Operation Mountain Recovery Read online

  He inched a little closer. Got to where he could see inside, could see the driver. A woman. Wearing a green puffy jacket and with dark hair pulled back. She was at an angle, braced against the center console. He saw the loose end of a seat belt that had obviously been cut free. So he wasn’t dealing with a nonfunctional, paralyzed-with-fear person—she’d thought to do that and was apparently prepared enough to have the means to do it. She was shivering, from either cold or nerves or both. He didn’t blame her; she was in a hell of a spot.

  Then she seemed to realize he was right there, because she turned her head. And looked at him with a pair of eyes that were the most vivid green he had ever seen in his life. Maybe except for his mom’s cat, they were nearly that green.

  He gave himself an inward shake. This was no time to get distracted. Those eyes were amazing, but they were also full of terrified understanding of how close she was to death.

  “We’ll get you out,” he promised and hoped fate didn’t make a liar out of him.

  She frowned, as if she wasn’t sure what he’d said. He pointed at the window with a questioning look. She got there quickly, but moved slowly—so she wasn’t stupid, either—to try to lower it. It went about an inch and jammed, no doubt against the bend in the door. But at least they could hear each other now.

  “Are you hurt?”

  “A little. Not bad.” Her voice was low and remarkably steady, considering.

  “What’s your name?” he asked.

  “Ashley. Ashley Jordan.”

  “Ashley, we’re going to get you out of there,” he said again. The moment he did, the car shifted again, slid another couple of inches, but stopped sharply. He glanced over and saw his partner backing away from the front end. The man gave him a thumbs-up to indicate the cable was attached.

  “Okay,” he told the woman, “we’ve got a cable attached, so you won’t slide the rest of the way.” Optimism is not always your friend. But it worked—she looked a little relieved.

  The man from the SUV worked his way closer, but not too close. In fact, he stopped right where Brady would have, making sure his weight didn’t disturb the same section of snow Brady and the car were on.

  “Think it’ll pry?” the man asked.

  “Judging by the way the window jammed, no.”

  “The window, then?”

  “Think it’ll have to be. And,” he added, looking at the even more precarious position now, “it’ll have to be quick.”

  “Good thing you brought the rope, then. You have a tool?”

  Brady nodded. He appreciated the matter-of-fact tone. It confirmed his guess that whoever this guy was, he was the kind you wanted around.

  He quickly explained to the green-eyed woman what they were going to do. Her eyes widened, and she swallowed visibly, but she said steadily enough, “All right.”

  He gave her a quick, reassuring smile. Then he tied a bowline knot in the end of the rope as he tossed the other end to his temporary partner. Somehow he knew he didn’t even have to suggest how to tie it off on the cable for insurance; the guy would know. And he approved when he saw him tie it to one of the foot loops, so the rope wouldn’t slide down any farther down the cable if the car shifted again.

  “We’re going to have to break the window. Move as little as possible, but take your jacket off, put this—” he passed the loop through the window gap “—around you below your arms, put your jacket over your head and shoulders to keep the glass off, then grab the rope.”

  She didn’t speak but quickly did as he’d said. If everyone was this cool, his life would be a lot easier.

  “We’re going to have to pull you out really fast, so push off with your feet if you can, then just hang on.”

  “All right.” It was muffled by the jacket but clear enough. And still steady, even though she couldn’t see a thing. Maybe that helped.

  He glanced at the other man, who nodded. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his key ring with the rescue tool on it next to the unit key. He pushed the bolt against the lower left corner of the window and pressed. The bolt shot out, and there was a crack. A small hole appeared, and a split second later, the safety glass shattered.

  He tried to get the glass out in a hurry without moving the car and upsetting the delicate balance. He cleared as much as he could before he heard an ominous creak.

  “On three,” he said, loud enough for the SUV guy to hear.

  “Copy” was all he said as he positioned himself to help pull the rope.

  “I’m ready,” the woman said.

