No Knight Needed (2 page)

The trees were bowing and lashing in the wind, dodging in and out of his headlights. Pine branches still loaded with needles littered the sodden road in front of him. The truck bounced and jagged across the debris, as if it were waltzing with the great Mother Earth herself.

Griffin hit the off button on his radio, silencing the satellite broadcast of Beethoven’s Fifth. The truck immediately filled with the howl of the wind, the drumroll of rain, the splash of puddles, and the roar of his engine.

He rolled down his window and breathed in the freshness of the air. The rain pelted his face and dripped down his neck, bringing life and vitality into the vehicle that had spent too many hours in his condo’s parking garage and on paved streets. Mail he’d collected just before driving out of Boston flew around the interior of the truck, sticking to the damp windows.

Instinctively, he swore and grabbed for the papers...then he saw what was in his hand. An ad for a Neiman Marcus sale addressed to his ex-wife.

Griffin usually dealt with more critical documents than two top level executive assistants could handle, but there was nothing important in the mail for him right now. Next week, life would resume. But today, not a damned thing.

It had been a week since he’d sold his company. Seven days to wrap up the business that had been his life for the last fifteen years, pack his truck with critical necessities, and haul ass up to the mountains to reclaim what was his.

He let the flyer drop and watched the white scrap flutter around the cab of his truck like a dove in its final stages of death.

Maybe it was time he let certain things die.

But as he punched the accelerator and made the truck leap forward, he knew he wouldn’t.

* * *

Griffin rounded the bend in the road and saw the red taillights of a car stopped directly in front of him. He instantly realized he had no time to stop on the wet dirt, so he jerked the wheel and swerved to the left. His front bumper barely missed the rear of the stopped vehicle as he bounced up the side of the embankment. His tires skidded across the muddy hillside, and the truck fish-tailed several times before finally coming to a stop at an angle that would have been fun as hell in his younger days.

Today, it was just an impediment to his forward progress.

A massive tree was down across the road. The roots were still wedged high up on the hillside, and the branches were hanging down over a ravine on the other side of the road. Headlights from the stopped car were illuminating the obstacle, and a small figure was attempting to shimmy precariously over the trunk. A woman? Or a teenager?

What did she think she was doing? She was going to get herself killed.

Griffin backed his truck off the ridge and turned his floodlights onto the tree. The climber raised an arm to block the light, and the hood fell back.

A soggy reddish-brown pony tail and fine cheekbones made it clear that it was woman, definitely not a teenager. Sudden, shocking awareness hit Griffin, a rush of heat so intense he forgot to breathe. Her face was pale, stripped by the rainy cold, but there was a fierce set to her delicate jaw that burned with a courage he rarely saw. Her shoulders were narrow, her legs slim in those dark jeans, but he could practically feel the determination coursing through her body.

A need to protect surged over him, a nearly insurmountable instinct to haul his ass across the wet road and hurl himself between her and that damned tree, shielding her from the lethal risk he knew it presented.

Griffin threw open the door of his truck and stepped out into the downpour. His high-tech jacket and boots kept him dry, but his jeans were soaked through within a few seconds. “Hey!” he shouted into the roar of the wind. “Get off the tree!”

She waved at him and yelled something back, but he couldn’t hear her. But when she grabbed a branch and braced her foot, he realized she was still going to climb over it. Screw that. No one got to die when he was around.

Griffin sprinted across the rain-soaked road, latched his arm around the woman’s waist and hauled her off. “That thing could come loose any moment,” he shouted over the storm. “Get off it!”

“Hey!” She twisted around in his arms, shoving hard at him to let her go.

Heat leapt through Griffin as his hands slid over her curves when she turned in his grasp. She was all woman, this petite firestorm in his arms, and that realization was like a spark, igniting a fire that had been dead inside him for so long. He was shocked by the bolt of desire rushing through him, jolting him with an awareness long forgotten.

Apparently oblivious to the lust she’d ignited in him, the woman glared at him, her blue eyes vibrant in the glare of his floodlights as she struggled to get free of his grip. “Why did you do that?” she demanded. She was furious, but there was a vulnerability in her voice that got his attention in a hurry. “I was almost over!”

