Rainbow by K.L. Savage

So quiet.

I’m allowed to think that to myself. I just can’t say it out loud.

“Full house.” Saint fans his winning hand on the table, and I toss my cards like trash in the middle.

“This is bullshit. You’re cheating,” I protest.

“Yeah, your luck is too good,” Baldwin agrees, having my back. “Gotta be cheating somehow.”

“You’re counting cards, aren’t you?” Kincaid asks, popping a handful of mixed nuts in his mouth.

“Counting cards? I’m not smart enough to count cards.” Saint gathers the pretzels as if they are hundred-dollar bills and stacks them next to his cards. “We’re only playing for pretzels and to see who is throwing the next barbeque. Y’all need to calm down.”

The alarm rings and all of us are out of our chairs before dispatch has time to rattle off the address. We run to our lockers and throw on our gear, but I pause when I hear the address.

“Hey, isn’t that the address Ryan is at?” Saint asks just as the ambulance skids to a stop inside the bay.

“What the hell…” I sprint when Sunday nearly falls out of the driver’s side, beaten and bruised. He has tears pouring down his face, and he can’t seem to catch his breath enough to speak. I catch him before he falls, and I glance into the ambulance to see it empty.

Ryan isn’t there.

Everything I’ve always feared hits me full force. “Where is Ryan, Sunday? Where is he?”

“He…. he’s there. He… they told me for you to come alone. They have him. There was a gun—”

“—A gun? Who has him?” I yell at Sunday, hoping the harshness of my tone snaps him out of it.

“His ex and some guy named Sherlock.”

My blood runs cold. “You sure that’s what you heard?”

“Yes,” he nods fast. “I’m positive. He was wearing the thing you wear sometimes. The leather vest.”

He’s dead, though. Sherlock is dead.

“This is what I want you to do. Can you listen to me? I want you to call the cops and have them come here, tell them everything, and then I’ll need you to go back to where Ryan was. In case he needs help, can you do that?”

“Yeah. Yes, I mean, yes.” He wipes his face and winces when he rubs over a bleeding cut. “I can do it.”

“Good.”

“Kennedy!” Captain calls for me. “Change of plans. They need jumpers. The wind isn’t in our favor, and when the tank exploded it set the nearby forest on fire. There’s a report of three people trapped in a nearby cabin.”

Ryan.

I move so fast that everything around me is a blur. I’m fucking terrified. Saint is next to me along with Kincaid as we get the flight gear ready. Lock and a few others take the truck while we head to the airstrip where the Casa 212 is.

Everything is muscle memory as I strap on my parachute.

I don’t even remember getting into the truck and driving to the airstrip. I don’t even remember getting onto the plane. My mind is full of worry. All I can think about is Ryan. I want to keep him safe. That’s all I ever want to do, and now he’s in danger. I feel like I should have done more. I should have protected him somehow. I knew the threat from the club and his ex were still out there, and I stupidly let him work.

Well, let isn’t the right word.

He would have worked anyway. There is no telling him not to do something. He would kill me if I ever stopped him from doing something he loves. But I want him safe.

“Hey, it’s okay. We’re going to get him. We haven’t lost anyone yet, have we? We sure as fuck aren’t going to start now.” Saint slaps my shoulder, and it jostles me out of my daze.

When the hell did we get in the air? I’m fucking strapped in and everything.

“I love him, Saint. I can’t lose him. I can’t.”

“And you won’t. You’ve never let anyone die in a fire—”

I open my mouth to remind him of Taylor, but he stops me. “You are not what killed him. And you aren’t going to let anything happened to Ryan.”

“Something already has. I should have known.” I press the heel of my palms to my eyes and try to control my emotions. I need my head in the game. I need to be clear-headed and focused. If I’m not, someone could die.

“You can’t stop life from happening, Kennedy. You’ll protect him. You protect everyone.”

My heart aches and I rub my chest where it hurts. Ryan has nestled his way into my heart and made himself home. He’s rooted himself, and now all that’s left for us to do is grow old together.

I glance out the small window and see black smoke rolling into the air and merging with the clouds. The fire is growing fast, and I can see the bright orange hue from here.

My gut twists when I see how bad it is. I’m reminded of the night Mime, and I lost our parents. I bet this is what the smokejumpers saw right before coming to our aid.

And now I have to be that jumper. I have to come to Ryan’s aid.

I’m just as terrified as I was during the fire that changed my life forever. If I don’t save him, if he dies before I can get to him, I’ll walk straight into the flames and never come out the other side.

I’ll burn with him.

I’ll burn for him.

That’s what you do for the ones you love.

You take on the flames.

When my boots hit the ground, there will be no playing it safe. I’m going to kill his ex. I’m going to kill Sherlock.

And this time, he’s going to stay dead.

