by Black, Regan
“I’m not rushing,” Baker retorted. “I’m braking.”
“Don’t,” Wyatt and Evie said in unison.
“Just coast,” Wyatt advised. Under the blanket, he saw Evie’s hands working at the plastic cuffs again. She must be as worried as he was about Baker’s inexperience out here.
But Baker noticed the shape of the road too late.
The back end of the SUV fishtailed, the arc swinging wider on the slippery road as Baker overcompensated. Wyatt clamped his lips together, keeping any advice to himself. It wouldn’t help. He could see from the set of Baker’s jaw the man was beyond hearing anything. His jaw was locked and he was starting to panic.
They slid and skidded past the row of casinos and hotels. Wyatt took comfort in knowing where he was and a distinct lack of police pursuit. No comfort at all in the way the tires lost grip, gliding over the black ice that formed after the snow had been cleared.
Evie pressed close to his side. She’d seen it too, understood what it meant when a road appeared wet. They were in a dangerous situation and approaching a bridge that was notorious for icing over in much milder conditions.
She opened her mouth to warn Baker and Wyatt elbowed her into silence again. She kicked him, though it barely registered through the snow boots. If the crew self-destructed, they had a better chance of getting away. He’d only have to get the tracker into a pocket of one of the three thieves and the FBI would be able to drop a net over Cordell.
“He’ll get us killed,” she whispered for his ears alone.
Wyatt pressed his leg close, doing what he could to reassure her. He thought about the roadway, the SUV’s safety features and said a prayer it would be enough if Baker lost control. Somehow they’d survive. Had to. He couldn’t imagine a world without Evie in it, even if she hated him.
The passenger side tires dragged along the plowed and drifted snow just ahead of the bridge. At the sound, Baker’s hands jerked on the wheel. The back end slowly swung toward the middle of the roadway.
Wyatt couldn’t tear his gaze away from the horror show playing out in front of them as the heavy snowfall piled up on the windshield, the wind sculpting drifts that completely blotted out the bridge marker on either side of the roadway. A pristine white blanket covered the guard rail, and a thick layer of ice glazed the sign.
None of that registered for Baker. He didn’t know the area and he was too consumed with getting his boss out of Deadwood. Wyatt and Evie were pressed into Karl as Baker fought physics in a futile attempt to straighten the wheels and thread the big SUV through the narrowly plowed path.
In a blink, the SUV was sliding sideways across the bridge, gaining speed on the slight decline. The slide quickly morphed into a sickening spin. Cordell shouted and reached for the wheel. Baker pumped the brakes to no avail. The other men shouted as if words would change anything. If Evie made a sound, he couldn’t hear it over the others. It was impossible to focus on any one point, the world was a swirl of white through every window.
A piece of the front fender caught on the guard rail and halted the spin with a lurch and an ear-piercing shriek of metal on metal. Wyatt took a breath when the sound stopped, sure it was over, grateful they were safe. But the SUV’s momentum carried them on. Baker swore, slamming his hands against the steering wheel as they continued to slide backward down the sloping road.
Wyatt swore and fought to release his seatbelt. He hauled himself into the gap between the front seats, over the console, inadvertently kicking Evie in the shins as he reached for the wheel. Bruises were better than what he feared was coming.
“What are you doing?” Cordell shouted, grabbing his arm.
Wyatt shrugged him off. “Saving your life,” he said. He hoped he was saving them all. Catching the steering wheel around Baker’s hands, he turned it hard, cranking the tires away from the edge of the roadway that fell away into a ravine. With the storm blowing snow and altering the view, only a local would know the hazard was there.
At last the heavy vehicle stopped moving, the back end tucked into a drift. Not ideal, but enough. For several heartbeats, the only sound was their ragged breathing. In the tense silence, the wind gusted and snow kicked up against the windows. It was like being wrapped in a blanket, except the sense of security was a lie.
“Don’t move,” Wyatt whispered. He had yet to shift from his position wedged between the front seats. Craning his neck in an awkward angle, his gaze caught Evie’s. The concern he saw in her wide, beautiful eyes startled him.
