for men not to come between… Yeah, it had led to their current predicament—no matter how indirectly—but it didn’t change the truth.

  Something else not to leave to twin code. “I lov—”

  The fire’s roar, which had been building steadily, suddenly redoubled.

  Quadrupled!

  In training they’d told them that the fire-driven winds would batter at the shelter and she’d thought she’d be ready for that. Not even close.

  The shelter’s thin material hammered against her as if driving her into the dirt. It rippled and roared. The flapping was so fierce that it was hard to imagine that the material wouldn’t shred, and harder still to keep it pinned to the ground.

  Then there came the hammer blow!

  So hard it almost hurt. It definitely knocked the wind out of her—and perhaps a scream with it.

  Then…water came seeping in under the edge of the foil. In moments she went from lying on dirt to lying in mud. Her facehole filled with water until she had to raise her head to breathe.

  “What the—”

  “Unshelter now!” The command roared out at her.

  She hesitated. It went against all training.

  “Now!” It boomed over a PA system close enough to hurt her ears.

  She took a deep breath, held it, and peeked. She was looking directly at a large metal bar hovering just inches from her face. Natalie had to blink twice to make sense of it…

  It was a helicopter skid hovering inches over an area awash with water.

  And close behind it was a tower of flame.

  She didn’t need to be told a third time. Not bothering to unshelter, she rose, grabbed the door handle and dove into the back of the small helo. She felt it lift, turn, and begin to move.

  Only after she was in did her brain kick in.

  “Julie!” The scream ripped out of her throat as she tried to wrestle the foil out of her face and see.

  “Damn, lady. No need to shout, I can hear you.” A man’s voice. The pilot’s? Didn’t matter.

  “Julie!” She shouted at him. “My sister!”

  “My bro’s got her,” the pilot replied calmly.

  Natalie finally managed to sit up and get the foil out of her face to look out the side window. A second helo flew close beside them. And there, still shrouded in silver, was Julie’s face also plastered against the rear window.

  She slapped the flat of her hand against the glass—and the door swung part way open.

  “Shit!” She yanked it shut and latched it this time.

  When Natalie looked out again, Julie waved. That was all that mattered.

  “Any last words?” the pilot asked drily.

  Natalie wondered what he was talking about. Then she looked between the two pilot seats out the windshield…and wished she hadn’t. Apparently there was still more to care about. A lot more.

  5

  Well, this looks like fun,” Drew transmitted over the radio.

  “What we live for,” Amos did his best to keep it light.

  They’d spotted the shelters in unison, too damn close to the center of the firefront. They probably should have bailed and let the sheltered hotshots take their chances. They’d made themselves a good hide. He and Drew should have dropped their water in a wedge between the fire and the shelters then gotten the hell out.

  That was fire safety training.

  But that wasn’t Army training. “Leave no man behind” wasn’t a motto, it was a way of life. The most elite rescue team of them all, the pararescue jumpers had the motto “That others may live.” He and Drew had talked plenty about what that kind of commitment took. Talked about it enough that it too had become a part of them.

  Now it looked as if that motto might come true.

  They’d dumped their loads into the fire just above the shelters, then gone in to either side.

  Thankfully, the hotshots had loaded fast, but it might not be fast enough. The fire had circled. Both of the side burns were swinging in to close the gap. Any part of the valley not filled with fire was being obscured by smoke.

  Going straight up would seem to make sense, but that way lay another kind of hurt. Even if the air controllers cleared the airspace of fast-moving tanker planes, traveling up into the smoke was bad news. It meant their air filters would be eating ash and all of them trying to breathe superheated air. Even filtered, it wasn’t something he ever wanted to try.

  “Fast and low, buddy,” he called out.

  “Fast and low,” Drew answered back as they slalomed ahead.

