One Wrong Move, page 4
Christian shifted the vehicle in gear, pulled back onto the road, and followed it out to the highway.
She couldn’t help looking back, but there was no white SUV in sight. “So,” she said, resituating herself, “you were saying something about Tad and his missing fob.”
“Right. . . . Mind if I crack the window some? It’s so nice out.”
“Not at all.” In fact, she did the same. Warm wind whistled through the Bronco, fluffing wisps of hair from her intricately woven bun.
“Tad filled me in on my ride into town,” Christian explained.
“And?”
“He knows who took the fob.”
“Great. Who is it?”
Christian tapped the wheel. “That’s the problem, he doesn’t know.”
She frowned. “I don’t follow.”
“Tad went home with a woman from a gala he hosted last night. He met her at the end of the night. She’s not local. They were both three sheets to the wind. They went to his place. They . . .” He tilted his head. “Gracefully sidestepping that one. Several hours later, he woke, and the woman and the fob were gone.”
“He doesn’t know the woman he went home with? I realize, not the point to focus on, but ewww.”
“Agreed. We’ll have to question the rest of the gala guests. See if someone there knew her. I highly doubt some unknown person just waltzed into town, happened to be dressed for an art gala, and randomly ended up with Tad.”
“So, you’re thinking she was part of the heist plans?”
Christian tapped his nose. Adorable as it was. Seriously! What was up with her? Of course, she noticed handsome men, but only in a passing glance. Christian was sticking in her mind, and that was not acceptable. “You think she set Tad up?”
“Absolutely. She played him.”
“Played him?” she asked.
“Like in a con . . .” His gaze flashed to the rearview mirror, and she turned, this time seeing a white SUV barreling down the winding road behind them. “Hold on.”
The pulsing of unrestrained fear seared her limbs as she braced for impact. This wasn’t happening.
“Hang on to the roll bar!” Christian hollered.
She scrambled to curl her fingers around the silver bar overhead.
Christian gunned the gas, but it made no difference. The SUV rammed into the rear driver-side door, the collision whipping Andi’s head forward, her body jarring, pain radiating down her legs.
They rocked to a stop, mere inches from the guardrail but still on the pavement.
Christian looked over, his gaze slipping over her. “You okay? Are you hurt?”
“I’m okay,” she started, and then her eyes widened as a white flash of movement swept across the back window. “He’s backing up!”
Christian revved the engine. The Bronco lurched forward, but the SUV rammed into the rear, thrusting them skidding sideways, the odor of burning rubber and burning brakes filling her nostrils as the SUV plowed them into the guardrail.
He hit the gas, but the wheels just spun out. “Come on.” He pumped the gas, the wheels kicking up smoke, but he couldn’t gain traction.
The SUV backed up and came barreling at them again.
Without thinking, Andi reached over and took his hand. He intertwined his fingers with hers. The SUV collided, whipping them sideways, crashing them over the guardrail.
A scream burst from her throat as the ground dipped away.
Please, Lord. I’m not ready to die. But if it’s my time, fly me home to you.
They landed with a slamming lurch. She opened her eyes and looked at Christian—confusion passing between them.
He ever-so-carefully moved toward the window, looking out. His shoulders drooped on an exhale. “We landed on a ledge.”
“Oh, thank you, Lord.”
“Amen,” he said.
“What now?” she asked.
“Well, the good news is the ledge is holding us for now.”
Her chest squeezed. “And the bad?”
“We’re at a precarious angle, and—”
The Bronco slid.
“Aaaaah!” She braced herself with one hand on the doorframe, the other with a flattened palm on the roof.
EIGHT
ROCKS GROUND BENEATH the Bronco’s tires, and Andi’s throat squeezed shut.
The Bronco slid to a gravel-crunching stop.
“That’s the bad news,” Christian said, his hands braced on the dash.
Her breath hitched. “Any good news? Will help come?”
“If anyone witnessed what happened, they’ll call it in, but . . .”
“We don’t have time for that.”
“Right.”
“So what’s the plan?”
“Yep,” he said.
Yep was not an answer.
“Christian?”
“Okay,” he said, assessing their situation. “We need to get out of here.”
“Agreed.” She nodded, unbuckled, and shifted.
And so did the Bronco.
She froze as it slid again before rocking to a lurching stop.
He held his hands out in a steadying signal. “We need to get out of here very carefully and climb up.”
“Climb up?” Was he kidding?
