by Madelon Smid
Without warning, Jake plummeted deeper. He saw the severed rope drop past him and looked up to see Siree’s slender frame bow beneath his weight. How long could she hold on before he pulled her in or broke her back? He needed to create enough slack to relieve the strain on her. But the tube had narrowed considerably, leaving him no room to bring up his knees and kick out. He slewed right then left, trying to access the pocket in his pack that held his ice screws.
Siree bit back a moan, as his efforts put more pressure on her back. Her sinew felt like it might pop, her arm and leg muscles drawn on a rack. The recently healed scars on her abdomen and chest burned. None of it mattered. She would hold Jake till help came.
A drop of blood landed on Jake’s hand. She must be bleeding. I’ve got to get my weight off her. I can climb up the rope hand over hand, but she doesn’t have the strength to hold me. He couldn’t reach his pack fastening, couldn’t get a handhold, which the cruel ice walls refused to provide. Siree’s body sagged another inch. He heard her soft moan. His fingers reached for the carabiner that roped him to her. At best he’d slide till he wedged tight, at worse he’d die. It was the only way. Before she could understand what he was about to do, his fingers closed on the release. “I love you,” he called to her.
“Nice to know, son.” Josh’s face peered over the edge at him.
His fingers stilled. His breath rattled out of his chest. He’d just about become one of those dying lovers she despised. “Took your sweet time,” he said as he felt the first pull on his rope. Gribbs’ wide shoulders threw a shadow across the crevasse, and he started moving steadily upward.
Their guide and Sam scrambled into position beside Siree. Carefully, the men slid her across the crevasse and undid the carabiner, separating her from Jake. In seconds, he slid over the rim, rolled to the side and knelt beside her.
Blood trickled down her chin from where she’d bitten her lip.
“Where are you hurt?” he asked, his hands moving over her body. He pulled off his glove and carefully brushed the blood from her lip with his thumb. His eyes looked black against his pale skin.
“Nothing’s broken.” Again her teeth pierced her lip. “Is everybody safe?”
“God, you’re something.” he pressed a kiss to her cheek, noting the long crack in the side of her helmet as he leaned in. He took a quick look into her eyes. Her left pupil seemed smaller than the right. He covered them with his hand, waited and tried again. Some concussion for sure. Mild, he hoped. That she was conscious and lucid reassured him. He sent up a prayer of gratitude for safety helmets.
Sam, looking chastened, crossed to kneel beside them. “How bad is it?” he asked.
“I haven’t broken anything.” She gave Sam a crooked smile and touched his arm. “The snow bridge could have collapsed under any one of us. Your number just got pulled. Are you all right? I nearly freaked when I felt your line go slack.”
“Other than needing to puke, drink a gallon of tequila and never step on a mountain again, I’m just fine.” He turned to his friend, “Jake, any damage?
“Not a scratch.” He ignored the searing pain on the side of his face. Gribbs moved in beside Jake with the first aid kit. “How bad is it, Siree? Don’t put a brave face on it. We need to know.”
Jake did another quick search. “She’s bleeding. It dropped on me in the crevasse. I can’t find a wound beside her lip and that isn’t enough blood.”
“I think the blood is coming from you,” Gribbs said. “You look like a cheese grater had it in for half your face. Tape him up, Josh, so he doesn’t bleed all over her, while I see what I can do for her.”
“She’s unconscious.” He turned back to report. “Checked out to avoid the pain. She probably tore ligaments and tendons along her rib cage and back. Could have herniated discs from the weight pulling on her. Can’t imagine what it did to her scars.”
Jake jerked off his helmet, threw it in the snow and dragged his hands through his sweat-soaked hair. “Christ! Can’t she get a break? I’m like the grim reaper around her.”
Their guide stepped up to the group to tell them he’d used the long range radio to call in the emergency evacuation service. ETA twenty minutes.
“They’ll take Siree, Jake, and Gribbs direct to Mexico City. I’ll take Josh and Sam down and they can pick up your vehicle and meet you there,” he instructed.
