Wolfsbane (24 page)

“Good, ’cuz I’d hate to have to kill myself.”

Fire roiled through his chest. He grabbed the back of her neck and drew her face closer. “What did—?”

“Canyon.” She clapped a hand on his forearm. “It was a joke. I—I didn’t mean it.”

“Get that thought out of your head. Suicide is
not
an option. Not now. Not ever.” Where was that O
₂
line? The thought of living without her … of her being gone … of her ending her life … “No matter what happens, I’m there. Got it? I’m not going anywhere without you.”

She gave a faint nod, then her gaze dropped to his mouth. And he knew—
knew
—what she was thinking. How did the woman switch tracks faster than him? Lord help him, he wanted another kiss. To touch that piece of paradise again …

No. He’d made a vow to his brother, to his family.

The world tilted. Vibrated. Shifted beneath the power of—

“Midas!”
The shout wailed through the torrential elements and slammed into him.

An evil roar devoured all sound. Sucked them into a vacuum where only the angry howl of the wind reverberated through his body.

Rumbling shook the Hummer. It rocked. Forward. Back. Forward. What was it? A tornado? He glanced to the other side of the road. The veins in Frogman’s neck bulged as he shouted and motioned him back. A muted crack sliced through the chaos. Then, as if in some surreal horror movie in slow motion, the Hummer’s right side rose upward.
What the …?
No! Not rise—

“Oh crap!” Pure instinct made him jerk the Hummer door closed. Rumbling increased. Deafening. Numbing.

Roark screamed. Slid away toward the other side. She grabbed at his arms. Her body dropped down. That’s when the dots connected. That’s when he realized the Hummer was sliding … sideways … down. Off the side of the mountain.

Mudslide!

CHAPTER 14

G
reedy and ravenous, gravity clawed at Dani. The door flapped open.

Her legs took on the weight of anchors as the Hummer slid down the face of the mountain sideways. She strained to reach Canyon and managed a weak grasp. Stricken, she locked her gaze on him—his blue eyes nearly lost amid the paint streaked over his face. But nothing could hide his frantic expression.

“Don’t let go!”

She clapped her hands around Canyon’s forearms, clinging tight, her body dangling over the ripped seat and half out of the Hummer. With his help, she hauled herself back inside.

Feet planted, one on the seat and one on the floorboard, Canyon braced himself as he pulled. “Wedge your feet!”

Scrambling, Dani hefted her legs upward. They hit the steel brace under the driver’s seat, then slipped against the slick surface. “I can’t! The mud …” She whimpered past the lump in her throat.

Her hands were slipping out of his grasp.

Dani yelped as gravity exerted its power, yanking her downward. Her finger slipped over his wet clothes … down his wrists. In one last effort, she dug her fingernails into his hands. But still she slipped. Dropped.

“Roark!”

Air sucked at her. Her body plummeted—then suddenly swung sideways. She pitched into the back of the driver’s seat. Though the impact felt like she’d been knocked against a cement wall, relief plucked the breath from her chest.

Hands pawed at her. Finally, Canyon latched on to the drag straps of her vest. His hot breath skated down her neck. “We’ve swung around,”
he shouted over the roar of the storm.

Swung around. That was good. It meant she wasn’t in danger of being snatched out and buried alive in a mud grave. After a shaky nod, she smiled. Braving a peek over the headrest, she froze. The front end dove downward amid a sea of mud, trees, and shrubs. Would they tip over? Resting her face against the vinyl seat, she caught her breath. Already she felt the tremor in her limbs from the adrenaline dump.

“No.” He nodded toward the front windshield as he strained across and pulled the door closed. He pushed himself back up.

The wide front end of the black vehicle surged and dipped. Mud splashed over the hood and splatted the windshield. But that was just it. In the black night, only blackness reigned. “What?” She couldn’t see anything. What was he worried about?

“It’s a mudslide. The entire shelf is gone.” He struggled, fiddling with something behind them. “Wrap this around your arm and hold on.” He pulled hard on a strap—a seat belt.

“Why?”

“The Hummer is made for this. We’re safest inside. Don’t want to lose you.”

He didn’t answer her questions. And that meant he was hiding something from her. Dani grabbed his arm. “Wh–what aren’t you telling me?”

Knees wedging him between the edge of the rear seat and the front passenger seat, he looked to her, then back to the belts he wrapped around his arms.

“Canyon!”

He glared at her. Then out the windshield with a curt nod. “The river. It’s probably gorged on the rain and mud.”

Her heart dropped with the Hummer … straight down. She strained to see in the distance, but again the void of light prohibited her view. “Are you sure?”

He flashed a cockeyed grin. “No, I just thought I’d make it up so life would be a little more interesting.” With that, he leaned toward the driver’s console. He flipped a few knobs.

“What’re you do—?”

Light stabbed the wicked night.

He scrabbled backward and pressed his shoulder against the seat. “We’re moving too fast. I think we’re going over.”

Dani widened her eyes. “Over what?”

“The cliff. A big drop into the Río Lagunita.”

As the Hummer pitched and jerked, Canyon keyed his mic. “Frogman, this is Midas. Come in.”

