A Blaze To Bear (Fire Bear Shifters Book 1) (7 page)

Ian’s phone started ringing at that moment, and the caller I.D. displayed a number from Boise. No doubt, their next mission assignment was coming in now. Ian took a deep breath and picked up the receiver. It was time to focus on the next blaze.

The next day, Ian found himself in a Twin Otter aircraft for the second time that season. He could feel beads of sweat running down his back as the plane sped toward Yosemite National Park. A tourist’s campfire had gotten out of control, and was heading toward one of the larger mountains. Boise had decided to send in a smokejumper crew to set a backfire, hopefully stopping the wildfire in its tracks before it could get over the mountain.

The air in the plane was stifling, despite the open door of the aircraft. Ian watched the ground whizzing by below, and tried to run through his jump plan in his head. Exit, stabilize, pull. Check parachute for steering control, head toward landing area. Even though this mission only marked his second official jump on the job, Ian had done so many training jumps last year that he felt like he could skydive in his sleep. Still, it never hurt to review the dive flow in his head.

He glanced up at Charlotte, and saw that her eyes were closed and her head was leaned against the side of the airplane. He knew she was fighting nervousness, which still blew his mind. She seemed so calm and sure of herself when she jumped, and she was clearly an expert on landing her parachute. As they neared the drop site Ian shuffled to the door and stuck his head out, nodding at Zach to grab the crepe streamers. Much to Ian’s frustration, Zach had hardly said two words to him in the past day. Ian wanted his second in command and best friend to have his back on the Charlotte situation, but Zach seemed to grow more sullen as the hours passed.

Zach kept his demeanor professional however, as the plane leveled out five thousand feet above the drop site. Ian and Zach both watched as the streamers floated down from the plane, falling straight for the first ten seconds and then banking sharply to the left before settling to the earth.

“Alright, guys, we’ve got our drop site. The plane’s looping around for another pass. Be aware, there’s a sharp crosswind blowing to the north near the ground. It looks like it starts at about one thousand feet above ground level. Gear checks, everyone!”

The crew members all ran through the same gear check they had practiced hundreds of time, checking their chest and leg straps, pull handles and reserve handles, and making sure their helmets were secure. They lined up as the plane looped back around, and Ian nodded to Zach, who saluted him and jumped out. Luke followed, then Trevor. Hunter looked up at Ian for the go-ahead signal. Ian hesitated for a moment, trying to decide if they could all jump on this pass or if he needed to ask the pilot to go around again. But before Ian could make the call, the pilot yelled back over his shoulder.

“Hey, chief, I’ve gotta go around again. The smoke’s billowing to high and endangering the flight. I’m taking us to six thousand feet.”

Ian gave the pilot a thumbs up in acknowledgement, and waited as the plane slowly climbed and swung around over the fire to loop back.

Below them, it looked like hell was breaking through the earth. Orange flames licked skyward, and Ian felt an uneasiness pass through him. This fire looked bigger than Boise had led him to believe. He knew once they jumped, they were stuck down there. A helicopter rescue would be impossible with the amount of smoke the fire was putting off.

Ian glanced at Charlotte again, and she gave him a weak smile. She knew the fire was bad, but it was nothing she hadn’t seen before. This was how the summer would go. The crew would be promised small fires, but end up with large infernos by the time the plane dropped them off. As long as there was still a chance for them to control the flames, they would jump. Maybe it was crazy, but no one ever said smokejumping was sane. Ian tried to give Charlotte an encouraging smile. They hadn’t had much of a chance to talk over the last day, since everything had been a blur of inspecting and packing gear. Maybe it had been just as well, since the more he talked to her without telling her he was a bear shifter, the guiltier he felt. Once this mission was completed, he had to come clean with her. Zach would just have to deal with it.

The plane reached the jump spot again. Hunter stood in the door, waiting until Ian checked his gear and gave him an affirmative nod. Hunter flashed Ian a peace sign and a grin, and was gone, whisked away from the plane at ninety miles an hour. Charlotte stepped into the door next. She looked pale.

