CHAPTER ONE
His boots crunched on fresh, wind-blown snow, his toes were numb, and if Fin Bowie wasn’t tied by a rope to two people, he’d jump on his board and ride the spine down to base camp.
He had to get home. He’d already missed the bachelor party; he damn well wouldn’t miss the wedding.
June snow squalls were uncommon enough, but lasting a week? The moment they’d passed, he’d called for the helicopter, so with any luck it’d be waiting for them. He’d head straight to the Innsbruck airport and catch the last flight out.
“One mile to freedom, boys.” Traci Allen, the two-time Women’s World Games snowboarding champion who led the way down the mountain, shot Fin a glance over her shoulder. “Loved coming with you but, man, do I want to get home.”
“I want meat,” one of the guys said. “It’s all I can think about. A thick, juicy burger. Salty fries. And a frosty vanilla milkshake.”
“Vanilla?” someone else said. “Who orders vanilla?”
The storms had prevented them from receiving their last supply drop, so they’d run out of everything. Fin had downed his last protein bar two days ago. Yeah, he was hungry. He’d grab whatever they had at the airport. But he didn’t have food on his mind.
The chain of flights—Innsbruck to Paris, Paris to Denver, and then Denver to Calamity, Wyoming—would take thirty-three hours total. If nothing else went wrong, he’d make the rehearsal dinner.
Which meant, for the first time in six years, he’d be in the same room with her.
Callie.
Adrenaline burst at the base of his neck. Knowing her, she’d only be in town for the weekend, so if he missed the wedding he’d miss his chance to talk to her. And he had to talk to her. He couldn’t stand this silence between them.
Couldn’t stand what he’d done.
His one fatal decision…Jesus, it crawled all over his skin like fire ants, stinging and making him burn. A constant reminder that he couldn’t take it back…and it drove him out of his mind.
He had to make it right, once and for all.
At least this time she couldn’t avoid him. Not at her brother’s wedding. His pulse spiked at the thought of seeing her again. She’d probably get in his face, all snarky and sarcastic. Yeah, that’s Callie. Call him out on his shit. Like she should’ve done at the time.
Because, yeah, he’d screwed up—colossally—and that was on him, but she’d never let him apologize, and that was on her.
An image sprang to mind of Callie laughing, her whole body shaking with it. Her platinum hair wild and tousled after a trail ride. Just like Callie herself. Wild, fierce. Uninhibited.
His body vibrated with anticipation.
“I don’t know how you can think about anything other than a hot shower.” Bram, his videographer, was the oldest and most civilized of all of them. “I stink so bad my eyes are watering.”
“I want to get home.” Fin hadn’t meant to say that out loud.
“Aw.” Traci tipped her chin to the treeline. “Looks like you’ll make it.”
Thank Christ. He’d get to be Ryder’s best man…
And be with Callie. Energy blasted through him. He wanted to see her more than he wanted a shower, a burger…or anything. They’d always had this combustible energy. Irrepressible, smoking-hot chemistry. Even after so many years together, it had never gotten old, never faded.
But what would he see when he looked into her eyes now? Hate he could handle—that meant she still felt something—but indifference?
The idea that she’d be over him—that she’d feel nothing—made him sick to his stomach.
No. Not possible. Determination came roaring in. She was pissed at him—he understood that—but if he could just have time alone with her, he could fix it.
“Too bad we didn’t get to finish filming.” Traci glanced back at him. “I always wanted to be in one of your movies.”
“I’ve got enough footage to put something together,” Bram said.
“Well, you definitely got enough to get Fin that cover,” Traci said. “Dude, you were on fire.”
Fin’s fingers flexed in his gloves. He probably shouldn’t have told them about it—not until it was confirmed—but his manager had texted him at the airport just before they’d taken off. He had a shot at National Adventurer’s “Athlete of the Year.” Hard to keep a nomination like that to himself.
“I’ve been gone a month,” Bram said. “So I’ve got some catching up to do before I put the movie together, but I’ll get some footage up on your website pretty quick.”
Fin didn’t give a damn about any of the website crap, but as a backcountry snowboarder, he made his living off endorsements, and the more popular his films, the more money he made. Hosting a site was a small price to pay if it meant he could make his living freeriding.
