Flaming Desire - Part 2 (An Alpha Billionaire Romance) Page 5

  As nurses, we had a right to read any write-ups or disciplinary notices we received. While I was aware that signing one was not necessarily an admission of guilt, it was often perceived that way. Diane's sighed, shaking her head again as she closed her eyes and leaned back in her chair. I continued.

  “Diane, Matt’s a great nurse. He knows his stuff, and he'll be a great asset to this hospital, whether he works in the emergency room, the ICU, or any other department that's open to him. He's got a good head on his shoulders, he's practically unflappable, and to be quite honest, Doctor Linder was out of line. Matt was just behaving like a gentleman, and Doctor Linder didn't like being confronted.”

  Diane glanced down at the pieces of paper she held, looked at me for a moment, and then spoke. “The next time Doctor Linder makes inappropriate advances or sexually harasses you, I expect to see a complaint on my desk. Is that clear?”

  “But that's just it, Diane,” I said. “Doctor Linder is very careful in what he says, to me at least. That's the reason I haven't reported anything before. He's never come right out and made an outright sexual advance, to me anyway, in so many words. You know how it is.”

  “I’ve heard the rumors,” she nodded. “But what about proof? Have you seen the doctor behaving inappropriately with any of the female staff?”

  Here it was. I instantly recalled the image of Doctor Linder and Vanessa in the supply closet. But I was fairly sure that Vanessa had invited the doctor’s attentions, so that didn’t apply here. I hedged. “Not exactly…”

  “And what do you mean by that?”

  Diane was serious. “I mean, I—I have seen him with some female staff… but it seemed consensual, at least as far as I know,” I admitted. “You know how it is in the hospital, Diane, and I’m sure you’ve seen your share of liaisons through your career.” She said nothing. “Like I said, you know how difficult it would be to make a formal complaint about Doctor Linder with just a single complaint.”

  Diane did. She had worked in the industry much longer than I. Not long ago, nurses had even less power than we had today. I also knew that Diane always did whatever she could to back up her nurses. I eyed the papers in her hand and frowned.

  “Okay,” she sighed. “Just between you and me, these write-ups are going in the round file.”

  The round file. The trashcan. I glanced at Diane in dismay. She was breaking the rules. She saw my expression and lifted a hand.

  “Just this once,” she said. “I'm going to talk to Drake and get his side of the story, but as far as I'm concerned, this is a frivolous complaint, especially since you two were off duty. However, it did occur on hospital property.” She said nothing for several moments before speaking. “I'm not getting involved in your private life, Jessica, but if you want to see Matt Drake on a personal level, you'd better make sure that you do it outside of this hospital and off hospital property from this moment forward.”

  I nodded in understanding. I didn't want to put Diane in the middle of this. Hospital employees dating one another was generally frowned upon, but as long as those relationships didn’t disrupt the working of the facility, the hospital had little to say what when on outside of the workplace. I knew that some hospitals had strict rules and regulations in their policy and procedures manuals regarding dating, but this hospital didn’t. It was generally considered a given.

  “I've heard rumors about Doctor Linder's behavior, and while I certainly don't condone it, but unless formal complaints are lodged, there's little I can do,” Diane muttered. “And we both know that those complaints better be solid or they’re just going to disappear as they make their way up the chain of command.”

  I nodded. I knew how hospital politics worked. Unfortunately, doctors often got away with bloody murder, and I wasn't saying that lightly. In some ways, the medical profession still operated under the “old boy’s club” mentality, and while policies had improved greatly over the past decade, claims of sexual harassment in the workplace were still frowned upon—off the record of course. Proving that comments made by some doctors against female nurses could be incredibly difficult to prove, unless of course you walked around with a tape recorder in your pocket all day, which I wasn't about to do.

  “I can handle Doctor Linder,” I said, standing. “I’ve been careful and usually manage to leave before I say something I might regret.” I gestured toward the papers Diane held. “Most of the time, anyway.” Diane nodded.

