by Grey, Helen
I watched, fighting the dizziness, the pain, the nausea, as Matt pulled the shelters out of their protective bags. He handled them with care, because a tear in the aluminum would render the shelter pointless. I fought against the lethargy, the pain surging through me with every beat of my heart. I had to use the pain to keep me alive. I could not succumb to the darkness.
Not yet. I refused to.
I watched as Matt quickly tucked one corner of the first shelter tent into a crack in the rocks just above the left side of the crevice, carefully sliding in pieces of shale in an effort to hold it in place. He repeated the process at the bottom, placing heavier stones against the bottom corner of the shelter, about halfway across.
The crevice in the canyon wall barely looked large enough for one body to lie in, let alone two. I realized what he was doing. He would prepare half of the one shelter to cover the opening of the crevice. Then, he would open the other protective shelter and, once he had me situated inside, would place it over me.
It would be a tight squeeze, but I knew that we could both make ourselves fit. Before we hunkered down, he would do his best to attach the other end of the shelter with several rocks he was picking up and placing on the top side of the shelter. It was far from perfect, but if it held, and the wind didn’t rip it away, we might just have a chance.
I glanced around, looked to the north, and saw flames. My mouth went dry. I knew there were plenty of dry brush, undergrowth and trees along the bottom of the box canyon floor to provide plenty of fuel. In fact, the fire would race down through the box canyon as fast as it would through Aspen Valley just on the other side of the canyon wall, like it was going through a tunnel, consuming all the dry pine needles, the trees, everything in its path.
“Okay Jesse, let’s get you inside,” he said. “I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to hurt you again.”
I made a face. I already hurt. I nodded and reached my hand out for him. When he said it was going to hurt, I believed him, but this was even worse than when he carried me up here.
First, he had to pick me up and then lower me into the opening. It was like an inverted V in the wall of the canyon. The mouth of the opening was maybe two feet tall, with the top and bottom of the crevice narrowing down to maybe twelve inches at its base.
He had already opened the fire shelter up against the base of the cleft, and now he positioned me so that my back pressed against the narrow portion of the opening. I tried to help him, tried to move where I could, balance where I could, as he rolled me onto the shelf.
As carefully as possible, he literally shoved me as deep into the opening as he could. I lay on my good side, although the broken leg was beneath me now. He repositioned me slightly so that my weight was not on the fracture, but slightly in front of my left leg.
I was in hell.
Every muscle, every tendon, every fiber in my body screamed in protest. I felt a cold sensation rush through me and I began to tremble, even as the heat built up all around us.
Then I saw flames through what I could still see out of the opening, not fifty yards away.
“Matt!” I gasped.
He heard the alarm in my voice, glanced over his shoulder, and saw the flames racing down, closer, ever closer. The air was choked with smoke, very little oxygen to breathe. I inhaled ash. Coughed. Cried out. Oh my God, the pain!
Matt disappeared for a moment while he did his best to cram more pieces of slate into anything he could find to help attach the top of the protective shelter into the top of the crevice. I could only hope it would hold. Then, much like coming inside a tent flap, he rolled into the crevice, placing more rocks on the bottom edge of the sheet over the opening as he slithered inside.
It was a tight squeeze. His body was pressed up close to mine. The shelter was designed for one person, lying on their stomach, using their body to fasten the edges to the ground. To my surprise, Matt lay on his back, pressed so close to me that I felt there was not a smidgen of space between us. Then, grabbing the edges of the shelter, he abruptly shifted my body so that I lay on top of him, my chest pressed into his. He maneuvered himself, tried to tuck in the shelter under his feet, his hips, under his head, and then his hands.
My head nestled in the crook of his neck, just under his jaw. The pain of the sudden movements nearly shattered my resolve to remain conscious. I felt his pulse pounding in his throat.
“This is the best I could do, Jesse,” he said. “Let’s just pray it works.”
“Matt…” I think lying on my chest actually felt a little better. My head throbbed and my leg… it hurt like hell, but at least, for the moment, we were alive.
“Matt…”
As we listened to the cackle and snap of flames coming ever closer, Matt spoke. I couldn’t see the expression on his face. It was dark. It was hard to breathe. My ears rang with pain and fright. I had never been so scared in my life.
Fire. My nemesis. I had fought fire in one way or another my entire life—emotionally, mentally, and physically. Perhaps it was fitting that fire would end my life, but I couldn’t allow myself to think like that.
“I’ve never been so scared in my life, watching you tumble down that slope,” Matt said.
I felt the timbre of his voice in his chest, the way it rumbled up to his throat. My right arm was down by my side, but my left had ended up cradling his right shoulder. I gave it a squeeze.
“I never thought I’d be scared like that again,” he continued. “Not after seeing my wife and son brought into the emergency room that day.”
Oh my God, he thought we were going to die.
That’s why he was saying these things, wasn’t it?
He was telling me goodbye.
End of Part 4
To Be Continued in Part 5…
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Helen Grey is the author of the hot alpha military romance series "Serving the Soldier".
Her passion is to write steamy erotic romance and she loves hot billionaire bad boys. Lucky for her, these two go perfectly together... Find out how in her books!
Table of Contents
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Book Description
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
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Table of Contents
Copyright and Disclaimer
Copyright and Disclaimer
This book was a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2015 Helen Grey
All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the copyright owner.
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The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of the trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
