by Jade Kerrion
In fact, she believed every word she had said, if only because she couldn’t imagine it getting any worse.
CHAPTER TWO
“Get me closer!” Cody Hart shouted over the gusts of wind whipping past the open helicopter door. At least fifty feet below, he could see the stranded hiker, a pale speck huddled on the narrow ledge, scarcely two feet from a sheer drop off the Colorado mountaintop.
“I can’t get closer!” Jake, the pilot, shouted back. “The wind’s too strong. It’ll slam the helicopter into the mountain. The county will be mighty pissed if it can’t sue your ass off for damages because you’re dead.”
Cody smirked. “Real men don’t let death get in their way of getting the job done.”
“Apparently, real men like you don’t let brains get in their way either,” Jake shot back. He grunted as he wrestled the helicopter controls. “We’ll have to come back tomorrow morning when the winds die down.”
“We can’t. If the report’s right, that hiker’s been out there for twenty hours with nothing but a light jacket. If she stays overnight out there, she’s going to lose fingers and toes.” Cody leaned out of the helicopter to survey the area. “Land on the mountaintop. It’s only about two hundred feet down to her.”
“Only? You’re going to climb down to her?”
“Yeah.” Cody grabbed his backpack, loaded with everything he might need for the rescue, and shrugged it onto his shoulders.
“And then what?”
“I don’t know. I’m still working on the rescue plan.”
“You’re crazy, man. No one goes mountain climbing in the dark. If Darrell were alive, he’d kill me for letting you do this.”
Heartache stabbed through Cody as it always did at the mention of his best friend. He gritted his teeth and, with effort, managed to keep his tone nonchalant. “Yeah, well, fortunately, Darrell is no longer around to kick our collective asses. Come on, Jake; land this sucker.”
Jake muttered a curse but swung the helicopter to a safe landing on a wide ridge on the mountaintop. Cody leapt out and scrambled toward the ledge. He lay flat on his stomach and looked over. “Hey, you, down there.”
A muffled cry rose up to him.
All right. The hiker was still conscious.
“Hang tight. I’m coming.” He drove a spike into the ground, clipped his climbing rope to his belt, and looped the rope around the anchored spike. Okay, now. Remember the plan is always to die tomorrow, not today. Here goes.
Anchored by his safety line and agile as a mountain goat, he half-jumped, half-slid down the side of the mountain. His pace slowed when he approached the stranded hiker. With care, he lowered himself onto the narrow ledge. The hiker stirred weakly. “Glad you’re here.” Her voice betrayed weakness and exhaustion. The missing person’s report filed by her mother had stated her age as twenty-three. “Hurt my leg. Can’t stand.”
“Is it bleeding?”
“No, just badly sprained, I think.”
“Yeah, your family figured something of the sort might have happened. Any other injuries?”
“Nothing broken. Just cold and starving.”
“I can help with that.” Cody squatted and pulled out a thermal blanket and extra-thick gloves and socks from his backpack. “There’s a couple of energy bars and water in the backpack as soon as you’re ready. You just focus on staying warm while I figure out a plan to get out of here.”
“You didn’t have a plan coming down?”
“Not really.” And the woman’s injury nixed the initial plans Cody had been formulating in his head. Time for plan B. He glanced at her, assessed her slight frame and her curves. A hundred and fifty pounds, tops. He stared up the nearly sheer rock face. Could he carry her weight two hundred feet?
Well, it was that or stay on the ledge until morning. Cody looked at the woman. “You think you can hang on to me?”
“I’ll try.” She slipped her arms through Cody’s backpack.
“Do better than try. Falling ain’t much fun out here.” Cody bent down to secure her to the climbing rope and then squatted so that she could wrap her arms around his shoulders. Cody huffed against the extra weight and began the climb. He fought for each inch of progress up the mountain in spite of the strong winds that swirled and slashed at him. Twice, he nearly lost his footing, but a combination of honed skill and raw nerve finally brought him and the woman over the cliff and onto the ridge.
