No Knight Needed

by Stephanie Rowe

  She shook her head, and he saw anguish on her face that turned his very soul. “My daughter’s up there. I have to get her.”

  “Your daughter?” Instinctively, Griffin glanced up the road, into the pitch darkness of the storm and woods. Adrenaline shot through him, and every muscle in his body tensed. Shit. Daughters shouldn’t be in those woods during this kind of weather. “Up where? In a car?”

  The woman whirled away from him, her boots splashing in the puddles as she paced frantically alongside the tree, searching for a way over. “She went camping with friends.”

  “Camping?” The woman looked far too young to have a daughter old enough to go camping by herself. There was an innocent beauty to her, despite her tormented eyes and her storm-ravaged appearance. She was courageous, no doubt about that, but there was such desperation in those sapphire-colored eyes, such utter vulnerability that it touched his core.

  She needed him. This sodden, frantic, sensual woman needed him. Griffin knew it, and he damn well liked how it felt. It had been a long time since a female had needed anything but cash from him. “Where is she? Is she with adults?”

  “No, just friends. They got dropped off.” Her expression tightened with frustration, and for a split second, he thought she was going to cry. She wiped the back of her hand across her cheek, her hand shaking and pale. “I didn’t know she was going.” She took a deep breath, as if willing herself to find the courage to cope, and then pointed to the road on the other side of the tree. “They’re at Pike’s Notch. It’s about eight miles up the road.”

  “Eight miles.” Griffin swore under his breath. He felt her pain in every move of that small, determined frame, and he practically vibrated with the need to ease her anguish and relieve that soul-deep torment. “And were you planning on hiking up there after you got over the tree?”

  The woman raised her chin, her eyes flashing with anger, which was what he’d hoped would happen with his quip. Anger could be channeled into productivity. Fear and panic couldn’t.

  “I can’t get my car up there,” she said. “So what am I going to do? Leave them?”

  That was a question that didn’t need an answer. Those kids had to be retrieved. End of story. Griffin rubbed his jaw as he surveyed the washed-out road leading into the darkness, his mind working at rapid speed to figure out how he could fix the situation. “It’s too far to hike up there in this weather.”

  “So? I’ll do it anyway.” The wind caught her jacket and blew it open, and he caught a glimpse of a light blue sweater that managed to make a modest cut incredibly sexy as it hugged her curves. Again, wholly inappropriate desire surged through him, a heat that he hadn’t felt in years. Not that he’d do anything about it, but damn, it felt good to be reminded that he was a man.

  She quickly pulled her rain jacket tighter around her and zipped it up, but he noticed that her jeans were drenched, and her boots were old and frayed. He was sure her feet were already soaked. Her skin was almost translucent in the glare of the lights. Water streamed down her cheeks and dripped off her makeup-free eyelashes. She looked young, vulnerable, and terrified. “I have to get her,” she said. “I—”

  The tree shifted suddenly, and she leapt away from it with a startled yelp. Griffin caught her, yanking her away from the branches as the tree slid several feet toward the gully. He had a sudden vision of it dragging her down into the ravine, and he tucked her against him, using his body to shield her from a branch as it almost clipped her.

  But this was one damsel not in the mood to be rescued, apparently.

  “Maybe we can pull it out of the way!” She twisted out of his grip and ran over to the tree. She grabbed one of the branches and threw all her weight into it, trying frantically to continue its descent into the gully.

  “Whoa!” Griffin leapt after her, ready to yank her back if the tree shifted again.

  To his relief, the beast hadn’t moved by the time he reached her, but the idea had potential, depending on how loose the tree really was.

  Griffin grabbed the branch just behind hers, putting himself between her and the cliff’s edge. If the tree started to go, she’d have to go through him to fall in. “On three,” he shouted.

  “Okay.” Her shoulders were narrow in her oversized jacket, but her feet were braced as if she knew how to leverage the most out of her small frame.