“And I can’t believe you fixed my drop-in.” Traci reached behind her for a fist bump, and Fin tapped her glove. “I’ve been with my coach seven years, and he couldn’t figure out what I was doing wrong. How did you see that I was taking it too fast?”
“That’s what he does,” one of the guys said.
“See?” Traci said. “You deserve that cover. I’m gonna frame it and send it to you with a case of Cristal.”
“Ha.” Bram chuckled. “Don’t waste champagne on Mr. My-Body-Is-My-Temple.”
Everyone liked to make fun of the Bowies for their clean living, but how did they think his three older brothers had crammed the shelves of their dad’s trophy room? The oldest, Will, had won the Men’s World Freestyle Games an unprecedented seven times.
And if you get the cover, you’ll finally have something in there.
Fin glanced ahead, relieved to see the spine had given way to broader mountain. He breathed easier knowing they were that much closer to a safe return.
“When do they decide?” Bram asked.
“The issue comes out in November,” another guy said.
“And it’s only June,” Traci said. “So the timing for this trip’s perfect. Just get that footage up.”
He didn’t do these trips to make the cover of a magazine, but he still wanted it. He wanted to see his brothers’ faces when he dropped the magazine in their laps. Winning “Athlete of the Year” would impress the hell out of them.
“Hey, so when’re we going out again?” his friend asked.
A lot went into planning a trip. Not only did Fin have to deal with everyone’s schedules, but he had to organize insurance and supplies and work with foreign governments. Given his requirement that all his teammates be certified in avalanche rescue and wilderness first responder classes, Fin tended to travel with the same crew. It just made it easier. Although, of course, this time Traci had been an exception.
“I’m hanging out with my godson while Ryder’s on his honeymoon,” Fin said. “But I’ll start planning right after that.” He kept a wish list of remote mountains no one had ever visited.
“Don’t even talk about it,” Traci said. “There’s no way I can go back out with you. It was hard enough getting my coach to let me go on this trip. He’ll never let me go a second time.” She grumbled. “Oh, my God, you guys, I want off this mountain so bad. You can have your burgers and showers. All I want’s a pedicure. My feet are freaking gnarly.”
No matter how broken-in the boots, the steep descent on a mountain summit meant bloody, numb toes.
“Swear to God, that’s the first—” Traci’s voice cut off with a grunt. One moment the sun glanced off her blonde, shiny hair, and the next she was gone.
Fin’s harness jerked hard. Shit. “Trace?” Heart pounding, he dropped to the ground, rolled onto his belly, and jammed his axe into the crusty snow. The third guy on his rope team mimicked his actions, and they both kicked the tips of their boots into the snow until they got a solid grip. “Traci?” Still no answer. Dammit.
Once secured, he pulled out his axe and jabbed it into a new spot, digging deep until it hit harder packed snow. He twisted until it could hold several hundred pounds of weight.
The other three-man team had already leapt into action. Bram dropped his pack and pulled out his satellite phone.
“Traci,” one of the guys called. “Talk to me.”
The world went silent as Fin waited for her response. When it didn’t immediately come, Fin called, “You see her?” No matter how deep the crevasse she’d fallen in, the rope would ensure she didn’t drop more than fifteen feet. He just hoped she didn’t crack her head on the ice or break her back in the fall.
“I see her. She’s wedged in pretty tight. Gonna need a Z-pulley.”
“On it.” Boots crunched in the snow as the other two guys on the team got to work.
“Let me see if I can get her.” On his knees, Bram reached into the narrow drop.
A moment later, Traci let out a terrible cry of anguish.
Fuck, she’s hurt.
“Okay, okay.” Bram turned to them with a concerned expression.
“My leg.” Traci’s voice sounded strained.
Fin had to get to her—now—but he couldn’t move until they’d set up the anchor. “Come on, man.”
“Hang on, Trace,” someone said. “We’re on it.”
“Can’t…breathe,” she said.
Fin shot a look to the guys setting up the pulley. Ready? One of them gave a curt nod.
The moment Fin transferred his rope to the anchor, he jumped to his feet. Dumping his backpack, he peered over the edge of the narrow crevasse to see her suspended between the icy walls. Pure blackness beneath her let him know the hole ran deep.
“I got you, okay?” He kept his voice calm, but blood roared in his ears. “Give me two minutes.” He dropped to his knees beside his pack.
