Storm Front (8 page)

Tessa sat up and searched for the next set of hand and footholds she’d use to get herself to her next resting spot.

Over the next several minutes, she found enough accessible hand and footholds to climb about another fifteen feet closer to the road. The ledge she stood on now was stronger and much wider than the ones she’d used to get to this point. She still had about thirty feet to go—and she was exhausted. Her body was tiring; her strength, ebbing.

The altitude sickness, which had merely seemed irritating earlier that day, was now taking its toll. She’d thrown up several times during the climb, losing fluids she couldn’t afford to lose and had no way of replacing. Eating snow would only increase her chances of hypothermia. The sickness also made her light-headed. Her exertions had caused her to sweat like a pig and her clothing was wet and sapping any heat her body produced. She was feeling for rocks with numb fingers and feet and holding on by instincts and sheer stubbornness.

Don’t analyze. Move your ass.

Easy for the nagging little voice to say. Tessa’s ass felt as if it weighed a ton by this point in the climb.

Her next set of handholds were just above her finger reach. Readying herself, she jumped for and managed to grab the jutting rocks with both hands, then she pulled up and up, digging into crevices in the rock wall with the toes of her boots.

Her fingers finally gave out, too cold, too sore, too swollen to grip any longer. She lost hold of first one handhold, then the other.

Screaming with rage and fear, she fell back to the ledge and hit her head on a jutting rock on the way down. Darkness came and went in her vision as pain wracked her head. As she landed on the cold, hard rock, some instinct had her roll away from the edge of the ledge and toward the mountain side.

Her breaths wheezed in and out of her laboring lungs. Her heart pounded rapidly, probably in an attempt to get blood to her brain; it had lost the battle to get blood to her extremities a long time ago. As the world spun around her in a kaleidoscope of blowing snow, fuzzy vision, and white and red dots, she knew she would lose the fight to remain conscious. All the aches and pains she’d sublimated during her short climb hit her all at once. As she slid into a nauseating, pain-filled abyss, her last clear thought was she wouldn’t live to go to a Bulls game with Earl.

She’d really wanted to take a chance on Earl.

10:55 a.m.

“She couldn’t have gotten very far,” Ren said as he pulled out of the Lodge’s underground garage.

“How so?” Earl sat in the Hummer’s passenger seat and stared at the blowing snow; so much snow, it was almost a white out. The wind chill was well below zero. It wouldn’t take long for a person out in this weather to lose body heat, get frost bit. At least Tessa was in a vehicle with heat.

“The boys had to come in because they couldn’t see well enough to plow.” Ren took the snowy curves at a steady forty miles per hour. “The drop offs on the lower part of the entry road are pretty steep.”

“So, you’re sure Tessa will run into deep snow and have to turn back?” Earl glanced at Ren whose posture was the picture of a man in complete control of his immediate surroundings.

Like Earl and his military experiences, Ren had served in some of the roughest, coldest, and most extreme conditions in the world while serving with the SEALs in Afghanistan. Winter in the Bitterroots was a mere walk in the park in comparison.

“Yes,” Ren frowned and shook his head, “but she should’ve turned back by now. I hope she didn’t run into the deep snow and get stuck.” He spoke into his headset. “Trey, where’s Tessa’s tracker now?”

Trey’s voice came back. “Just this side of the bridge. Not moving.”

The sick feeling that had earlier lodged in Earl’s gut like a big ball of ice grew worse. He turned toward Ren and asked, “Where, exactly, did the guys stop plowing?”

Earl pulled up a mental image of the twisting, torturous road that wound its way among the mountains from the state highway and the “official” spot in the road called Sanctuary up to the Lodge and the main SSI installation.

“Right before the bridge over the stream.” Ren slowed to take a particularly sharp curve. “It’s just around this corner.”

Shit!
Stopping the plowing on either side of the bridge presented a dangerous scenario. The berms on the approaches to the bridge were narrow, and the low stone walls were more for decoration than a protection against someone going over the side.

In fact, he’d bet Ren and the others had designed the road that way on purpose as a defense; with the knowledge of the terrain and proper skills, the SSI men could use the dangerous road to repel invaders.

But Tessa didn’t have the knowledge or the proper defensive driving skills, and, for her, the road was a treacherous and potentially deadly obstacle course.

