by Linda Bond
“I’m a—”
“Reporter. Right.” He winked, neglecting to say what his current status was.
Oh, boy. Men like this made her nervous. Knocked her off her game. She kept a tight rein on her emotions these days and needed to be in control. It was the only way she could function, and keep her job, so she could pay the bills piling up on her kitchen counter. But something in the way this guy was engaging her was disarming.
The best way to keep men like him from taking control of a situation was to stay on the offensive. “If you’re not still active military, then what do you do these days, Zack Hunter, ex-military man?”
“Right now, I’m fully engaged in my next mission.”
“Which is?”
“Getting to know you.”
A laugh escaped her, despite her best effort to stop it.
He stretched his legs out beneath the picnic bench. “Actually, I’m taking the same X-Force Adventure Vacation as Wentworth. Two weeks of skydiving, cave diving, a little swimming with the sharks, and flying in an F-16.”
His face changed as he spoke. The intense military hotdogger now resembled an excited little boy about to embark on a forbidden adventure with his favorite friends. Swimming with sharks and flying fighter jets for fun? Seriously? No thank you. While she dealt with stress by holding on tight, she’d bet Zack Hunter survived it by letting go. “It must cost a lot to buy this kind of excitement.”
“About twenty-five grand.” He shrugged. “It’s only money.” His eyes danced with amusement. “Are you interviewing me?”
Her heart tap-danced like a child’s nervous feet during a first recital. Something about this stranger interested her. Maybe it was his absolute confidence in the face of her questioning. In fact, right now she was the one not sure of what to say next. Terrific. Just what she needed. Even less self-assurance. She straightened and scooted down the bench to put more space between them. Don’t fall for his cocky charm. She didn’t want to end up like her mother, chasing smooth-talking Prince Charmings all her life. And despite the unexpected and interesting chemistry between them, Zack was probably just like her absent father, another wealthy, spoiled man who wouldn’t stick around. “Twenty-five grand,” she said coolly. “I guess you’re as rich as the rest of these adventure vacationers.”
He cocked his head to one side and peered at her through amused but wary eyes. “You have a problem with money?”
The muscles in her face hurt from controlling them.
“I do sit on the board of my family’s foundation.” He raised an eyebrow at her. “I bet you don’t mind that Wentworth is loaded.”
Her stomach tightened. “Maxwell Wentworth earned his own money. He built that chain of grocery stores from the ground up. He’s not just spending daddy’s cash. He’s not a self-indulgent, entitled, trust fund baby.” She hit the last words hard.
Zack’s smile faded. He studied her for a moment. “Some trust fund baby must have hurt you pretty badly.”
She shifted on the bench, and focused on her hands. “Not me.” Her dad had been an affluent boy from New England who had romanced her mom and said all the right things one spring break at Clearwater Beach. He’d disappeared when her mother needed him the most. Sam thought about explaining, but then thought better of it. As if Zack Hunter, thrill-seeker, would care.
She needed to get back to work. Maxwell must be landing soon. She had a deadline to meet, and a job to keep.
He cleared his throat. “Well, now that I know you’re okay, I’ll let you get back to your reporting.” As he stood, he glanced skyward and shielded his eyes. “Yep, there they go. See those black dots in the sky? Your friend is about to open his parachute. Keep your eyes to the sky.” He peered down at her, and his face relaxed into a lopsided grin. “And keep your cute little ass out of the landing zone.”
As she attempted to formulate a witty response, a thunderous noise boomed overhead, making her jump. She peered up, half expecting to see lightning coming from a dark rain cloud, but there wasn’t a single cloud in the crisp, blue sky.
Scrambling up, Zack cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled back toward the office, “Hard opening!”
“What does that mean?” She feared the answer.
“Someone’s in trouble.”
She grabbed the video camera, turned it on, and hit the zoom button. Frantic, she searched the sky for Maxwell’s signature red jumpsuit.
There!
