by Elle James
Rocky Mountain Rescue
Brotherhood Protectors Colorado Book #2
Elle James
Twisted Page Inc
Contents
Rocky Mountain Rescue
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Breaking Silence
Chapter 1
About the Author
Also by Elle James
Rocky Mountain Rescue
Brotherhood Protectors Colorado Book #2
New York Times & USA Today
Bestselling Author
* * *
ELLE JAMES
Copyright © 2021 by Elle James
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
© date Twisted Page Inc. All rights reserved.
Ebook ISBN-13: 978-1-62695-353-6
Print ISBN-13: 978-1-62695-354-3
Dedicated to my mother and father who helped shape me into the person I am today.
Elle James
Author’s Note
Enjoy other military books by Elle James
* * *
Brotherhood Protectors Colorado
SEAL Salvation (#1)
Rocky Mountain Rescue (#2)
Ranger Redemption (#3)
Tactical Takeover (#4)
Shadow Assassin (crossover)
Visit ellejames.com for titles and release dates
For hot cowboys, visit her alter ego Myla Jackson at mylajackson.com
and join Elle James's Newsletter at
https://ellejames.com/contact/
Prologue
Something scratched at her leg.
Then it happened again—pawing, digging, irritating.
She tried to kick her leg to make it stop. However, her legs wouldn’t move, and the digging, scratching and pawing continued. When she attempted to move her arms, she couldn’t. Her arms and legs would barely budge.
The little effort she expended drained her. Every breath she took weighed heavily on her lungs. Dust filled her nostrils. When she tried to open her eyes, everything was dark. She closed them again. It was too much effort to keep them open. Too much effort to breathe or move. Lying there, she wondered if it would be easier to stop breathing, stop moving and simply go to sleep. Forever.
The scratching stopped. The sound of something sniffing near her ear was followed by more pawing. This time on the top of her head. Something caught in her hair and pulled.
She tried to turn her head away and tried to raise her arm and slap away whatever was pawing her. A whining sound accompanied the scratching. She didn’t want to wake. She wanted to stay asleep, but the persistent pawing made her want to slap away whatever bothered her.
When she tried again to move her arm, this time it shifted just a little. Then it was free. She batted at the thing that punished her head with pawing.
Teeth wrapped around her hand and tugged.
A moan rose up her parched throat. She tried to tell the creature to leave her alone, but her mouth wouldn’t open, her eyes wouldn’t open. She willed it away, but it persisted.
Darkness faded into light. Warmth permeated her body, chasing away the chill. She moved her head to the side, and dirt shifted off her face exposing it to what felt like sunlight. When she opened her eyes this time the bright glare of sunrise hit her full on. She closed her eyes again.
Teeth sank into her fingers and pulled hard. The whining continued, and a sharp bark sounded in her ear. This time when she opened her eyes, she saw a long snout and a pair of dark eyes staring down at her. The teeth released her hand and the barking continued. The creature latched onto her wrist and pulled, forcing her to roll over. Once lying on her back, she was able to take a deep breath. Again, the animal released her hand and barked and barked and barked.
With each bark, pain radiated through her head. “Please stop. Please,” she said. “Stoooop.”
It was a dog. The dog ignored her entreaty and continued to bark. Suddenly, it ran away, and silence reigned.
She lay with the sun beating down on her until she couldn’t stand it anymore, and she raised her arm to cover her eyes. She must have fallen asleep again.
Voices woke her in a language she didn’t understand. Her skin burned in the sunlight. Then a shadow fell over her, and she curled into the fetal position, expecting whoever it was to hit or kick her. Instead, someone draped fabric over her body.
More voices spoke in a language she did not understand. Too tired to open her eyes, she lay still, praying they’d go away. Someone lifted her head and poured water into her mouth. She gulped it thirstily. By the gentle strength in her hands and her soft voice, the person had to be a woman. The others had the same kinds of voices. They were all women. One tried to get her to sit up, but she lay back down, closing her eyes to the harshness of the sun. They left her alone.
After a while—how long, she didn’t know—a different voice sounded. Deeper, rougher. “Ma’am?” A hand touched her shoulder.
She whimpered and covered her face with her hand.
The dog was back. Its nose pressed against her cheek, and a long tongue licked the dirt from her face.
“Go on,” the voice said.
The dog quit licking her.
“Ma’am, can you hear me? Do you speak English?” the voice asked.
Finally, a language she understood. “Yes,” she said, her voice more of a crackling sound than anything else.
“We’re going to move you. Ma’am, I’m a medic. Can you tell me your name?”
She blinked her eyes open and looked up into the face of a man.
When the man put his hands on her arms, she tried to fight him, but her arms and legs wouldn’t move or work the way they used to.
“No,” she said, “Nooo.” She waved her arms at him, but they did no good. They were too weak to fight.