“Those roots are loose in the soft ground.” Still holding her securely, he jerked his chin toward the almost fully exposed tree base. “The tree could slide over the cliff at any time, and if you’re on it, you’ll be going for a ride.”

Her eyes widened, and she looked quickly at the tree. He saw her rapidly assess the situation, and she pounded his arm in frustration as she realized he was right. The fight faded from her body, and she sagged in his arms as he set her down, holding her to make sure she wasn’t going to fall. He could feel her trembling, and the protective instinct he hadn’t felt in so long surged even more powerfully through him.

“Tonight isn’t the night to be driving around in the mountains,” he said, his grip tightening on her small waist, fighting his ridiculous caveman urge to sweep her up in his arms, toss her over his shoulder and whisk her away from this dangerous situation. “Turn your car around and come back after the storm when it’s safe.”

She shook her head, and he saw anguish on her face that turned his very soul. “My daughter’s up there. I have to get her.”

“Your daughter?” Instinctively, Griffin glanced up the road, into the pitch darkness of the storm and woods. Adrenaline shot through him, and every muscle in his body tensed. Shit. Daughters shouldn’t be in those woods during this kind of weather. “Up where? In a car?”

The woman whirled away from him, her boots splashing in the puddles as she paced frantically alongside the tree, searching for a way over. “She went camping with friends.”

“Camping?” The woman looked far too young to have a daughter old enough to go camping by herself. There was an innocent beauty to her, despite her tormented eyes and her storm-ravaged appearance. She was courageous, no doubt about that, but there was such desperation in those sapphire-colored eyes, such utter vulnerability that it touched his core.

She needed him. This sodden, frantic, sensual woman needed him. Griffin knew it, and he damn well liked how it felt. It had been a long time since a female had needed anything but cash from him. “Where is she? Is she with adults?”

“No, just friends. They got dropped off.” Her expression tightened with frustration, and for a split second, he thought she was going to cry. She wiped the back of her hand across her cheek, her hand shaking and pale. “I didn’t know she was going.” She took a deep breath, as if willing herself to find the courage to cope, and then pointed to the road on the other side of the tree. “They’re at Pike’s Notch. It’s about eight miles up the road.”

“Eight miles.” Griffin swore under his breath. He felt her pain in every move of that small, determined frame, and he practically vibrated with the need to ease her anguish and relieve that soul-deep torment. “And were you planning on hiking up there after you got over the tree?”

The woman raised her chin, her eyes flashing with anger, which was what he’d hoped would happen with his quip. Anger could be channeled into productivity. Fear and panic couldn’t.

“I can’t get my car up there,” she said. “So what am I going to do? Leave them?”

That was a question that didn’t need an answer. Those kids had to be retrieved. End of story. Griffin rubbed his jaw as he surveyed the washed-out road leading into the darkness, his mind working at rapid speed to figure out how he could fix the situation. “It’s too far to hike up there in this weather.”

“So? I’ll do it anyway.” The wind caught her jacket and blew it open, and he caught a glimpse of a light blue sweater that managed to make a modest cut incredibly sexy as it hugged her curves. Again, wholly inappropriate desire surged through him, a heat that he hadn’t felt in years. Not that he’d do anything about it, but damn, it felt good to be reminded that he was a man.

She quickly pulled her rain jacket tighter around her and zipped it up, but he noticed that her jeans were drenched, and her boots were old and frayed. He was sure her feet were already soaked. Her skin was almost translucent in the glare of the lights. Water streamed down her cheeks and dripped off her makeup-free eyelashes. She looked young, vulnerable, and terrified. “I have to get her,” she said. “I—”

The tree shifted suddenly, and she leapt away from it with a startled yelp. Griffin caught her, yanking her away from the branches as the tree slid several feet toward the gully. He had a sudden vision of it dragging her down into the ravine, and he tucked her against him, using his body to shield her from a branch as it almost clipped her.

But this was one damsel not in the mood to be rescued, apparently.