She zeroed in on him. He hung limp as a rag doll in his harness, his parachute open and spinning out of control. Her heart galloped. “That’s Maxwell! What’s wrong with him? He’s going to overshoot the landing zone!”
“He’s got bigger problems than that.”
A man in a Skydive Drop Zone uniform ran out of the main office. Zack grabbed him by the arm. “Call 911. Get the paramedics here quickly. Maxwell Wentworth may be unconscious. He’s coming in for a rough landing.”
Sam’s knees buckled and sweat beaded on her forehead. She slammed the camera onto the table and grabbed the edge in an attempt to stop herself from collapsing.
Zack steadied her with a firm hand. “Sit down, Samantha,” he ordered, but not without sympathy. “Let us help your friend.”
The skydive employee pulled out his cell phone and made a call.
Once she’d dropped onto the bench, Zack took off running.
What was she doing? That was Maxwell out there. “Wait! I’m coming with you.” Kicking off her high heels, she ran after him. Grass slick with humidity slid between her toes. She slipped, but righted herself and kept going.
Zack spun around to face her and she plowed into him. He grabbed her by the shoulders, fingers pinching her flesh. “You have to go back. You don’t want to see this.” His black eyes glowed with intensity.
She lifted her chin. “He’s like a father to me.” Warm tears slid down her cheeks. She slapped them away, needing to get to Maxwell.
Zack released a male sound of disapproval. “Then prepare yourself for the worst. I’ve seen hard landings before. If your friend isn’t already dead, trust me, this landing will kill him.”
Chapter Two
Sam’s lungs burned from running full speed toward the landing zone. A powerful breeze kicked up, pushing Maxwell hard into the ground. He hit feet first, and his legs collapsed beneath him, slamming him into the grassy field with such force his body bounced and flipped over.
“No!” Her heart banged in her chest. She pushed herself to run faster, but her side cramped, making it impossible to keep up with Zack. Maxwell’s parachute floated down over him in slow motion, covering him in a colorful nylon shroud.
Zack and a couple of skydivers reached Maxwell and gathered up the parachute, jerking it away from his body.
Out of breath, she reached them and collapsed to her knees beside her friend. “Maxwell!” Grabbing his limp and clammy hand, she stared at his chest, desperate for any movement. Just a half inch, anything to show he was still breathing. “Maxwell, please,” she choked out.
A fist of fear lodged in the back of her throat. She needed to look into his eyes and find life there. She started to remove his goggles.
“Don’t move him.”
The urgency in Zack’s tone stalled her. “I need to make sure he’s not dead.”
“You could make his injuries worse,” he said.
He was right. Instead, she placed two fingers on Maxwell’s carotid artery.
Nothing.
She pressed her ear gingerly against his chest.
No movement. No sound.
“Oh, my God, he’s not breathing. I have to do something!”
“Sam, wait for the—”
Ignoring Zack’s warning, she gently pulled the goggles from Maxwell’s face. His eyes stared straight ahead. Glassy. Empty. Dead. “We’ve got to revive him.”
Her hands shook as she carefully tilted his head back. She placed her mouth over his and breathed for him. His cool lips convinced her he was probably already
gone, but she couldn’t give up. Sitting up, she fumbled with the hook on the harness across the center of his chest. Damn it, she couldn’t undo the clasp. “Come on, come on.”
This couldn’t be happening! This was supposed to be such an easy assignment. A feature on her friend. He’d jumped hundreds of times before.
A siren wailed in the distance. Help on the way. She could do CPR until they arrived.
No way could she lose her father figure, mentor, and her job all on the same day.
…
Zack reached over and undid the latch without saying a word. A sickening feeling of déjà vu washed over him.
He watched as Samantha felt for the lower tip of Maxwell’s breastbone and pressed down with both hands. Did she even have the strength to do this the right way? He should jump in, but knew she wouldn’t let him. This was personal for her. The minutes passed as she performed CPR, and her tears falling onto her friend’s body brought the memories tumbling out from deep inside of him.
My God. This could not be happening again. He remembered all too well the panic he’d felt after bringing his police partner up after his diving accident. Zack had tried CPR, too.