  “One!” Griffin gripped the tree, but the bark was slippery and hard to hold. “Two!”

  She dug her boots into the gravel.

  “Three!”

  He threw all his weight against it, straining his muscles to their limit, but it didn’t budge. He swore and released the branch. So much for that few inches of movement. Nothing but the illusion of opportunity. “This tree’s not going anywhere until Mother Nature decides she is.”

  “Oh, come on!” She pounded her fist on the trunk. “Don’t do this to me! I can’t leave her there!” The despair in her voice tore at his gut.

  Suddenly, with the rivulets rushing past his boots, the howl of the wind, the sound of water crashing down the side of the mountain, Griffin was reminded of the nightmare that haunted him so ruthlessly. His daughter. Caught in the undertow. He couldn’t get to her—

  Shit! Not this time. This time he wasn’t trapped in the helplessness of a nightmare. This time he could get it right. This time, he was owning the result, and there was going to be a happy freaking ending.

  There was only one option.

  He grabbed the woman’s shoulders just as she turned back to attempt another fruitless assault on the tree. He forced her to look at him, his grip tightening as she tried to bat his hands away. Thick drops were rolling down those pale cheeks. Rain or tears? Now, he wasn’t so sure. “Listen. I’m going to drive my truck around the tree. Stay back by your car. If I dislodge the tree, I don’t want you anywhere near it when it goes. I’m going to help you.”

  “Help me? What are you talking about?” A little furrow creased above her delicate eyebrows, but he could tell he’d caught her attention. There was such disbelieving hope in those blue eyes, as if she couldn’t comprehend that someone would come to her aid. He swore under his breath, wondering what kind of life she’d endured that had taught her that she had to fight every battle by herself.

  “Just stay by your car.” He pulled her away from the tree, deposited her by her Subaru, then sloshed through the rushing water to his truck. He swung into the driver’s seat, then backed up so his lights were on the hillside that was gripping the tree so precariously.

  The grade was steeper than he would have preferred. His truck was heavy, but was it heavy enough to keep from flipping over?

  Hell, yeah. He’d never crashed his truck before, and he wasn’t going to start tonight.

  He gunned the engine and headed straight toward the side of the mountain.

  * * *

  Ducking her head against the raging storm, Clare hugged herself while she watched the huge black pickup truck turn its headlights onto the steep hillside. She was freezing, and her muscles wouldn’t stop shaking. She was so worried about Katie, she could barely think, and she had no idea what this stranger was going to do. Something. Anything. Please.

  The truck lurched toward the hill, and she realized suddenly that he was going to drive straight up the embankment in an attempt to go above the roots and around the fallen tree that was blocking the road. But that was crazy! The mountain was way too steep. He was going to flip his truck!

  Memories assaulted her, visions of when her husband had died, and she screamed, racing toward him and waving her arms. “No, don’t! Stop!”

  But the truck plowed up the side of the hill, its wheels spewing mud as it fought for traction in the rain-soaked earth. She stopped, horror knifing through her as the truck turned and skidded parallel across the hill, the left side of his truck reaching far too high up the slippery slope. Her stomach turned as she saw the truck tip further and further, until she could see the roof.

  A feathered angel was pain
ted beneath the floodlights. An angel? What was a man like him doing with an angel on his truck?

  The truck was almost vertical now. There was no way it could stay upright. It was going to flip. Crash into the tree. Careen across the road. Catapult off the cliff. He would die right in front of her. Oh, God, he would die.

  But somehow, by a miracle that she couldn’t comprehend, the truck kept struggling forward, all four wheels still gripping the earth.

  The truck was above the roots now. Was he going to make it? Please let him make it—

  The wheels slipped, and the truck dropped several yards down toward the roots. “No!” She took a useless, powerless step as the tires caught on the roots. The tires spun out in the mud, and the roots ripped across the side of the vehicle with a furious scream.

  “Go,” she shouted, clenching her fists. “Go!”

