Doranna Durgin - Survival Instinct

But when she opened her eyes, she discovered she needed more than that.

She hadn’t let herself even consider what would happen once she reached this spot.

She hadn’t thought there’d be nowhere to go.

Almost there. Jittery with caffeine and hours of worry, but finally closing in on the beckoning map. The sun had risen, flashing low into Dave’s rearview mirror, there and gone again as he navigated the twisting roads.

He’d closed the laptop to conserve battery power, checking the tracker in intervals. The stability of the signal gave as much cause for worry as for relief-what if she’d found and ditched the transmitter over one of these mountains? Owen would kill him, for one thing. Theoretically he was field-testing Hunter Agency equipment, but it was truly more of a lure. Owen never gave up.

And if she’d ditched the transmitter…he’d never find her. Or more precisely, he couldn’t afford the time to find her. He’d have to return to Alexandria, scrape up new leads…

He didn’t think Barret Longsford’s latest victim had that much time.

Or what if Barret’s man had caught up with her as Dave had fully expected him to do by now? Caught up with and disposed of her. Another midnight chase to failure. The ultimately wrenching failure, the one that made him feel like a kid again-and a kid definitely wishing he hadn’t smuggled himself into his father’s car to see what excitement the late-night call held. Except Ellen Sommers made him feel like anything but a boy. Ellen Sommers already meant more to him than any witness should. It was crazy and stupid and undeniable. And stupid. He tapped his thumb against the steering wheel in a restless rhythm. Yeah, definitely stupid.

The computer beeped at him, a warning that he was getting close. He slowed, took the next hairpin curve and then dipped down an unexpected incline.

If he hadn’t been watching for her, he would have missed it. But there it was…her graphite-colored truck with the black trim. He hit the brakes and skewed into the tiny slice of a parking spot, leaving the corner of his rear bumper exposed to traffic but parking there anyway.

His stomach got hard and cold and sick in a way that had nothing to do with the sloshing of coffee…he tossed his glasses onto the dash and jumped out of the sedan even though he’d already seen what he had to. She wasn’t in the truck. She wasn’t in the truck, yet the transmitter was here somewhere.

Barret’s man had her.

And Dave had no way to find her.

When the car pulled up, Karin almost didn’t notice. Her teeth were chattering loudly enough to obscure all but the most obvious sound-and by the time she got them clenched long enough to listen, there was only silence from above. Great. A chance to call for help and I missed it. She would have banged her head against the rock, but she was so stiff and cold she was afraid even that would throw her off balance.

Coincidence was her only chance now. Someone stopping to answer the call of nature-inspired by view or bladder, she didn’t care. What she might have attempted in good condition, she now couldn’t even consider. Here she’d be on this ledge, pressed up against cold rock, until she could get someone’s attention or until she quite simply toppled off. The turkey vultures flocked to the strong thermals in these hills…maybe they’d get someone’s attention when they started circling her.

Gloom and doom.

From above-not so very far at that, just no way to get there from here-she heard the slam of a vehicle door. She started, lost a moment of attention as her foot slipped, and pulled herself together just in time to hear a uniquely familiar string of French words, a phrase that had not so long ago amused her and now sent an invigorating spark of hope through her cold body. Except-first Barret’s man and then Dave?

“Hey!” she shouted up, her voice full of suspicion. “How the hell did you find me?”

His reply came instantly. “Ellen? Where-” And then she knew he knew, for his voice grew louder, loud enough so he had to be at the guardrail and looking down. No suspicion there, just pure, joyful relief. “Are you-”

“Yes,” she said, droll for his benefit. “I’m down here.”

“How-” he started, and in her mind’s eye she could all but see him shake his head as he cut himself off.

“Can we just say the mean man threw me over by mistake and then left, and get to the details later?” She waited a moment, then added, “I made it back up this far, but…I’m stuck.”

“I’m calling 911,” he said, no doubt dialing as he spoke.

How long would they take? Could she even hold on?

And if she did…there were sure to be cops.

“Dave,” she said, and had no trouble getting her voice on the edge of tears, no trouble at all, “I’m cold, my lips are chapped to hell, I’m stiff, I think parts of me are broken, and I’m standing on a tiny little ledge. How long-”

He cut her off. “Okay.” A silent moment, and then, “I don’t have any rope.”

Jumper cables. She had jumper cables tucked behind the half seat of the truck. Or… “Check in the truck bed,” she told him, thanking her own laziness. “My tire chains-”

“Gotcha.”

She heard the bumping around, the chains dragging over the side of the truck. “Got ’em!” And then silence, which she didn’t mind because it meant he was linking the chains together. In the end Karin would have a nice narrow ladder made of chains, perhaps not so different than climbing kudzu. “Hold on!” he called down, as if she might just spontaneously let go. After a pause he added, “Sorry. That was dumb.”

Or not so dumb. Her fingers were numb, her feet cramping, and her legs stiffened into clumsy, uncoordinated appendages. She felt more like a patchwork of cold, dead sausage than a functioning human. “Dave?”

He must have heard the uncertain note in her voice. When he asked, “What?” he was as close as he’d ever been, literally leaning out over the guardrail. Had to be.

“I don’t think…”

“How broken?” he asked, understanding before she even got there.

“My wrist. Or arm. I’m not sure which. But that’s not-that is, I’m just so cold-”

“Okay,” he said. “We’ll deal with it.”

“We’ll deal with it,” she repeated to herself, curling her fingers hard against the rock to steady an unexpected sway, all the more frightening because she hadn’t seen it coming.

And her thoughts stuttered to a halt, because the end of the chain came slithering down to head level and if only she had two good hands, two warm hands, she could reach out and snag it, and if only her arms weren’t already trembling with fatigue, she could actually climb it-damned if safety wasn’t that close, and yet still out of reach.

A rustling came from above; dirt and pebbles rained down on her head. By the time she realized what he had in mind, Dave was already there. He hesitated just above her, and then lowered himself down alongside her; by the time she’d gathered the words to ask, his intention was obvious. He moved in behind her, one arm strong on the chains, his feet braced on her little ledge, and the other arm gathering her up.

His coat was open.

His chest against her back was warm.

Karin groaned in the luxury of it, tugging the edges of the coat around herself, greedy for the warmth and the human touch. He dropped his head so it rested against hers, and that, too, offered warmth. Karin soaked it in, sandwiched between Dave and the cliff. For the first time since her rude early-morning awakening, she knew that for this moment, at least, she wasn’t going to fall. For this moment, she was safe. Protected.

Safe enough, in fact, to inch herself around to face him and thread her arms around him beneath the coat, reassured by the steady strength in his chest and arms, and by his breathing. He pulled her in and let it be, so steady she’d never have guessed he was in any way vulnerable, braced against the cliff that had tried to spit her off all night.