Free Storm Front by Monette Michaels Page A

cold.
    Unacceptable.
    His gut urged him to leap over the side and climb down. His brain and experience told him he’d die before he ever got to the bottom.
    Dammit, I need to get down there. Now.
    Frustrated, he clenched and unclenched his fists. The pain in his bruised right hand reminding him of his earlier loss of control. Anger and fear had no place here. Tessa needed him calm and under control to rescue her. She wasn’t dead. He refused to think of her as dead.
    “The SUV is hooked on some rocks in the stream,” he yelled over his shoulder as he studied the best and fastest way to get down the ravine. “Get climbing gear and a medical kit, now.”
    Someone, he didn’t know who, ran for one of the Hummers. His gaze was fixed on the SUV tilted precariously on its side, the icy stream overflowing its banks pummeling the vehicle. Fucking hell . At any time, a strong current could dislodge the vehicle and sweep it downstream.
    Hold on, sweetheart. I’m coming.
    Loren Walsh thrust a full-body climbing harness and rope at him. “Here. Know how to use it?”
    “Probably better than you SEAL boys.” His time in Special Forces had thoroughly prepared him. At least this time he’d only be fighting the elements; no one would be shooting.
    Tweeter suited up in similar climbing gear. “I’m going down with you. I have more climbing experience than the others. Price is attaching our ends to the Hummer for extra anchorage since we won’t want to take the time to set pitons. My brothers will feed out line and send down the med kit when we need it. Ren’s calling up to the Lodge to get them ready to receive Tessa.”
    Earl made sure his Motorola headset was on and secure, then he spoke into it. “Ren, tell them to set up my room to receive Tessa. I’ll be taking care of her. Move her things.”
    “Earl?” Ren’s tone had a “what the fuck?” aspect to it.
    “She’s mine, Ren. Just do it.” Earl was feeling damn territorial right now and would fight anyone who attempted to keep him from holding her, warming her with his body—protecting her from the real and impending threat the pictures and e-mails promised.
    “Your room,” Ren said. “Gotcha. Just get her up quickly. If she’s been down there since right after she left the Lodge…” He didn’t finish the sentence. Every man there knew what cold and wet conditions would do to a body—and that would be on top of any injuries she suffered on the way down.
    Earl growled. She was alive; she had to be. He could allow no other thoughts in his head. He needed to be on his A-game.
    By rote, he checked and rechecked his gear as he walked to the puny stone wall and stepped on top of it. Tweeter matched his motions and stood next to him. Both men turned to face the others.
    “Belay on,” Earl said. Tweeter echoed the order.
    Loren and Paul replied, “On belay.”
    Earl tested his rope—noted Tweeter did the same.
    Loren said, “Climb.”
    They both affirmed, “Climbing.”
    He and Tweeter went over the edge. Then they began to walk and rappel down the craggy ravine.
    Keeping an eye on what was around and below him, Earl watched in horror as a huge rush of water swept the SUV off the rocks and downstream.
    “No!” he roared. “Fuck it, no!” At that moment, a darkness unlike anything he’d ever felt before settled over him. Numb, despairing, he almost let go of his rope.
    “Earl! Fuck it, man.” Tweeter grabbed Earl’s rope and held him in place. The Walsh twins cursed over the headsets and took up the slack on the ropes. “Look down. She wasn’t in the SUV.”
    Tweeter’s words cleared the deadly feeling out of his mind. “What?”
    Had he heard correctly?
    “Look down.” Tweeter angled his head as his hands were full controlling both ropes.
    Earl looked where Tweeter indicated and spotted slender, jeans-covered legs on a ledge about twenty-five feet from the top. He closed his eyes and muttered, “Thank you, God.”
    He turned his head and said,