“Get us out of here,” Tate barked. “We’re sitting ducks.”
“No one else is out here,” Wyatt reminded him. No one would find them in this weather without the GPS tracker. Even with the device, the risk to the pursuing officers would be considered too high. It was the worst time to think the FBI might have been smart by insisting Pickering’s team stay put until the storm passed.
“Whatever.” He rubbed his chest. “We’ve wasted enough time up and down this road. Diamonds or not, I’m starting to hate this town.”
“Feel free to leave. Without me,” Evie said.
He shot her a look at the quiver in her voice. She was ready to bolt. He couldn’t blame her for wanting out of the car, but he was relieved that she wasn’t moving. So she, like him, realized disaster hovered too close for comfort.
“Are we on the road?”
“I don’t know,” he admitted.
“What’s that mean?” Karl asked, panicking.
“Well, hell, we just have to find out,” Cordell complained, pushing open his door.
“Wait!” Wyatt cried, but it was too late. The SUV shifted sideways. The door fell back into place and the cold metal frame creaked as the SUV dropped.
Baker stomped on the brake pedal, a useless reflex. There was no chance of regaining control now. Wyatt saw Evie’s eyes go round. He tried to use his body as a counterbalance and keep them on the road. A blast of wind howled and he heard a tree snap somewhere close. Fate or gravity did the rest.
“I’m sorry Evie,” he said as the SUV fell off the road and down into the ravine.
Her scream echoed forever, punctuated by the sounds of crumpling metal, breaking trees and snow billowing all around them.
All of the words Wyatt needed to say were lodged in his throat. He was stuck in his own personal horror movie, starring as both the monster and the inept boyfriend trying—and failing—to save the girl. She wouldn’t be here right now if it wasn’t for his rash choice to drag her along when the robbery fell apart. His fault. Her blood on his hands, if she died here, believing he was a criminal. She’d never know how much he still loved her.
He was weightless while the SUV kept falling, Tate and his men alternately yelled prayers and curses while Evie’s accusing gaze stayed locked on him. Guilt was his brutal companion and he deserved every injury or consequence for being so careless with her. With his feelings for her.
During his Army days, he’d been in tough situations, but they never went on a mission without a plan. Never without a team he could trust at his side, at his back. Having men and women he could count on, people who didn’t care where he’d come from, had been the greatest unexpected benefit of his military career.
Every moment flashed through his mind with frightening clarity. The good and the bad. In Deadwood, on Army bases around the world. What he’d loved. What he’d lost by leaving. He’d been so sure the gains and independence would offset not having Evie in his life. It sucked to know death was imminent and have so many regrets about decisions he couldn’t change.
The back end of the SUV crashed through the trees, the rear window shattering. Cold air, broken glass, branches and snow drifted up into the cabin as they continued to fall. Evie was buckled in, but the blanket had fallen away and he could see her hands were still restrained. She seemed to be reaching for him, her hair drifting around her face. Instinctively, he reached for her too, but it was pointless as the crash tossed him around.
The final impact wa
s bone-jarring as the SUV landed on the rear bumper. Wyatt lost his breath, tossed into the side of the passenger seat and pinned when the backseat rushed up to meet him. Those weren’t stars dancing in front of his eyes, but dust and debris floating through the air, all of it laced with freezing air and snow. Behind him Cordell groaned and wheezed. He could see blood trickling down Baker’s forehead where the driver had collided with the steering wheel.
“Evie?” He tried to twist where he could see her, but he was stuck.
“I’m here.” She coughed. “Hold still, hold still.”
He relaxed just knowing she was alive. Slowly, his body came out of the initial shock, a wealth of discomforts from head to toe accented by a few clear points of sharp pain. “I’m not hurt,” he said.
“Then why are you bleeding?” She’d freed herself from the seatbelt and was dabbing at his cheek with her bound hands. “Can you move?” she asked.