  He gunned the engine, and suddenly the tires caught. The truck leapt forward, careening sideways across the hill, skidding back and forth as the mud spewed. He made it past the tree, and then the truck plowed back down toward the road, sliding and twisting as he fought for control.

  Clare held her hand over her mouth, terrified that at any moment one of his tires would catch on a root and he’d flip. “Please make it, please make it, please make it,” she whispered over and over again.

  The truck bounced high over a gully, and she gasped when it flew up so high she could see the undercarriage. Then somehow, someway, he wrested the truck back to four wheels, spun out into the road and stopped, its wipers pounding furiously against the rain as the floodlights poured hope into the night.

  Oh, dear God. He’d made it. He hadn’t died.

  Clare gripped her chest against the tightness in her lungs. Her hands were shaking, her legs were weak. She needed to sit down. To recover.

  But there was no time. The driver’s door opened and out he stepped. Standing behind the range of his floodlights, he was silhouetted against the darkness, his shoulders so wide and dominating he looked like the dark earth itself had brought him to life.

  Chapter Two

  Something inside her leapt with hope at the sight of him, at the sheer, raw strength of his body as he came toward her. This man, this stranger, he was enough. He could help her. Sudden tears burned in her eyes as she finally realized she didn’t have to fight this battle by herself.

  He held up his hand to tell her to stay, then he slogged over to the front of his truck. He hooked something to the winch, then headed over to the tree. The trunk came almost to his chest, but he locked his grip around a wet branch for leverage, and then vaulted over with effortless grace, landing in the mud with a splash. “Come here,” he shouted over the wind.

  Clare ran across the muck toward him, stumbling in the slippery footing. “You’re crazy!” she shouted, shielding her eyes against the bright floodlights from his truck. But God, she’d never been so happy to see crazy in her life.

  “Probably,” he yelled back, flashing her a cheeky grin. His perfect white teeth seemed to light up his face, a cheerful confident smile that felt so incongruous in the raging storm and daunting circumstances.

  But his cockiness eased her panic, and that was such a relief. It made her able to at least think rationally. She would take all the positive vibes she could get right now.

  He held up a nylon harness that was hooked to the steel cord attached to his truck. “If the tree goes over, this will keep you from going with it.”

  She wiped the rain out of her eyes. “What are you talking about?”

  “We still have to get you over the tree, and I don’t want you climbing it unprotected. Never thought I’d actually be using this stuff. I had it just out of habit.” He dropped the harness over her head and began strapping her in with efficient, confident movements. His hands brushed her breasts as he buckled her in, but he didn’t seem to notice.

  She sure did.

  It was the first time a man’s hands had touched her breasts in about fifteen years, and it was an unexpected jolt. Something tightened in her belly. Desire? Attraction? An awareness of the fact she was a woman? Dear God, what was wrong with her? She didn’t have time for that. Not tonight, and not in her life. But she couldn’t take her gaze off his strong jaw and dark eyes as he focused intently on the harness he was strapping around her.

  “I’m taking you across to my truck,” he said, “and then we’re going to get your daughter and the others.”

  “We are?” She couldn’t stop the sudden flood of tears. “You’re going to help me get them?”

  He nodded as he snapped the final buckle. “Yeah. I gotta get into heaven somehow, and this might do it.”

  “Thank you!” She threw herself at him and wrapped her arms around him, clinging to her savior. She had no idea who he was, but he’d just successfully navigated a sheer mud cliff for her and her daughter.

  For an instant, he froze, and she felt his hard body start to pull away. Then suddenly, in a shift so subtle she didn’t even sense it coming, his body relaxed and his arms went around her, locking her down in an embrace so powerful she felt like the world had just stopped. It felt like the rain had ceased and the wind had quieted, buffeted aside by the strength and power of his body.

  “It’s going to be okay.” His voice was low and reassuring in her ear, his lips brushing against her as he spoke. “She’s going to be fine.”

