by Lori Foster
Then the unthinkable tragedy had come along, shattering her dreams along with her confidence and drive to do her job.
Just the thought made her heart race and her palms go damp. She could still taste the panic, smell the death and destruction, and remember what it felt like to stand in the middle of the horror and be the only one alive. She hadn’t been able to reconcile that, to the point that nothing in her life had made sense.
Lost and unhappy, she’d come back to her starting point, back to Denton, thinking she needed to find a way to begin again. Somehow.
Up until now, it’d been working.
She’d known she’d run into Wyatt eventually, but she hadn’t expected it to be so soon, or in a capacity that could involve working with him. He still had the ability to steal her breath. He was different yet so much the same. There were tiny lines of life experience imprinted around those knowing eyes now, eyes that still reflected only what he wanted them to, and laugh lines bracketing his wide, firm mouth.
Not that he’d flashed her a smile.
What had he been doing with himself all these years? Was he married, maybe with kids? As she sat huddled on the stairs, wet and cold and scared spitless, thinking too much, she knew she had no right to care one way or another. And in any case, it was all water under the bridge. Wyatt, and what they’d once meant to each other, didn’t have a place here.
The boat pitched and swayed, and she gulped hard, hoping to hell that she had a place here, and that it wasn’t the last place she’d ever see.
CHAPTER FOUR
“NEARLY THERE.”
Wyatt nodded at his partner and best friend Logan as he flew them back over the lake. Dominic, their flight mechanic and winch operator, rode along. They were racing against time and high winds to get to the houseboat where they’d left five stranded victims.
That one of them was Leah shouldn’t matter. Didn’t matter. When he’d found out her station had called for help for her and Jimmy, he’d had time to brace himself. But still, he’d felt a hard kick to his gut when he’d seen her, drenched and battered and terrified. “Punch it,” he said to Logan.
“I am.” Logan flew with a calm skill that matched Wyatt’s. They’d purchased this helo together, and had done incredibly well business-wise. Flying for TV and radio stations had been a stroke of genius, and good for their bank account, allowing them to work volunteer for SAR. They’d done this for five years now, earning quite the reputation for daring escapades, but even they rarely flew under as harsh conditions as they were now.
“There.” Dominic pointed to the houseboat being tossed around on the water.
Squinting against the lashing rain, Wyatt wondered at the boat’s chances of surviving if a waterspout formed or a tornado from shore found its way onto the lake. Probably zilch. He didn’t care, as long as they got everyone off of it.
Then Dominic shook his head and tapped his headphone. “Tower says weather’s going downhill.”
“This is the last run, then,” Logan said. “How many are down there?”
“Five,” Wyatt said. His gaze met Logan’s and held. Eight of them in total, far over the limit for the helo, and in these winds they didn’t dare go overweight. “Where the hell are those rescue boats?”
Logan checked status on his radio. “One’s still on a rescue twenty miles away, the other’s beached with weather-related mechanical failure.”
“Up to us then.”
Logan nodded grimly. He’d been with Wyatt through too many disasters and treacherous rescues to count, pulling people out of raging rivers or from their own homes when the floods had come; whatever it took, wherever they were needed. Over the years they’d saved people who shouldn’t have been savable. And in some cases, they’d just managed to save their own hides, like when they’d been in a small plane crash together several years ago during a training session, and had been surprised to discover they would live to tell the tale.
They’d do whatever it took, they always did. With Dominic running the winch, Wyatt rappelled out of the chopper and landed on the houseboat, which was in much worse condition than it had been eighteen minutes ago. Half the canvas shading had torn free, the rest threatening to go at any minute. The upper railing had pulled loose on the port side. It was only a matter of time before it went, as well.
Leah popped her head out of the hatch and Wyatt took his first deep breath since he’d left her. “Let’s go,” he yelled through the winds and the chopper noise.
“The students first!”
It was the second time she’d put them ahead of her. Admiration, reluctant or not, was not what he wanted to be feeling for her. “Get them!”
Ignoring the brutal elements, she helped him with Stu, who’d apparently fallen below deck and had possibly broken his ankle. Two more students went after him, while Leah stood helping through the drumming rain. Finally there was one student left, and Leah.
“Stop. That’s it,” Dominic said in Wyatt’s earpiece. “We’re maxed, and Logan can’t hold her steady.”
Wyatt looked at the remaining student and the woman he’d once loved beyond all else. “No. We’re taking more,” he said into his mike, wanting to reach for Leah. He knew she’d shove the student at him even before she did, and for the first time ever on a rescue, he hesitated. “Leah—”
“Do it.”
He couldn’t even hear her words over the roar of the wind and the whipping helo blades but he read her lips. He got the last student on the line, signaled Dominic, and they began to rise. The terrified student clung to him, but still he craned his neck and watched Leah from her precarious perch on the damned houseboat as she got smaller and smaller—
The lift seemed to take forever. In his ear he could hear Logan’s low oath as he struggled to keep the helo in check, fighting for all of their lives.
When the trembling student was in the helo, Wyatt stood in the opened door. “One more.”