He tried to say yes, but his ribs protested his attempt to breathe. He gave her a thumb’s up sign. “Need a minute,” he wheezed. He picked up on the coppery scent of blood in the air. They were probably all bleeding in various degrees. Pain pulsed through him in deep, aching waves, but he didn’t think he was seriously injured.
The same couldn’t be said for the man on the other side of Evie. As Wyatt’s vision cleared, he could see that Karl was unconscious at best. Blood pooled behind his head, soaking into the upholstery behind him.
“Take my hands,” Evie said. “You can get out this way through the back door.”
Urgency filled her voice and he understood her intent. If only it was possible for them to get enough distance to make a run for it. They weren’t far from town, assuming they could survive long enough to find a trail out of the ravine, but Cordell was stirring in the passenger seat.
“What now, Jameson?” Cordell asked, his voice strained.
“We get out and find shelter until we can start working our way to the rendezvous,” Wyatt answered through gritted teeth. It would be long miles on foot in a raging blizzard with three inexperienced and possibly injured people. “You still have the diamonds?” he asked, knowing the answer.
Cordell patted the pocket under his heavy coat. “Yes,” he said, somewhat relieved. “Karl has the solitaire. Karl?”
“Karl’s injured,” Wyatt said. “He can’t move. Evie, you’ll need to adjust as Tate gets out so we stay balanced.”
“Got it.” Her gaze was locked on him.
He’d been away from Evie so long he’d forgotten how nice it was to work this kind of emergency with an expert. “Tate, open your door, slow and steady.”
“What’s wrong with Karl?” he asked instead.
Wyatt bit back an oath, more than ready to stand up straight again. “When the rest of us are clear, we’ll find out.” He wondered if anyone actually packed the first aid kit he’d requested. Not that he expected a few bandages would be enough for Karl.
As Cordell climbed out of the SUV, Evie shadowed him so perfectly the vehicle barely moved. “Karl is dead,” she whispered so only Wyatt heard.
He gave her an equally imperceptible nod.
One by one, they climbed out of the car, Baker next, then Evie and finally Wyatt. He dropped into the deep snow and verified he had his wallet and the GPS tracker. Following Cordell’s footsteps through the snow around to the driver’s side, he noticed the vehicle looked worse from the outside than it had felt on the inside.
Baker and Cordell were wrestling with the rear door, unable to pull it open and pull Karl free.
“He’s dead.” Baker turned his back on the wreck on an oath and kept on swearing. “He’s dead!”
Wyatt wasn’t in the mood to offer any comfort. Evie was shivering, the blanket doing nothing to protect her feet and legs from the snow. “Someone cut her hands free,” he said.
“You don’t give the orders,” Cordell barked.
“You’ll listen if you want to survive,” Wyatt barked back. Ignoring the others, he slogged through the snow and kicked out the rear passenger window so he could salvage Karl’s gear for Evie and search for anything useful.
“What are you doing?” Evie asked, Cordell right behind her with the same question.
“Karl doesn’t need his coat anymore.” He passed it to Evie, pleased to see she wasn’t cuffed anymore. “Or his boots.” He handed those back as well. He searched for a first aid kit and couldn’t find one.
“Stop!” Baker shouted. “You can’t do this.” He tried to take the coat from Evie, but she dodged him.
“I have to.” Wyatt had no desire to fight with Baker. The man was strong and in a rage. He side-stepped and ducked under the first swing. “Call him off, Cordell.” He ducked again. “You need me. If she gets hurt, I’m out.”
Tate raised his revolver, cocked the hammer. The other gun was somewhere in the depths of the wreckage. “You’ll cooperate, regardless.”
Casually, Wyatt picked up a handful of snow and pressed it to his cheek, washing away the blood. He must have been bitten by flying glass. “Let her wait here,” he said. “We don’t need her anymore. She’ll only slow us down. We have a rendezvous to make.”
Between the storm and the crash, making it to the ghost town on time was unlikely. According to the plan, the meet wouldn’t have gone Cordell’s way anyway. Not with Wyatt working against him so the FBI could gather up the thieves in one tidy net. Of course, the FBI plan was shot too, thanks to the storm.
