Skygods (Hydraulic #2) (6 page)

I lifted an eyebrow at his irrepressible grin. Darn it, he knew I couldn’t back down from a challenge. “One more, Valdez. Then I’m calling it a day ’cause you’ll be kissing my feet, utterly jealous of my awesomeness.”

He winked at me. “Bring it, Kaye. Hope your lips like my big, stinky feet.”

With a sigh, I tucked the draft in my bag. I needed to escape from Samuel’s words, anyway. Grabbing my pack and helmet, I zipped up, secured my frizzed-out hair, and double-checked my harnesses for one more run.

Hector pumped his fist and hollered. “’Atta girl, Kaye! Thought you were losing your
cajones
.”

“Ha! Never. I’ll just dive faceup.”

Diving in rain wasn’t necessarily dangerous. It just hurt like a mother, from what I understood. But I was never going to learn new things if I didn’t push the edge, so what the heck. Nervous adrenaline rippling up and down my body, I braced my feet and flew into a world of lashing wind and rain.

Oh, fiery furnaces of hell.

A thousand BB pellets struck a line along my body and I writhed against the rain. I knew I should relax into the dive and put the pain in the back of my mind, but woman-versus-nature my ass—
it hurt!
The wind rushing around my limbs was a lot stronger than even a half hour ago. The minute I tucked into a ball, the biting rain pummeled my spine and stole my breath. I somersaulted once, twice. Cloud cover concealed the ground below and, for a second, I didn’t know which way was up.

I sought out Hector through gray froths and saw even he had turned his back to the stinging raindrops, the thrill of his Birdman suit forgotten. This was, absolutely, the least enjoyable dive I’d ever experienced. Soaring toward me, he gave me a thumbs up for canopy deployment. I signaled back. A cascade of blue and white fluttered behind him and he jerked, already growing distant far above me. I flipped around into a box man position and my tingling fingers sought the pull-out cord. Fighting numbness, they released the canopy.

I braced myself for the hard yank. It never came. And then fear hit me because crap,
I was still falling
. My head screamed at me to stop!
Stop free falling!
A split second more and my panicked hands fluttered across my chest to deploy the canopy again, but then I saw it had already opened above me, horseshoed on my foot and collapsed into an uncontrollable spin, dragging me across the bitter sky. Far above me, like a tiny parachuting plastic soldier, Hector wildly waved his arms. This time, I feared the sky was too formidable an enemy. Cold gray churned all around and I stared up into that vortex…

Only a handful of seconds passed, but time had slowed in that last breath manner, and all I could see was Samuel…Samuel…Samuel. Samuel, afraid of heights. Samuel, tethered to me only weeks ago, his strong heartbeat pounding through his wrists and into my fingertips. Samuel’s mother, plummeting to her death. Wasn’t it horrendous that he’d lose another to unmerciful gravity?
Please God, not now
, I begged.

Damn it.
Think, Kaye! What do I do?
A bit of information cut through the blue of Samuel’s eyes and I remembered:
Jettison the canopy.

Right, I could do this.

Fighting for clarity, I cut away the main canopy and watched through slitted eyes as it fluttered up and away. Before I could deploy the reserve, the Automatic Activation Device beat me to it and the second canopy billowed out…and open. Open, thank God, saving my life.

Tears of relief flooded the corners of my eyes, streaked and dried against my wind-chapped cheeks. But I wasn’t safe, yet. I didn’t know how much time had passed between the main and reserve canopy deployments. Gravity sped me toward the ground much too quickly and I knew, just
knew
landing was going to hurt.

My heart hit my throat. I wasn’t going to make this one after all—my landing speed was way too fast.
Crap, feet down! If you hit the ground face first, you’ll have a nasty tangle with the pavement.
But I couldn’t stop the momentum of my body and I pitched forward, feet over head, smashing hard into the forgiving pea gravel of the landing zone and tumbling over and over. Something smacked me brutally on the back of my skull, and stars and pain shot across the entire left side of my face. I flopped like a rag doll, wet fabric of my canopy smothering my nose and mouth and lungs until, long seconds or minutes later, a strong arm wrapped around my waist and yanked me out of the parachute’s choke hold.

