Page 32 of The Beautiful Mess

Kerry pulled the knife from his utility belt. “I’m not.” He sliced through the polyester fabric with the razor-sharp blade. “I know this is scary and probably awkward, but our ascent will be easier if you wrap your arms around my neck and stay calm. Ready?”

Ronnie blew out a breath, and the alcohol fumes made Kerry’s eyes water. The guy was facing a world of legal troubles, but he surely preferred that to the alternative. Ronnie eased closer and placed his arms around Kerry’s neck. “Don’t get any ideas.”

“You’re not my type,” Kerry assured him.

That made Ronnie laugh, and Kerry gave his crew verbal and physical signals to pull them up. His passenger squirmed a little as soon as they cleared the cab, but he settled down with a stern admonishment.

“This is too high,” Ronnie said, his voice sounding suspiciously queasy. “I might shit my pants.”

“I can’t believe you didn’t do that when you went over the bridge,” Kerry replied.

“I pissed a little, but my bowels held up.”

Let’s fucking keep it that way.“Don’t look down,” Kerry cautioned. “Either keep your eyes on me or look up at the bridge so you can gauge how close we are getting to it. Listen to the steady voices calling out commands and working hard to pull us to safety.” As if the universe decided to have a little fun at Kerry’s expense, a big gust of wind kicked up and made them sway from side to side.

“Oh no.” It was the only warning Kerry got before Ronnie barfed all over him.

The hot, noxious fluid seeped into Kerry’s clothes, and the stench made him gag. Bilious acid blazoned a trail up Kerry’s esophagus, and he might’ve puked, too, if he’d eaten anything since lunch. Kerry swallowed the bitter bile back down and breathed through his mouth, hoping it would stave off a potential chain reaction.

“I’m so sorry,” Ronnie said before bursting into sobs.

“Easy now, buddy. How are your bowels holding up?” Kerry hoped a little dark humor would take the guy’s mind off his shame, but it only made him cry harder. Christ, Kerry hoped he hadn’t shitted himself too. He didn’t mean to make the guy feel worse than he already did. Would Ronnie sue him too? Accuse Kerry of verbally abusing him during the rescue? “Hang in there. It’s almost over.”

Ronnie looked up, his face covered in tears, snot, and vomit. His red eyes widened in surprise. “We’re almost there.”

A few more feet and they’d be even with the bottom of the bridge. A few more after that, and the crew would pull them up and over the railing. Kerry would’ve breathed an enormous sigh of relief if the stench of vomit wouldn’t make him sick.

“Did I hurt anyone?” Ronnie asked solemnly. “I don’t remember hitting anyone before I went over the side of the bridge.”

“I just arrived minutes after I descended to you, but I didn’t see any damaged cars on the bridge. I think you got lucky, man.”

Ronnie sniffled and nodded. “This is the wake-up call I needed to get sober.” He must’ve realized how it sounded and grimaced. “This must be the rock bottom I’ve heard so much about.”

Kerry considered the rocky bottom of the river flowing beneath them and was grateful Ronnie hadn’t literally hit it. He wasn’t in a position to counsel anyone on their habits and coping mechanisms. Kerry’s vice used to be engaging in meaningless sex to avoid forming attachments. And yeah, he thought about the habit in past tense because he would find healthier ways to deal with his childhood trauma. The harness jolted, and Ronnie’s hold around Kerry’s neck tightened. But first, he needed to survive the rescue.

“Ease up,” Kerry groused.

“Sorry. Sorry.” Ronnie loosened his grip but didn’t let go until the crew grabbed their rigging and hoisted them both up and over the railing. “Holy fuck. We made it,” Ronnie said when their feet landed on solid ground. Then, he promptly fainted and slumped against Kerry.

“This was not the cuddling I had in mind tonight,” Kerry told Curtis.

The EMTs rushed in and checked on Ronnie’s condition as Kerry’s crew worked to separate the man from Kerry. Ronnie’s pulse was strong, and he came around immediately, but the EMTs insisted he get checked out at the nearest hospital. Kerry wished the man well and walked away on trembling legs. There was a ton they still needed to do to secure the truck and haul it back on the bridge. Kerry wouldn’t do that soaked in Ronnie’s vomit. He walked to his truck and removed a spare change of clothes. Not caring who was watching, Kerry stripped down to his boxers and used the sanitizing wipes to clean himself off. The stringent alcohol smell was a welcome reprieve.

The same officer who’d approached him earlier walked toward him, carrying a red bag with a hazardous material symbol all over it. It reminded him that one round of wipes wouldn’t be enough. Kerry thanked him and placed his ruined clothes and wipes into the bag. The cop was young, handsome, and didn’t hide the interest in his light blue gaze. Kerry had met more than a few of his hookups this way, but those days were over.

He completed his second round of wipes, tossed them in the bag, and sealed it. “Appreciate it.” Kerry returned the bag with a neutral smile that diffused the interest in the other man’s eyes. The cop offered a polite nod and left Kerry to get dressed.

Adrenaline took control of his nervous system now that the worst of the danger was behind him. Kerry hadn’t dwelled on all the things that could’ve gone wrong while dangling over the side of the bridge. His complete focus had been on rescuing the truck driver. Kerry’s hands shook as he stepped into a clean pair of pants and fastened them around his hips. They still had to haul the rig up and back over the side and clean up the debris, so he cycled through deep breaths to settle his nerves and steady his limbs.

Heavy footsteps rapidly approached, and Kerry knew who they belonged to without looking. He’d felt a not-so-sudden disturbance in the force. Those weighted feet belonged to a man who’d bitten off more than he could chew…again, but the burdens Chuck wore around his neck like an albatross weren’t Kerry’s fault. And his days of playing Mr. Nice Guy were over, though Kerry had no intention of allowing Chuck to draw him into an argument with news crews loitering around and the freaking lawsuit hovering over his head.

“Always gotta show your ass, don’t you?”

Chuck’s sneering voice nearly canceled out Kerry’s good intentions, so he thought of the way Keegan looked sitting in his kitchen, his lips swollen from their kisses. He bought himself a few more moments by slipping on a long-sleeve thermal shirt with his company logo on it. The temperature was dropping, and Kerry didn’t plan to leave until the rest of the crew did. He snagged a clean service shirt and slid his right arm into it as he turned to face Chuck.

“I think what you meant to say was that I’m always coming along to clean up your mistakes. At least someone got smart enough to stop you this time.” Kerry slid his left arm through the other sleeve and met Chuck’s menacing gaze as he buttoned the front. He’d rather miss a buttonhole than react slowly to a sucker punch from his former employee. Frank Tallus approached them, but Kerry kept his gaze on Chuck instead of acknowledging the trustee. “I’d appreciate it if you and your crew would clear out so my guys can finish our work,” Kerry said.

Chuck took two more steps forward and jabbed the air with his finger. “Listen here, hotshot. You didn’t call me down to the scene, and you won’t ask me to leave it.” Chuck got in Kerry’s face and opened his mouth to say more, but Frank slapped a hand on his shoulder and forcefully pulled him back.

---