“We’ve got this.” His voice remained calm. How could he always be so calm?
She took a shallow breath, trying not to full-out panic.
“Okay,” he said. “I want you to very slowly try and open your door.”
She shifted, and the Bronco rocked. She held her breath until it stopped.
“Try again. Nice and slow,” he whispered.
With as little movement as possible, she eased back the door handle. Crunching metal sounded as the door stopped hard.
“What’s wrong?”
“It won’t open. Something’s blocking it.”
“Okay,” Christian said, looking behind them. “My door won’t open either. We’re going to have to climb out the back hatch.”
“The hatch?” Was he crazy?
“You go first,” he said. “Just crawl back to the back hatch. You can do this.”
She prayed he knew what he was talking about.
“Take a deep breath for me. . . .”
She gulped in a shallow breath.
“Try a bit deeper. . . .”
She inhaled, the air reaching her lungs this time.
“Now, nice and steady.”
She nodded, eased off her heels, and inched across the flipped-down back seat.
The Bronco rocked.
“Go fast!” he shouted, scrambling after her.
NINE
SHE BOLTED FORWARD, gripped the handle, thrust the hatch open, and lunged out. She collided with the rock face, her knees taking the brunt of the motion, the rock scraping the soles of her bare feet. As she struggled for breath and purchase, a powerful weight slammed into her, pressing her against the cliff.
“Sorr—” A loud growl rent the air, cutting him off.
She sneaked a look beneath his arm. The Bronco teetered and then, with crumbling rocks spilling, tumbled over the edge.
Christian released an exhale. “That was too close.”
She nodded, the words not forming.
He shifted his full weight off her, both hands flattened on the rock on either side of her. “You ready?” he asked.
“Ready for what?”
“Climbing up.”
“What?”
“I don’t hear any sirens yet. I think we’re on our own for now. We need to get topside.”
“How do you propose we do that?” she asked, looking at the ridge a solid twenty feet up.
His hand clamped over her right one. “Just like this grip,” he said of the hold she’d found. “You find handholds and footholds and work your way up.”
“Aren’t we supposed to have ropes of some kind before attempting that?” She looked down at her bare feet. “Or climbing shoes.”
“I free-climb all the time, and you’ll be okay without shoes. At least it’s fall, and the rock face is cool.”
She swallowed, staring again at the drop. “I don’t think I can do this.”
“Sure, you can. . . . Wait, are you afraid of heights?”
“Bingo.”
“Sorry.”
It wasn’t something to be sorry for. Just a fact, but she appreciated his compassion.
“I’ll spot you all the way up,” he said, his tone assuring.
She swallowed. “What does that mean, exactly?”
“I’ll follow right behind you. Keep my hand on your back as much as I’m able. You can do this. I promise.”
“That’s a hefty promise, mister.”
He chuckled. “There. That humor, that strength you clearly possess. That’s why I know you can do this.”
Rocks shifted beneath his foot when he moved it.
Yikes! It was impossible to push herself closer to the mountainside. She was already flush against it.
“Okay,” he said, his right hand still cupped over hers. “And put it here.” With strength and tenderness, he lifted her hand up and rested it on a narrow ledge in the rock. “Good,” he said. “Now, your foot is going to wedge on that opening six inches to your right.”
She looked. A protruding crag no more than a handful of inches deep. “Seriously?” Her breath spurted . . . so shallow.
“You’ve got this, and I’ve got you.” Oddly, she actually believed him—a man she’d met just hours ago.
“Okay,” she said, pulling on the ledge above, stretching her bare foot over to the opening, and surprisingly finding purchase. She released a quivering exhale. Maybe she could do this.
“Good.” His hand remained splayed on her lower back. “But push up on the balls of your feet. Use your legs’ momentum instead of your arms. They tire faster.”
She nodded. “Where next?”
He instructed the movements, and she followed.
His hand slipped off her back.
“Hey.” She made the mistake of looking back. Her head swirled.
“Easy,” he said, his hand resting against her back once again. “Just had to make the move. I’ve got you. Deep breath and let’s go.”
She tried. She really did, but her breath only came in shallow gasps. Where was a brown paper bag when she needed one?
Two more holds and Christian was nearly against her again—his warmth radiating through her. His strong muscles keeping her steady.
“Okay, last move. I want you to stretch your leg as far as you can and place it on that ledge out to your left, then push up on the ball of your foot and grab the top edge. See that rock there . . .” He indicated up.