“Kaye!” I heard Hector cry, pure panic. “
Por Dios, mamacita,
I’m so, so sorry. Just don’t move.”

I whimpered and hacked, fighting to lift a hand to my throbbing head, but I didn’t have the energy. A few other club members mumbled to Hector, somewhere behind my eyelids.
“Man, she totally biffed…brace her head, she might have a neck or skull fracture…that jump was seriously hazardous, you two…a coupla stupid skygods…”

I felt my body settle into wet, slimy grass. Several shadows hulked over me, mercifully blocking the heavy gray sky from my light-sensitive eyes. I heard more rustling and then Angel’s blessed voice: “Move over, she’s my sister.” Dang it. I groaned again, not from pain but from the chiding I’d get from him, then Danita, Alonso and Sofia, and probably even Samuel once word of my stupid stunt got back to them.

Another face hovered over me, this time a woman with soft eyes. “I’m a PA at Boulder General. Can you please tell me your name?” Hands cautiously unstrapped my helmet and another bolt of pain streaked through my head.

“Kaye Cabral,” I rasped.

“Kaye
Cabral?”
Angel said with surprise.

I sighed, my body and head aching too much to go there. Hector gingerly smoothed wet hair from my face, and I smelled the sharp metallic fragrance of blood.

“Kaye
Trilby
,” he corrected, his voice cracking.

“Did you black out at any point, Kaye?” she asked.

“I don’t think so. I saw stars…”

I felt her fingers probing my neck, my head—I winced as she pressed the side of my skull. “Can you open your eyes?”

I complied, grimacing at the light. The young woman looked vaguely familiar. She had me follow her finger and checked for double vision while she ordered a couple of onlookers to fetch a makeshift gurney from the hangar.

“Well, Kaye, it looks like the ground thwacked you good. I’m pretty certain you don’t have any neck fractures or severe head trauma—your helmet saved your life, you know—but I want to run you over to BGH to get checked out. What kind of car do you have here?”

I frowned. What kind of car did I have?

“A Jeep,” Angel answered for me.

“Perfect. It will be faster to just drive you over than to call for an ambulance. Hector, help me secure her to the gurney and we’ll carry her up to the Jeep.”

I’m sure my blush was rampant as Hector and Angel lugged me through the small crowd to my Jeep Wrangler. Pain flared through my skull as they settled me into the back. I’d never been so thoroughly embarrassed in my life. I called for Hector to grab my gear and bag, anxious to have Samuel’s manuscript next to me. It was childish, but like I’d said—security blanket. I didn’t have a chance to ruminate over the memoir, though, because the PA kept me in conversation with her the entire trip to Boulder General Hospital, barraging me with questions in between monitoring my blood pressure, pressing a wet cloth to my forehead, and checking my eyes with an annoying little light from her medical bag. I tried to dull the pounding in my head by listening to the drone of the windshield wipers…quiet thuds of rain as it pelted the Jeep’s soft top.

In my woozy state, I hadn’t really noticed Angel calling Alonso. But when we pulled up to BGH’s emergency entrance, my former father-in-law was already there behind the ER staff, opening the Jeep door and grasping my hand.

“I hear you’ve been doing dangerous things,
hijita
,” he said, his face all compassion and concern. It was difficult to be angry with him when he looked at me like that.

“Alonso, just don’t. Please.”

He nodded and stepped back as medical personnel checked the extent of my injury, my vitals, repeating everything the PA’d done as she rattled off a list of symptoms…dizziness, headache, some confusion.

“I want a CT scan stat,” she ordered. “She may have a mild to moderate TBI and I don’t want to chance it. She’ll also need a stitch or two on that laceration.”

“Tricia, I owe you one,” Hector said.

Tricia
…that was the PA’s name. She’d graduated from Lyons High with Samuel. I’d always liked her; she was one of the few older girls who hadn’t been catty.