  Brady counted down, hoping his last glimpse of those amazing eyes wouldn’t be just that—his last.

  “Three!”

  He pulled, hard. Felt the rope go and stay taut behind him. She moved, and he could feel she’d managed to get some leverage. He went hand over hand on the lead of the rope twice, then was able to get both hands on the loop. He pulled. Felt the strain but kept pulling. He could see her hands, white-knuckled, slender, looking too fragile for this kind of task.

  Death grip.

  Like hell, he answered that voice in his mind. And put everything he had into the next pull.

  Things happened almost simultaneously, the margin between them as slim as the margin between life and death. He was able to reach her arms. Felt the snow slip a little beneath his feet. Heard another creak from the car. Heard the other man’s shouted warning. Grabbed her under the arms. Half pulled, half leaned back, using his body mass to move them both.

  His feet went. He hit the ground. But he held on. She came down on top of him, a slight weight.

  And in that instant, the car went, sliding clear of the bent tree that had been barely holding it. It swung on the end of the cable, slamming into some rocks. There was a loud creak. Then the wrenching squeal of overstressed metal. His racing brain registered they would have had those couple of seconds, but nothing more.

  The bumper ripped free, and the car hurtled down the side of the mountain.

  Chapter 2

  Ashley shuddered at the sounds. She didn’t need to see to know what had happened. How close she had come.

  She clung to the man holding her. Pressed to his chest, she could hear his heartbeat, slowing now. Could feel the also-slowing rise of his breathing. Crazily, she found herself wondering about the kind of man who chose to wear a badge in this mountain place and thought if he was a typical example, then they were in good hands.

  She felt her jacket move, realized he was pulling it off her. She almost regretted it and had to smother a longing to stay in the quiet, warm cocoon of his arms.

  “It’s okay. It’s over.” His voice was low, a little rough and incredibly reassuring.

  “I know,” she whispered, her head still resting on his broad chest. For a moment, just a moment, his arms tightened, and she felt safer than she ever had in her life since her father had died.

  It took every bit of internal nerve she had to move. She realized belatedly she was draped on top of him like a lover. The thought shot the heat of embarrassment—at least she thought it was embarrassment—through her.

  “I’m sorry,” she said quickly, trying to sit up.

  “Whoa,” he said quietly. “If you move too fast, we both may end up down there with your car.” Then, in a wry tone, he added, “And if you move that knee another inch, I’m going to regret it.”

  When she realized what he meant, that the knee she had tried to use to get upright was pressing against a very intimate part of him, renewed heat flooded her. She couldn’t think of a thing to say, so she said nothing as he helped her get off him.

  And a moment later, the second man spoke from her right.

  “I’ve still got the rope, so you won’t fall. You okay, Crenshaw?”

  “I’m good. Get her clear.”

  The other man—who looked as big and powerful as the deputy w
ho’d saved her life—simply nodded. He spoke into a phone in his hand, telling someone above they were all right, then put it in a pocket and turned back to her. “Keep your hands on the rope. I’ll pull, you just get your feet moving.”

  She glanced back at the deputy—it was B. Crenshaw she now saw embroidered on the shirt of his dark green uniform—who was slowly, carefully getting to his feet. He was bleeding from a cut across one cheek and didn’t seem aware of it. “I’ll be right behind you if you slip,” he said, nodding at her.

  She wanted to ask who would help him if he slipped but didn’t think it wise to venture the possibility at this moment. Besides, if ever a man had the look of someone who could take care of himself, this one did. He wasn’t just tall and obviously strong, he exuded competence and confidence. She could sense he was a man who knew his job and did it. A man who didn’t quit when the going got tough.

  He was also strikingly handsome.

  The moment she thought this, she chided herself fiercely. Don’t be an idiot female. This is not the time to swoon like some love-struck teenager.

  Besides, her life was a big enough mess already. A man like this would likely have little patience with a basket case such as she was right now. And she couldn’t blame him.