Jake ran forward as the hiker tumbled off Cody’s shoulders. “You’re a lucky devil,” Jake said to Cody and leaned down to help the woman to her feet. “Come on. Let’s get you into the ‘copter.”
Cody stretched out his aching shoulders, picked up his fallen backpack, and followed Jake and the woman to the helicopter. His knuckles were torn and bloody from his tussles with the rock cliff, but a swipe of Neosporin would take care of them. He slouched across from the woman he had rescued and relaxed into the seat as the helicopter took off.
Her large eyes peered at him over the edge of the thermal blanket. “I’m Joni,” she said.
“Cody.” He grinned.
“You saved my life.”
“Just part of my job, ma’am. It’s what we do here with the Alpine Rescue Team.”
By the time the helicopter landed on its helipad in Evergreen, Colorado, an ambulance was waiting to whisk the woman away to a nearby hospital. Cody glanced at the rising sun before heading into the headquarters building. Technically, his shift was not over until 8 a.m., but he figured no one was going to complain if he clocked out forty-five minutes early. He filled his mug with lukewarm coffee and sat at his desk. His gaze fell, as it always did, on a photograph of Darrell, Felicity, and him. Darrell stood between Felicity and Cody, his arms slung over both sets of shoulders. He wore a grin filled with joy and good humor. He had been the happy and good-natured one; he bridged the gap between Felicity’s serious personality and Cody’s reckless one. With Darrell gone, no one could fill the emotional and physical chasm between Felicity and Cody.
Even so, Cody took out his cell phone, and—as he did at least once a week since Darrell had passed away—he called Felicity Rivers.
~*~
Felicity glanced at the clock as she rushed into the gleaming glass-encased office of Brickstein and Felder. The train into New York had been delayed by mechanical difficulties; as a result, she was fifty-seven minutes late. She was still breathing hard from running the distance between the subway station and the office building when she set her bag down on her desk in the small office she shared with Tracey Sinclair, a fellow paralegal.
Her office phone rang, and she snatched it up. “Good morning. Brickstein and Felder.”
Cody Hart spoke, “Felicity?”
His smooth baritone was quiet, but it sent shockwaves of emotion through her. Anger, loss, and hate coalesced into a hard ball in the middle of her chest. Her hands trembled as she set the phone down without a word. She closed her eyes and fought for control. She was not going to let Cody ruin her day.
Tracey walked in moments later with a cup of coffee, likely her third or fourth for the day. “Mr. Brickstein wants to see you.”
Alarm shot up Felicity’s spine, and piled onto the tension brought on by her brief encounter with Cody. “Did he say why?”
Tracey shook her head as she settled down at her desk and resumed her work. “The guard dog probably knows.”
The “guard dog” was Mrs. Kepler, Mr. Brickstein’s executive assistant. Felicity stopped in the restroom to brush her windblown hair and straighten the jacket of her business suit before marching to Mrs. Kepler’s desk. “Good morning. I was told that Mr. Brickstein wanted to see me?”
Mrs. Kepler nodded. “Gabriel Cruz is in there with him right now. It’ll be just a few minutes.” Her shrewd eyes narrowed. “You have another headache?”
Felicity touched the tips of her fingers to the pulsing side of her skull. She had tried not to be obvious about it, but she knew she was moving with care in an attempt to not jostle
her head. “No, I think this is the same one from yesterday.”
“Didn’t you do anything about it?”
“Tylenol kept it under control for a while.”
“You’re popping those things like candy.” Mrs. Kepler frowned. “Are you still staying up late working two jobs?”
Felicity darted a quick glance over her shoulder to make sure no one was listening in on the conversation. She nodded. She had never known what compelled Mrs. Kepler to take an interest in her. The woman was notoriously unfriendly to most of the employees in the firm, but she always took a few minutes to chat with Felicity whenever they passed in the corridor or when Felicity waited, as she did now, outside Mr. Brickstein’s office.
“It pays the bills?” Mrs. Kepler asked.