  “You have one more ride along today with Matt, and then you can sign him off. We'll see whether he'll fit best in the emergency department or in the ICU. Has he made any indications of preferences to you?”

  I shook my head.

  “Well, you guys have a good shift.”

  I nodded, making my way toward her door.

  “Try not to run into any more burning buildings, okay?”

  I glanced over my shoulder at Diane, saw her smiling at me. I smiled at her in return and nodded. “Not if I can help it.”

  I left Diane’s office and walked down the short hallway toward the break room. Inside, the television was turned to a news station, the volume low. A couple of nurses I didn't recognize sat at one of the break tables, eating salads and occasionally glancing at the screen. I had a few minutes before Matt was to arrive, so I thought to get myself a soda. As I stood in front of the soda machine, making a decision between diet and regular, an image from the television caught my attention.

  My heart gave a little leap of excitement, but not the kind that made you feel like something good was about to happen. Fire. A big one.

  “What's happening?” I asked the nurses, pointing to the television screen.

  “There's a big fire burning up in Montana, near the Idaho border.”

  Alarmed, I turned toward the screen. “How many acres?”

  One of the nurses looked at me as if I had grown two heads.

  “No idea,” one commented, and then turned back to eating her salad.

  Wait, how could there be a wildfire burning in Montana and I didn't know about it? Then again, I had been rather distracted lately. I hadn’t watched the news at home in a couple of days. I quickly accessed my iPhone, pulled up a news article about the fire and saw that it had started yesterday morning. It had quickly grew out of control due to hot, dry winds blowing down from the north and along the eastern slopes of the Bitterroot National Forest along Highway 93, south of Missoula.

  As a wildland enthusiast and firefighter, I was relatively familiar with most of the National Parks and forests in the western United States as well as mountain ranges. I knew that the Bitterroot Range encompassed nearly twenty-five thousand square miles and was considered a sub range of the northern Rocky Mountain range. The mountain range extended along most of the western border of Montana and the eastern border of Idaho.

  I had been up there once, just before I started employment down here in New Mexico. It was one of the most beautiful mountain ranges I'd ever seen and that went for the Grand Tetons. The Bitterroot Range had several of the most well-known climbing peaks in the western United States, rivaling the ‘fourteeners’—a nickname given to mountains that topped fourteen thousand feet, like Pikes Peak in Colorado. Actually, Colorado had nearly sixty mountain peaks that measured over fourteen thousand feet and I had hiked and climbed a few of them, including Mt. Sneffels in the San Juans, Pikes Peak and Mt. Evans along the Front Range. I wondered if that was something that Matt liked to do as well. Something to ask him the next time I thought of it.

  My thoughts returned to the Bitterroot Range; some portions of the Bitterroot were, for all intents and purposes, nearly impenetrable, most especially the Selway-Bitterroot wilderness, encompassing over a million acres. I hiked around the Castle Rock, area enjoying the Nez Pierce Trail, a simple dirt road that separated the Selway-Bitterroot region from the Frank Church River of No Return. The wilderness areas spanned both sides of the range of mountains that jutted up like a huge, exposed spine along the Montana and Idaho borders.
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  I had also explored the one-hundred mile MacGruder Corridor road that wound its way through the undeveloped region, mainly found in northeastern Idaho. I had yet to find anything quite so beautiful, and relatively unscathed by modern inhabitants, or even by avid hikers like me. The region was still much in its natural state, much like the Nez Pierce Indians must've experienced it back in the 1800s.

  If there was a fire burning up there in the Bitterroots, the flames would certainly have ample fuel, especially now in midsummer. The area was rich in stands of Engleman spruce and subalpine fir growing together in huge, nearly impenetrable wilderness areas. The area was also rich in Douglas and Spruce fir, Lodgepole pine, White Bark and Ponderosa pine as well as Larch trees.

  Ironically, the National Interagency Fire Center was located in Boise, Idaho, coordinating a number of Hotshot crews nationally. I had them on my phone's contact list. I was in the process of looking up that number when I heard Matt’s voice behind me.