She looked and nodded, fear trickling through her.
“You can wrap your hand around it.”
Her chest tight, her hands throbbing with the abrasions, and scrapes on the soles of her bare feet, she squeezed her eyes shut.
Please, Father, let us make it up. Be with me. Wrap your arms around me and carry me up.
“You okay?” he asked.
“Just saying a prayer,” she whispered.
“Same.”
So Christian was a Christian.
“You’ve got this,” he said.
She nodded and slid her now tattered skirt up over her knees. Heat pulsed through her quivering leg, but her foot settled on the crag. She pushed up, perspiration sliding down her face as she stretched her hand out. Come on! Finally, her hand caught the crag and closed around it. She pulled at the same time she pushed up off her foot. With blissful relief she lifted over the edge and onto solid ground.
A man and a woman rushed forward. “Oh, my goodness. Are you okay?” The man knelt by her side, and the woman stood, covering her mouth. “We were higher up the road but saw that SUV push you over. Gail called the police,” the man said, indicating the woman, whose eyes were wide, her jaw slack now that she’d moved her hand away.
Andi looked over to see Christian, but he wasn’t over the edge yet.
Her heart thudding, she looked back down, ignoring the swirling of the world below, and spotted him dangling on a handhold ten inches down.
“What’s wrong?”
“The foothold cracked. I’ll get it. I just need a little momentum.”
Please, Lord.
The crazy man shifted his weight, swinging his body to the side and then up in a swoop, his leg landing on the ridge. A breath of a moment later, he rolled over the ledge and lowered his head on a swift puff of air.
The man scooted back as sirens blared in the distance.
Christian locked his gaze on her, his eyes and smile soft . . . tender. “You did good.”
“Thanks.” It’d been his help. Otherwise . . . she hated to think what would have happened otherwise.
Sirens rent the air. Christian got to his feet, and Andi fixed her gaze on the blue and red swirling lights rounding the bend, then up the switchback at a flash of movement. She frowned and zeroed in.
“What is it?” Christian asked.
She stilled. A man moved on an upper ridge, headed for a white SUV.
Christian bolted forward.
“What are you doing?” she called after him, watching his hand shift to rest on the grip of his gun in his holster. Unfortunately, her gun was still in the Bronco, along with her purse.
“Going for him,” Christian hollered back as he raced for the switchback.
“Are you serious? You can’t catch him.”
“I’ve gotta try.”
TEN
HIS LUNGS BURNING, Christian rounded the bend as the white SUV disappeared into the distance. He bent at the waist, planting his hands on his knees while he settled his breath, frustration pulsating through him.
If only he’d been faster, had seen the SUV’s plate. Something to go on other than the nondescript vehicle.
He glanced back at the scene, the twisted guardrail. So close to death. If the Bronco hadn’t landed just right on the ledge . . .
Thank you, Lord, for saving us.
God had protected them, preserved them. He knew it in his bones. Sirens blared, soon followed by red and blue lights swirling below. The emergency vehicles pooled at the side of the drop-off.
Making his way back down the road, he passed several cars cut off by the fire truck, ambulance, and police car. The people inside stared at him, wide-eyed, as he passed.
“Christian,” his friend Axle said as he reached his side. “I should have known it was you causing trouble.”
Andi looked up from her place on the back of the ambulance as a paramedic examined her.
“This climbing feat was definitely not by choice,” he said, clasping his baseball buddy’s hand.
“Axle, this is Andi Forester,” he said.
“We already exchanged pleasantries,” she said with a smile.
“Good.” He shifted his gaze to Axle as he examined her, queasiness welling inside. “Is she okay?”
Axle looked up at him. “Some serious bumps and bruises, but she’s going to be fine.”
Phew. “Great.”
“Christian, this is my partner, Cass,” Axle said, lifting his chin as a second man rounded the back of the ambulance. “This is Christian O’Brady. We’re on the Los Lobos regional baseball team together.”
“Cool,” Cass said. “Nice to meet you, man. Why don’t you have a seat next to her . . .” He indicated Andi. “And I’ll check you out.”
“Appreciate it, but other than a few scrapes and bruises, I’m good.”
“Humor me,” Cass said.
Christian exhaled. He was only doing his job. “Okay,” Christian said, sitting down on the back edge of the ambulance beside Andi.
“Great,” Cass said, moving to examine him. “When we wrap up here, we’ll take you to the hospital.”