  Drew had the lead by ten feet, so Amos let him slide ahead. He tucked in one rotor diameter back and five feet up—just high enough that their rotors wouldn’t intermesh in the case of a sudden move. Rather than watching ahead, he just watched Drew’s helo. They’d perfected this back when dodging anti-aircraft—two helos flying like they were one.

  Each tiny control maneuver that the lead pilot made, the tail pilot did the same. While the follow-position took immense concentration, it was concentration on only one thing: what the other pilot was doing. Rather than the dozen or more that Drew would be concentrating on. That left part of Amos’ mind free for other tasks.

  First, he called Jana with an update—enough of a one to get her attention, but not get fire safety after them if they survived this. There were some things that the upper echelons didn’t need to know.

  “Two hotshots heavy,” Amos reported. “Coming out southwest corner. Kinda warm in this here valley. Figgered it was time ta be movin’ along.” No one on the team had a Texas accent except Jasper—and his wasn’t much of one as his folks had moved to Oregon when he was six. Jasper didn’t often speak anyway, though more now than before he’d hooked up with Jana—the lucky shit. If Amos lived through this, he was gonna find someone else that hot and maybe do some slowing down himself. Of course he and Drew had been saying that for a long time, but there was such a target-rich field to play in first that it was hard to care.

  The “Texan” would alert Jana that when he said “kinda warm” it was way out of the norm.

  One kilometer running flat out ahead of the firestorm was fast becoming the longest twenty-five seconds of his life.

  Twenty.

  Fifteen.

  Now it was a pure race between the southern edge of the escarpment and the encroaching smoke and fire.

  “Roger that. Y’all just keep your heads down and come home to Mama.”

  Amos wished he could spare a moment to stare down at the radio in surprise. Jana! Jana didn’t speak Texan any more than the rest of them. Woman rarely joked at all.

  “Who are you people?” The hotshot asked from the rear, but there wasn’t time to answer. They’d been flying low—standard put-out-building-fire kind of low—which was far lower than running-like-your-tail-was-on-fire kind of low. Moving this close to the ground at this speed was something they’d only done once or twice in the Army.

  Head down? So, not good.

  Up ahead, Drew took them down another ten feet.

  “Yipes!” The hotshot’s exclamation was loud enough to hurt despite his headphones.

  If he had time, he’d agree.

  An instant later, the other four Firebirds raced straight at them in two pairs—thirty feet higher, skimming just below the smoke ceiling, and only two rotors apart. They dumped their loads of water to either side of the escape path, knocking it wider for just a moment.

  Amos raced after Drew as they hammered down the center of the momentary opening.

  The other four helos would now be pulling max G’s to make the turn. He wished he had a ground camera. All six Firebirds, flashing by in a long line just above the ground between two towering pillars of fire about to close. That was a moment to remember.
/>   “By the numbers,” Jana called—couldn’t the woman at least sound worried?

  Each of the six of them reported “clear” as they rolled clear from the fire front. It was hard to keep the adrenaline howl of laughter off the air. Sector 39-04 was now a hundred percent on fire, but they were clear.

  “Damn that was close,” the hotshot leaned forward between the two pilot seats.

  Amos glanced over but any words died in his throat. He hadn’t so much as seen her face when she dove aboard. Hadn’t even connected that the hotshot was female until the second or third yell about her sister. Like the military, the hotshot teams were about twenty percent female and rising slowly. So, one in five that he’d rescue a female. One in twenty-five that they were both women.

  He’d thought he was ready for all that. But his momentary glance aside from the path of Drew’s flight had revealed her face. Still wearing full hotshot gear, she’d shed her foil shelter and her helmet. She had a long, elegant face framed in sleek brunette hair with light brown eyes that looked as if they were filled with triumph.

  “Yeah,” he managed, turning his attention back to the flight. “That was close.”

  6

  I swear to god, I had no idea she was a woman.”