“Samantha.”
“What?”
She’d blame herself for failing to bring him back. “It’s too late.” If only he could spare her that burning hell of guilt.
“I’m not going to let him go.” She pushed harder against her friend’s chest.
A paramedic in a light-colored polo shirt and black pants squatted next to him. Zack had been so transfixed on both the present and the past, he hadn’t heard the EMTs rush onto the scene. “How long has the victim been down?”
“About fifteen minutes. When he hit the ground he was probably already unconscious.” Or dead. “I haven’t seen any obvious bleeding. We couldn’t find a pulse, either. His friend has been administering CPR for maybe ten minutes.”
“Miss…?”
Samantha ignored the paramedic, pressing even harder against Wentworth’s chest. Her windblown hair, red cheeks, and wild eyes made her look like a woman possessed.
“Let the paramedics do their job.” Zack tried to keep his voice low and nonthreatening.
“I know how to do this.”
“No one’s questioning that.” He stood and stepped around Wentworth’s body, peeling her away from her lifeless friend. “Please, just let the experts help him.” She was going to freak when they pronounced him dead. He wouldn’t wish that moment on his worst enemy.
“Leave me alone.” She tried to throw him off, but her effort was weak.
“Not a chance. Not right now.” He pulled her up against his chest. The dam holding back a tsunami of emotions finally broke—her knees gave out and she fell into his arms, surrendering to her tears.
He was unsure of what to do next. It had been a while since he’d allowed himself to get this close to any woman. Under any condition. Wrapping her in a stronger embrace, he stiffened as she buried her face against his chest, wetting his jumpsuit with her hot, messy, tears.
“I’m sorry.” The energy around them shifted after the paramedic’s words registered.
Here it comes.
She started to tremble, her sobs growing louder. He wrapped his arms around her tighter. This grief, this hurting, was exactly why he’d never work with a partner again. Ever.
But the warmth of her body against his, the way she’d collapsed into him, trusting him so completely in this moment of grief, was awakening an emotion in him he’d buried deep long ago.
Oh, hell no. He’d sworn off emotional attachments for good reasons. He’d failed the people who cared about him. They’d died. He’d never get deeply connected again. That way, no one got hurt.
…
The sudden vibration of Sam’s cell phone made her jump out of the protective embrace she’d melted into. Instinctively, she glanced down to check the number and her heart sank. Not now. Please. Reluctantly, she backed away from Zack. Her heavy limbs were hard to lift, but she pulled the phone up to her ear and answered. As if she had a choice.
“This is Sam.”
“What the hell is going on up there?” Her boss’ sharp tone immobilized her. “I hear scanner traffic up at the assignment desk. Why are police and paramedics rushing to Skydive Drop Zone?”
“He’s dead.” Was that her voice cracking?
“What? Who’s dead?”
“Maxwell Wentworth.” She couldn’t even look at his body.
“Shit.” Her boss covered the receiver and shouted, “Get the satellite truck to Skydive Drop Zone, ASAP.” Then he made a disapproving click with his tongue. “Why am I just hearing about this now?”
Gripping the phone with the limited strength she had left, Sam fought the urge to launch her cell skyward. “I guess I could have called you sooner, but I’ve been a little busy pushing air into the lungs of a dying man.” God, she felt like throwing up.
Zack placed a hand on her back. He was so close now he could certainly hear her boss’ loud, demanding voice. “You’re killing me, Steele.”
Zack grabbed the phone from her. “Nice choice of words, asshole.”
Mortified, she struggled to get the phone back. She’d never heard anyone talk to her boss that way. Clawing her fingers into Zack’s palm, she ripped the cell from his hands. She couldn’t lose her job. She alone supported her mother and sister, and her contract with the TV station was almost up. Not to mention the probation she was under.
Despite the anxiety tearing up her belly, she had to keep it together. Reluctantly, she put the phone back to her ear and walked away so Zack could no longer hear the conversation. “Sorry about that. I—”
“The satellite truck is on the way.” Her boss still seemed hot, but at least he wasn’t yelling anymore. “I expect you live at five.”