“No need,” Andi said.
Axle looked at up her, pausing from cleaning out the wound on her right knee.
“Just bumps and bruises, like you said.” Andi smiled at Axle.
“It wouldn’t hurt to be checked out,” Cass chimed in.
“I appreciate it,” Andi said as Axle resumed cleaning out her wounds.
Christian winced. They were seriously bruised, swelling, and scraped up. “Maybe a good look wouldn’t hurt,” he said.
“Really, I’m fine.”
Christian smiled at her persistence. The lady wasn’t budging.
“All right.” Axle smiled with a shake of his head.
Cass looked up and lifted his chin at the approaching policeman. “I’m sure Jim has plenty of questions for you.”
“Jim?” Andi asked.
“Santa Fe police,” Christian said.
“Do you know everyone around here?” she asked, curiosity tickling her tone.
“It’s a small enough area. In my line of work, you get to know local law enforcement. Besides, our baseball team that Axle mentioned? It’s a regional law enforcement and emergency service league.”
Andi stood, wincing in the process.
“You sure you’re okay?” he asked her again.
“Christian,” Jim said, greeting him, then shifted his gaze to Andi.
“Andi Forester,” she said.
“Officer Sandez, Santa Fe police, but you can call me Jim.”
“Jim.” She nodded.
He looked to the guardrail then back to them. “What on earth happened here?”
An hour and a half later, they sat at the Santa Fe police station on Camino Entrada, both a little worse for the wear, but at least they’d convinced Axle and Cass they didn’t need to be seen at the hospital. What they needed was a vehicle to get to Albuquerque. They still had a heist scene to get to. Andi rubbed her hand along the pebbled leather surface of her purse.
“I’m glad the retrieval team was able to retrieve and return your purse and handgun so quickly,” Christian said.
“Me too.”
“I’m going to call my brother to run us a car and give me some fresh clothes,” he said. “I can either ask my sister to bring you an outfit, as you look about the same size, or I’m more than happy to drive you to your house to get changed.” Her poor skirt was torn up all along the hem. “Where do you live?”
“Down in Lamy. I feel strange asking a total stranger, but if you’re sure your sister wouldn’t mind lending me an outfit, that would be great. I’d hate to waste time by diverting to my place.”
She couldn’t help looking back, but there was no white SUV in sight. “So,” she said, resituating herself, “you were saying something about Tad and his missing fob.”
“Right. . . . Mind if I crack the window some? It’s so nice out.”
“Not at all.” In fact, she did the same. Warm wind whistled through the Bronco, fluffing wisps of hair from her intricately woven bun.
“Tad filled me in on my ride into town,” Christian explained.
“And?”
“He knows who took the fob.”
“Great. Who is it?”
Christian tapped the wheel. “That’s the problem, he doesn’t know.”
She frowned. “I don’t follow.”
“Tad went home with a woman from a gala he hosted last night. He met her at the end of the night. She’s not local. They were both three sheets to the wind. They went to his place. They . . .” He tilted his head. “Gracefully sidestepping that one. Several hours later, he woke, and the woman and the fob were gone.”
“He doesn’t know the woman he went home with? I realize, not the point to focus on, but ewww.”
“Agreed. We’ll have to question the rest of the gala guests. See if someone there knew her. I highly doubt some unknown person just waltzed into town, happened to be dressed for an art gala, and randomly ended up with Tad.”
“So, you’re thinking she was part of the heist plans?”
Christian tapped his nose. Adorable as it was. Seriously! What was up with her? Of course, she noticed handsome men, but only in a passing glance. Christian was sticking in her mind, and that was not acceptable. “You think she set Tad up?”
“Absolutely. She played him.”
“Played him?” she asked.
“Like in a con . . .” His gaze flashed to the rearview mirror, and she turned, this time seeing a white SUV barreling down the winding road behind them. “Hold on.”
The pulsing of unrestrained fear seared her limbs as she braced for impact. This wasn’t happening.
“Hang on to the roll bar!” Christian hollered.
She scrambled to curl her fingers around the silver bar overhead.
Christian gunned the gas, but it made no difference. The SUV rammed into the rear driver-side door, the collision whipping Andi’s head forward, her body jarring, pain radiating down her legs.
They rocked to a stop, mere inches from the guardrail but still on the pavement.
Christian looked over, his gaze slipping over her. “You okay? Are you hurt?”