Despite the freezing wind and rain all around them, Logan was sweating as he worked the controls, jaw tight, teeth gritted. “No.”
Dominic, looking bleak, shook his head.
Logan was the best there was. If he said no to saving a life, then they were hanging on by a thread. He met Logan’s determined gaze in the mirror. “I’m going back to stay with her.”
Logan didn’t waste time telling him he’d just given himself a possible death sentence. They both knew it. But Wyatt couldn’t leave Leah down there alone, they all knew it, and would have done the same.
“I’ll be back as fast as I can,” Logan vowed tightly.
Looking grim, Dominic operated the winch, and with a terse nod to them both, Wyatt rappelled back down to the houseboat.
To Leah.
CHAPTER FIVE
PELTED BY THE WEATHER and rotor wash, Wyatt eyed the houseboat below him as he rappelled the last twenty feet. Darkness had nearly fallen now and Dominic directed a spotlight down for him.
He dropped to the empty deck, staggered for balance and then unhooked the rope. Legs spread wide, he squinted into the bright beam of light and gave Dominic the thumbs-up sign. He watched the helo struggle in the face of the heavy winds. For a moment it seemed it wouldn’t react to the demands Logan was making of it, sort of shuddering in indecision, and Wyatt shielded his eyes, crouching low to avoid being blown away while he held his breath and prayed.
They’d cut it too close. Theoretically they shouldn’t have come back for the second run. It had been crazy dangerous to do so. But though Wyatt had no doubt Leah Taylor knew how to take care of herself after watching her on the news over the past ten years from various hot spots around the world, he didn’t know that of the students. These were extreme circumstances to say the least, and even the best of the best could perish out here.
The hatch door to the deck opened, highlighted in the helo’s spotlight. The wind caught the door, slamming it to the bulkhead just as Leah’s head appeared. Wet hair wild, eyes wide, she sought him out, visibly slouching in relie
f when she saw him.
“Get down,” he shouted, doubting his words could reach her, so he added an arm gesture.
Above them, the helo continued to falter and Wyatt swore, but then Logan somehow managed to execute a one-hundred-and-eighty-degree turn, and headed toward safety.
Lightning lit his way now, piercing the utter darkness. Wyatt reached for the flashlight at his hip. Only one victim left to worry about, a stubborn woman who hadn’t stayed below as he’d asked. She never had been good at following directions.
But she’d been good at making him feel amazing.
He ignored the thought and backed to the bulkhead, running his small beam of light over the shelter they were stuck with for the duration. It was hard to see much with the wind blowing the rain in sheets across the deck and the lightning blinding him, but he took quick stock.
The weather had gone downhill in just the past two minutes, and as he thought it, the rain turned to marble-size hail that, slung around by forty-knot winds, slammed into him and the boat like BB shots. Bad as that was, he knew it could get even worse yet. The boat was hurting. The canvas sun guard was nearly entirely gone, and every time he blinked and focused again, something new had ripped away. Ducking to avoid an airborne piece of wood, he lurched toward the door to go below deck.
“Wyatt, look out!”
It was the look of sheer terror on Leah’s face more than her words that actually conveyed her warning, and since instincts had saved his life so many times, he never hesitated to act on them. He flattened himself to the deck, just as a jagged piece of wood the size of a two-by-four flew past him, nicking his helmet by his ear…instead of decapitating him.
Leah flew out of her safehold and crawled toward him. She’d given Jimmy her blazer as a pillow, which left her in a white blouse that was so drenched she might have been wearing nothing but the white lace bra she had on beneath. She’d hiked up her skirt to her thighs to crawl toward him, revealing long, long legs that he’d once known every inch of intimately.
“Oh, my God,” she cried. “Are you all right?” She cradled his head in her lap as she hunched over him, taking the punishment of the hail on her back to protect him. “Wyatt—”
“No, don’t.” He pushed upright and reached for her, tucking her against him to protect her the best he could. Another chunk of fiberglass freed itself from the top deck, barely missing them. Palming her bare head, he pressed her even closer to him. She wasn’t wearing a helmet, or any protection, and his heart leaped to his throat. “Stay close!”
She fisted her hands in his jacket and held on, wincing through the pain of the pounding hail. “I didn’t think you’d get back—”
“I wasn’t going to leave you here.”
She lifted her head. Her blond hair was plastered to her, long strands of it whipping her wet face, which was filled with fright and adrenaline-fueled intensity, and something else as she stared at him. Surprise.
She hadn’t expected him to come back for her. She’d really believed he could leave her here to make it—or not—on her own.
Once upon a time, they’d communicated without a single word, and he’d loved that. But she’d walked away from that, and he’d gotten over her.
A very long time ago.
A large wave rocked the boat, accompanied by a wall of water that hit them with its icy blast. He whipped Leah around and gave her a not-so-gentle shove toward the hatch.
“Hurry!” he yelled. “Stay low and close to the bulkhead!”
“The what?”
“The wall, Leah! Stay close to it!”
On her hands and knees she began to crawl to the door.
He stayed directly behind her, his nose so close to her finely shaped ass he could have bitten her. Ten years ago he might have.
