12

 

 

ONE OF GRUEBER’S men, a greasy-haired rail of a bastard, stepped up behind Olivia, putting her in a chokehold with his left arm, holding a gun to her head with his right. “Where’s Hubby?”

“G-gone.” Her breathing turned shallow. The only time she’d been more scared was when Harding had been shot. In those moments before knowing whether he’d live or die, she’d been trapped in suspended animation. It was like that now, only worse. Was he already gone? Her grandmother? Was she next? Her grandfather soon to follow?

“Liar, liar, pants on fire.” Grueber nodded to the man holding her.

Like a boa, he tightened his grip around her neck.

She struggled to free herself from Jenkins’ hold, kicking with all her might at his left kneecap.

“Bitch!” He fired his gun but the shot missed its target—her head. Hopping on one leg, he said to Grueber. “Can I kill her now? Please let me kill her now.”

“In due time. She might be more valuable to us on the open market.”

Lightning strobed.

In the expectant pause before the thunder, a second shot rang out, then a third.

She lurched back to find that Jenkins sported a gushing, blood-red hole in his chest.

She lurched again to find a chunk of Grueber’s head gone.

“I’m out of here!” One of Grueber’s men cried. But it was too late. In perfect timing with the thunder, a fourth shot filled the night, only this one didn’t kill but kicked up earth at the man’s feet. He pissed himself in fright. “I’m sorry. Don’t kill me. I’ll tell a judge everything. Just please don’t kill me!”

Harding emerged from the shadows, nudging another man forward with the barrel of a gun. “Dude, see that nylon rope hanging from Randy’s driver’s side mirror?”

“Yessir.”

“Think you could bind this gentleman’s wrists behind him with a double constrictor knot.”

“It would be my honor.”

Lightning grew closer and ever fiercer.

While Harding provided cover, Dude also restrained the now docile man who’d wet himself. Once both men’s ankles were also bound, they positioned them twenty feet from each other. Harding then hefted the filled cooler into the back of Grueber’s truck.

“Ready to get your grandmother?” he asked Olivia.

Not sure whether to cry or laugh or puke—maybe all three—she helped her grandfather into the front seat, then buckled herself into the back.

Harding climbed behind the wheel, starting the engine before flipping an assortment of switches to LED light bars that had been mounted on the roof and front fender. “Dude, I’m looking forward to catching up, but for now, how about you guide me to your lovely wife?”

“It would be my pleasure.”

Quarter-sized raindrops clattered against the roof and windshield. Lightning and thunder grew more ferocious, dancing with wind.

Ordinarily Olivia loved storms, but not when she knew her grandmother faced a possible acute injury with no shelter. She refused to even think of how much the situation could be worsened by a flash flood.

It took two agonizing hours in the rain to find the canyon head her grandfather had marked by breaking twin juniper trees.

“Muffin . . .” Dude bowed his head upon seeing water pouring into the canyon.

“Stay here.” Harding pat her grandfather’s thigh. “I’ll get her.”

“I’m going, too,” Olivia said. “I’d never forgive myself if something happened to you now after you’ve already done so much.”

Harding gave her a long stare.

“Please don’t fight me on this,” she said.

With his lips pressed into a grim line, he nodded. “But hold my hand.”

He wouldn’t get an argument on that.

“Both of you be careful,” Dude said. Tears welled in his eyes. “And please, young man, bring both of my girls back.”

“I will,” Harding said. He’d earlier found a flashlight in the glovebox and turned it on.

Olivia prayed it was waterproof.

In tandem, Olivia and Harding left the truck, slamming their doors behind them. Harding had left the engine running and floodlights on, but with boiling, surging water already thigh-deep, it was a no-brainer that this was a risky mission.

Harding reached for her hand.

She slid her fingers between his, holding on for all she was worth.

They inched through the canyon’s narrow mouth. Turned sideways, she had barely an inch to spare on either side. Harding was so much larger that he didn’t have that luxury.

It felt like hours before the space widened, but once it did, they still weren’t out of the woods. If anything, their situation had worsened. Churning black water was now waist high and take-your-breath-away cold. Her teeth chattered and her hair hung heavy, clinging to either side of her face, playing hide and seek with her eyes when she needed them most.