“I’m okay,” she started, and then her eyes widened as a white flash of movement swept across the back window. “He’s backing up!”
Christian revved the engine. The Bronco lurched forward, but the SUV rammed into the rear, thrusting them skidding sideways, the odor of burning rubber and burning brakes filling her nostrils as the SUV plowed them into the guardrail.
He hit the gas, but the wheels just spun out. “Come on.” He pumped the gas, the wheels kicking up smoke, but he couldn’t gain traction.
The SUV backed up and came barreling at them again.
Without thinking, Andi reached over and took his hand. He intertwined his fingers with hers. The SUV collided, whipping them sideways, crashing them over the guardrail.
A scream burst from her throat as the ground dipped away.
Please, Lord. I’m not ready to die. But if it’s my time, fly me home to you.
They landed with a slamming lurch. She opened her eyes and looked at Christian—confusion passing between them.
He ever-so-carefully moved toward the window, looking out. His shoulders drooped on an exhale. “We landed on a ledge.”
“Oh, thank you, Lord.”
“Amen,” he said.
“What now?” she asked.
“Well, the good news is the ledge is holding us for now.”
Her chest squeezed. “And the bad?”
“We’re at a precarious angle, and—”
The Bronco slid.
“Aaaaah!” She braced herself with one hand on the doorframe, the other with a flattened palm on the roof.
EIGHT
ROCKS GROUND BENEATH the Bronco’s tires, and Andi’s throat squeezed shut.
The Bronco slid to a gravel-crunching stop.
“That’s the bad news,” Christian said, his hands braced on the dash.
Her breath hitched. “Any good news? Will help come?”
“If anyone witnessed what happened, they’ll call it in, but . . .”
“We don’t have time for that.”
“Right.”
“So what’s the plan?”
“Yep,” he said.
Yep was not an answer.
“Christian?”
“Okay,” he said, assessing their situation. “We need to get out of here.”
“Agreed.” She nodded, unbuckled, and shifted.
And so did the Bronco.
She froze as it slid again before rocking to a lurching stop.
He held his hands out in a steadying signal. “We need to get out of here very carefully and climb up.”
“Climb up?” Was he kidding?
“We’ve got this.” His voice remained calm. How could he always be so calm?
She took a shallow breath, trying not to full-out panic.
“Okay,” he said. “I want you to very slowly try and open your door.”
She shifted, and the Bronco rocked. She held her breath until it stopped.
“Try again. Nice and slow,” he whispered.
With as little movement as possible, she eased back the door handle. Crunching metal sounded as the door stopped hard.
“What’s wrong?”
“It won’t open. Something’s blocking it.”
“Okay,” Christian said, looking behind them. “My door won’t open either. We’re going to have to climb out the back hatch.”
“The hatch?” Was he crazy?
“You go first,” he said. “Just crawl back to the back hatch. You can do this.”
She prayed he knew what he was talking about.
“Take a deep breath for me. . . .”
She gulped in a shallow breath.
“Try a bit deeper. . . .”
She inhaled, the air reaching her lungs this time.
“Now, nice and steady.”
She nodded, eased off her heels, and inched across the flipped-down back seat.
The Bronco rocked.
“Go fast!” he shouted, scrambling after her.
NINE
SHE BOLTED FORWARD, gripped the handle, thrust the hatch open, and lunged out. She collided with the rock face, her knees taking the brunt of the motion, the rock scraping the soles of her bare feet. As she struggled for breath and purchase, a powerful weight slammed into her, pressing her against the cliff.
“Sorr—” A loud growl rent the air, cutting him off.
She sneaked a look beneath his arm. The Bronco teetered and then, with crumbling rocks spilling, tumbled over the edge.
Christian released an exhale. “That was too close.”
She nodded, the words not forming.
He shifted his full weight off her, both hands flattened on the rock on either side of her. “You ready?” he asked.
“Ready for what?”
“Climbing up.”
“What?”
“I don’t hear any sirens yet. I think we’re on our own for now. We need to get topside.”
“How do you propose we do that?” she asked, looking at the ridge a solid twenty feet up.
His hand clamped over her right one. “Just like this grip,” he said of the hold she’d found. “You find handholds and footholds and work your way up.”
“Aren’t we supposed to have ropes of some kind before attempting that?” She looked down at her bare feet. “Or climbing shoes.”
“I free-climb all the time, and you’ll be okay without shoes. At least it’s fall, and the rock face is cool.”