  “My crew called me this morning. I'm going up there,” he said, gesturing toward the television screen.

  I turned and stared at him, amazed. I hadn’t heard a thing. I suppose he saw the look on my face, my surprise, and perhaps some disappointment as well, because he gestured for me to follow him out of the break room. I did. He walked the short distance down the hall toward Diane's office where no one could hear us.

  “My regular Hotshot crew is short a firefighter,” he said quietly. “Got married a few months ago and his new bride isn't too keen on him going, so he's decided to opt out of this one.”

  I chewed my lip, considering the backhanded invitation. Because we were both independent, we could log into any of the interagency firefighting services including the National Park Service, the Bureau of Land Management, and the United States Forest Service and pretty much had the freedom to choose where we went and how often we joined wildfire crews. I knew, due to the location of this fire, that it would be incredibly difficult to control. Chances were that numerous federal agencies including the National Park Service would have no issues accepting all the help they could get.

  Most Hotshot crews consisted of between twenty and twenty-two members that included a superintendent, two captains, squad leaders, and senior firefighters. The remainder were classified by numerous designations, such as GS-3 temporary firefighters, like Matt and myself. Some crews provided specialized roles, such as the roles that I often encompassed as a wildfire fighter and a medic.

  Other members of Hotshot crews included the saw team; using chainsaws to cut brush and wood from the fire's edge. A swamper was responsible for taking that material and disposing of it on the non-fireside of a fire line. There was also a follower, or a chainsaw operator who was highly skilled and specialized in falling damage, burning trees as well as clearing snags. Then there was the helicopter crew, responsible for transporting equipment and crew as well as crude supplies. Dozens of specialties. Lots of need.

  “Want to join my crew?” he asked. I realized I’d been waiting for him to say the words. “I've already cleared it with my captain.”

  Since I had been in New Mexico, I had operated independently, never being assigned repeatedly to one crew or another, but not for lack of trying. As one of the few women in the field, I sometimes found myself having to prove myself over and over again. Matt's trust and confidence in me was touching. “Are you kidding?” I said, my voice rising in excitement.

  He nodded, flashing his set of white teeth.

  “Now there's a proposition that I can't turn down!”

  He gestured toward Diane's office. “Then I think we better go see the DON, don't you?”

  I nodded, making my way back to Diane's door.

  “You don't think they're going to have a problem with both of us going, do you? That puts the ER department short two nurses.”

  I shook my head. “She said she’d clear it with administration. I've never had a problem, because there’s usually at least one nurse willing to pick up the extra shifts. Let's go see.”

  Once again I knocked on Diane's door and after a moment heard her reply to enter. I did, this time followed by Matt. She stared up at him, glanced at me, and then spoke.

  “I already took care of it, Jessica,” she commented, her eyes glancing quickly toward the trash can at the side of her desk.

  “We're not here about that,” I informed her. “There's a wildfire burning out of control in the Bitterroot Range, up in Montana,” I explained. “Matt's been called up, and his crew is short a member. I'd like to go.”

  Diane nodded, not surprised. “I was watching that on the news earlier. I had a feeling that you two would be coming into my office.” She glanced at Matt. “I've already cleared you with administration,” she said. “Jessica as well.”

  “Thanks, Diane—”

  She lifted her hand. “But I want you to know, Matt, that because you've just transferred here, there is a chance that a position won't be open for you when you get back. I have to fill your shift. I don't typically have trouble filling Jessica's shift because her friends usually pick up the slack. But now we’re going to be down two nurses in the ER, and you know how it goes.”

  I glanced up at Matt, concerned. I didn't want him to lose his opportunity to work at Santa Fe General. Then again, I knew how it worked. While I had already been out on several calls since I arrived at the hospital, I knew that I also ran the risk of losing my job, especially if I was gone for more than a couple of weeks. The usual stint for two week tours of duty was typical, though sometimes went longer. I had never been out longer than nine days. Still, I was willing to risk it. Nursing was in my blood, but so was firefighting. I got the distinct impression that Matt felt the same.