  Amos laughed at his friend’s expense plus a little extra to rub it in. They were halfway into dinner. Frank’s Diner sat right on the edge of Finnon Lake just two miles from the Swansboro Country Airport where the Firebirds were stationed. The Placerville Airport was crammed with the bigger boys, so they’d been shoved off to the side. Thankfully, Frank’s—the only restaurant for ten miles around—served up a fine feed and a cold beer.

  “You sure?” Drew wasn’t convinced yet.

  “You blind, bro? Or was she that homely? Her sister…now that was hot.”

  “Never saw her face,” Drew took a thoughtful bite of his double burger.

  The guy still had such Upper West Side manners that he finished chewing before he continued the thought that Amos could see he was still in the middle of.

  “Didn’t speak once that I could hear. Was a little busy flying, you know. Not just trailing along like some baby robin following papa through the sky.”

  Amos was still hot on the trail of Drew not knowing he’d saved a woman, so he ignored the other dig.

  Drew continued, “When we hit the ground, she—guess it could have been a she—said thanks and offered a solid handshake. Most of her face was blocked by the foil shelter she had all bundled up in her arms.”

  “’Cause she took one look at you, bro, and was afraid her face would melt. Using the shelter to fend you off, worse than fire.”

  “Just eat your damned chicken fried steak.” Drew had never properly appreciated meat wrapped in too much deep-fried breading smothered in rich gravy. It was Amos’ idea of heaven. His dad used to make it for him, when there weren’t any fashion-model appetites around to appease.

  Amos waved some of Frank’s Garlicky Fries at Drew. “Telling you, the firefighter in my bird was flaming hot. And she yelled about the other one being her sister—musta been afraid you were gonna weasel out like usual and leave her behind. Can’t imagine sisters falling that far apart in hotness.”

  “Remember the Claricks?”

  Amos could only shudder. Drew had met one and set up a half-blind double date to include Amos and her sister. The first had seemed normal enough; the other definitely a coyote date—the kind you would gnaw your arm off to get away from what she passed off as a personality. Crazy town.

  “I’m telling you though the one in my bird…freaking amazing.”

  “Get her name?”

  Amos hadn’t and was still kicking himself, but he wasn’t going to admit it. “Got the name of the babe in yours…” he teased. From her sister screaming it loud enough to knock his helo out of the sky.

  “Julie,” a voice said from over his right shoulder. “Julie Falcone.”

  Amos twisted around to see the woman who’d stepped out of the shadows behind their booth. It was the face from his helo. He’d never forget a face like that. And now it wasn’t just framed by sweaty and muddy brunette hair, it was framed by a flowing miracle of shiny walnut brown that spilled down to her shoulders. Beautiful had become shocking. Her body, sweetly long and trim, was revealed by a tight red t-shirt from the mid-summer Dundee fire and tight jeans.

  “No, Julie was your sister’s name. You can’t both be named Julie.”

  “Ha!” Drew laughed. “I knew you didn’t get the name of the babe, er, woman in your helo.”

  “Hi,” another Julie double stepped around from behind Julie. “I’m Natalie. I was the ‘freaking amazing’ one that was in the back of your helo.”

  He glanced at Drew, “You seeing double, bro?”

  “Never been so happy to be,” he mumbled softly. Then he jolted to his feet. “Would you ladies care to join us?”

  Damn it! Drew’s recovery time was incredible. Amos rose as well, but he was always a step slower than Drew on manners.

  The twins—right down to the t-shirt and buff conditioning—exchanged a glance followed by an infinitesimal shared shrug.

  “You saved our lives,” Natalie answered for both of them. “That has to make up for your babe-this and hot-that. Some.”

  “Not all,” Julie’s look said she was less convinced, but resigned to her fate.

  “Yeah, we’re really…” Drew started.

  “…sorry about that,” Amos finished. “But getting to tease my bro about not even noticing he’d rescued a beautiful hotshot was too good a chance to miss.”