  She concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other until she got to the other man. Looked at him, realizing this would be that teenager’s dream come true—two big, hunky guys saving her.

  He’d freed the ripped-off front bumper from the end of the metal cable, and once she had a grip on the cable, helped her free herself from the loop of rope. By then her rescuer was there, and she had to resist the urge to ask him to hold her again. She supposed he got a lot of that if he went around saving people like this often.

  Then he almost did just that. He slipped an arm around her, at least, startling her into wondering if she’d asked him without realizing it. Dear God, was she that far gone? Had her grip on reality slipped that much? She shivered, and he tightened his hold.

  “Just a little longer,” he said. “We’ll get you up top and on solid ground, and you’ll feel better.”

  She didn’t doubt that was true, but it would take a lot more than just solid physical ground to make her feel one hundred percent. There were times when she wondered if she would ever feel whole again, physically or mentally.

  He put a foot in a loop that hung off the cable, then guided her to put her foot on top of his.

  “I’ll hang on to the cable, and you hang on to me.”

  Nothing I’d rather do.

  She managed not to say it, thought about saying, “Yes, sir,” but decided another nod was her safest bet. But when she slid her arms around him, and he put his free arm around her to hold her close to him, she couldn’t seem to stop herself from thinking how long it had been since she’d been this close to a man. Especially one who looked like this one.

  But when the second man stepped into the other loop on the cable, she couldn’t help asking, “It will hold us all?”

  “It’s rated to pull a nine-thousand-pound vehicle,” the man said reassuringly. When he clicked a button on what looked like some kind of control he held, and after an initial jerk as the cable tightened, they rose steadily. Dimly, the moment the cable began to move, she heard a dog barking from above. She clung to Deputy Crenshaw tighter, and his arm tightened around her as if to let her know he had her.

  And as they went, she wondered how her quiet, calm life had turned into such never-ending chaos.

  * * *

  She seemed to be moving all right, Brady thought as they got to the top and he helped her scramble over the edge. As they’d gone up, he’d noticed a little bleeding from a cut on one hand, and a little more that could have come from a cut on her forehead or have been wiped there by that hand. Now he took a better look at her, ignoring the rather nice feminine curves as he stuck to business. He certainly hadn’t seen any indication of broken bones, but if it wasn’t a limb, she might not even be aware yet. When the fear and adrenaline wore off, she might go down like a broken puppet.

  “You’d better sit down,” he said, pulling open the door to his SUV. She didn’t argue but sat on the sideboard, so he gave her points for common sense on that front at least. “Any place hurt more than the rest?” It took her a moment, but he was familiar with the confused thoughts after a crisis. Then she shook her head, albeit slowly.

  He was aware of the two people approaching, although he didn’t look away from her. The dog that had been in the car was with them; he caught a glimpse of a dark head with alert ears out of the corner of his eye.

  Even as he registered it, the dog came forward, not rushing, but clearly intent on getting to her. He almost moved to stop the animal, but his owner arrived beside him and said quietly, “It’s all right. He’ll be good for her.”

  He glanced at the man who had, without hesitation or the requirement of duty, risked himself to help. After a moment, he nodded. And watched as the couple’s dog came to a halt a foot away from... Ashley, he remembered. She looked at the dog and, slowly, smiled. He was a beautiful animal with his black head and shoulders turning to a reddish brown from the shoulders back. His coat looked thick and soft, and his tail, up and wagging gently as if to signal no ill intent, was full.

  “Hi,” she said, her voice sounding a little steadier. The wag increased, and the dog stepped forward. He sat down close to her and gently lowered his chin to her knee in obvious invitation. She lifted the nonbloody hand and laid it on the dog’s head. Her left, he noticed. She must have hurt the right freeing herself, so he went with right-handed. Not that it mattered, but it was just a matter of course that he observed.

