Flaming Desire - Part 2 (An Alpha Billionaire Romance) (8 page)

The last relationship I had gotten into had ended badly and left me feeling discouraged and, quite bluntly, disgusted with men in general. Matt and I were sexually attracted to one another, no doubt about that. The sexual chemistry between us was undeniable. For me, however, sexual compatibility wasn't enough. If all Matt wanted was a distraction once in a while, I needed to back away. There were plenty of women who would throw themselves at him for sex with no strings, I had no doubt about it. I wasn't going to be one of them.

I realized, that at the same time I understood I was falling for him, I would also need to start putting up barriers. For my own protection. For my own sense of emotional health and well-being. Relationships took a huge toll on the psyche, and I had been put through the ringer on more than one occasion. I had no desire to do it again, at least not anytime soon.

For the remainder of the flight, I try to distract my thoughts, to think of the work ahead. I needed to rest my body and my mind and prepare myself for the challenges that would surely come my way during the coming days. Still, just thinking of Matt elicited feelings in me that I couldn't tamp down. The feeling of his hand on mine as we took off reminded me of how warm that hand could be against my flesh. That magic tongue of his could elicit within me the most powerful urges and sensations that I had ever felt. The sensation of that broad, muscular chest underneath my fingertips had me growing hot for him, right now in the middle of a plane flight, surrounded by other passengers.

I shook my head, trying to force my thoughts away from Matt's body and the feelings that he elicited in my own, to concentrate on what lay ahead. The problem was, every time I closed my eyes and tried to rest, I saw Matt's profile in my vision, the way his lips curved softly upward, and then, inevitably, how those lips felt against mine.

Dammit.

The remainder of the flight up to Butte was uneventful. The moment I stepped off the plane in Butte, I smelled the smoke in the air. Pungent. Like the glowing embers of a campfire multiplied a million times over.

The sky was hazy and looked almost like a light cloud cover, but I knew it wasn't just clouds, but smoke filled with ash from the thousands of acres of burning trees and scrub brush off to the west that gave it a light brownish-orange tint. Where the fire burned hottest the smoke was dark and rose in billowing clouds of dark gray, like charcoal. The color of the smoke depended on whether trees or brush or prairie grass burned.

As soon as the plane landed and taxied to a stop, a ladder was brought over. The door to the passenger cabin opened. The four of us disembarked first. We were met by a National Park Service ranger who directed us toward an empty hangar a short distance away. The gusting wind blew several strands of hair that had escaped my braid into my face, no doubt the cause of the quickly moving fire. The wind would gust strongly, then ebb, then gust again, whipping my hair, tugging at my clothes and of course, carrying ash along with it. I stifled a cough. I would get used to the smell soon enough, but my first few hours in any smoke environment inevitably made my eyes water, my throat burn and itch.

Our equipment and gear would be offloaded first and then brought over to us as quickly as possible. Matt had already told me that we would be transported to the base operations camp by helicopter provided by the Division of Fire and Aviation who worked in conjunction with the National Interagency Fire Center. Providing operational and logistics support for firefighting, the Fire and Aviation management arm of the National Park Service combined with a variety of agencies included wildland fire management, law enforcement operations, and search and rescue agencies. Any response procedures to wildfires insured prompt and swift evaluation for aviation resources.

This side of the airport was busy, now set up as a stage for the airborne fire operations in the nearby mountains. The type of aircraft used to fight wildfires were wide and varied. I spotted two of them at the far end of the tarmac—Lockheed Orions and Neptunes that had been converted to fight wildfires, with a number of retardant disbursing tanks in their bellies. I saw a Grumman S-2T air tanker, which could carry a huge payload of retardants. I even saw an open-sided converted UH-60 Black Hawk, originally a U.S. Army helicopter that was now used to evacuate personnel as well as carry a 780-gallon bucket.

Numerous air tankers were already in the air, as I'm sure were multiple “bombers” and choppers. Fire engines, pumpers, transport vehicles and more would be busy driving fire crews to the front lines. At that moment, one of the tankers, a Neptune Bae-146 flew overhead, its bottom smeared with stains from the fire retardant carried in its belly. It flew so close I felt the ground beneath me rumble from the roar of its engines as it prepared to land.

Moments later, I saw a Sikorsky S-64 Skycrane, fitted with interchangeable parts that could be installed underneath for either cargo or transport movements. Most of them were modified to carry a tank that held over two thousand gallons of water that they could suck out of a water source up through a draft hose and into the tank in less than a minute while the crew hovered over the water. Those were odd-looking helicopters that reminded me for some reason of grasshoppers, with its front end separated by a large gap which could be fitted with a tank filled with water.