Gribbs raised his head. “We’ll fly her home in the jet when’s she’s ready.”
“It’s good she fainted.” Sam squeezed Jake’s shoulder. “We’re going to cause her more pain getting her off this mountain.”
“She hit her head hard enough to break her helmet. She has concussion for sure. I just hope it’s not a cerebral hemorrhage.”
The five men each looked down at the porcelain figurine in the snow and blamed themselves for her injuries.
“We don’t dare move her in case she’s broken her back. I don’t want her going into shock. We have to keep her warm.” Jake took a small package from the first aid supplies and shook out a thin silver insulator designed to hold heat. He tucked one side under Siree’s body, lay down along her other side and pulled the rest over himself. “Sam, make yourself useful.”
Sam obligingly lay down on the other side of Siree while Gribbs shook out another insulator and settled it over them, tucking down both sides.
“Thank you, Mother.” Sam grinned up at him. “Do I get a goodnight kiss?”
Gribbs growled and bent to brace his weight on his knees. “I thought you were a goner when that rope snapped, Jake. You down that crevasse with only Siree holding your weight and Josh and I taking forever to get there.”
“She’s an exceptional person.” Josh gazed down at her. “I’d climb with her anywhere.”
“No blame, just concern for the rest of us,” Sam added his own thoughts to the mix. “What a bloody accident.”
“And she’s the only one paying for it.” Though a sterile pad covered one side of Jake’s face, the skin over the other tightened as he fixed his gaze on each man in turn, exacting a promise from them. “This can’t happen again.”
Chapter Twelve
They regrouped in Mexico City. When they heard that Siree would be back to normal in a few days, they arbitrarily made the decision she should join her mother’s cruise. The excellent facilities, medical staff on hand, and comfort of being with Sharon would help her to recover faster. Jake made several shore-to-ship calls to the Emerald Queen carrying Sharon and Ty from Antigua to St. Lucius, the next island stopover. Money made a good lubricator for sticky problems and he used it indiscriminately, booking a deluxe cabin on the same cruise ship.
From the emergency room bed, Siree argued. She didn’t want to intrude on this romantic time for the pair. When he told her that Sharon insisted she would get off at the next port and fly home if Siree didn’t join them, she hunched down in the bed, her bottom lip puffed out, so like a disgruntled cherub. God, she looks adorable, he thought, turning away to hide a grin.
“You needn’t look so victorious,” she huffed, thumping her crossed arms down on her chest then yelping as her body protested.
“The doctors have told you several times I have no spinal injuries, no herniated discs. My excellent core body strength saved the day. So I’m a little stiff and sore.” She ignored her strained tendons and pulled ligaments. “I can heal just as well at Mother’s condo. The doctor said the inflammation in my scarred areas will go down in a few more days, and my concussion is already gone.”
“You did a lot of damage nonetheless and you’re going to need considerable time to heal.”
“Jake, you always insist on taking responsibility. You didn’t make the snow bridge collapse, which started the whole debacle. I chose to hold your weight rather than cut that rope, and not in a million years would I change my mind about the rightness of it for me. You’re my other half. I was fighting to save me as much as you. Now quit worrying. I came back from the stabbing. I’ll bounce back from this just as quickl
y.”
From his position just inside the door of her room, he absorbed her words. The tender tone of her voice drew him closer, despite his resolve to keep his distance.
“Jake, I need you to hold me.” Strong enough to plead, she held out her hand. “Come here. Please.”
Like a great black leopard under a spell, Jake drifted close enough to take her hand.
It was the first time since the stabbing he’d seen her sleeveless. He traced the narrow pink line that angled from just below her elbow to her wrist.
“Jake,” she entreated.
He hadn’t realized how close the knife had come to a major artery. Siree could have bled out before they even got her to the hospital. He looked down into eyes normally a bright gold, to find the darkness of pain. Carefully, he settled his hip on the bed beside her. His gaze moved to her torso.
“I want to see your scars.” He spoke with a rare uncertainty. “May I?”
She jerked her head in assent.
