Free Storm Front by Monette Michaels Page B

“Tweeter—”
    “I know. You okay now?” Tweeter asked. “You in control?”
    “Yeah. Let’s get to her.” He took control of his climbing ropes.
    “That’s the plan, buddy. I’ll tell up top.” Tweeter spoke over the headset. The winds whistled and tossed them around on the slender climbing ropes. “She’s on a ledge. She wasn’t in the car.”
    Several relieved sighs and a couple of “thank the fucks” came over the com system.
    “Climbing.” Earl spoke into his headset. “I’m increasing my descent speed.”
    “Roger that,” one of the Walsh twins said. “Climb.”
    As soon as Earl felt the slack, he kicked off the side of the ravine and covered the ten feet or so with one kick-off. He hung over Tessa’s body for a second before making a controlled landing on the ledge next to her. The ledge was solid, thank the fuck.
    “Tweeter, the ledge can hold us both,” Earl said. “Come on down.”
    As Tweeter made his final descent, Earl tugged and received more slack and then bent over Tessa’s still body. She lay on her front, her face turned to the side. Her eyes were shut, her lashes lined with ice. Her skin was whiter than the snow she lay upon.
    “Tessa?” No response.
    He brushed the snow away from her face with gloved hands. Removing one glove, he checked for a pulse and found it. He sighed with relief. “She’s alive.” He checked her neck and determined it wasn’t broken as far as he could tell. “Neck doesn’t seem to be broken, but I want a collar down here. Tweeter, a hat … need a hat here.”
    Most heat loss was from an uncovered head. He needed to get her warm ASAP. Hypothermia was the biggest danger at this point.
    Tweeter hunkered down next to him and put his own stocking cap on Tessa. His climbing partner had on a balaclava just as he did and would be fine without the extra layer of wool.
    “If you feel it’s safe, then lift her,” Tweeter said. “I’ll get this solar blanket under her so we can wrap her in it.”
    Earl nodded. “Tessa, sweetheart? Talk to me.”
    Still no response, and she wasn’t shivering. Not a good sign. Even unconscious her body would shiver to produce heat. Her lips were blue. Her skin looked dehydrated, and he remembered she had already shown signs of altitude sickness.
    He felt under her coat and swore. “Godammit, she’s soaking wet.” He looked at Tweeter whose face was as grim as he felt. “Probably from the exertions of trying to climb out.”
    Tweeter nodded. “No matter how she got wet, it isn’t good. We need to move, Earl.” The man grabbed the collar sent down to them and gently placed it around her neck.
    “Let’s do it.” Earl lifted Tessa’s limp body into his arms and laid her on her back on the blanket Tweeter had spread on the ground.
    “Fuck me.” Tweeter’s curse said it all.
    Tessa’s clothing was torn and bloody.
    They quickly wrapped her like a mummy in the high-tech sheet which would keep her from losing any more body heat.
    “God, sweetheart, look at what you’ve done to yourself.” Earl lifted the edge of the blanket just enough to slide his hand inside. He quickly, by touch alone, checked her ribs, collar bone, and pelvic bones for breaks. Then he moved to her legs. “No obvious breaks that I can find.”
    SSI had a fully equipped medical facility run by Lacey Jones, a trauma nurse and the wife of Quinn, Ren’s third in command. She could check Tessa out more fully later.
    “She didn’t climb all the way up from the stream bed.” Tweeter looked over the edge of the ledge upon which they perched.
    Earl retucked the blanket more closely around Tessa. He brushed the back of his fingers over her icy cold cheek. Her lashes fluttered—the first sign of movement from her since they’d gotten there.
    Thank you, God.
    “Looks like the SUV got hung up on a tree. I see an area where some roots are still hanging out from the side of the ravine. It’s fresh damage.” Tweeter turned to look at Earl. “She