She swallowed, staring again at the drop. “I don’t think I can do this.”
“Sure, you can. . . . Wait, are you afraid of heights?”
“Bingo.”
“Sorry.”
It wasn’t something to be sorry for. Just a fact, but she appreciated his compassion.
“I’ll spot you all the way up,” he said, his tone assuring.
She swallowed. “What does that mean, exactly?”
“I’ll follow right behind you. Keep my hand on your back as much as I’m able. You can do this. I promise.”
“That’s a hefty promise, mister.”
He chuckled. “There. That humor, that strength you clearly possess. That’s why I know you can do this.”
Rocks shifted beneath his foot when he moved it.
Yikes! It was impossible to push herself closer to the mountainside. She was already flush against it.
“Okay,” he said, his right hand still cupped over hers. “And put it here.” With strength and tenderness, he lifted her hand up and rested it on a narrow ledge in the rock. “Good,” he said. “Now, your foot is going to wedge on that opening six inches to your right.”
She looked. A protruding crag no more than a handful of inches deep. “Seriously?” Her breath spurted . . . so shallow.
“You’ve got this, and I’ve got you.” Oddly, she actually believed him—a man she’d met just hours ago.
“Okay,” she said, pulling on the ledge above, stretching her bare foot over to the opening, and surprisingly finding purchase. She released a quivering exhale. Maybe she could do this.
“Good.” His hand remained splayed on her lower back. “But push up on the balls of your feet. Use your legs’ momentum instead of your arms. They tire faster.”
She nodded. “Where next?”
He instructed the movements, and she followed.
His hand slipped off her back.
“Hey.” She made the mistake of looking back. Her head swirled.
“Easy,” he said, his hand resting against her back once again. “Just had to make the move. I’ve got you. Deep breath and let’s go.”
She tried. She really did, but her breath only came in shallow gasps. Where was a brown paper bag when she needed one?
Two more holds and Christian was nearly against her again—his warmth radiating through her. His strong muscles keeping her steady.
“Okay, last move. I want you to stretch your leg as far as you can and place it on that ledge out to your left, then push up on the ball of your foot and grab the top edge. See that rock there . . .” He indicated up.
She looked and nodded, fear trickling through her.
“You can wrap your hand around it.”
Her chest tight, her hands throbbing with the abrasions, and scrapes on the soles of her bare feet, she squeezed her eyes shut.
Please, Father, let us make it up. Be with me. Wrap your arms around me and carry me up.
“You okay?” he asked.
“Just saying a prayer,” she whispered.
“Same.”
So Christian was a Christian.
“You’ve got this,” he said.
She nodded and slid her now tattered skirt up over her knees. Heat pulsed through her quivering leg, but her foot settled on the crag. She pushed up, perspiration sliding down her face as she stretched her hand out. Come on! Finally, her hand caught the crag and closed around it. She pulled at the same time she pushed up off her foot. With blissful relief she lifted over the edge and onto solid ground.
A man and a woman rushed forward. “Oh, my goodness. Are you okay?” The man knelt by her side, and the woman stood, covering her mouth. “We were higher up the road but saw that SUV push you over. Gail called the police,” the man said, indicating the woman, whose eyes were wide, her jaw slack now that she’d moved her hand away.
Andi looked over to see Christian, but he wasn’t over the edge yet.
Her heart thudding, she looked back down, ignoring the swirling of the world below, and spotted him dangling on a handhold ten inches down.
“What’s wrong?”
“The foothold cracked. I’ll get it. I just need a little momentum.”
Please, Lord.
The crazy man shifted his weight, swinging his body to the side and then up in a swoop, his leg landing on the ridge. A breath of a moment later, he rolled over the ledge and lowered his head on a swift puff of air.
The man scooted back as sirens blared in the distance.
Christian locked his gaze on her, his eyes and smile soft . . . tender. “You did good.”
“Thanks.” It’d been his help. Otherwise . . . she hated to think what would have happened otherwise.
Sirens rent the air. Christian got to his feet, and Andi fixed her gaze on the blue and red swirling lights rounding the bend, then up the switchback at a flash of movement. She frowned and zeroed in.
“What is it?” Christian asked.
She stilled. A man moved on an upper ridge, headed for a white SUV.
Christian bolted forward.
“What are you doing?” she called after him, watching his hand shift to rest on the grip of his gun in his holster. Unfortunately, her gun was still in the Bronco, along with her purse.