He folded the sheet and blanket down to her waist then carefully reached beneath to grasp the cotton front of her hospital gown. Inch by inch he pulled it upward until he could see a four-inch scar that crossed the soft spot between her ribs and waist. He’d always loved the enticing hollow where Siree’s satin skin had a little give beneath it. He bent and whispered his lip along the thin line. She sucked in a breath. The little hollow deepened, the sheet slid lower.
Unerringly, he sought her diamond navel ring and tongued it, caught himself and pulled back. He rolled the gown higher, exposing a smaller scar, where the knife had stabbed in under her left breast, so close to her heart the tip of the knife had nicked her aorta. He brushed his lips down each scar then rested his head on her abdomen, found solace in the scent of spring woodland.
Her fingers threaded through his hair. He wanted to stay there forever, feeling her love, the infinite peace he found only with her. He pressed his cheek to her stomach and stole another minute, gathering his strength to leave her. He pulled free of her soothing hands and stood.
“I have to go,” he husked through his aching throat. “Sam and Josh are waiting to say goodbye.” He pulled down her gown and straightened the blankets back into place. “My pilot will fly us to Seattle, pick up Janice, and they’ll be back for you in the morning. When you’re released, Janice will accompany you to St. Thomas to meet up with the cruise ship. Your mother and Ty will be at the island airport.”
She cried out when he started to walk away. He paused, his back to her, then turned in slow motion, as if controlled by a remote control she held.
“You split your lip again.” He crossed to the bed, bent to brush the droplet of blood from it with his thumb.
A groan that climbed up from his very soul. He bent to brush the cut on her plush mouth with his. “I’ve caused you so much pain.”
“And given me so much pleasure.” Her warm breath heated his lips.
He closed his eyes, buried his mouth in the crook of her neck. “God, I miss you.” His voice was guttural. “Miss you.” He pressed a kiss to the fast beating pulse in her throat. “Miss you.” He laid a soft kiss on the gentle slope of her breast. “The scent of you.” He breathed deeply from the valley between. “The feel of you.” He slid his hands up her rib cage to caress her breasts.
“You don’t have to miss me. Be with me.” She arched into his hands, stifled a gasp.
He pulled back, lifted his hands.
She caught one of them, held it to her cheek. “Don’t leave me again. Stay. I’m not afraid of her. I’m not afraid to be with you.”
“I am afraid of her. She’s insane and cunning enough to escape detection. Even with the drawing you helped the sketch artist make, with a description of her car, all the letters and emails I’ve handed over, they can’t find a trace of her.”
“That sketch of her is everywhere. If she’s that cunning, she’s probably gone to ground and is all the way to Alaska by now. She won’t be back. And if she hasn’t given up, then you’ve made yourself so low profile with the press she won’t be able to track you like before. She won’t know about me. Stay with me. Love me.” She pulled on his hand.
“I can’t, Siree,” he choked out. It killed him to say the words, to see her shoulders slump in defeat. “As long as she’s out there I can’t take a chance. You’re too precious.”
She rolled her eyes at him. “For a genius, you sure can be idiotic. We’re too precious, and you’re throwing us away. How many times do I have to show you I can take care of myself?” She pressed a kiss into his palm and closed his fingers over it. Her eyes sparkled with anger, her voice shaking. “I’m warning you, Jake Ingles. I’m no sleeping lady to wimp out. I’m not giving up. So consider you now have two stalkers.”
****
She lasted a week on the Emerald Queen, four days longer than she wanted. She felt like a maharaja with countless people tripping over each other to see to her every whim. Massage, heavenly soaks in the whirlpool tub in her suite, delicious meals, long walks on the deck, laughing with her mother and Ty, all made for rapid healing. She insisted she needed to get back to work. It took all her time-honored ploys to persuade her mother and Ty to carry on with the rest of the cruise and the next one. Finally, they agreed to finish the Caribbean cruise and wait to see before going on to South America.