Air tankers—scoopers as they were commonly called—and air cranes could drop massive amounts of water or fire retardant, depending on location. Fire retardant wasn't allowed to be dropped, at least in the United States, near any body of water. I had watched, many times, those tankers fill up with water, finding it an amazing, thrilling experience. Those pilots could fly! I was in awe of their skill as they guided their aircraft to skim right over the surface as they scooped water to refill the tanks.

I saw that Matt eyed the number of craft nearby as well. Good. I wasn’t the only one fascinated by the number and type of aircraft, presently airborne or grounded. I knew that the aircraft activity would increase, depending on fire containment and tactical operations, and once again was continually amazed at the coordination, skill, and timing with which the pilot, copilot, and ground operations communicated and kept them all focused on certain tasks while at the same time preventing accidents.

My heart thumped with excitement, as it always did when I was so close to the aircraft, equipment, and fellow firefighters coming together to fight wildfires. Before long, I saw an aircraft approaching and wondered if it was our ride. By the sound, I recognized it as a Chinook with tandem rotors, one in front and one in back. The civilian version of the military's Chinook was traditionally used in timber and commercial sectors, but was commonly seen around forest fires, capable of carrying a large bucket for fire suppression tactics. The mighty Chinook could lift 15,000 to 25,000 pounds of cargo, water, or fire suppressant chemicals, depending on elevation and temperature, but at a high altitude here, that range was probably on the lower end.

The Bambi buckets, as they were called, contained high-speed pumps that could fill those buckets in less than ninety seconds from shallow as well as deep water sources such as rivers, ponds, and lakes. They could even fill from shallow streams. I watched that once and had found the skill of the pilot and copilot while they did that incredible. On my last training, I had even watched a Chinook pilot fill a bucket from a stream that couldn't have been more than eighteen inches deep; another time, from a backyard swimming pool.

I had ridden in Chinooks a time or two, along with a Huey and a Bell 205, which could carry nine firefighters, along with the pilot and copilot. To be honest, didn't much care for any of them. It was bad enough having to be in an airplane, but the helicopters, no matter how massive and extreme their maneuverability, made me nervous with their sudden dips, rises, and turns, which often left my stomach rising into my throat.

Still, I knew they were the fastest way to base operations, and so I contained my dislike of the aircraft, knowing that they were essential when it came to delivering fire crews where they were needed. I knew I would see multiple hovering aircraft overhead, not only at base operations but over the fire lines. Some of them would be employed to fight fires with foam or water drops, others to be used for medical evacs, and yet still others for “short-haul” rescues that enabled a fire crew member to be lowered from the hovering helicopter to someone who was trapped or injured below.

A crew member would hook a harness or Stokes basket to a tether that could be pulled up into the helicopter itself, transporting injured or trapped firefighters or civilians to safety.

The sound of the heavy
chop chop chop
of the Chinook blades rumbled through my body, sending a surge of invigorated excitement through me. I didn't much like riding in them, but they were impressive, no doubt about it.

“Ready?” Matt shouted as the Chinook hovered alongside one end of the tarmac, kicking up a cloud of dust and debris. The rubber tires landed softly, rotors still turning. The counter rotating rotors were designed for lift and thrust. I knew, at least from what a firefighter the last time I was out told me, if one engine failed on it, the other engine was able to drive both rotors. That was good to know.

I glanced behind me and saw one of the airport baggage handlers driving a golf cart sized transport with a small flatbed behind it with our gear piled up on it. I nodded. I was ready. For now, I was a firefighter first and a nurse second. From this moment forward, unless my nursing skills were needed, I would focus solely on my assignment as a wildfire fighter. Of course, I hoped I would be assigned to work with Matt, but it was likely the crew partners or groups would be assigned to various areas of a fire line, depending on the skills of each member.

I made my way with the others to the baggage vehicle, grabbed my backpack and slung it over my shoulders. Then I grabbed my duffel, while Matt and the other two guys did the same. In a matter of moments, I was following Matt across the tarmac, the two firefighters from Arizona behind us as we headed toward the Chinook, its black, white, and yellow painted blades still rotating, doors open, ready for us. A bubble extended from each side of the pilot and copilot's seats, almost like insect eyes, enabling them to have unobstructed views of the ground.