“You okay?” Ian yelled out. Charlotte shrugged.

“I have a bad feeling,” she said.

Ian checked her chest strap and leg strap, and made sure her parachute and reserve handles were clear. He felt his heart tighten with emotion as he looked in her eyes and saw the fear. She was trying so hard to be brave, but her face was white as a sheet.

“Everything will be fine,” he yelled back. “Just follow your procedures.”

She nodded, although her face still looked troubled as he gave her the go-ahead signal. She dove out of the plane, already arching on exit. Ian quickly checked his gear, waited a few seconds to give Charlotte enough air clearance, and then dove out of the plane behind her.

The change in sound from the roar of the engine’s airplane to the static white noise of rushing wind still startled him, even after all the jumps he had done. He took a moment to center his mind, then arched to stabilize his body. He reached back to pull his parachute, and felt the familiar jerk of the chute stopping his freefall as it opened. He took a deep breath and looked up to reach for his steering toggles. As he reached upward, his parachute banked sharply to the left. At first, Ian thought he must have hit a gust of wind, but his parachute kept diving sharply to the left, and there was no unusual wind here as far as he could tell. His parachute started spinning, first in a slow, jerking movement, and then in a faster, smooth swirl. In just moments, his parachute lines were twisted around each other, like the lines of a swing that a little kid had spun around. Ian reached up to hold the lines and started kicking in the opposite direction of the twist, trying to free his parachute so he could steer. But something was wrong. His parachute kept spinning, and he didn’t seem to be making any progress on freeing the lines. He couldn’t land his parachute like this. The impact of spinning into the ground that quickly would likely kill him.

Ian felt his heart pounding as he looked at the altimeter he wore on his wrist. It told him that he was just below three thousand feet high, and bleeding away altitude quickly. Taking a deep breath, Ian realized he needed to get rid of his twisted main parachute and go to his reserve parachute. He had practiced these emergency procedures so many times during training, but it felt surreal to be using them now. Ian felt his muscle memory take over as he reached down to his chest and pulled the cutaway handle that would detach his main parachute from his rig. Ian launched into freefall again as his main canopy floated off. The ground seemed to rush at him at an impossibly quick speed as he reached for his reserve handle and yanked it desperately. For the longest second of Ian’s life, he waited. The time between pulling the reserve handle and feeling the reserve parachute opening over his head felt like an eternity. When he finally stopped hurtling toward earth and looked up to see his reserve canopy above his head, fully open with no line twists, Ian let out the breath he had been holding. His heart still pounded wildly in his chest as he reached up for his steering toggles and did a control check to make sure the parachute was steering properly. To his right, he saw his main parachute floating away into the forest. He would have to see if he could retrieve it, but there would be time for that later. Right now, he had to quickly find a place to land.

The time and altitude he had lost deploying his reserve canopy had left him too far from his planned landing site. He wouldn’t be able to fly that far, so he’d have to pick a new spot. He focused on a short, narrow clearing between two rock formations. It wasn’t ideal, but it would have to do. Then again, he couldn’t do much worse than his last landing, where he had ended up perched on top of a large pine tree.

This time, he managed to steer his parachute skillfully to the exact spot he wanted to be. The tips he had learned from eavesdropping on Charlotte’s lessons had proved invaluable today. He pulled down on his steering toggles to flare his parachute and slow its descent. When his feet touched the ground softly, he looked around in disbelief.

“I’m on solid ground,” he said to himself. “Holy shit, I’m on solid ground. I made it.”

With shaking hands, he started gathering up the fabric of his parachute into neat folds. Everything came into sharp focus—the pine needles on the trees seemed to be a more vivid green than usual. The smoke hanging in the air felt thicker than ever. And the scuffing of his feet on the dirt beneath him sounded abnormally loud.

Ian rarely felt true fear. After all, he hid a bear inside of him. He could handle a lot. But today, as he had watched the ground coming closer while his parachute spun wildly out of control, he had tasted terror.

As he tried to orient himself and figure out which way he needed to walk to reach his crew, he heard crashing footsteps running toward him through the forest.