“Going for him,” Christian hollered back as he raced for the switchback.
“Are you serious? You can’t catch him.”
“I’ve gotta try.”
TEN
HIS LUNGS BURNING, Christian rounded the bend as the white SUV disappeared into the distance. He bent at the waist, planting his hands on his knees while he settled his breath, frustration pulsating through him.
If only he’d been faster, had seen the SUV’s plate. Something to go on other than the nondescript vehicle.
He glanced back at the scene, the twisted guardrail. So close to death. If the Bronco hadn’t landed just right on the ledge . . .
Thank you, Lord, for saving us.
God had protected them, preserved them. He knew it in his bones. Sirens blared, soon followed by red and blue lights swirling below. The emergency vehicles pooled at the side of the drop-off.
Making his way back down the road, he passed several cars cut off by the fire truck, ambulance, and police car. The people inside stared at him, wide-eyed, as he passed.
“Christian,” his friend Axle said as he reached his side. “I should have known it was you causing trouble.”
Andi looked up from her place on the back of the ambulance as a paramedic examined her.
“This climbing feat was definitely not by choice,” he said, clasping his baseball buddy’s hand.
“Axle, this is Andi Forester,” he said.
“We already exchanged pleasantries,” she said with a smile.
“Good.” He shifted his gaze to Axle as he examined her, queasiness welling inside. “Is she okay?”
Axle looked up at him. “Some serious bumps and bruises, but she’s going to be fine.”
Phew. “Great.”
“Christian, this is my partner, Cass,” Axle said, lifting his chin as a second man rounded the back of the ambulance. “This is Christian O’Brady. We’re on the Los Lobos regional baseball team together.”
“Cool,” Cass said. “Nice to meet you, man. Why don’t you have a seat next to her . . .” He indicated Andi. “And I’ll check you out.”
“Appreciate it, but other than a few scrapes and bruises, I’m good.”
“Humor me,” Cass said.
Christian exhaled. He was only doing his job. “Okay,” Christian said, sitting down on the back edge of the ambulance beside Andi.
“Great,” Cass said, moving to examine him. “When we wrap up here, we’ll take you to the hospital.”
“No need,” Andi said.
Axle looked at up her, pausing from cleaning out the wound on her right knee.
“Just bumps and bruises, like you said.” Andi smiled at Axle.
“It wouldn’t hurt to be checked out,” Cass chimed in.
“I appreciate it,” Andi said as Axle resumed cleaning out her wounds.
Christian winced. They were seriously bruised, swelling, and scraped up. “Maybe a good look wouldn’t hurt,” he said.
“Really, I’m fine.”
Christian smiled at her persistence. The lady wasn’t budging.
“All right.” Axle smiled with a shake of his head.
Cass looked up and lifted his chin at the approaching policeman. “I’m sure Jim has plenty of questions for you.”
“Jim?” Andi asked.
“Santa Fe police,” Christian said.
“Do you know everyone around here?” she asked, curiosity tickling her tone.
“It’s a small enough area. In my line of work, you get to know local law enforcement. Besides, our baseball team that Axle mentioned? It’s a regional law enforcement and emergency service league.”
Andi stood, wincing in the process.
“You sure you’re okay?” he asked her again.
“Christian,” Jim said, greeting him, then shifted his gaze to Andi.
“Andi Forester,” she said.
“Officer Sandez, Santa Fe police, but you can call me Jim.”
“Jim.” She nodded.
He looked to the guardrail then back to them. “What on earth happened here?”
An hour and a half later, they sat at the Santa Fe police station on Camino Entrada, both a little worse for the wear, but at least they’d convinced Axle and Cass they didn’t need to be seen at the hospital. What they needed was a vehicle to get to Albuquerque. They still had a heist scene to get to. Andi rubbed her hand along the pebbled leather surface of her purse.
“I’m glad the retrieval team was able to retrieve and return your purse and handgun so quickly,” Christian said.
“Me too.”
“I’m going to call my brother to run us a car and give me some fresh clothes,” he said. “I can either ask my sister to bring you an outfit, as you look about the same size, or I’m more than happy to drive you to your house to get changed.” Her poor skirt was torn up all along the hem. “Where do you live?”
“Down in Lamy. I feel strange asking a total stranger, but if you’re sure your sister wouldn’t mind lending me an outfit, that would be great. I’d hate to waste time by diverting to my place.”