I always ducked when I got near the helicopters, even though I knew the blades were well over my head. I saw that Matt did the same. It was instinctive I guess. I squinted against the dust and the debris kicked up from the blades, my heart pounding in my chest, feeling the adrenaline, the excitement, the uncertainty surge through me.

Matt tossed his duffel bag inside, where one of the crew quickly grabbed it and shoved it toward the back. Then he climbed up and turned to offer a hand. With a mighty heave, I also slung my duffel into the opening and then allowed Matt to help lift me inside. When I entered the interior, I had to blink to transition from the brighter light outside into the darkened interior of the craft. While it had windows, they were nearly covered by the two rows of canvas transport seats that lined the side of the aircraft.

The center was stowed with not only a dozen or more duffel bags, but ladders, chainsaws, and other tools, all strapped down to rounded hooks embedded in the flooring. Likely thousands of pounds of firefighting equipment, tools, and gear that would be dispersed to arriving firefighters as they arrived from local and distant regions such as myself and Matt. I saw that about seven firefighters already sat inside. It would be a tight squeeze, but then, it always was.

I shrugged my backpack off and took one of the red canvas seats slung side-by-side with narrow metal legs that lined either side of the chopper. Sitting in the canvas seats was something like sitting in a camp chair, but I certainly didn't mind. Comfort was the last thing on my mind. The all-metal interior of the craft reverberated the sound of the rotors so loudly that I felt my teeth vibrating with their power.

Nods were offered in greeting but that was about it. I quickly buckled myself in, although I saw several firefighters who hadn't. I surmised that it would take only minutes to reach the base camp. In a matter of seconds, the other two firefighters from Arizona had climbed in behind us, and mere moments after that, the door was closed and the Chinook lifted off the ground.

For a few alarming seconds, the Chinook wavered from side to side as it lifted off and the wind swept underneath it, lifting the nose up. I gasped and clamped my hands tightly around the straps of my backpack, now situated between my feet.

The aircraft banked and I held my breath, trying to look through one of the small windows opposite me to orient myself for balance. That didn't help, so I took a deep breath and just stared down at my feet. Soon we were flying over foothills, covered with forests of pine. Then the smoke and ash began to obstruct my view. The Chinook banked a couple of times and slightly rolled to portside as yet increasingly powerful gusts of wind, some of it likely propelled by the fire and heat, pummeled the craft. I clenched my jaw and held my breath each time, my stomach rising to my throat in fear. I had never liked roller coaster rides, and right now, felt like I was on a doozy.

Matt sat beside me, eyes closed. He couldn't possibly be sleeping, could he? I doubted it. Like me, he was probably thinking of the coming hours and days. His face remained expressionless. I wondered what he was thinking. Unlike my thoughts, which were focused on the way the Chinook handled the winds, his were more than likely on the fire spreading below, spreading at pace with the gusting winds, whipping up fire tornadoes, jumping lines and the glowing embers carried hundreds of feet to spark a new line of fire even as the embattled firefighters gave their all to create and hold their fire lines.

The guy sitting next to Matt shouted something into his ear, and he passed it along to me. We’d be approaching base operations in about ten minutes. I nodded and then passed the message along to one of the guys that had come from Arizona. I wished I could see outside the window more. I caught occasional flashes of sky, darker smoke, and occasionally, when the aircraft banked to the left, treetops and jagged mountainsides. The ride was turbulent, and the further we flew the more it jostled. The updraft from the mountain range, plus the drafting and winds whipped up by the fire made the ride rougher with every minute that passed.

Within several minutes, I was literally bouncing in my seat. I had to grasp the metal rails on either side of my knees. Most of the others had done the same, including Matt. My heart pounded, so fast that I felt the pulse throbbing in my throat. I was sure my eyes were as wide as saucers. I began to feel nauseated with the turbulence. I had nothing with which to adjust my sense of equilibrium. The wind buffeted the craft, which I knew took some doing. The Chinook was designed to operate in high altitudes, different climates, and crosswind conditions that prevented many other helicopters from flying.

Still, this was a pretty rough ride. I don't think I'd ever experienced such turbulence in a Chinook before, and as it began to rock slightly from side to side, as if the pilot was trying to maintain level flight, I began to grow concerned. I glanced at Matt, saw his eyes open, and thought surely that he had also noticed. To my dismay, I saw glances cast among several of the other firefighters on board as well. I was somewhat relieved to find I wasn't the only one who was probably a bit anxious. One of the other firefighters near the front row of seats on the other side of the aircraft was quite pale and looked like he was about ready to puke.