“Ian! Ian, are you alright?” Zach’s voice carried through the trees and over the distant crackling of the forest fire. Moments later, Zach burst into the small clearing where Ian stood, still gathering up his parachute.

“Oh my god, thank god you’re alright,” Zach said, pulling Ian into a big hug in an uncharacteristic display of affection. Ian patted his back weakly, unsure of what to say.

Charlotte followed close behind Zach. She had stripped off her heavy gear and jumpsuit, and was wearing only her dark green flame retardant shirt and pants. Her disheveled hair hung in a frizzy disarray around her face, and streaks of dirty sweat were running down her cheeks. Ian thought she had never looked more beautiful. As the weight of what he had just experienced came crashing down on him, he realized that if he had died, he would have never had a chance to tell Charlotte who he really was. He would have never known whether her love for him ran deep enough to accept him, bear and all.

“Charlotte,” Ian choked out, his voice heavy with emotion. Charlotte ran up to him and took his dirty face in her hands, planting a kiss squarely on his lips. Out of the corner of his eye, Ian saw Zach wince at Charlotte’s bold actions, but Ian didn’t care. Her kiss was a calming balm on his frazzled nerves.

“That was the most terrifying thing I’ve ever seen,” Charlotte said. “I was still in the air, looking around to count everyone’s parachutes like I always do, when I saw you spinning. Then I saw you falling away from your main parachute. It felt like forever before your reserve opened.”

“Trust me, it felt that way to me, too,” Ian said.

“Trevor and Luke are going after your main parachute,” Zach said. “They think they saw where it landed.”

Ian nodded. “That’s good news. Boise wouldn’t be happy with me if I had to order a new parachute. Those things are expensive.”

“Well, better to need a new parachute than a new crew chief,” Charlotte said, reaching up to wipe a streak of dirt off of Ian’s face. Ian felt a familiar, comforting heat as her finger grazed his face. Guilt washed over him as he thought about how much she cared for him already, without having a chance to see his true nature. He had to come clean with her, before her feelings grew any deeper.

“Charlotte, listen, there’s something I need to tell you,” Ian said, his voice sounding strained. But before Ian could get any more words out, Zach broke into the conversation.

“No!” Zach said, obviously realizing that Ian was about to tell Charlotte he was a shifter. “Not until after this mission. You promised me.”

Ian bit his bottom lip. It was true. He had given his word to Zach, and he couldn’t go back on it. He needed to be an alpha that his men could respect and trust. Charlotte looked back and forth between Ian and Zach with a confused expression. Tension hung heavy in the air.

“What do you need to tell me?” Charlotte asked, her voice wary.

“It’s complicated,” Ian said.

“That seems to be a theme with you guys,” Charlotte said, unable to hide the traces of annoyance in her voice. “Every time I ask a question you don’t want to answer, you just say it’s complicated, or you’re different. Like that somehow explains everything.”

“I’m sorry. I promise I’ll explain everything clearly once we get back to base,” Ian said.

Zach and Charlotte each glared at him, and Ian threw his hands above his head in frustration. “I can’t win with you two. A moment ago you were relieved I was alive. Now you both look like you want to kill me.”

Charlotte sighed, but still looked annoyed. “I’m going to help Hunter set up camp. Maybe you two can have some boy time and work out whatever is causing all this hostility between you.”

Ian watched as Charlotte stormed off through the forest. She looked amazing, even in the flame retardant suits, which were about the most unflattering outfits possible. He felt his bear clawing at him, wanting her. But he couldn’t have her right now. This fire was quickly spiraling out of control, and the crew needed to act quickly if they were going to slow it down.

Besides, Ian couldn’t sleep with Charlotte again until he had a chance to confess to her that he was shifter. He hated to even think of it in terms of “confessing.” That made it sound like his secret was a bad thing. Ian wished that more humans could just accept shifters for who they were. What was so wrong about being part bear? He and his men had never hurt another human. In fact, they were using their superior strength to help humans by combating these wildfires. But many full humans seemed to have some sort of mental block that automatically characterized a shifter as dangerous and unpredictable.