She left the ship at St. Vincent and stood, tired but victorious, in her mother’s condo twenty-two hours later. Before checking her messages, calling work, taking a shower or collapsing in her bed, she pulled up a number on her smart phone. “Patricia,” she said when the woman answered, “Siree McConnell. Are you still interested in doing that interview?”
She met Patricia for lunch the next day.
“Not that I’m not delighted by it,” Patricia spoke as she stored her handbag beside her chair, “but what caused your change of mind?”
“I’m happy to give you a great deal of information for your interview, Patricia, but this part is off the record.” She studied Patricia’s face as she waited for her to answer.
“Off the record then. Why did you call me?”
“It’s the only way I can think of to get my attacker to come after me again.”
Patricia’s mouth widened in horror. “Why would you want to do that?”
“As long as she remains free, Jake Ingles is going to stay away from me. I love that man to distraction. He loves me. It’s a hellish situation that has gone on far too long. I’m tired of letting her keep us in limbo and I’m fighting back.”
“I’m not comfortable with helping you become bait for a killer,” Patricia said, but while the words sounded sincere, her eyes glittered with interest.
“I need you to get past your journalistic principles and write the story so I can make this work. And by the way”—Siree leaned forward, smiled—“I so admire that you have them.” She laughed. “I’ve spent a lifetime wishing the journalists who tore apart my life would have some principles, and now I’m asking you to set yours aside.”
“Life’s ironies,” Patricia agreed. “Let’s order and you can tell me how you see this happening. Sorry I’m on the clock”—she glanced at her watch—“and I’m starving.”
Back on the record, Siree gave her a brief rundown on the accident in Mexico and how she thought it was a perfect reason for CTV to put her back in the news. “You know, woman survives again, or can’t keep McConnell down.” She flipped her hand. “You do the exclusive, and hopefully the rest of the press will pick up the story and run with it. I’m going to see that the gutter press gets photos of Jake and me on the climb, so it looks like we’ve been together all the time. I want to get this bitch so angry she comes out of hiding.”
“And how are you going to keep her from trying to kill you this time?” Patricia licked the last drop of crème caramel from her spoon, her eyes steady on Siree. “Sounds like it could go south again.”
“I don’t deny there’s risk, but Jake has security on me all the time. I’m going to make it
really hard to get to me. I’m praying she’ll get desperate enough to make a mistake. I’d hunt her down and take her out in person if I had a clue where she’s gone.”
She curled her fingers on the edge of the table and looked Patricia in the eyes. “I’m all out of pitch, Patricia. This is a win-win. You get a good story. I get a better chance to be with the man I love. Please help me.”
“You’ve got it. I’ll give you my prime time spot next Monday night. Put together your package for the tabloids and I’ll see that they get to the people who will give you the most coverage. Send me the details of your climb, what went wrong, what went right, the hospital, etc. I’ll do my research and pull together a story that will make you a national sweetheart.”
“You’ll have it by end of day.” Siree felt her shoulders loosen for the first time since she’d sat down. She signaled the waiter.
“For the record”—Patricia crumpled her napkin and set it on the table—“this is one damn fine story and I’m proud to be able to interview a woman with such courage, strength, and determination. I have no doubt at all that you’ll win back your man.”
Siree gave it her best effort. She wooed the press and the press wooed her. It was an exhausting courtship. She didn’t know how Jake had put up with it for a decade, when she wanted quit of it after a week. It took a hardy individual or an egomaniac to handle so much attention.
In the process, she discovered it needn’t be a one-way street, where only the press benefited. They could also be useful tools if handled with skill. Hadn’t Princess Diana of Wales found that out? For the next step in her campaign, she punched in Sam’s number.
****
Sam lived in a two-story boathouse in Point Defiance Marina. Janice parked their rental car on the verge of a grassy park across the street and stood beside it, as Siree rang the bell. He has the best of both worlds, she thought, skirting the bow of a kayak that leaned against the weathered shakes. It would suit Sam perfectly.
He peered around the door like he expected a mad bomber to be standing on the other side. Siree laughed. She pushed on it and, feeling the resistance of his well-muscled frame, pushed harder, backing Sam into the room. She slid through the opening she’d made.