“Fin,” Traci called.
It sucked to hear the fear in her voice. “I’m right here.” He needed to keep her calm, so he went with distraction. “Which leg, Trace?”
“Um…” The word game out breathy, laced in pain. “Right?”
“What do you think you did to it?” He pulled rope from his backpack and tossed it to one of his teammates. Together, they set up an anchor.
“Hurts. So bad.”
“Here I come.” With the rope tied to his harness, Fin dropped into the crevasse, kicking his crampons into the ice to get a foothold. “Right here.”
She let out a ragged breath. “My knee.”
“Bram already called the heli. It’s on its way. We’ll get you all fixed up, promise.” Knees bent, weight carried on his thighs, Fin got close enough to make a quick assessment. Tipping his head back, he called, “Gotta cut the pack off her. Toss me a rope.” With his teeth he tugged off his glove and shoved it under the harness. Touching her chin, he made it seem like he was giving her comfort, but his thumb flicked over her neck until he found her pulse. Thready.
Dammit. Pulling his knife from his pocket, his painfully cold and stiff fingers unsheathed it, and he sliced through the straps of her pack. Then, thighs burning, he tied the rope to the loop and yanked on it. “Go.”
Immediately, he felt the tension in the line, but the jerk caused a sharp exhalation from Traci.
“Stop.” The rope slackened right away. Jamming his hand back into the glove, he pulled his axe out of the loop on his boarding pants and started chipping away at the ice. Damn, her lips were starting to turn blue. “What’re the six rules of crevasse rescue?”
“The what?”
“Six rules.”
“There aren’t six rules, you asshole.”
He glanced up to see a smile had eased Bram’s tension.
But then Traci groaned. “Fin.”
She was tough, so hearing that shuddery breath unnerved him. “Two more seconds.” The next chop sent a sheet of ice plummeting. He tugged on the rope, and the guys lifted the backpack out. He had his arms around her the moment she was freed. With his mouth at her ear, he said, “Breathe for me. Nice big breath, okay?”
With a nod, she complied.
“I got you. You’re okay.”
She nodded. “My knee.”
He heard the worry in her voice. Damage to her knee could kill her competition season. “Let’s get you out of here.” Dragging her up the fifteen feet of ice wall might do more damage. Better carry her. “All right, Trace, climb on. Gonna give you a piggy-back ride.”
He pulled his crampon out of the far wall and kicked until he got a grip alongside his other boot. Then he turned so he had his back to her. Her arms started to latch around his neck, and he shook his head. “My waist, okay?” He said it with a smile, hoping to keep her calm, but he couldn’t risk her choking him.
She let out a shaky breath and reached around his waist.
“You with me?” He waited for her, “Yeah,” before giving a nod to the guys above. Tied to the Z-pulley, they made their slow ascent, his body blocking hers from the ice wall.
At the top, one of the guys hauled him over the lip, and someone else got Traci off his back.
Relief flooded him at the sound of the copter heading their way.
“It can’t land at this pitch,” Bram said quietly.
Which meant she’d have to go up by rope. He hoped like hell she hadn’t hurt her back.
The guys quickly packed up their gear. Once the helicopter arrived, a line dropped from the winch, and the guys tied it to Traci’s harness. Fin watched her body dangle, the injured knee slightly bent, as she rose into the air. Two sets of arms reached out of the helicopter, carefully pulling her inside. The ladder dropped down for the five remaining guys to climb aboard.
Once everyone got settled, the chopper took off, and Fin immediately messaged his oldest brother on his sat phone.
Traci fell into a crevasse. Might’ve blown out her knee.
Will’s immediate response didn’t surprise him. His brother would be waiting to hear he’d made it off the mountain. She all right?
Getting her to the ER in Innsbruck right now.
That sucks.
A moment later, another message came in. You realize you’re on the last flight out that’ll get you home in time for the wedding, right?
And then a third. Can heli drop you at the airport first?
Fin glanced over to Traci on the stretcher. She had her eyes closed, her features pinched in pain. He’d known her for years. Not well, by any means, but their paths crossed thanks to snowboarding. They all had a short window of opportunity to make money doing the sport they loved, so he knew her distraught expression had as much to do with pain as abject fear.