The plane shakes as we fly through the smoke. Even though we’re a safe distance from the fire, heat seeps into the plane like a ghost disappearing through a wall. I begin to sweat, and as we fly around to find a safe landing zone, the more impatient I become.

Static from the headset fills my ears, making me flinch.

“We have to drop you a half-mile away. It’s the only safe zone,” the pilot informs me, snapping my attention to a laser focus.

“Fuck,” I curse. “Drop me in the unsafe zone. I don’t care. I have to get to him,” I reply into the mic.

“Negative, Kennedy,” the pilot states. “You can’t help him if you’re dead.”

“He’s right. We’ll get to him,” Saint tries to reassure me, but it isn’t enough.

The back of the plane begins to lower so we can jump out, but we still have a few minutes before we get to the drop-off point.

I’m not waiting. I grab my gear, throw the headset to the ground, put on my mask, and run.

“Kennedy!” Saint shouts after me, and the hatch begins to close again.

No fucking way am I getting further away from Ryan. I slide onto my stomach and glide across the floor, then out the hatch.

I free-fall.

I cut through the air so thick with smoke it’s like swimming through a curtain of darkness. I can’t see almost anything. I just hope my parachute catches before I get too low to the ground. I spread my arms out and enjoy falling for a moment before reality sets in. There’s nothing like the adrenaline that pumps through my system. A slight fear of dying gnaws at the back of my mind.

What if the parachute doesn’t open?

What if I die before I can save Ryan?

Or worse, what if the parachute opens, but the wind takes me instead?

Sometimes it happens, and sometimes we’re led straight into the fire without a way to stop.

Something out of the corner of my eye has me turning my head. I see Saint right next to me. I can tell he’s pissed at me, and like a true brother, he didn’t let me fall alone.

We yank the cords at the same time. The parachutes billow open behind us, and we jerk back. I find a decent area much closer than a half-mile to fall into and guide myself over. The wind is a bitch. Another gust comes through and whips around me, jerking me to the left when I need to go right.

Saint is further away from me, drifting into an area that is inching closer into dangerous territory.

Fuck, what have I done?

The flames get higher, and the air becomes hotter—bright shades of orange and red flick across the trees and ground. But, as beautiful as it is, fire is a fickle mistress that can’t wait to turn you to ash.

My feet land on the ground at last. Saint is right behind me, only his chute gets stuck in a tree.

A tree that’s on fire.

I cut the strings to my chute and watch as Saint dangles from the burning treetop.

“Saint!” I shout at him and jump for his feet to tug him down, but I fall short.

He drops an inch from the parachute disintegrating into dust from the blaze. Saint is always prepared. He whips out a pocketknife and cuts the strings to his chute, then drops to the ground. He lands hard, his boots kicking up clouds of dust, and his fingers scrape against the ground as he curls his back to stand straight.

“You mother fucker!” He shoves me.

I deserve that.

“Kincaid is in that plane by himself because he couldn’t get out of the hatch in time. So it’s just you and me. Do you even know where you’re going?”

“Yes. I have the coordinates. They’re in a cabin. I know exactly where that is from coming to the woods to camp,” I yell over the flames roaring around us.

“You’re a fucking idiot. Don’t ever put yourself or me in danger like that again.”

“I couldn’t wait.”

He rolls his eyes at me, which reminds me too much of Ryan, and while I know I shouldn’t have jumped, I don’t regret it. Ryan needs me, and I need to see his eyes roll again. His sassiness is something I have to have in my life.

Like air or water or food, it’s essential for me.

He’s essential to me.

“Let’s go before you get us killed,” Saint snaps with more attitude than I’ve ever heard him say. “And I don’t want to relive a last call just yet, so would you try to think with your fucking head?” He slaps me on the forehead, and it takes all I have not to tackle him to the ground.

“I get it.”

“Good.”

And with that, we spring through the woods, dodging fire and stepping into ash. It’s so fucking hot, but nothing can stop me from getting to Ryan.

The smoke can choke me.

The flames can try to burn me.

And I will fucking crawl until all that’s left of me is soot.

We come upon a small clearing and see a silhouette against the darkness of the smoke. Saint and I run forward to see that it’s the cabin. The only part of the woods that isn’t on fire is the small creek running in front of the house.

This doesn’t look good for us, but I’ll be damned if I don’t try.

“Die or try,” Saint says, holding out his fist like he always does before we go in for a save.

I bump knuckles with him and stare at my target. “Die or try,” I reply.

We circle the cabin. It’s impossible to hear anything going on inside since the blaze is so loud. I can’t see through the windows because of the smoke, and our oxygen won’t last long if we waste it on planning.

I know there are two others with him. Two people that want anyone dead. I’ve known Sherlock for years and not once did I ever think he was capable of this.

People keep secrets, and it proves just when you think you know someone, you don’t know them at all.