  Crushed against this stranger’s body, protected by his arms, soothed by the utter confidence in his voice, the terror that had been stalking Clare finally eased away. “Thank you,” she whispered.

  “You’re welcome.”

  There was a hint of emotion in his voice, and she pulled back far enough to look at him. His eyes were dark, so dark she couldn’t tell if they were brown or black, but she could see the torment in his expression. His jaw was angular, and his face was shadowed by the floodlights. He was a man with weight in his heart. She felt it right away. Instinctively, she laid a hand on his cheek. “You’re a gift.”

  He flashed another smile, and for a split second, he put his hand over hers, holding it to his whiskered cheek as if she were some angel of mercy come to give him relief. Her throat thickened, and for a moment, everything else vanished. It was just them, drenched and cold on a windy mountain road, the only warmth was their hands, clasped together against his cheek.

  His eyes darkened, then he cleared his throat suddenly and released her hand, jerking her back to the present. “Wait until you see whether I can pull it off,” he said, his voice low and rough, sending chills of awareness rippling down her spine. “Then you can re-evaluate that compliment.” He tugged on the harness. “Ready?”

  She gripped the cold nylon, suddenly nervous. Was she edgy because she was about to climb over a tree that could careen into the gully while she was on it, or was it due to the intensity of the sudden heat between them? God, she hoped it was the first one. Being a wimp was so much less dangerous than noticing a man like him. “Aren’t you wearing one?”

  He quirked a smile at her, a jaunty grin that melted one more piece of her thundering heart. “I only have one, and ladies always get first dibs. Besides, I’m a good climber. If the tree takes me over, I’ll find my way back up. Always do.” He set his foot on a lower branch and patted his knee. “A one-of-a-kind step ladder. Hop up, Ms.—?” He paused, leaving the question hovering in the storm.

  “Clare.” She set her muddy boot on his knee, and she grimaced apologetically when the mud glopped all over his jeans. “Clare Gray.” She grabbed a branch and looked at him. “And you are?”

  “Griffin Friesé.” He set his hand on her hip to steady her, his grip strong and solid. “Let’s go save some kids, shall we?”

  * * *

  As Clare shut herself into the huge, black truck and Griffin began to drive them into the dark, isolated mountains above Birch Crossing, she realized just how much she’d entrusted to a complete stranger. Her life. Her daughter’s life, potentially. The children of her friends.

&nbs
p; But it was a little too late to back out now.

  Except for the summer tourist crowd, which was still two months away, there were no strangers in Birch Crossing, and any unknowns who came to town were regarded with distrust until they’d proven their worth for at least a decade.

  She’d lived here her whole life, and she’d never heard of the man sitting inches away from her.

  “How old is your daughter?” he asked as the truck roared up the road, bouncing over rocks with a little too much fervor.

  She grabbed the overhead grip and braced her left hand on the console. “Can you slow down a little?”

  He shot a surprised look at her. “Aren’t you worried about your daughter?”

  “It won’t do her much good if I die before I get there.”

  Griffin stared at her for what felt like a full minute before he seemed to grasp her point. “You think I’m going to crash?” He asked the question as if he couldn’t quite comprehend that fear.

  “Well, maybe slide over the edge or something.” Clare peeked out her window, but it was too dark to see the steep drop off she knew was just below her side of the truck. She also couldn’t see clearly enough to determine whether there was a safe expanse of road between them and the sheer cliff. Oh, God. She tightened her grip on the overhead handle and ordered herself not to dissolve into a sniveling lump of terror. “Stuff like that happens.”

  “Clare.”

  She turned her head toward Griffin at the low urgency in his voice. “What?”

  His face was blue-lit by the dash, showcasing a hard set to his jaw and tendons flexed in his neck. “I’m not going to crash.” His voice was calm and non-judgmental. Just a simple stating of fact.

  His hands were relaxed on the steering wheel. No tension. No fear. Yet, the energy rolling off him was a hyper-vigilance, as if he knew the exact location of every stone his tires sprayed up.