  “Your brother?” Natalie sat beside him, just close enough to smell like the outdoors and that delicious hint of fire smoke that could never be wholly scrubbed away. It was like ambrosia to a firefighter. On a woman as beautiful as Natalie, it was almost overwhelming.

  “Well, other than him being from the snooty part of Manhattan…” Amos shrugged.

  “…close enough to true,” Drew admitted as he made room for Julie. “Though the good Lord knows I’ve tried to get rid of him.”

  “He says I’m like a bad Brooklyn rash. He’s only jealous because he can’t climb out of my shadow. Other than that, we’re twins too.” Despite his own pasty-white skin in contrast to Drew’s clean-shaved dark coloring.

  The women exchanged another one of those unreadable looks. Then Julie finally sat next to Drew. Her face ran to more serious expressions; Natalie’s lighter nature had almost broken to a laugh. It made her eyes tip just a little more toward golden than her twin’s.

  7

  Your solution to a bad breakup…” Amos looked at her in shock.

  “…and losing their jobs…” Drew added in.

  “And losing your jobs, was to become hotshots?”

  Natalie answered with a nod as her mouth was presently full with a bite of her burger.

  “What’s next? First twin astronauts in space?”

  “There’s Mark and Scott Kelly,” Julie pointed out.

  “Not together,” Drew noted.

  Natalie liked that both guys simply assumed nothing was out of her and Julie’s reach.

  “Space…” Julie looked thoughtful.

  Natalie worked hard to suppress a laugh. Julie was the master of the double entendre. Her dry tone also said space away from the two guys. They were clearly ladies’ men, that had been obvious even without overhearing their earlier conversation. It was also clear that they rated Natalie and her sister as prime targets. And why shouldn’t they? She and Julie were hot stuff, even if she did say so herself. Didn’t mean she was going to sleep with one of them.

  But she couldn’t shake off that first look Amos had given her aboard the racing helicopter. Their survival had been in doubt, deep doubt based on the walls of flame visible out his front windshield. She’d been covered in mud and soot, and wearing full hotshot gear. And still, despite the crisis of the moment, he’d stared at her as if he’d seen a magazine centerfold. She and Julie were used to attenti
on when they dressed up to hit a club and went dancing—they’d practiced as dance partners since they could walk and knew how to take over a floor. That wasn’t how she’d looked after being dragged out of the fire.

  Still, he looked at her that way.

  And he and Drew were funny together, though it was clear that Amos was the punchline man of the team. Only rarely did he let Drew finish a sentence, but Drew’s reactions also said that Amos rarely got his meaning wrong. It was a different kind of twin-speak than hers and Julie’s, which she found intriguing.

  “So, did you guys share a womb?”

  “Considered it,” Amos deadpanned it. “Drew’s mom is awesome.”

  “She is,” Drew agreed happily. “But imagine the trouble she’d have giving birth to this Jewish white boy from Brooklyn. He’s such a whiner. Just didn’t seem fair.”

  “Better than a hoity uptown piece of trash. He thinks he’s smarter than me,” he leaned forward to warn Julie. “Can you imagine?”

  “I let him think he’s smarter. His tiny ego needs all the help it can get.” Drew made a point of looking to Julie to keep her included in the conversation.

  Not many guys did that. Julie’s quiet nature tended to let her fade into the background—which was fine with her sister. But both of these guys kept her involved, kept inviting her to stay engaged in small ways.

  “Mrs. Berkowitz says that Amos was a real handful from birth to…”

  “Until now! At least that’s Mama’s version,” Amos laughed.

  And Natalie found it easy to join in.

  The meal slid by easily, very easily. Natalie found her guy-shield defenses lowering. Designed to rebuff the slavering toad, the grabby slime mold, and the inveterate ladies’ man, it wasn’t fending off the thoughtful guy who hid behind a mask of funny. Also, she’d seen them fly their helicopters like they were extensions of their very being. That didn’t come from being a slacker in any way. The self-confidence they had in that area was hard won and fully deserved.