“Oh?” I wasn’t giving anything away. Quincy wasn’t just a woman I banged and didn’t care who knew.
“Taft said he heard the two of you get it on. Your come sounds aren’t what I want toeverhear, so I’m thankful I sleep at Megan’s.”
Fuck.
“When are you going to stop prowling around each other like two feral cats?”
“Feral cats?” I ran a hand through my sweaty hair. It was late August in Montana, but it was still warm.
Ford came over, having handed off his patient, and saved me from answering. “This is going well.”
I glanced around again. Things were wrapping up. The dummy was out of the back of the chopped-up car. The jaws of life had been turned off, and the crew was putting away their tools. The fake patients were off the gurneys and walking toward the refreshment tent where Mrs. L and some other volunteers were handing out drinks and snacks.
Hayes and I both offered grunts of approval.
“This is our lives after we get too old to go on jobs.”
I narrowed my gaze at my friend. “We’ll always be going on jobs.”
I didn’t know anything else. Couldn’t imagine being a fire chief or a football coach.
Ford’s mouth turned up, which for him was a full-blown smile. “Eventually, we’re going to have to hire a younger team, and we’ll be the ones barking orders.”
“Who peed in your Cheerios?” I asked. “We’re not that fucking old.”
“Just being realistic. This town, these people, are doing their thing. This’ll be us. Normal shit like being volunteer firefighters.”
Ford’s repeating of my thoughts from earlier made me a little grumpy. “I blow stuff up, not put it out,” I reminded him. “The two of you have women. You’re already doing normal. For ex-SEALs.”
“Well, you could settle down. Get real with Quincy although the two of you are like–”
“Feral cats,” Hayes finished for Ford.
Now Ford laughed outright. Better than him firing me as he’d suggested when we were on that job.
“Fuckers.” I stomped off, giving them the middle finger as I headed toward Quincy. My steps hitched when I saw her sag back against the helicopter and wipe sweat from her forward. Her face was pale, and she looked tired.
Quincy was a champ. She worked and trained as hard as the rest of us and never looked wiped out or exhausted. Something was wrong.
I quickened my steps, opening my mouth to call out to her, but it was too late.
Quincy crumpled to the ground in a heap before I could reach her.
* * *
QUINCY
“Quincy?Quincy!Airman down! Get the paramedics,now.” Kennedy’s frantic voice shouted far too close to my ear.
I groaned. “Jesus, keep it down, Kennedy.” I tried to figure out what in the hell just happened. My stomach roiled. My head hurt. It was way too hot out here on the asphalt. I fought to sit up and found myself wrestling with Kennedy, who apparently was holding me in his arms.
“Can you lie her down, sir?” someone asked politely.
“She passed out and hit her head,” Kennedy snarled. “I’m not going to lay her on the hot pavement. Get a gurney over here.”
“No gurney,” I said weakly.
I made my eyes focus and found my worst nightmare–a swarm of firemen, paramedics and my teammates surrounding me. Talking about me.