Live at five? She chewed her bottom lip. “Maxwell’s death was an accident.”
“So? He’s a well-known member of this community.”
“He died skydiving. It’s not like he was shot or stabbed. It was an accident.” She could barely breathe, and the familiar fingers of anxiety began to get a grip on her lungs. This was how her panic attacks always started, with a tightening in her stomach and then her chest. Next, she’d get light-headed, and her heart would race so fast it physically hurt. “You really want me to do a live shot at five?”
“Ya think?” Her boss sighed. “His death is news. Well-known members of our community don’t die skydiving everyday.”
She wondered if her boss could hear the pounding of her heart through the phone. She couldn’t do it. She could barely even talk right now. Her throat was closing up. How was she supposed to—
“Reporting the news is still your job. Don’t let me down again, Steele.”
She closed her eyes, the not-so-veiled threat forcing her blood pressure up another notch.
“If you can’t put your personal feelings aside, I’ll send another reporter. But I can’t get them to Skydive Drop Zone by five p.m. It’s too far away. We’ll miss our chance at an exclusive.”
An exclusive. Her mentor and friend had become a news exclusive. Just like that.
“Feed the video in early. I want to approve any pictures before they air.” Her boss paused. “And Sam?” His voice took on a gentler tone. “I’m sorry.”
Right. “Live at five. Just like you said.” She disconnected the call and dropped to her knees. She desperately needed George. Her photographer had been so excited to fly and shoot video of Maxwell as he jumped. The Otter should have landed by now, but she still didn’t see George in the gathering crowd. Her photographer would help her. He had a way of making her laugh or distracting her so the panic would subside.
A dozen skydivers remained at the scene, talking in clusters. The noise level had dropped from frantic to subdued. Another paramedic arrived, talking to someone on a cell phone. Suddenly, she felt so small, so alone, completely lost in the buzz of activity. She took a series of deep breaths, trying to s
low her pulse and ward off the panic attack.
Looking up, she caught Zack circling Maxwell’s body, a pensive look on his movie-star face.
He stopped every few seconds to pick up a part of the parachute and examine it. At one point, he held a piece of the nylon in his hands, rubbing it, and staring at it almost reverently. Then he closed his eyes, balled the material in his fist, and appeared to be saying a prayer, or maybe reciting a curse. Why did Zack Hunter care so much about Maxwell’s death?
He shook his head and knelt to examine more of the equipment attached to the body. She glanced around. The police hadn’t arrived yet.
Reluctantly, she hauled herself off the ground and approached Zack, trying to avoid her late friend’s vacant stare. “What are you looking for?” At least she was breathing somewhat regularly again.
He glanced at her. “Any sign that this wasn’t an accident.”
She jerked back, bringing her hand to her chest. “Why on earth would you even think that?”
He continued examining the parachute parts. “Because I’ve been skydiving a long time. Hard openings are rare.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means his chute opened too quickly in the air. When that happens, a skydiver can pass out or suffer internal injuries—maybe even die instantly. During my career with the rangers, I never saw that happen. Not once. And we did some crazy, risky shit.”
Dread raced up her spine, growing in intensity, along with the police siren wailing in the distance.
Zack swiveled in the direction of the sound, his eyebrows pinched together. He continued to feel around the parachute and pack, quickly now, his eyes firing up with determination “Wentworth was a skilled skydiver, which makes me wonder…”
“What?”
“If someone tampered with his chute before he jumped.”
She tried to swallow, but guilt hardened into a huge lump. “He…um, let a young rigger pack his bag this morning.”
“What? He didn’t pack his own?”
“He usually does. Today, I asked him to do a quick interview with me before he jumped.” Tears welled up, and the burning made her blink. “So he passed his gear off to a teenager who said he’d do it for ten bucks. You know, those young skydivers trying to make a buck.” She wiped her cheeks with the back of both hands.