He tapped out his response. Got to get her settled in ER.
Not five seconds later the phone vibrated in his hand. He couldn’t answer, so he messaged. Can’t talk. On heli.
Gotcha. Let me look into it.
He appreciated his brother trying to get him home, but he’d already done the math. With all the connections, that flight from Paris was the only one that would get him back in time.
He knew the other guys could take care of Traci. Get her to the hospital, call her family and coach. She’d be in good hands, but…this is my trip.
He glanced out the window as they soared over the forest. What the hell was he supposed to do? But, of course, he knew. He just didn’t like it.
The phone vibrated with Will’s response. No other flights. You want to be Ryder’s best man, you’ve got to go straight to the airport.
He hadn’t wanted to plan the trip so close to his friend’s wedding, but he’d had six schedules to work around after competition season ended in April. They’d been confident they’d avoid weather issues by going mid-June.
They’d been wrong.
So what did he do? He couldn’t miss Ryder’s wedding, and he sure as hell didn’t want to miss Callie, either. He knew she’d take off the moment Ryder and Lynn shoved cake in each other’s mouths.
He had one chance to see her. One chance to make things right between them.
But he couldn’t think about Callie. As the leader of this expedition, he had to get Traci to the ER. He felt sick to his stomach as he typed out a message.
Can’t do it.
The moment the helicopter landed on top of the hospital in Innsbruck, a team gathered to rush Traci to the emergency room. Fin grabbed her wallet from the side of her backpack and settled in with the staff to check her in. While providing information, he left a voicemail with her coach—he’d know how to reach her family.
By the time Fin joined the guys in the waiting room, they’d amassed a pile of vending machine food on the coffee table. With his fingers deep into a bag of chips, Bram nodded toward the haul.
“How is she?” Fin asked.
Bram shrugged. “No one’s come out yet.”
A quick scan of the crap the guys had selected netted a bag of nuts. Salted, but he couldn’t be that picky. So he grabbed the bag, tore it open with his teeth, and headed over to the nurse’s station. “Excuse me. Do you have any news on Traci Allen?”
The young man shook his head. “I’ll let them know you’re waiting.” His English was accented but clear. “Someone will be out to talk to you.”
As Fin turned back to the guys, one of them said, “You’re gonna miss your flight.”
“Already did.” He pulled out his cell and powered it up. It didn’t take long for the messages to start pouring in.
He opened the one from his brother. Okay, Diva. Chopper’s taking you to a private airport. Got a jet taking you to Paris. Red eye’ll get you into Calamity the morning of the rehearsal dinner.
Happiness split him wide open. He’d make it. “Listen, my brother booked me on a flight out of Paris. You guys’ll stay here with Traci? Take care of whatever she needs?”
“Of course,” one of the guys said.
Energized, he shoved the phone into his pocket. “Okay, then.” He glanced back at the nurse’s station, hesitant to leave without knowing Traci’s condition. What if she required surgery? Decisions would have to be made. “I left a message with her coach,” he started, but Bram lifted a hand to stop him.
“Already talked to him. He’s contacting her family and making plans right now.”
Good. “All right then.” Fin hesitated, looking between this team and the nurse.
“Just go, man. We got this.”
“Yeah, okay.” Reaching for the backpack he’d leaned against the wall, he looked at his team. He knew them. They wouldn’t leave until Traci’s coach or family got there. “Stay in touch. Let me know how she is.”
They all nodded, and he took off, racing toward the red exit sign. He hauled ass up the well-lit stairwell and burst out the doors to the roof. The moment he boarded the helicopter he buckled in and let out a breath.
Hell, yes. He’d make it home in time for the wedding.
He smiled. Callie Bell, I’m coming for you.
Settling back in his seat, he thought about Traci, how upset she’d be no matter the extent of her injuries. This is exactly why her coach doesn’t let her board backcountry.
Fin’s trips were as risky as they were fun. Anyone who joined him knew what they were getting themselves into. Still, he felt like shit that she’d gotten hurt.
He pulled out his phone, wondering what he could say that wouldn’t sound stupid. She wouldn’t want to hear bullshit promises that everything would turn out okay. She was tough, no-nonsense.
He’d keep it light. Snarky.
Thanks for a great time. :) Gotta jet. Talk soon.