Just Enough Light

Kellen Ryan has taken the survival skills she learned on the streets and used them to create an elite search-and-rescue operation, as well as the first home she’s known in forever—a sanctuary in Haven, Colorado, high in the Rockies.

A small mountain town was the last place Harvard-educated Dr. Dana Kingston expected to find herself. Still, when she’s offered an opportunity to partner with Kellen’s operation and develop a medical triage center, Dana follows her heart.

Dana falls hard and fast for the enigmatic Kellen. But she quickly realizes Kellen’s heart is as carefully guarded as her past, and breaking through will take time. Except time is the one thing they may not have, because a deadly threat has returned, and this time he plans to finish what he started.

Just Enough Light

Brought to you by

eBooks from Bold Strokes Books, Inc.

http://www.boldstrokesbooks.com

eBooks are not transferable. They cannot be sold, shared or given away as it is an infringement on the copyright of this work.

Please respect the rights of the author and do not file share.

Just Enough Light

© 2016 By AJ Quinn. All Rights Reserved.

ISBN 13: 978-1-62639-686-9

This Electronic Book is published by

Bold Strokes Books, Inc.

P.O. Box 249

Valley Falls, New York 12185

First Edition: July 2016

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission.

Credits

Editor: Ruth Sternglantz

Production Design: Susan Ramundo

Cover Design By Sheri ([email protected])

Hostage Moon

Show of Force

Rules of Revenge

Just Enough Light

The process of creating and writing stories largely takes place in a solitary world, with countless hours spent dreaming, researching, writing, editing…and then repeating the cycle as often as necessary. All before a manuscript finds its way into the hands of an editor.

But much to my amazement and gratitude, writing has also opened previously unknown doors through which incredible people from all over the world have entered my life. Readers, other writers (yes, I mean you, Paige)…and my chosen family, who came into my life through my very first book.

So I will always be profoundly grateful to Radclyffe and Bold Strokes Books for providing the platform from which my stories can take flight. To Ruth, Cindy, Sandy, Connie, Sheri, Lori, Toni, and all the others who work so tirelessly to make everything possible. And especially to you, the readers, who continue to allow me to enter your lives through my stories. Thank you for your emails, your words of encouragement, and your support. It’s both an honor and a pleasure to share this time with you.

To my chosen family…forever in my heart.

It had to be a dream.

A really bad dream.

There could be no other explanation, Kellen reasoned, as the wind whipped around her and icy rain pelted her face. The sharp stings nearly blinded her, soaked her. She blinked, struggled to focus, and forced some even breaths, in and out, as she tried to make sense of what was happening. But it was as if a fog had enveloped her brain causing her thoughts to collide.

There’d been a call.

She distinctly remembered that much. A call coming in about three climbers—one seriously injured—somewhere on the north face of Devil’s Tower.

It was an area she knew well. Steeper than a lot of the other climbs in the area, technically difficult, and most of all, intimidating. The approach was both steep and exposed, made more challenging by the ever-changing weather and a prevalence of rockfall, with most of the pitches between 5.9 and 5.10 plus.

Extractions from Devil’s Tower were always difficult. The terrain made any rescue operation dangerous and even a minor accident could be potentially disastrous. And if the injured climber had any internal bleeding, it could mean death within two hours. So it was serendipity that Kellen had a SAR team in the immediate vicinity. And just like that, a training exercise turned into a real-life rescue mission.

While pilot and navigator worked on pinpointing the injured climber’s location, Kellen recalled getting ready. Rigging up and hooking to a winch cable in the back of the bright red Sikorsky helicopter. She could feel the helicopter shudder—caught in the changing air currents—and heard Annie tell Sam to pass north. Turning her attention from the discussion continuing on her headset, she concentrated on adjusting the harness and got ready to be lowered down to the mountain ledge.

It was at that point that things stopped being quite so clear and time took on an eerie, slow-motion feel.

She remembered dropping her deployment bag containing everything she’d need to stabilize and prepare the injured climber for transport. Remembered pivoting on the skid until she was facing the inside of the helicopter and giving Annie and Ren, working the winch, a thumbs-up, indicating she was ready. And she could clearly recall vigorously pushing away from the skid to begin her descent.

If she had wanted to, Kellen could have rappelled from the helicopter with her eyes closed. Her actions were ingrained, body memory reinforced through years of continuous, repetitive training and real-life experience. She knew the drop rate was supposed to be roughly eight feet per second, and as she descended, she released the tension on the rope and moved her brake hand out at a 45-degree angle to regulate her descent.

But in the next instant, she felt a burning pain, high in her shoulder. Her arm became numb, her hand stopped responding, and she could no longer maintain her hold on the brake. She knew the consequences. But she could do nothing to prevent what was happening.

She knew she was falling and there was nothing but unforgiving rock directly below her to break her fall.

*

When Kellen opened her eyes again, she was sprawled on her back on a cold slab of rock. The freezing rain was now mixed with wet snow, and if possible, it had gotten colder.

There was a faint ringing in her ears, but beyond that, nothing. She blinked in confusion and tried to move, but immediately stopped and nearly screamed as pain shot through her. Dazed, disoriented, unable to think clearly, she looked straight up and watched what could only be the winch cable as it swayed in and out of her vision.

So this was what real fear felt like.

She swallowed it back, exhaled slowly, and watched the icy air frost her breath. She knew that on a dark night, and especially in snow, perspectives became distorted so she tried harder to concentrate. Tried to follow the cable up until it disappeared in the fog and mist. Logic dictated it was still attached to the helicopter. But as she stared, it seemed as if the cable was connected to nothing more substantial than the thick gray clouds.