  “You know what to do, Jessica,” she said, shoving several papers across her desk in my direction. I knew what they were. My agreement to temporarily suspend my pay for the length of term I would be gone. Matt understood what they were as well, and in a matter of moments, we had both signed the papers and handed them back to Diane.

  She looked at both of us for a moment, then smiled. “Well, go put out your fire, but be safe and come back in one piece, okay?”

  I smiled at Diane. “Will do. I'll keep you updated.”

  “You do that,” she said, and then gestured us out of the office.

  Matt and I emerged from Diane's office, my mind spinning with everything I had to do and the short amount of time I would have to accomplish it all. I was already jittery with anticipation. “What time do I meet you, and where?”

  “We'll take a commercial plane from Santa Fe Municipal Airport to the Bert Mooney Airport in Butte at five o'clock. The Missoula Airport has been temporarily shut down due to smoke and ash. The National Park Service will have a helicopter waiting at the airport, where we’ll join others heading to the staging area and base camp downslope.”

  I couldn't help the excitement burgeoning within me. I found nothing so invigorating, not even nursing in the emergency room department, as fighting wildfires. Oh, I knew the dangers, but I was careful. I couldn't wait. In addition to the job I did in the ER, this was what gave my life a great sense of purpose. To be needed, appreciated, and have the ability to help in such a way made my life feel more complete.

  I looked up at him. “Are you packing all your gear?”

  “As much as I can get into my duffel. You do the same, and I'll meet you at the airport between four o’clock and four-thirty. Can you make it?”

  Not much time, only leaving me about an hour to go home, quickly pay any bills that would be due while I was away, figuring I'd be gone a least a week. Then change and pack my backpack with some clothes and toiletries, but that was it really. All my gear was already stowed in the back of my Jeep, and I could quickly pack it into my own duffel when I got to the airport.

  “I can make it,” I said, walking quickly down the hallway, Matt beside me. We emerged from the hospital doors and both made our way quickly toward our own vehicles. I gave him a wave and
then climbed in behind the wheel. Before I started the car, I sent text messages to both Melody and Serena, letting them know where I was going… and with whom.

  Chapter 4

  The next hour or so passed in a blur. I quickly rushed home and tossed my keys onto the counter that separated my kitchen from the living room. I opened the laptop I kept on the small card table beneath the counter that served as my kitchen table, turned it on and then rushed into the bedroom to grab the backpack I kept under my bed.

  It was pretty much packed already with a couple pairs of jeans, T-shirts, six pairs of socks, underwear, bras and an extra pair of hiking boots. I quickly hurried to the bathroom, gathered a few toiletries, and then stuffed them into the backpack as well.

  Stepping in front of the closet, I peeled off my scrubs and reached for another pair of camel brown cargo pants with two leg pockets on each side hanging from a hangar. I repeated the process with a dark blue T-shirt with a Hotshot logo from the last crew I worked with emblazoned on the back.

  Toward the back of my closet, I reached for another pair of hiking boots. I sat down on the bed as I pulled them on and laced them up, pulling my pant leg down over them. My heart raced with excitement. It wasn't that I was excited about the fire per se, because that was a horrible thing to think. No, it was more about fighting the fire. Killing it. Forcing it back. Fighting wildfires was challenging, exhilarating, and often dangerous, but it wasn't like I had a death wish or anything, far from it.

  No one seemed to understand why I had such a passion for firefighting; not Melody or Serena, not Diane, nor any of their friends or distant relatives that I had left behind back home. In fact, most of my distant relatives, specifically my aunt and uncle, and my grandparents, who had raised me after the tragedy, frowned upon it. They thought I had a problem, one that I needed to see a psychologist about. They just couldn't understand why I felt drawn to the same type of tragedy that had taken my family from me.