“It’s okay, ma’am. I’m only going to move you,” he said, his voice soothing.
“Please,” she whispered. “Don’t hurt me.”
“I’m trying to help you.” He looked over his shoulder. “Hey, Johnson, get over here.”
“Please, don’t hurt me,” she murmured, every deep breath shooting pain through her chest.
The man above her turned to somebody else. “Talk to her, Johnson. Maybe it’ll help if she has a female to speak to.”
A woman wearing an Army desert sand uniform leaned over her and smoothed the hair back from her forehead. “Hey, I’m Specialist Johnson. We’re here to help you. Can you tell me your name?”
She thought and she thought. Name. I have to have a name. I know my name, it’s right on the tip of my tongue. What is my name?
“Ma’am, can you tell me your name?” Johnson said.
Tears welled in her eyes and slipped down her cheeks. “I don’t…know.”
The dog whined, snuck up close to her and pressed his snout to her face.
“Oh, sweetie,” Johnson said. “Don’t worry. You’ll remember. The main thing is to get you somewhere safe so you can heal.”
“Come on,” the man said. “Let’s get her on the stretcher and into the chopper.”
&nb
sp; Men lifted her and laid her on a stretcher. She fought until they strapped her down. The dog tried to jump on the stretcher with her.
“It must be hers. Take it with you,” a man said.
The woman named Johnson scooped the dog up into her arms and carried it with her as they loaded her onto the helicopter.
Then someone stuck a needle into her arm. Sunlight dimmed and darkness overtook her. As consciousness faded to black, her name came to her, and she whispered, “JoJo.”
Chapter 1
“Could you hand me that crescent wrench so I can tighten this bolt?” Josephine Angelica Barrera-Ramirez, or JoJo, held out one hand while holding parts together with the other.
Gunny rattled around in the toolbox and then slapped a crescent wrench into her open palm. “I can’t believe you got this old clunker running.”
JoJo took the wrench and fitted it to the bolt. “A little elbow grease and some new parts are usually all it takes.”
“When I was on active duty, they didn’t have females in the motor pool.” The retired Marine gunnery sergeant, Dan Tate, shook his head.
JoJo tightened the bolt, and then stood and straightened with a grin. “Well, maybe they should have. You would’ve been better off.”
Gunny chuckled. “You could be right there. I don’t think there’s anything you can’t fix.”
JoJo hadn’t met a machine she couldn’t fiddle with and make run. Machines were easy.
People…were a different story.
She’d never really been good at relationships, even before she’d gone into the Army, and in the Army… Well, that’s why she was going to a therapist. Thankfully, she was going to one Gunny had recommended. It helped to have another female she hadn’t known before the Army to talk to. Sure, RJ, Gunny’s daughter, would gladly let JoJo have a shoulder to lean or cry on, but some things were just too personal and too raw to share with her best friend. Although Emily, her therapist, was becoming more like a friend every day.
Still, they hadn’t had a breakthrough in the past six months. Emily said that she might never overcome the amnesia brought on by the attack. She said that her mind was protecting her by keeping that door closed.
The problem was that JoJo couldn’t get closure on the whole incident because she didn’t know who had done it and why. And whoever had raped, beaten her and buried her out in the desert was still loose. As long as he was free, JoJo couldn’t be free of the nightmares or being afraid of the dark. Until they put that man behind bars, she wouldn’t be able to move on. In the meantime, she’d remain an emotional mess. Which bugged the crap out of her.
JoJo liked to think she was pretty tough, but that incident had destroyed her confidence in her ability to defend herself. Yes, Army basic training had taught her the basics of hand-to-hand combat, but a five-foot-nothing female who weighed maybe ninety-nine pounds soaking wet didn’t stand a chance against a man who weighed over two hundred pounds. She still didn’t like being alone with men.
With Gunny being the exception. As teenagers she and RJ had been the best of friends. She’d spent much of her time at RJ and Gunny’s place when they’d lived in Colorado Springs. Gunny was like a second father to her. She and RJ had signed up for the Army on the same day, hoping for the buddy program. But that wasn’t to be. RJ had been denied entry, based on medical reasons. JoJo had gone into the Army alone.
After tightening the bolt, JoJo straightened and climbed up into the seat of the old tractor. When she turned the key, the engine rumbled, coughed and finally sprang to life.
Gunny hooted and yelled, “Hallelujah!”
JoJo smiled. It always felt good to do something for Gunny. He’d done so much for her. He and RJ had taken her in when she’d gotten out of the Army. Gunny had given her a job and paid her a living wage, even when he really couldn’t afford to. He’d even paid for her lessons in Krav Maga, an Israeli-style self-defense course, to help rebuild her confidence when she’d had none after leaving the Army. And he’d introduced her to Emily.