  The change that came over her the moment she began to pet the dog was nothing short of remarkable. The confusion left her eyes, she straightened and then she was smiling.

  “Wow,” he muttered.

  “Our little miracle worker,” the other woman said, and he turned to look at them both.

  “Quinn and Hayley Foxworth,” the man said, holding out a hand, adding with a grin, “Better late than never.”

  As they shook hands, the man’s grip strong but with nothing to prove, Brady locked down his certainty that this was a man you could trust. “Brady Crenshaw,” he said. His wife’s handshake was gentler, but firm, and he had the feeling that she was a power in her own right, in her own way.

  He was used to—and good at—making quick assessments. It was a necessity of the job. And the words that came to him about these two were solid, steady, smart, caring...and together. With a capital T.

  He felt a jab of...something. Envy? Maybe. His one try at that kind of relationship had ended badly, on several fronts. He wouldn’t say he’d given up, but he wasn’t looking, either. Because he’d pretty much decided that what the Foxworths had wasn’t in the cards for him.

  Which right now, looking at them, made him feel pretty damned gloomy.

  Chapter 3

  “He’s wonderful,” Ashley said, still stroking the dog’s head.

  “We think so,” Hayley Foxworth said with a warm smile that made Brady like her even more.

  He turned back to Ashley. “Ribs okay?” he asked her. “Collarbone? Sometimes seat belts can do a number on you while they’re saving your life.”

  She quickly touched the clavicle on both sides of her slender throat. His fingers curled oddly, and he had to stomp down the wish that he’d checked her himself. Then she tentatively reached down and ran a hand—her right, so it wasn’t incapacitated—over one side of her rib cage, then the other.

  “Fine,” she said. “It’ll bruise, I imagine, but I don’t think anything’s cracked and definitely not broken.”

  “Where were you headed?”

  “Over to Snowridge. To pick something up for my mother.”

  Perfectly coherent. And it fit; the crash had happened just a quarter mile fr
om the turnoff to the ski town. Another good sign. He pulled his small flashlight off his belt.

  “Look at me,” he said.

  She did, and he saw the stark white of her face was giving way to more normal coloring. She was pulling out of it, both quickly and relatively soon, considering. Her eyes were genuinely amazing. In fact, she was pretty darn lovely all around. But he’d better shove that right on out of his head. Back to business.

  He checked her pupils, found them equal and reactive. She tracked his finger when he asked, up, down and sideways, and gave him her name again, her age—twenty-eight, four years younger than he was—and the date, and she knew where they were. It was enough that anything more could wait for the paramedics, anyway.

  “Help is on the way,” he said. “Medics can look you over and be sure there’s nothing hiding. What about your hand?”

  She looked at it. “I scraped it on something, I think, getting out.”

  “Sorry,” he said.

  “Sorry?” she said, staring up at him. “What on earth for? If you hadn’t done what you did, risked your life like that, I’d be down there with the car, and I doubt I’d be walking away.”

  The impassioned words took him by surprise, but he couldn’t deny they pleased him. Also embarrassed him a little. He didn’t do this job for accolades, although when they came, he didn’t belittle the person’s experience by saying it was nothing, either.

  “And the übercalm demeanor was just what I needed,” she added, with a smile that made him smile back. “You’ve got that down, Deputy Crenshaw. Thank you.”

  He supposed this wasn’t the time to mention how he’d wondered what would happen if the car went before they got clear or if the cable snapped and took them out like a blunt broadsword.

  “Can’t argue with her assessment,” Quinn Foxworth said. “That was some nice work.”

  “It wouldn’t have gone so well without your help,” Brady said, meaning it.

  Hayley walked over and sat beside Ashley, putting a gentle hand on her arm and smiling reassuringly. Brady took the chance to walk back to the edge and look down. He could still see the car, upside down now, at the bottom of the slope. He shook his head at the near escape, then walked back over to the woman who had taken that hair-raising ride.