Grizz wraps a blanket around her, tucking it in securely, and together, we lift her out and carryher up the incline.
I lay her across the truck’s back seat, where Grizz covers her with more blankets, then cradles her head in his lap. Returning from another check of her vehicle, Viper climbs in beside her to monitor her breathing.
Though our focus is on her, the three of us exchange looks that communicate a lot without a need for words. Now that she’s out of the wreckage, her dress is unmistakably a wedding gown, and it’s torn in ways that don’t align with a car crash.
She has fresh facial bruising that’s also inconsistent with the car accident.
As I get us back on the road, Viper says, “Nothing else in the car. No luggage, no purse. Vehicle is registered to Brianna Thomas, but her expensive dress and jewelry don’t line up with the old car.”
If there had been any other tracks around the vehicle, say from a groom who went to look for help on foot, Viper would’ve reported it. There’s only one ring on her manicured finger. A big, shiny rock, but no wedding band.
None of it adds up to anything good.
I give a backward glance to the crashed car. Snow’s piling heavier against the tires.
“Those trees aren’t going to hold on for long,” Viper mutters.
“It’s a damn good thing we found her tonight.” I turn up the heat and focus on getting us back to the compound safely.
CHAPTER 3
ATLAS
During the drive home, wind slams into the truck hard enough that I have to keep both hands locked on the wheel. It’s a full whiteout as I pull into the garage.
Grizz opens the back door, then lifts the woman as if she weighs nothing, one big hand stabilizing her neck.
Inside the main building, a wave of warmth greets us. Viper used the app on my phone to notch up the house’s furnace on the drive home.
“Take her to the downstairs bedroom,” I tell Grizz.
“She’ll be more comfortable upstairs.”
I nod once. “We’ll move her up there when she’s stable.”
Grizz carries her into the small room that’s closest to our operations center. Sometimes one of us catches a snooze in here when we’re on round-the-clock duty. There’s only a cot in the room, but I want her nearby for monitoring.
I flick on a low light. “We need to get her into dry clothes. Viper, can you bring a set of thermals?”
Grizz sets the woman and her blankets carefully onto the cot, where I recheck her vitals. “She’s still cold. Temp’s low, but not dangerous. Pulse is even. No bleeding except superficial cuts.”
“I’ll get heating pads.” Grizz starts to leave, but I stop him.
“Help me get her out of this dress.” The fabric is plastered to her skin, the sleeves are lace, and there are dozens of buttons running down the back.
“Should we cut it off?”
He’s reluctant, but the priority is to bring her to a comfortable body temperature as soon as possible. I finger the tear on her right shoulder and another on her sleeve. “It’s already damaged.”
Grizz produces his knife, and together we carefully cut away her gown. Underneath, there’s some sort of compression garment, though it’s not restrictive around the swell of her belly, another hint that feeds my suspicion.
Her undergarments are damp, too, so we remove them. We’re respectful professionals, but I can’t help but notice the woman’s beautiful curves.
“She might be pregnant,” I say as we cover her.
Grizz’s thick brows lift in surprise as Viper joins us with a stack of clothing and the medical kit.
As I clean and bandage her cuts and get her dressed, Grizz ducks out and returns with an armful of fresh blankets, a heating pad, and a portable heater. He sets it up without aword, moving with a quiet tenderness that never fails to surprise people who only see his size.
