The world tilts with another shake of the snowglobe that’s my personal hell.
Wind howls, and my breath fogs the air as consciousness slips.
Please.
Please save the baby.
CHAPTER 2
ATLAS
“We should’ve finished an hour earlier.” Grizz growls the words from the backseat like his namesake bruin.
Eyes scanning left and right in the scope of my low beams, Viper keeps watch from the passenger seat as the snow falls in thick sheets. “The whole meeting should’ve been a fucking email.”
I exchange a look with Grizz in the mirror. Viper gets restless anytime he’s out of the mountains, especially when meetings run long. Both of them do.
While I took notes about the threatening messages our new client’s been receiving, Grizz’s heavy boot tapped an impatient rhythm on the meeting room floor, and Viper sat like a statue, arms crossed, only his jaw twitching occasionally beneath his beard as his eyes swept the front of the property through the conference room window.
I saw the clouds coming, but didn’t want to cut things short. “The truck is well-equipped for the storm.”
Silence falls for several miles until I round a bend. Fresh tire marks careen across the road before they disappear entirely.
“Pull over.” Viper zips his jacket and pulls on well-worn gloves as I ease over to the shoulder.
I put the truck in park and turn on the flashers. Viper’s out first, jogging across the road, disappearing into the snow.
A moment later, he yells, “Compact sedan. Front end hung up in trees.”
I grab the safety kit, Grizz tucks blankets under his arm, and we join Viper at the edge of the road.
It’s a gray car, about a decade old, its outline partially obscured by snowfall. The nose is lodged in a cluster of new growth trees, which is all that’s keeping the car from plunging down the mountain.
Grizz lets out a low whistle. “Good thing it went off here and not where there’s a clear drop.”
“Let’s see who’s in there.” The car dug up the snow as it skidded, and the slope is treacherous. I move down the incline with careful steps.
Viper circles the vehicle, checking the stabilization. “It’s wedged, but the snow’s going to bury it. We get her out now, or we’re not getting her out at all.”
Her.
I swipe a gloved hand over the driver’s side window to catch a glimpse of the woman. Young, blonde hair, wearing something silky white. There’s a spiderweb crack in the glass where she likely struck her head.
Ignoring the sick feeling in my gut, I scoop away snow until I can tug the door open. She’s slumped against the seat belt, long hair tangled, her face pale and slack. Makeup is smeared on her eyes and at her mouth.
She’s wearing a white dress with a full skirt that obscures her legs and feet. She’s alone, and the only other visible object is a ball of white mesh on the passenger side front seat. Is that a fucking wedding veil?
Angling my body to shelter her from the weather, I find warmth at her wrist that triggers a short sigh of relief. “Unconscious, but breathing. Her pulse is steady.”
Grizz comes up behind me, his bulk cutting off the wind at my back. “Bruises and cuts on her face. She took a hard hit.”
The rest of her body is concealed under a crush of fabric. Pushing the white satin aside, I find her hand shielding her stomach. The protective instinct sets off alarms and triggers painful old memories.
I slide my hand into her hair and find a lump. “Possible concussion.”
Viper steps back to keep watch on the road, ice clinging to his beard. “Storm’s getting worse,” he calls down. “We need to move.”
I cut the seatbelt and support the woman’s weight as I ease her forward. She’s soft in a way that doesn’t belong out here in this harsh weather. Her skin’s cold, and her body’s limp.