“Not really,” Felicity said. “But most days, it buys lunch and dinner.”
Mrs. Kepler frowned. “Apparently, not often. You’re not eating enough.”
Felicity did not argue since it was true. “On that happy note, I’m back in my skinny jeans.” And cinching it tight with a belt.
“You’re not pretty when you’re skinny.”
Felicity fought to keep her lips from twitching. Mrs. Kepler’s comment was harsh, but Felicity took it for the obscure compliment that it was. She had been shedding pounds since her brother’s death. In fact, she considered it a blessing when her lack of appetite coincided with her lack of funds. It would have sucked to be broke and hungry.
The door of Mr. Brickstein’s office opened, and Gabriel walked out. He was a respected and well-liked senior associate in the firm, a step down from a partner, but he looked tense, his lips set in a tight line. He jerked his head at the door. “You’re next.”
Facts snapped into place. “Is this about the Campbell case?”
Gabriel nodded.
Felicity hurried into the office and closed the door behind her.
Mr. Brickstein, well into his seventies, had the distinguished looks of an aging movie star and the temper of a starving ghoul. He looked at her, his dark eyes narrowed into slits. “Mr. Campbell called me at home last night to complain about the way his case was handled.”
“But Gabriel won the Campbell case.”
“Mr. Cruz won the Campbell case,” Mr. Brickstein corrected. He was a stickler for formal titles. “And he was lucky to win. Your research on comparative parental rights was flat-out wrong. He had to change his argument while he was talking, but he hesitated long enough for everyone to notice. It damaged Mr. Campbell’s credibility and the firm’s reputation.”
Thoughts whirled through her head, each too scattered to make sense. “I…I’m sorry.”
“Your performance is disappointing. You’re late to work—”
“Sir, this was the first time!”
“You’re not as productive as you used to be; you’re taking longer to do the research, and you’re doing it wrong. There is no place in Brickstein and Felder for careless and indifferent paralegals.”
Her breath caught. “I’m sorry. I’ll do better.” Her spinning thoughts focused into concrete next steps. She would have to cut down on her second job, focus on getting more sleep, try eating more. She needed the energy to get through each day—
“You’re out of time, Ms. Rivers,” he said. “When your brother passed away, I let you take a week off as you requested. When you returned to the office, I allowed Gabriel to put you on his lighter cases—”
Gabriel’s been looking out for me?
“—but it seems that even those are beyond your abilities. My generosity has limits, and you’ve passed them.”
“No, I—please, one more chance,” Felicity pleaded. “I need this job—”
“You haven’t acted like it. If you need time to pull yourself together, I suggest you take a break before looking for another job. You may go, Ms. Rivers. You’ll leave within the hour, or security will escort you out.”
In a daze, Felicity walked out of Mr. Brickstein’s office.
“Felicity?” Mrs. Kepler called, her voice concerned.
Felicity turned and looked at her. “He fired me,” she said, the words scarcely audible. Oh, God. She had lost her job. How was she supposed to pay for the loans, for her room, for everything? She squeezed her eyes shut and said in a stronger voice. “He fired me.”
“Oh, honey.” Mrs. Kepler’s voice was soft and gentle.
“I have to clear out my office.” Felicity scurried down the corridor. She had to pack; she wanted to leave with her pride intact, if nothing else.
Fortunately, Tracey had been called out to a meeting, sparing Felicity the trouble of explaining why she was clearing out her desk and shoving her few personal belongings, including a framed photograph of her brother, into a box.
A shadow fell over her desk, and she looked up.
Gabriel stood at the door, his jacket off and his tie loosened. His face was a mask of regret. “I’m sorry. I tried to keep the old man from going after you, but he wanted a list of victims to report back to Campbell.”
“A list? He fired you too?”
Gabriel shook his head. “He withdrew the partnership offer.”
Felicity’s throat closed. She shuddered and forced the words out. “I’m so sorry.”
Gabriel shrugged. “It’s not a total loss if it means I can get home before my wife goes to bed each night.” He looked at the box. “Do you want a ride back to your place?”