“Maybe we can pull it out of the way!” She twisted out of his grip and ran over to the tree. She grabbed one of the branches and threw all her weight into it, trying frantically to continue its descent into the gully.

“Whoa!” Griffin leapt after her, ready to yank her back if the tree shifted again.

To his relief, the beast hadn’t moved by the time he reached her, but the idea had potential, depending on how loose the tree really was.

Griffin grabbed the branch just behind hers, putting himself between her and the cliff’s edge. If the tree started to go, she’d have to go through him to fall in. “On three,” he shouted.

“Okay.” Her shoulders were narrow in her oversized jacket, but her feet were braced as if she knew how to leverage the most out of her small frame.

“One!” Griffin gripped the tree, but the bark was slippery and hard to hold. “Two!”

She dug her boots into the gravel.

“Three!”

He threw all his weight against it, straining his muscles to their limit, but it didn’t budge. He swore and released the branch. So much for that few inches of movement. Nothing but the illusion of opportunity. “This tree’s not going anywhere until Mother Nature decides she is.”

“Oh, come on!” She pounded her fist on the trunk. “Don’t do this to me! I can’t leave her there!” The despair in her voice tore at his gut.

Suddenly, with the rivulets rushing past his boots, the howl of the wind, the sound of water crashing down the side of the mountain, Griffin was reminded of the nightmare that haunted him so ruthlessly. His daughter. Caught in the undertow. He couldn’t get to her—

Shit!
Not this time. This time he wasn’t trapped in the helplessness of a nightmare. This time he could get it right. This time, he was owning the result, and there was going to be a happy freaking ending.

There was only one option.

He grabbed the woman’s shoulders just as she turned back to attempt another fruitless assault on the tree. He forced her to look at him, his grip tightening as she tried to bat his hands away. Thick drops were rolling down those pale cheeks. Rain or tears? Now, he wasn’t so sure. “Listen. I’m going to drive my truck around the tree. Stay back by your car. If I dislodge the tree, I don’t want you anywhere near it when it goes. I’m going to help you.”

“Help me? What are you talking about?” A little furrow creased above her delicate eyebrows, but he could tell he’d caught her attention. There was such disbelieving hope in those blue eyes, as if she couldn’t comprehend that someone would come to her aid. He swore under his breath, wondering what kind of life she’d endured that had taught her that she had to fight every battle by herself.

“Just stay by your car.” He pulled her away from the tree, deposited her by her Subaru, then sloshed through the rushing water to his truck. He swung into the driver’s seat, then backed up so his lights were on the hillside that was gripping the tree so precariously.

The grade was steeper than he would have preferred. His truck was heavy, but was it heavy enough to keep from flipping over?

Hell, yeah. He’d never crashed his truck before, and he wasn’t going to start tonight.

He gunned the engine and headed straight toward the side of the mountain.

* * *

Ducking her head against the raging storm, Clare hugged herself while she watched the huge black pickup truck turn its headlights onto the steep hillside. She was freezing, and her muscles wouldn’t stop shaking. She was so worried about Katie, she could barely think, and she had no idea what this stranger was going to do. Something. Anything.
Please.

The truck lurched toward the hill, and she realized suddenly that he was going to drive straight up the embankment in an attempt to go above the roots and around the fallen tree that was blocking the road. But that was crazy! The mountain was way too steep. He was going to flip his truck!

Memories assaulted her, visions of when her husband had died, and she screamed, racing toward him and waving her arms. “No, don’t! Stop!”

But the truck plowed up the side of the hill, its wheels spewing mud as it fought for traction in the rain-soaked earth. She stopped, horror knifing through her as the truck turned and skidded parallel across the hill, the left side of his truck reaching far too high up the slippery slope. Her stomach turned as she saw the truck tip further and further, until she could see the roof.

A feathered angel was painted beneath the floodlights. An angel? What was a man like him doing with an angel on his truck?

The truck was almost vertical now. There was no way it could stay upright. It was going to flip. Crash into the tree. Careen across the road. Catapult off the cliff. He would die right in front of her. Oh, God,
he would die
.