“I’ve got a bad feeling.” Earl fixed his stare on the snow-covered road.

As they rounded the curve, he saw no car—only a deep drift of snow across the entry to the bridge. The bottom fell out of his world for a split second; an anguish so vast threatened to throw him into a deep well of despair and grief.

“Shit,” Ren cursed. “Where is she?” He pulled to the side of the road, the Hummer’s right-side wheels on the snow-covered berm, well away from the deep drop-off on the opposite of the road.

Earl was out of the car before it had come to a complete stop. The other Hummer, carrying Tweeter, Price Teague, and the Walsh twins, pulled in behind them.

“She went off the road!” Earl yelled as he ran to the skid marks which hadn’t fully filled with new snow.

He approached the edge cautiously. The top of the low stone wall had been sheared off. The icy boulder lodged in his gut exploded and chilled him to the bone. He was scared to look, but he did so anyway.

The SUV lay on its passenger side in the fast-moving stream, hung up on a large rock. The driver’s side had some damage, but was intact enough Tessa could’ve survived. But she’d be hurt. Alone. If conscious, scared and cold.

Unacceptable.

His gut urged him to leap over the side and climb down. His brain and experience told him he’d die before he ever got to the bottom.

Dammit, I need to get down there. Now.

Frustrated, he clenched and unclenched his fists. The pain in his bruised right hand reminding him of his earlier loss of control. Anger and fear had no place here. Tessa needed him calm and under control to rescue her. She wasn’t dead. He refused to think of her as dead.

“The SUV is hooked on some rocks in the stream,” he yelled over his shoulder as he studied the best and fastest way to get down the ravine. “Get climbing gear and a medical kit, now.”

Someone, he didn’t know who, ran for one of the Hummers. His gaze was fixed on the SUV tilted precariously on its side, the icy stream overflowing its banks pummeling the vehicle.
Fucking hell
. At any time, a strong current could dislodge the vehicle and sweep it downstream.

Hold on, sweetheart. I’m coming.

Loren Walsh thrust a full-body climbing harness and rope at him. “Here. Know how to use it?”

“Probably better than you SEAL boys.” His time in Special Forces had thoroughly prepared him. At least this time he’d only be fighting the elements; no one would be shooting.

Tweeter suited up in similar climbing gear. “I’m going down with you. I have more climbing experience than the others. Price is attaching our ends to the Hummer for extra anchorage since we won’t want to take the time to set pitons. My brothers will feed out line and send down the med kit when we need it. Ren’s calling up to the Lodge to get them ready to receive Tessa.”

Earl made sure his Motorola headset was on and secure, then he spoke into it. “Ren, tell them to set up my room to receive Tessa. I’ll be taking care of her. Move her things.”

“Earl?” Ren’s tone had a “what the fuck?” aspect to it.

“She’s mine, Ren. Just do it.” Earl was feeling damn territorial right now and would fight anyone who attempted to keep him from holding her, warming her with his body—protecting her from the real and impending threat the pictures and e-mails promised.

“Your room,” Ren said. “Gotcha. Just get her up quickly. If she’s been down there since right after she left the Lodge…” He didn’t finish the sentence. Every man there knew what cold and wet conditions would do to a body—and that would be on top of any injuries she suffered on the way down.

Earl growled. She was alive; she had to be. He could allow no other thoughts in his head. He needed to be on his A-game.

By rote, he checked and rechecked his gear as he walked to the puny stone wall and stepped on top of it. Tweeter matched his motions and stood next to him. Both men turned to face the others.

“Belay on,” Earl said. Tweeter echoed the order.

Loren and Paul replied, “On belay.”

Earl tested his rope—noted Tweeter did the same.

Loren said, “Climb.”

They both affirmed, “Climbing.”

He and Tweeter went over the edge. Then they began to walk and rappel down the craggy ravine.

Keeping an eye on what was around and below him, Earl watched in horror as a huge rush of water swept the SUV off the rocks and downstream.

“No!” he roared. “Fuck it, no!” At that moment, a darkness unlike anything he’d ever felt before settled over him. Numb, despairing, he almost let go of his rope.

“Earl! Fuck it, man.” Tweeter grabbed Earl’s rope and held him in place. The Walsh twins cursed over the headsets and took up the slack on the ropes. “Look down. She wasn’t in the SUV.”

