Page 5 of Heston
Her will to live.
Her mind.
Hers was truly just to suffer and die. Until…
She crashed into the rigid gate of Hell. Water raced around her at breakneck speed, eager to get away from her. By some weird twist of fate, the force of this new obstacle tipped her chin up—just enough—she stole a gasp of air. Then another. Hurriedly. Quickly. Before she lost her one slim chance to survive.
But as quickly as her lungs filled, the water surged over her face and pushed her head below its wicked torrent. Her eyes opened but she only saw the churning, underwater whiteness that would be her death. There was no sense struggling. The river was too strong and too angry, and she was nothing more than a tiny sparrow trapped in its death-grip.
The brute force of it held her fast against the iron gate. Her bones were turning into water. She’d swallowed enough of it. Her mouth and throat were still full of it. Before long, water would saturate her muscles, tissues, her heart, and… her soul. There was no escape. She belonged to the river.
The world turned colder. Meaner. Her eyes were too battered to see, her fingers too weak to flex. Hope no longer mattered. In minutes, she’d be a bloated, water-saturated corpse. An ugly truth, but nonetheless—a truth.
Oblivion beckoned with one long, icy-cold finger. Her heartbeat faded. The contest was over. The river had won. With one last bubble of air from her drowning lungs, she sent her soul to the man who’d helped her find it so long ago.
To Alex.
Chapter Four
Disgusted with himself and mad at the world, Alex sat alone on the east bank of the White River, a short way from the campground where he and Kelsey had spent their last night.Not their last night. Just last night!They’d have many more nights together. Alex would make damned sure of it. He just had to find her.
Breathing hard from his fight with the river, he shivered. Not so much because night had fallen, nor because a thin layer of frost now glazed his hair, face, neck, and hands. All were good signs he was still alive. He shivered because, in less than a split second this morning, he’d lost the mother of his children, the woman he adored, and his reason for living. He shivered, not from cowardice or fear, but from an anger so deep, he could barely hold it back.
Once again, the mantra of all his past mistakes whispered,“You should’ve been there.”
“I know!” he ground out. Problem was hehadbeen there, had been right there when she’d been hit. Had had both hands on Kelsey.Could’vesaved her.Should’vetaken the hit for her. But he hadn’t done either, had he? Sure, he’d been hit too, grazed, which still seemed an impossible second shot for anyone to have made.Ifit had been intentional and wasn’t the mistake of a harried sniper like he’d first thought. Or if that sniper had been closer than Alex had estimated. He’d had too much time to think, but think, he had.
Until remorse started eating him alive.
Fortunately, a man and his son had been strolling the edge of the White and had run to help him.Him, a self-made man.Him,the guy in line to be the nation’s next gawddamned VP.Him,the bastard who couldn’t even save his own wife.
Accepting help—charity—was not Alex’s strong suit. He was the strong one, the giver, the protector. The generous benefactor. But he hadn’t yet been able to catch his breath at that moment. So he’d allowed the kindly hand-up and overbearing concern from a stranger, as well as a steaming cup of soup from the guy’s stainless-steel thermos. He’d allowed Tom, whose last name Alex could not recall, to help him crawl up the rocky riverbank and onto dry land. The kindly Good Samaritan had then helped Alex out of his wet clothes, into warm sweats and a pair of sturdy work boots. Thank God, everything fit.
The whole time, Tom’s little boy had sat nearby watching. Kid had to have been around five. His big, brown eyes and tousled, curly brown hair—dry hair—had stabbed a dagger into Alex’s heart. Kelsey had—has, damn it! Has!—brown hair. The same tint. The same lush, dark shine and natural curl.So does Lexie. Her eyes are just as dark brown.Gawddamnit, Kelsey is still alive. Somewhere.She has to be.Alex couldn’t conceive of a world without her in it. Refused to consider the possibility.
Tom had handed over his cell phone then, and Alex had gotten out the briefest SOS to TEAM HQ. The connection hadn’t been clear, but Murphy had answered. He’d heard. Alex was sure of it. At least… he’d thought he was. He’d led with how Kelsey’d been shot, but then the connection went dead. He hadn’t clearly heard Murphy’s answer, but Murphy’d know what to do. He’d send The TEAM. They might even be on their way now. Alex hoped…
Just as his frantic SOS got cut off, Ranger Bates, his name tag declared, arrived on scene. He left his truck running while he ran to where Alex sat, too weak and tired to fight. “Came as soon as I heard. You okay? Where’re you injured?”
For some reason, Tom signaled Alex with a firm headshake, as he and his kid faded into the shadows. Was that a warning? Or was Tom guilty of something? Alex couldn’t tell. Tom was gone before he could ask. But that small tell from the man who’d braved the White long enough to drag him to safety, made Alex think twice.
“I’m not injured,” he lied to Bates, not admitting weakness until he knew what Tom’s unspoken message meant and what kind of man Bates was. “But someone shot my wife. We were up on Emmons Glacier. He hit her left temple.”I think.The longer Alex thought about what he knew, the more he doubted himself.“She fell in the river. I jumped in after her and—”
“You jumped into the White? On purpose?” Bates’ gloved hands splayed over Alex’s wide shoulders, attempting to press him flat to the ground. “What are you, stupid? The White’s never been this high before and—”
“I had no choice!” Alex shoved this joker’s idea of help off.
Glaring, Bates tipped back on his haunches and clenched his thighs. “And you figured drowning would help your dead wife?”
“She’s not dead!”
“You Californians are all the same entitled—”
“We’re not from California! Never mind. Get out of my way! My TEAM’s on the way. They’ll be here soon and—”
“Yourteam?”
Pissed at the sarcasm pouring out of this guy’s mouth, Alex began to doubt himself and his TEAM. Surely Murphy or Mark would’ve sent agents to assist by now. Alex had to admit the call he’d made may not have been clear enough. There’d been plenty of static over the connection, and it had failed before he’d gotten a definite reply. Maybe Murphy hadn’t understood the call for help. Maybe he hadn’t heard… anything.