Somewhere between the confining cylinder that scanned my head and being wheeled to an exam room, the pounding in my head dulled, oh sweet relief. I caught a glimpse of myself in a mirror. To say I looked like I’d been slugged by the pavement was an understatement. A large bruise had surfaced around a nasty-looking gash on my left temple and cheek. Tiny pink welts covered my cheeks and neck. My stringy hair was crusted with dried blood just above the wound, and I couldn’t help thinking it would look even worse by the time Samuel arrived in three days. I scowled.
Nothing you can do about that now, Kaye
. I’d have to tell him about the accident and face his “I told you so.”

When we’d had our discussion about my relationship with Hector last week, one of his most fervent complaints was the “brainless risks” I took with this particular friend. “I told you why I do it, a long time ago,” I’d fired back. He’d sighed, forcing himself to calm down. “Trust me, from an addict’s experience—the ‘why’ is never a good enough reason for risking your life. I don’t want to get a call some day from my sister, telling me you broke your neck…”

I moaned, realizing I’d just proved his point. I might be just as screwed up as he was.

Alonso and I bided our time in the hospital room, the quiet buzz of a twenty-four-hour news station a stopgap for the blessedly absent conversation. The pain medication Tricia gave me made a mess of my lucidity, but my eyes flitted over Alonso’s person. He wore a starched dress shirt and tie, and I realized with chagrin he must have come from something important for his magazine. But my goodness, the man was handsome, even at fifty-five.

Some time later, Tricia tapped on the door. “Good news,” she said, “your CT scan is clean. No internal bleeding, no swelling—you are very,
very
fortunate. You have a slight concussion, however. I’ll stitch up that gash and send you home for observation. Is there someone who can watch you?”

“Mom has farmers markets. D-Dad and Audrey are in Denver for some hippie convention,” I mumbled, my tongue thick and dry. “They w-won’t be home for two days, and then they’ll be wrapped up in new tie-dyes, believe me.”

Alonso’s mouth twitched. “I’ll call Sofia and have her pick you up. Is that all right?”

“Hector Valdez is w-waiting in the lobby. He can help me out.”

Tricia cast me a dubious expression. “Hmm. I think I’ll admit you overnight and have a nurse check you every few hours.”
Dang it, should have gone with Sofia.

I spent a fitful night under observation in an elevated hospital bed, thin pillows stuffed around my shoulder blades to ease the aches and pains tumbling through my body and jostling for recognition. When Alonso returned for me the next morning, I was dressed and sitting on the edge of the mercilessly afflictive bed, ready to admit that I should have accepted the Cabrals’ offer.

Golden sunlight bounced off the rocks and pavement, splitting my already pounding head. As we drove the winding road from Boulder to Lyons, I chanced a glance at Alonso. His lips were silently pressed together, eyes holding to the windshield. I couldn’t pass up this opportunity for damage control.

“You won’t say anything to Samuel, will you?”

“May I ask why you don’t want to tell him?”

“You aren’t exactly one to lecture me about keeping secrets, Señor Cabral,” I retorted. A sharp ache watered my eyes and subsided. Alonso gave me a quick, ponderous look.

“Please try to rest, Kaye,” he murmured.

I sank into the seat and allowed the curve of the road to lull me. When my eyes drifted to Alonso’s again, I was startled to find them filled with pain. He sighed and rapped his fingers against the steering wheel, torn.

“You’ve been speaking with Samuel a lot lately, sorting through some of the confusion around your breakup, correct?”

“Yes, we’re trying to.”

“How is it going?”

“Long, tedious, enlightening, frustrating, wonderful…should I keep listing adjectives?”

Alonso smiled. “I get it. You know, I never really understood why you chose to divorce my son. Don’t misunderstand me—what you found in New York was shocking. But I was surprised you didn’t wait a little longer.”

I cringed.
Good thing you didn’t wave the note under his nose and call him a traitor, Kaye.
“You and Sofia were probably furious when Samuel received the divorce papers.”