Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 75288 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 376(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75288 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 376(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
Silence falls for several miles until I round a bend. Fresh tire marks careen across the road before they disappear entirely.
“Pull over.” Viper zips his jacket and pulls on well-worn gloves as I ease over to the shoulder.
I put the truck in park and turn on the flashers. Viper’s out first, jogging across the road, disappearing into the snow.
A moment later, he yells, “Compact sedan. Front end hung up in trees.”
I grab the safety kit, Grizz tucks blankets under his arm, and we join Viper at the edge of the road.
It’s a gray car, about a decade old, its outline partially obscured by snowfall. The nose is lodged in a cluster of new growth trees, which is all that’s keeping the car from plunging down the mountain.
Grizz lets out a low whistle. “Good thing it went off here and not where there’s a clear drop.”
“Let’s see who’s in there.” The car dug up the snow as it skidded, and the slope is treacherous. I move down the incline with careful steps.
Viper circles the vehicle, checking the stabilization. “It’s wedged, but the snow’s going to bury it. We get her out now, or we’re not getting her out at all.”
Her.
I swipe a gloved hand over the driver’s side window to catch a glimpse of the woman. Young, blonde hair, wearing something silky white. There’s a spiderweb crack in the glass where she likely struck her head.
Ignoring the sick feeling in my gut, I scoop away snow until I can tug the door open. She’s slumped against the seat belt, long hair tangled, her face pale and slack. Makeup is smeared on her eyes and at her mouth.
She’s wearing a white dress with a full skirt that obscures her legs and feet. She’s alone, and the only other visible object is a ball of white mesh on the passenger side front seat. Is that a fucking wedding veil?
Angling my body to shelter her from the weather, I find warmth at her wrist that triggers a short sigh of relief. “Unconscious, but breathing. Her pulse is steady.”
Grizz comes up behind me, his bulk cutting off the wind at my back. “Bruises and cuts on her face. She took a hard hit.”
The rest of her body is concealed under a crush of fabric. Pushing the white satin aside, I find her hand shielding her stomach. The protective instinct sets off alarms and triggers painful old memories.
I slide my hand into her hair and find a lump. “Possible concussion.”
Viper steps back to keep watch on the road, ice clinging to his beard. “Storm’s getting worse,” he calls down. “We need to move.”
I cut the seatbelt and support the woman’s weight as I ease her forward. She’s soft in a way that doesn’t belong out here in this harsh weather. Her skin’s cold, and her body’s limp.
Grizz wraps a blanket around her, tucking it in securely, and together, we lift her out and carry her up the incline.
I lay her across the truck’s back seat, where Grizz covers her with more blankets, then cradles her head in his lap. Returning from another check of her vehicle, Viper climbs in beside her to monitor her breathing.
Though our focus is on her, the three of us exchange looks that communicate a lot without a need for words. Now that she’s out of the wreckage, her dress is unmistakably a wedding gown, and it’s torn in ways that don’t align with a car crash.
She has fresh facial bruising that’s also inconsistent with the car accident.
As I get us back on the road, Viper says, “Nothing else in the car. No luggage, no purse. Vehicle is registered to Brianna Thomas, but her expensive dress and jewelry don’t line up with the old car.”
If there had been any other tracks around the vehicle, say from a groom who went to look for help on foot, Viper would’ve reported it. There’s only one ring on her manicured finger. A big, shiny rock, but no wedding band.
None of it adds up to anything good.
I give a backward glance to the crashed car. Snow’s piling heavier against the tires.
“Those trees aren’t going to hold on for long,” Viper mutters.
“It’s a damn good thing we found her tonight.” I turn up the heat and focus on getting us back to the compound safely.
CHAPTER 3
ATLAS
During the drive home, wind slams into the truck hard enough that I have to keep both hands locked on the wheel. It’s a full whiteout as I pull into the garage.
Grizz opens the back door, then lifts the woman as if she weighs nothing, one big hand stabilizing her neck.
Inside the main building, a wave of warmth greets us. Viper used the app on my phone to notch up the house’s furnace on the drive home.
“Take her to the downstairs bedroom,” I tell Grizz.