“Grandma!” she shouted.

“Shirley!”

The deeper they went, the darker the space grew. The once-powerful LED light seemed absorbed by the rock walls. Water streamed from every direction, raining from above, bubbling from beneath.

The cold was so shocking she struggled to find her next breath.

“Grandma!” With the water up to her neck, Olivia was forced to swim.

She was an okay swimmer but not especially strong. Terror lodged in her throat. To die like this—in a black hole of icy, surging water—was unacceptable. She wanted to live. She wanted her grandmother to live. Most of all, she wanted Harding alive and well beside her.

“I-I love you!” she called to him. “I-if we don’t make it, I need you to know.”

“We’ll make it,” he said. “But for the record . . .” He released her hand to cup her cheek, then kiss her with a quick, fervent promise he didn’t make with words but pure, raw emotion. “I love you, too. When we get out of this, marry me.”

“Yes.” Was there even a need to ask? Harding saved people. That’s who he was. How could she love him but ask him to be anything less than the hero he was?

A log drifted by.

Harding pushed it toward her. “Hang on to that. I’m going to get your grandmother.”

“You see her?” Her question was swallowed by the storm.

With the water now well over her head, she not only worried for their safety, but her grandfather’s. Would he be all right inside the truck? Would they escape this horror only to find he’d been swept away? Stop. Olivia forced herself to banish the demons in her head to make room for hope.

She’d lost track of how long she’d bobbed with the log, waiting to learn whether her grandmother had lived or died, when Harding swam up with Shirley in a lifeguard’s hold.

“Help her onto the log! She’s zoning in and out of consciousness but otherwise okay.”

Olivia sharply released the breath she’d been holding, then grabbed hold of the woman who’d raised her, vowing to never again let go. “I love you, I love you,” she said, hugging her grandmother to her and the log.

Harding towed them both while holding the flashlight between his teeth. The man was incredible. She was the luckiest woman alive to have him in her life.

They’d reached the canyon’s mouth and the log wedged lengthwise against the narrow opening. The time had come to let go. Olivia was slight enough to slip through, as was her grandmother. There was just enough room for her to slip her arm around her grandmother’s limp shoulders, clutching under her arm while using her feet to work past the now slick rock.

The effort grew so great to keep her grandmother’s head above the water, that Olivia hadn’t noticed she was mere feet from the entrance, yet Harding was still far back, bobbing with the flashlight while holding onto the log.

“Harding! Come on!”

“Go ahead! It’s too narrow for me!”

Her throat constricted. Her pulse raced fast enough she feared passing out.

No. She wouldn’t—couldn’t—lose him now.

“Let me get Grandma to the car! Wait here! I’ll come back for you!”

“Roger that! Go!”

Olivia put renewed strength into her kicking and soon reached a pile of trapped wood and debris that she had to climb down, dragging her grandmother behind her.

Once free, she floated her grandmother over the raging stream.

Thankfully, the truck was still on high ground.

Her grandfather caught sight of them and leapt from the vehicle to help. “How is she? Will she be okay?”

“I think so,” Olivia assured. “She is breathing. But I have to go back for Harding. He’s trapped.”

“I’ll get her into the truck. You go.”

The rain had lightened. Already the water was subsiding.

She had to push debris clear to squeeze her way back in. Without the rain, the truck lights proved much more effective. It took only a few minutes for her to make her way to the log, but Harding wasn’t there.

It took a moment for the reality to sink in. Harding was gone.

“Harding! Harding!” She cried out for him until her voice grew hoarse. Even then she didn’t quit. The water was now only knee deep. Even if the unthinkable had happened and this unstoppable former SEAL had somehow faltered, the water was shallow enough for her to find him. She searched for an hour, until her teeth chattered and her entire body trembled and her grandfather had joined her with another powerful light.

“Olivia . . .” He hugged her. “I’m so sorry, but he’s gone. You have to take care of yourself. Your grandmother can’t live only to lose you.”

“But I can’t live without him . . .” Sobs wracked her already battered and bruised body. “He can’t be dead.”