He had absolutely no idea how he was going to get Cordell, Baker, and the diamonds into FBI custody while giving Evie what she needed to survive.
“One step at a time,” Evie murmured from behind him, zipping into Karl’s coat.
It was a strange comfort that she could read him so well after all this time. Strange too that she didn’t seem quite so angry at him. Maybe it was the shock of the crash. In the big man’s coat, she looked small and far too fragile to leave her here alone. He looked up at the road and the long scar the SUV had carved through the trees and snow. If anyone could get up there and find help, it was her.
Cordell wagged his gun between them and Wyatt stepped closer, blocking his angle on Evie. “Let’s get moving,” Wyatt said.
He hated leaving Evie here. The outer gear and a crumpled SUV wouldn’t be enough protection from the elements. The heavy snow was piling up too fast. At this rate it would take days for Deadwood to dig out and get back to normal, much less find the signs an SUV had gone over the edge of the road.
“Fine.” Cordell lowered the revolver and stuffed it into a pocket. He moved before Wyatt could stop him and grabbed the coat. “Give me the Mae West.”
Without a word, she pulled out a small velvet bag and handed it over.
“Lead the way,” Cordell said. “I’m not missing my ride out of this hellhole.”
Wyatt bit his tongue. Cordell didn’t want to miss the payday he’d lined up for the diamonds.
“Be smart,” Evie said, using the phrase her father taught them.
Dale Cotton had always said the best tool in any crisis was a clear mind. Whether they’d been leading a tubing group or hiking up to one of the mines, it was imperative not to take even familiar terrain for granted. Today was a prime example that Mother Nature had her own agenda.
“You too,” he replied under his breath. It was as much assurance as he could give her right now. He paused, searching her somber gray eyes. Was it only his wishful thinking, or did she realize he would come back for her?
Feeling like a jerk, he led Cordell and Baker away from the crash site. Wyatt had to trust her to survive so he could explain himself one day. He couldn’t give up on her stubbornness, her sheer willpower, or her grit. He’d need to pull those same qualities out of himself.
The two men behind him didn’t speak, though they were far from silent. They trudged through the blowing storm with grunts of effort and boots stomping and shuffling through the deep snow. Wyatt intended to wear them out by nightfall, leading them well off the track
from the intended rendezvous.
Just as soon as he figured out where to park them while he waited for the FBI pick-up.
Chapter Eight
Using the SUV as a windbreak, Evie watched Wyatt leave. Within minutes, all three men were lost in the swirling white of the storm. She burrowed into the coat, ignoring the stain of Karl’s blood near the collar, while she debated her options. First, she had to survive. Shoving her feet into the boots, she cinched the ties as snug as they would go. They were still too big, but they should stay on when she moved. And she would move. She couldn’t ride out the storm here.
Her cheeks stung and she sipped the frigid air through cupped hands. Inching back to the dead man, she decided the blood-stained scarf wasn’t an option. Closing his eyes, she took Karl’s gloves and then looked around for anything else that might be useful.
She was sad a life had been lost, even a thief’s life, but this wasn’t the time or place to be finicky about resources. Finding a knife in the side pocket of his pants, she slipped it into the inside pocket of the coat and kept searching. To her shock, one pocket was full of loose diamonds.
“Were you trying to cheat Cordell?” She tucked the stones into her coat and zipped the pocket closed. “That wouldn’t have ended well for you even if you’d lived.”
A gust of wind pushed snow into her face and she retreated to a more protected part of the totaled SUV. Her neck was sore, her shoulders too. Hunkering down, keeping still would make all of that worse. She’d have bruises from shoulder to thigh. Assuming she lived long enough for them to form.
What did it mean that Wyatt not only remembered her dad’s advice, but gave her the words? He’d chosen a fine time to channel her dad, to remind her of better days when they’d been friends and Wyatt her most trusted ally.
She couldn’t dwell on what was. He was working with a criminal and he’d left her here to fend for herself. The smart move was finding shelter. Squinting up at the slope she discarded the idea of climbing back up to the road. The direct path was not the best route in this case.