Tweeter’s words cleared the deadly feeling out of his mind. “What?”

Had he heard correctly?

“Look down.” Tweeter angled his head as his hands were full controlling both ropes.

Earl looked where Tweeter indicated and spotted slender, jeans-covered legs on a ledge about twenty-five feet from the top. He closed his eyes and muttered, “Thank you, God.”

He turned his head and said, “Tweeter—”

“I know. You okay now?” Tweeter asked. “You in control?”

“Yeah. Let’s get to her.” He took control of his climbing ropes.

“That’s the plan, buddy. I’ll tell up top.” Tweeter spoke over the headset. The winds whistled and tossed them around on the slender climbing ropes. “She’s on a ledge. She wasn’t in the car.”

Several relieved sighs and a couple of “thank the fucks” came over the com system.

“Climbing.” Earl spoke into his headset. “I’m increasing my descent speed.”

“Roger that,” one of the Walsh twins said. “Climb.”

As soon as Earl felt the slack, he kicked off the side of the ravine and covered the ten feet or so with one kick-off. He hung over Tessa’s body for a second before making a controlled landing on the ledge next to her. The ledge was solid, thank the fuck.

“Tweeter, the ledge can hold us both,” Earl said. “Come on down.”

As Tweeter made his final descent, Earl tugged and received more slack and then bent over Tessa’s still body. She lay on her front, her face turned to the side. Her eyes were shut, her lashes lined with ice. Her skin was whiter than the snow she lay upon.

“Tessa?” No response.

He brushed the snow away from her face with gloved hands. Removing one glove, he checked for a pulse and found it. He sighed with relief. “She’s alive.” He checked her neck and determined it wasn’t broken as far as he could tell. “Neck doesn’t seem to be broken, but I want a collar down here. Tweeter, a hat … need a hat here.”

Most heat loss was from an uncovered head. He needed to get her warm ASAP. Hypothermia was the biggest danger at this point.

Tweeter hunkered down next to him and put his own stocking cap on Tessa. His climbing partner had on a balaclava just as he did and would be fine without the extra layer of wool.

“If you feel it’s safe, then lift her,” Tweeter said. “I’ll get this solar blanket under her so we can wrap her in it.”

Earl nodded. “Tessa, sweetheart? Talk to me.”

Still no response, and she wasn’t shivering. Not a good sign. Even unconscious her body would shiver to produce heat. Her lips were blue. Her skin looked dehydrated, and he remembered she had already shown signs of altitude sickness.

He felt under her coat and swore. “Godammit, she’s soaking wet.” He looked at Tweeter whose face was as grim as he felt. “Probably from the exertions of trying to climb out.”

Tweeter nodded. “No matter how she got wet, it isn’t good. We need to move, Earl.” The man grabbed the collar sent down to them and gently placed it around her neck.

“Let’s do it.” Earl lifted Tessa’s limp body into his arms and laid her on her back on the blanket Tweeter had spread on the ground.

“Fuck me.” Tweeter’s curse said it all.

Tessa’s clothing was torn and bloody.

They quickly wrapped her like a mummy in the high-tech sheet which would keep her from losing any more body heat.

“God, sweetheart, look at what you’ve done to yourself.” Earl lifted the edge of the blanket just enough to slide his hand inside. He quickly, by touch alone, checked her ribs, collar bone, and pelvic bones for breaks. Then he moved to her legs. “No obvious breaks that I can find.”

SSI had a fully equipped medical facility run by Lacey Jones, a trauma nurse and the wife of Quinn, Ren’s third in command. She could check Tessa out more fully later.

“She didn’t climb all the way up from the stream bed.” Tweeter looked over the edge of the ledge upon which they perched.

Earl retucked the blanket more closely around Tessa. He brushed the back of his fingers over her icy cold cheek. Her lashes fluttered—the first sign of movement from her since they’d gotten there.

Thank you, God.

“Looks like the SUV got hung up on a tree. I see an area where some roots are still hanging out from the side of the ravine. It’s fresh damage.” Tweeter turned to look at Earl. “She was lucky to have gotten out before the vehicle fell to the bottom.”

She had to have been terrified, but she’d done what she had to do. His woman had grit.

“Yeah.” Earl stroked her face once more before putting his glove back on. “We can find out exactly what happened later. Let’s move.”