“Come on.” Her grandfather led her to the truck. He’d found a satellite phone and using the contact list on Harding’s cell, called in the cavalry.

In under an hour, two helicopters had landed.

One team of paramedics loaded her grandmother who had suffered from severe hypothermia and a broken ankle and ribs. Another team helped her grandfather climb into the craft beside his beloved wife. After teary goodbyes, Olivia watched them go.

She stayed back with a rescue team who assured her they would not leave without finding Harding.

More people arrived—Sawyer and Jasper and a small army of military professionals who safely handled the bomb.

Through it all, Olivia sat in a makeshift command tent, waiting to hear any news on the man she’d realized too late that she loved. She refused to believe he was gone. But when dawn broke, streaking the sky with orange and purple, multiple search teams had still found no sign of him. The knot wedged in her throat had begun to feel permanent.

“Here.” Sawyer handed her a steaming Styrofoam cup filled with coffee. “I remember how you like it loaded with cream and sugar.”

“Thanks,” she said. “But I couldn’t.”

“Try.” Jasper sat beside her, offering a glazed donut. “You’ll need your strength for when they find him alive and he’s ready to start our next case within the hour.”

“You really think he’s okay?” Olivia sniffed back tears.

“Pardon my French,” Sawyer said, “but he’s the toughest son of a bitch I’ve ever known.”

“No kidding.” Jasper rubbed her knotted shoulders. “Not to mention the fact that if he’s in a mood, he’s so mean the devil would toss him back.”

“Stop . . .” Olivia didn’t even try holding back tears through her forced smile. “I know you guys are trying to cheer me up, but you’re making me sadder. Before he . . .” She refused to even think that he’d died. “Well, just before he went under, he asked me to marry him. Figures he’d try worming his way out of a fancy ceremony.”

“He hates a tux.” Jasper took a bite out of the donut he’d brought for her. Just as well. She’d never eat again.

“He hates ties, too.”

“And dress shoes.”

“Asparagus.”

“Oh, most of all Harding hates . . .”

“Gossips?”

Heart pounding, Olivia was scared to turn around for fear she’d be dreaming. “Harding?”

“In the flesh.” He looked like he’d been through a war with his whisker-stubbled face scratched and bruised, but never in all the time she’d known him had he looked more handsome. “You’re alive. Thank God, you’re alive!” She leapt from her chair to fling herself against him. “I was so scared. You promised you’d never leave me, but . . .” Tears took over where her words had left off.

“Shh,” he whispered into her hair. “I’m fine. It was a long night, but I’m none the worse for wear.”

“But where did you go? After putting Grandma in the truck, I came back for you, but you were gone.”

“The canyon mouth was too narrow for me to squeeze through, so I climbed out of the top.”

“You hate heights.” She laughed through ecstatic tears.

“True,” Sawyer said with a nod.

“Amen to that.” Jasper finished a third donut.

“So anyway,” Harding scooped Olivia into his arms, having a seat while cradling her on his lap. “I had to walk the long way around, and it took freakin’ forever. If I never see another desert, it will be too soon. Don’t even think about asking me to honeymoon anywhere that’s not in the Virgin Islands.”

“Sounds perfect.” She kissed him, trying to convey with her body the depth of emotion she carried for him in her heart.

A radio squawked. “Sawyer?”

“Sawyer, here. Over.”

“I’ve got a live one by the falls. Over.”

“No kidding? What’s his name? Over.”

“Randy. He was wearing a Kevlar vest. Over.”

Harding shook his head. “I want to be mad at the guy, but another part of me wants to use his house as my James Bond hideaway.”

“He did help us,” Olivia said. “Sort of.”

“What do you want to do with him?” Sawyer asked.

“For now,” Harding sighed, “let the FBI question him. If they let him go, he was resourceful enough that I might put him on my payroll.” He kissed Olivia. “Where were we?”

“Planning a honeymoon. But first,” she teased, “we’ll need a wedding.”

“Nah.” He shook his head. “Screw tradition. Let’s say our vows in bed.”

“Deal.” Olivia couldn’t recall having ever been happier.

But she soon would be. Right after she and Harding each said I do.