Aftershock
Page 33
“I’m sorry,” he said, sheepish.
“Don’t be.”
“I need to build up my stamina.”
“I’ll help you.”
He laughed, cupping his hand to her cheek. “I love you.”
“I love you, too, Garrett.”
“This feels like a dream. I thought—” He swallowed hard, his eyes shining. “I thought I’d never see you again.”
“You were wrong.”
“I can’t believe how lucky I am.”
“We’re both lucky. Stop saying you don’t deserve me.”
“I don’t.”
She curled her arms around his neck, stroking the hair at his nape. “I think you’re forgetting something important.”
“What?”
“I’m right,” she said, brushing her lips over his. “About everything.”
“To infinity?”
“To infinity,” she agreed, melting against him.
* * * * *
Turn the page for an exclusive excerpt from Jill Sorenson’s next romantic suspense FREEFALL Coming June 2013 only from HQN Books
We hope you enjoyed this Harlequin ebook. Connect with us for info on our new releases, access to exclusive offers, free online reads and much more!
Subscribe to our newsletter: Harlequin.com/newsletters
Visit Harlequin.com
We like you—why not like us on Facebook: Facebook.com/HarlequinBooks
Follow us on Twitter: Twitter.com/HarlequinBooks
Read our blog for all the latest news on our authors and books: HarlequinBlog.com
AT NOON, THEY WERE READY. It was the hottest part of the day, near ninety degrees on the rock face. A pleasant breeze drifted through the canyon. Sam took the lead and Hope followed in his wake, steady as it goes. She spent ten minutes on pitches that took him two. Although she was a fair climber, she couldn’t match his speed. If she froze at the last stretch, they’d have to give up.
Not going to happen.
She strained toward the wall, searching for a new handgrip. The tip of her boot rested on an overhang and her fingertips met a small fissure. Heart racing, she flattened her belly against the smooth, sun-drenched rock. Soaking up its spirit.
After a moment of communing with the climbing gods, she made her way up. The final push went by in a blur. Before she knew it, she was scrambling over the edge, with Sam’s help. They’d reached the summit.
She studied her surroundings, breathing hard. The top of Angel Wings was jagged, with dips and crags, like the monolithic surface of a tooth. She couldn’t see the remains of an airplane, but there were hints of its trajectory. Burned-up bits of fuselage marred the landscape.
Sam pulled up their haul bag while she rested, trying to recover.
Hope drank water and rose to her feet slowly. When she felt confident with her balance, she took her gun out of her pack. “Stay here,” she told Sam.
“What?”
“I’m going to check out the crash site.”
“I’ll come with you.”
She deliberated his offer. Sam could assist her in search-and-rescue activities, not law enforcement. But what harm would it do? If they encountered drug smugglers with automatic weapons, she wouldn’t try to make arrests. This was a recon mission. “You have to take my lead, be quiet and stay back when I tell you to.”
He agreed.
She walked across the uneven, pebble-strewn surface of the crag, Sam following close behind.
Hope didn’t have much experience fighting crime. In her five years as a peace officer, she’d drawn her weapon only a handful of times.
When the wreckage came into view, she paused. It appeared that the plane had clipped the southwest corner of Angel Wings and broken up across the surface. The majority of the fuselage was still intact. A figure was slumped over in the pilot’s seat.
Although she assumed the man was dead, she approached with caution. “We’re with search and rescue for Sequoia National Park,” she called out, holding her weapon at her side. “Do you need help?”
No response.
She glanced at Sam, who looked tense. The sun was bright, but the wind had picked up and the air was at least ten degrees cooler. Hope shivered in her damp tank top. Motioning for him to stay back, she crept forward.
The plane’s front windshield was broken. A man’s head came into view, his face turned away from her, gray hair fluttering in the breeze.
“Sir?” she ventured.
Nothing.
She walked closer, glancing around for other victims. It didn’t appear that any bodies had been thrown from the plane. When she was at an arm’s length from the pilot, she reached inside to touch his shoulder. As she made the contact, a black crow flew out the broken window, startling her.
Stifling a scream, she jumped backward and almost knocked Sam off his feet. “I told you to stay over there.”
He didn’t answer. His horrified gaze was focused on the pilot. Hope’s nudge had shifted the torso away from the dash. The lower half of his face was obliterated. Blood-specked blue eyes stared sightlessly ahead.
Hope recoiled in shock.
Sam put his arm around her shoulders.
She turned her face to his chest, shaken. Sam was a jerk, but his strength felt reassuring. His heart beat against her cheek, alive alive alive.
“Do you think...that happened in the crash?” he asked.
Hope forced herself to take a better look. The pilot had another wound in his chest, a small bullet hole. “No.”
Sam moved away from the wreckage with a shudder, keeping his distance while Hope photographed the scene. Or maybe he was keeping watch. She noticed his eyes scanning the mountains and trees nearby.
There were few clues inside the fuselage. She didn’t see any illegal cargo or formal identification. A 9mm handgun lay on the floor next to the pilot. She took pictures of the weapon and a pair of bullet holes on the opposite side of the fuselage.
The pilot had returned fire.
She was about to report to headquarters when static buzzed over the plane’s radio. Her heart seized at the sound of a man’s voice. “Del Norte, come in. Ya, contesta.”
Hope rushed forward to pick up the receiver. Pulse racing, she pressed the button to speak. “This is Ranger Banning of Sequoia National Park. I need some information about this aircraft and pilot, over.”
The man ended the communication.
She replaced the receiver, her throat dry. Careful not to touch anything else, she exited the fuselage.
“What was that?” Sam asked.
“Someone called on the plane’s radio. When I answered, they hung up.”
“You answered?”
“Yes.”
He thrust a hand through his short hair. “Hell!”
“What?”
“I don’t like this. Let’s get out of here.”
Hope wasn’t a big fan of the situation, either. As far as she knew, there had never been a murder at Sequoia National Park. It could be days before a thorough investigation was organized. The logistics of processing a crime scene on a remote mountaintop were dizzying.
They also had a killer to find. He must have left the area on foot.
She walked away from the plane, examining their surroundings. A hiking trail led down the back side of the mountain. It ended at the Kaweah River campsite.
Where she’d dropped off her sister this morning.
ISBN: 9781460300343<
br />
Copyright © 2013 by Jill Sorenson
All rights reserved. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
® and ™ are trademarks of the publisher. Trademarks indicated with ® are registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office, the Canadian Trade Marks Office and in other countries.
www.Harlequin.com