She knew Mr. Brickstein frowned upon personal errands during office hours. “Thank you, but no. I wouldn’t want you to get into more trouble.”
“I’m not sure that’s possible,” Gabriel said grimly. “Come on. Let’s go.”
“I live in New Jersey.”
To Gabriel’s credit, he did not miss a beat. “That’s a long way. Good thing I’ve got great music for the ride.”
~*~
Felicity arrived at her apartment building shortly after noon and trudged up the four flights of stairs to her home. She let herself into the three-bedroom apartment she shared with two other women, Stacie and Wanda.
Stacie, an aspiring author who bartended at night, gave Felicity a bleary smile before raising her huge coffee mug to her lips. “Back early?”
“Yeah.” Felicity offered no explanation. She set her box down on the table and walked into the kitchen to make herself a cup of tea.
“I need your share of the rent,” Stacie called out. “Grant came up earlier today and made a ruckus. It’s two weeks late.”
“I know.”
“So when can I have it?”
“Soon.”
“Today.”
Felicity sucked in a deep breath. Even to her own ears, it sounded dangerously close to a sob. She set down her cup with trembling hands and wrote a check for the rent. She did not need a calculator to figure out her account balance; math was simple when the numbers were small. She was down to her last hundred dollars.
She handed Stacie the check and continued to her bedroom. Felicity locked the door and sank down on the bed. She needed concrete next steps; she needed a plan, but her mind refused to cooperate. So tired. Perhaps a short nap would help. Anything that would allow her to stop thinking and stop feeling, just for a little while, was a blessing.
She turned off her cell phone and curled up on the bed. Exhaustion proved stronger than the frenzied whirlwind of her scattered thoughts and tugged her into deep sleep.
~*~
Cody strode through the familiar corridors of Evergreen’s small hospital and personally greeted every nurse and doctor, especially the pretty female ones. Several hallway conversations later, his social calendar was full for the next two months. Feeling pleased with himself, he popped his head in through an open door. “Hey.”
Joni looked up from her hospital bed and smiled. “Hi. It’s Cody, right?”
He nodded. “Just wanted to check in on you before heading home to sleep the rest of my day away. The docs say you checked out okay.”
“Yeah, I did. They told me the
y’ll discharge me by noon. My parents are on their way over to pick me up.”
“You gave your folks quite a shock.”
“I know. The next time I want some quiet, personal time, I’ll head to the local coffee shop instead.” Her eyelashes fluttered as she shyly dropped her gaze. “I live out near Columbine.”
“You went a long way to find some privacy.”
“Sometimes, I feel like my family closes in too tightly around me.”
“I’ve had that feeling all my life,” Cody said.
She blushed. “I was just wondering…when I get out of here, could I buy you coffee or a beer? Say thank you properly.”
“Sure. It’ll be fun. I could show you a couple of places around Evergreen where you can go to be alone and still be within a hundred feet of your car and a main road.” He scribbled his number on a hospital notepad and handed it to her with a grin and a wink. “Call me soon.”
His cell phone rang the moment he stepped out of her room. He snatched it up. “That was fast.”
“I beg your pardon?” a gravelly female voice asked.
He pulled the phone away from his ear and stared at the area code. New York. “Sorry,” he said. “I was expecting someone else.”
“Is this Cody Hart?”
“Yes, it is.”
“This is Bridgette Kepler, from Brickstein and Felder in New York.”
Cody frowned. “Yes, Bridgette, I remember you.” He had spoken to her about three months earlier. He had called Felicity’s office, but she had not been there, and Bridgette had picked up the phone instead. She had quizzed him—interrogated him, rather—about his reason for calling. He had set out to charm her; he did have a way with words and a well-deserved reputation as a ladies’ man. He liked to think that Bridgette hung up on him in a better mood than when she had picked up the phone.
“I recalled that the last time you called, we spoke briefly about Felicity. You told me that you had been her brother’s best friend.”
“Yeah, I was.”