“Mi—
hiss
—see you—
hiss
—miles from position—
hissssss
…”

He pressed the piece against his ear again. “Frogman, come in.” He craned his neck and peered back up the mountain. The distance between his position and the top grew quickly. “Frogman, can you see us?”

“hiss—ative. Lost—”

A shriek rent the line.

“Ack!” Canyon snatched the piece out, his ear ringing.
Merciful God, where are You?
He grabbed his SureFire and aimed the flashlight out the side windows.

Roark straddled the middle space between the seats. “Are they going to rescue us?”

A sea of mud, trees, and debris sped down the mountain with them. He could only thank God they were in the Hummer, or they’d have been buried alive in the first two seconds. Still … “First things first.”

Irritation skidded along her face. “Like?”

“Surviving this mudslide.”

“But …” She licked her lips. “We’re in the Hummer.”

“And we’re heading for a drop. If we don’t slow …” It didn’t need to be said. Roark was a smart girl. She could figure it out. His light beam struck more trees. Was that a slab of cement tumbling past them? Another reason to thank God—if that’d hit them, they’d have been knocked around, if not killed. The power of the slide must be stronger than he’d figured. Nothing like sluicing twenty miles an hour down a mountain in a river of mud.

“What are you looking for?”

“Debris that could k—” Canyon bit off the word. “Hit us.”

“Kill us. That’s what you were going to say, right?”

Neither of them needed that image in their heads. “Just keep watch.”

Silence—but not silence with the gurgling and slurping of the mudslide outside and rushing against the hull—gaped inside the cabin. He cursed himself. If he’d been paying attention, if he hadn’t been yelling at Roark, he would’ve seen this coming. Maybe gotten them out before the road dissolved.

“The drop-off!” Roark stabbed a finger toward the front of the SUV.

The panic in her voice jerked his attention toward the foot of the mountain where a mighty body of water carved out a trail that led
southeast. Far away … very far away from the team. If they got caught in that, if somehow they were shoved into the river—

No. He couldn’t go there. Coated with mud and casting dimmer light, the headlamps illuminated what lay ahead. Like lasers pointing the way toward the drop-off. He checked the side window, his focus on a tree that seemed to keep pace with them. He skirted a glance around.

“I think we’re slowing.” He struck his flashlight beam over the side. “Yeah. Look. The trees are lodged tight.” On the other side, debris still tumbled over each other, racing toward the finish. Yet not as fast. Was it too much to hope for that they’d make it out of this alive?

“Seriously? We’re stopping?” Roark whipped her head around and peered through the windows. “Are we?” A bubble of laughter seeped through the tension-wrought moment.

Canyon studied the battered landscape. “Yeah, I think so.”

As if someone had applied a magical brake, they drifted down the last few feet, sliding closer … closer …

Canyon leaned back, pressing his legs against the seats as the SUV shuddered and glided toward the drop-off. The Hummer swirled at the basin where the mud spiraled to a stop facing the edge of the world. At least, it felt that way. Canyon checked outside. Would something push them over?

“We stopped!” The hope in her voice tugged on his pessimism.

One wrong hit by a tree … if another piece of the mountain gave way … it’d all be over. Canyon took the next couple of minutes to assess the situation. The elements. The debris mottling the river of mud as it trickled farther down the mountainside. Some dripped into the river. Amazingly, the Hummer held. Rain dribbled in through the cracked rear window.

Canyon eased onto the edge of the seat and unwound his hand from the belt. He swept his flashlight beam along the sides again. “I think …” His voice strained as he scanned the upper slope of the mountain from where they’d made their descent. A long gouge defaced it. Two sides lush and green. The middle marred brown and gaping.

He double-checked the distance from the front bumper to the cliff’s lip. Not more than ten feet,
if
that. “That was close.” Finally he let his focus drift to Roark. Her eyes were fastened to him, waiting … holding her breath, it seemed.

A smile faltered on her lips. She nodded, as if to say they’d made it. Then glanced through the back of the Hummer. She blew a breath through her lips. “Wow.” A shaky smile. “Let’s not do that again.”

“Agreed.”

“Think we can get back to the team?”

“Dunno. Maybe.” He slumped against the seat, letting the adrenaline bottom out. “It’ll be one heckuva climb. First, we need to make sure things are secure before we attempt it.”

“I thought it was over.”

He eyed the terrain. Some portions were still rupturing. But it was far to the side, away from them. “We’re good.” He patted her shoulder. “Let’s grab what we can and wade out.”

Crack!

The sound jerked his gaze to the rear. Up twenty or thirty feet on the lush green side, a tree had its feet seemingly swept out from under it. It tripped into the muddy river.

Canyon drew back, his pulse pinging. “Oh no.” He held his breath, waiting as the tree decided its course.

God …

Roark looked out the window and gasped. “Canyon?” She whipped toward him, eyes huge. Her fingers coiled around his arm as she pulled closer to him.

The mammoth tree laid back like a slider in the luge. Roots flung mud in all directions as the thing spiraled on its slick bed. It rocketed down. Straight toward them.

“Brace yourself!”

DAY TWO