He was still thinking about that when, halfway there, another wave washed on deck, hitting them hard, knocking them both against the bulkhead. He reached out to anchor her to him and got hold of her ankle. Blindly now, as he couldn’t see past the water rolling over them, he followed the line of her leg with his hand, over her thigh, her rear, until he got a grip on her hip and hauled her back against him.
When the wave retreated, he shook his head and spit out a mouthful of water.
Beside him, Leah gasped for breath. “Oh, my God, it’s going to knock us over!”
“Below,” he yelled, and when she didn’t move, he pushed her to the hatch, following her below deck.
CHAPTER SIX
LEAH HIT THE STAIRS, slipped on the first one and fell. She landed on the floor in the dark and lay there for a moment, taking stock.
Wyatt flicked on a flashlight, tossed off his helmet and crouched beside her. “You okay?”
“Define okay.”
He set the flashlight down, still on. It rolled around them, casting an eerie flickering light while he put his hands on her legs, then her ribs, checking for injuries until she covered his hands with hers. “I’m not hurt.”
His sharp, blue eyes searched hers, and then he let out a relieved breath. With an exhausted groan, he flopped onto his back next to her. “Damn,” he muttered, reaching out for her hand, which for some reason brought a lump to her throat. “That was the longest hour of my life.”
“Was it only an hour?” She’d lost all perception of time.
“Since we first got the call and I found out you were stranded out here, yeah. An hour.”
Startled, her gaze shot to his. “You knew it was me?”
Letting go of her hand, he raised his arm and covered his eyes. “I knew. I was slated for a different rescue but I heard you guys were stranded and traded. You shaved some good time off the end of my life on this one.” He lowered his arm and pegged her with a long, unreadable stare that stabbed through the dark. “You owe me.”
He’d known it was her and he’d still come. An entirely inappropriate little kernel of hope seeded deep inside her. “Thank you,” she whispered.
“Don’t. You’re not safe yet.”
But he’d keep her safe, or die trying, she knew that much. From all the times he’d been there for her, she knew he was that kind of man, and for a moment a yearning came over her, so strong she’d have staggered with it if she’d been standing.
It’d been ten years. In that time, she’d had relationships with other men, big city men, politicians, soldiers, world travelers…and yet she wouldn’t have characterized any of them as a love connection. Not once in all those years had she ever felt…cared for. Cherished. Truly safe. At least not the way Wyatt had always made her feel. She’d never realized exactly what was missing; it hadn’t hit her until this moment.
She’d missed him.
She lay there next to him absorbing that thought while wind whistled through the cracks around them. Thunder boomed. Hail beat down. The sound of parts breaking free and hitting the walls was disconcerting to say the least, and each crack made her jump. It had grown fully dark, the only relief in the utter blackness being the meager flashlight and the nearly continuous strobe of lightning.
“I need a better day job,” Wyatt said.
That startled a laugh out of her and she pushed her weary body to a sit. The boat shifted, rocked, and she would have slid away on the wet, slick floor if he hadn’t reached out and snatched her hand. After tugging her back, he wrapped a long arm around her waist, anchoring her to him. “Stay.”
“I’m trying.” The full body contact sent a confusing mix of emotions hurling through her. The boat rocked again, and Wyatt tightened his grip on her as he grabbed his flashlight. His expression was cool as he looked at her, though his gaze was anything but.
It made her breath catch all the more, because distant as he clearly wanted to be, he didn’t seem quite able to pull it off.
“I’m going to check the engine,” he said. “See if I can’t get it running.”
“What can I do?”
“Stay here. Don’t do anything stupid.”
“I do realize the direness of our situati
on.”
“Do you?” His arm tightened around her. “Then why aren’t you in a life vest?”
“There weren’t enough.”
“Then at the very least you should be in a safer place instead of here, unanchored, where you can fly around and get hurt.”
It wasn’t easy to think plastered against him as she was, but she managed a nod. “I’ll do that now.” As she came up to her knees, he did the same, still holding on to her.
Unbidden, an odd little shiver of thrill raced through her, and feeling it, he made a rough sound, running his hand up and down her spine. “Cold?”
Her extremities were numb, but oddly enough, her body felt vibrantly alive beneath his touch. “Yes.”
He ran his gaze over her, reminding her that her blouse had gone sheer and that her skirt had shrink-wrapped itself to her lower body.
“We need to get you dry,” he said a bit hoarsely, and shrugged out of his jacket, wrapping it around her. Though wet on the outside, it was warm and toasty on the inside.
She clung to it with shaking fingers, realizing she was colder than she’d thought. “What about you?”
In a long sleeved T-shirt, he shrugged. “I’m used to conditions like these.”
“I can handle it, too.”
“Right. You can handle anything, all by yourself. I remember that much.”
He wasn’t talking about today, of course, but their past, which might as well have been the third person in the room. “Wyatt—”
“Not now,” he said, dismissing that third person. She struggled with that, and the fact that in all likelihood, she was the only one of them with regrets.
“What’s down here?” he asked.
“Um…” Hard to switch gears. “A bunk room, a stateroom that’s now a classroom, a galley, a darkroom and two bathrooms.”