“Think you could look at that snowblower next?” Gunny asked.
“If I have time,” she said. “I have to be at Gunny’s Watering Hole in an hour.” JoJo engaged the parking brake, left the tractor running and climbed down. She faced Gunny and grinned. “Expecting snow?”
“We’re in the Rockies. You never know when it’s gonna snow. It could snow in the middle of July. And we’re getting close to the fall season. If you’re worried about the Watering Hole,” Gunny said, “I know the boss. I’m sure he’ll cut you some slack over a couple of minutes.” He winked.
JoJo’s lips twisted. “The boss might excuse me a few minutes, but his daughter RJ isn’t due back from picking up supplies in Colorado Springs for another hour and a half.”
“I’m sure I could get Jake or Max to help me with the lunch crowd.”
“I don’t like to rely on the Brotherhood Protectors to wait tables at the bar. I’m sure they have better things to do,” JoJo said.
“Not while they’re in between assignments. That was the deal when they set up shop on the ranch. They promised to help out here in between assignments.”
Truth was, JoJo wasn’t really comfortable yet with the men who were setting up a Brotherhood Protectors Colorado office at the Lost Valley Ranch, although they’d done nothing to make her feel uncomfortable. In fact, they’d saved RJ’s life. Now, RJ was head over heels for Jake Cogburn.
RJ had been so infatuated with the man that she’d wanted JoJo to try dating again, going so far as to set her up with Max Thornton for the Sadie Hawkins Day dance, which had been entirely too awkward for JoJo’s liking. She almost felt sorry for the guy. Every time he’d touched her, she’d jumped. It wasn’t until he’d taken her into his arms and danced a very slow dance that she’d finally relaxed with him.
He’d barely spoken two words to her all evening. Fortunately, the slow dance had been really slow. The man had a limp and didn’t move around as fast. She would’ve told him no on the dance, but she’d kind of felt bad for him because he had that limp. She hadn’t wanted him to think she was too embarrassed to be seen dancing with someone with a limp.
Later, she’d seen the irony in it. He’d probably asked her to dance thinking she’d wanted to, and he hadn’t wanted to disappoint her, and she hadn’t wanted to turn him down in case it would make him feel like his limp was keeping her from dancing with him. She chuckled. If they’d only been open and honest with one another, they could’ve avoided the dance altogether. But they had danced, and it had left her even more conflicted. She only knew one thing for certain, and that was she wasn’t ready for a relationship.
JoJo hated that she still felt very broken. She wanted to be fixed, but she didn’t see that happening until the man who had done this to her was caught. She’d even gone so far as to agree with Emily to try some hypnosis to see if it could bring back her memories. The sooner the better.
Gunny climbed on the tractor and drove it out of the barn.
JoJo worked on the snowblower for the next hour, lost in the mechanics. At least with the machines, she didn’t have to carry on a conversation. It was bad enough her thoughts never stopped rolling around in her head. Too often she came back to that memory of waking up with her cheek on the dirt, her body bruised, her throat sore from having been choked. Whoever had attacked her had beaten her, raped her and buried her in the desert, thinking she’d died. JoJo had to believe that she was still left on earth for a reason. The reason was to get the person who’d done this to her. The last memory she’d had before waking in the desert, was walking to the shower tent after working in the motor pool late into the night. She had to have seen his face. If only she could remember.
Fortunately, the sun was shining through the door of the barn, giving her just enough light that she could see what she was doing. She had ruled out all the usual suspects on the engine before she tore down half of it and found the issue. Now that it was fixed, she’d reassembled the part, filled the oil r
eservoir and poured gasoline into the tank. When she started the engine, it roared to life.
She bent over the engine to adjust the idle when a shadow fell over her. Her heart stopped, and her breath caught in her lungs.
When a hand touched her shoulder, she reacted. JoJo grabbed the arm, bent over and flipped the man over her back. Before she could let go of his arm, he yanked her down on top of him, rolled her over and pinned her to the ground.
She fought hard, kicking, flailing, biting, everything she could to get free.
“Ouch!” The man swore.
She couldn’t hear what else he said for the pounding in her ears.
“Be still, dammit.” Finally, he straddled her. After pinning her arms to the ground, he leaned back far enough that the sunlight filtered through the barn door onto his face.
“JoJo,” he said, “I’m not going to hurt you.”
She writhed beneath him and finally looked up into his eyes. Just because she knew him didn’t mean she trusted him. Her pulse still pounded. Her breathing came in ragged pants. “Get off me.”
Still, he held onto her hands. “I’ll let you up when you promise not to hit, scratch or bite me.”
“Let me up,” she said, breathing hard.
“Promise?”
“Dammit.” She bucked her hips and stomped her feet on the ground, but she was well and truly trapped. “Fine. I promise.”
