Storm Warning (Security Specialists International Book 4) (12 page)

“Take your time.” She chuckled. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“You said you were hit.” He peered inside. “You’re hurt. I need to get you out. I can rest later, once I have you somewhere safe and warm.”

The driving need to place her welfare above his own was clear in his voice and his eyes. It was then she recognized Ace had deep feelings for her. Surprisingly enough, she was good with that thought.

Something inside her cracked and warmth filled places which had been frozen for far too long—

Since the night Sean raped you
.

DJ’s whole body buzzed with what could only be described as happiness.

“I’m good—”

Or maybe not. Blood was seeping—enough that she could feel it saturate her clothing along her arm and hip.

“Don’t kill yourself on my account. The guys coming to get us?”

“They would, but the front’s here.” He angled back so she could see past his head and broad shoulders. “The chopper can’t fly in this shit.”

Blowing white bands of snow swirled backed by a dark grey sky. She had no clue how much time had gone by since the shots and the avalanche, but it had to be getting near sundown.

“No, they shouldn’t risk it. We can make a snow cave.” She let out a weak chuckle. “We have a good start on one with all the digging you’re doing.”

Ace stopped and stared at her. Then he shook his head.

“What’s that look?” she asked.

“You’re amazing.” His lips twisted slightly. “No need to put all that SERE training to use. We won’t have to make a snow cave. There are survival facilities set up all over Sanctuary with heat, light, food, water, and sleeping accommodations. We’re about one klick away from the closest one. We’ll ride out the storm there.”

“Cool.” She wiggled toward the front of her crevice until her left side touched the snow. She could now see his full upper body. He’d dug enough. “If you reach in and get your arms around my upper torso, I think I can shove off the back of this crevice with my feet and wiggle out over the opening you made.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Lying on his stomach, he reached in and circled his arms around her body just under her arms. “Got you, sugar. On the count of three, you push and I’ll tug.”

Distracted by the feel of his arms anchored so close to her breasts and the little squeeze he’d given her, DJ didn’t answer right away.

“DJ?” He gave her another squeeze that caused her nipples to bud and kept her motionless, staring at the rock wall in front of her.

Was this arousal she felt? She wouldn’t know. She hadn’t felt anything since her last date had gotten to second base in the front seat of his daddy’s Ford truck. That had been one week before Sean had raped her.

“Sugar—”

She shook her head, erasing the memories. Damn the past. Would it ever leave her alone?

“On three, it is.” She turned her head and caught a look in Ace’s eyes that had her trembling from head to toe. It looked like love shining from his eyes. She’d seen a similar look on Colonel Walsh’s face when he looked at Ace’s mother.

Suddenly, as if by wizardry or some force of magic, the memories of her lost innocence faded to black and all she saw was Ace’s face and the deep affection in his eyes. She wasn’t sure how it had happened, but it was there … had been there, if truth were told, from the day they’d met. She also wasn’t sure how to react, or even if she should, because no one had ever looked at her as if she’d hung the moon and the stars.

“One, two…”

Just let Ace take the lead. Right now, get ready to wiggle your ass, Dahlia Jane.

“…three!” Ace pulled, using his upper body strength as he moved to his knees to get more leverage on top of the pile of snow.

DJ pushed with her legs and wiggled like a worm on uppers across the top of the snow until she was half in and half out of the opening. At this point, she could no longer use her legs to shove off the wall of rock. She lay there panting and wheezing with Ace on his knees, hovering over her, massaging her back and shoulders.

“Give … a sec … need second … wind.” She weakly patted one of his arms.

“Just lie there. We’ll rest a bit.”

That sounded nice. Resting was just about her top speed right now. She was dizzy again. Cold. Altitude. Adrenaline drop. Plus, she might’ve bled more than she’d realized.

Ace stroked her head with a gloved hand before putting his wool cap on her so it covered her ears. It was warm from his body heat and smelled like him; it made her feel better almost immediately.

He muttered against her ear. “All you have to do is relax into my hold. Let me do the work.”

She gave him a thumb’s up as she lay on the snow, working for each breath. The cold air threatened to freeze her lungs. She managed to raise her uninjured arm and pull her neck gaiter over her lower face so she could breathe through the wool. Even the action of moving her arm was a labor befitting Hercules.

Ace adjusted his kneeling stance until he was about two feet away from her head. He grabbed her under the arms and leaned back. She slid a foot or so. He continued to move backwards on his knees, then leaned and pulled every couple of feet or so. It took a while but with the unstable snow and debris pile underneath them, he couldn’t stand without sinking into the mess.

Finally, after what seemed like hours, she was out, her whole almost six feet lying flat on her stomach on top of the snow. Ace checked her neck and then patted over her body, checking her for breaks most likely.

A wave of nausea hit DJ. Her left side while not a happy camper had been blessedly numb to that point. Now, it blazed like the fires of hell. She moaned piteously and then gagged, but managed not to throw up.

“What the fuck?”

“Sorry. Hip. Left. Hurts.” She buried her face against her non-sore arm and breathed through the pain.

“You told me you were only tagged on your arm.” He pulled out a small Maglite and shined it on the area of her left hip which pounded to the beat of a heavy metal band. “Motherfuckingsonofabitch.”

She glanced up. Ace looked like an avenging angel with no one to take his vengeance out upon. His obvious concern warmed her heart and soul; too bad it didn’t work quite the same way on her freezing body.

“Ace…” She patted his muscled thigh, soothing him in the only way she could at the moment. “My arm was the only place the sniper caught me. The hip injury’s from some debris in the avalanche. I’m not dying, just cold. You did promise me a warm place.”

“Yeah.” He inhaled and exhaled roughly for several seconds, then ground out, “But once there, I’ll determine if you’re fine or not. Try not to move around. I’ll pull you over the snow surface until we get to more solid ground. This is gonna hurt, sugar. Tell me when it gets to be too much, and I’ll stop and let you rest for a bit.”

Hell, yeah, it would hurt. But the end was in sight. She wanted to be in that cave and its promised amenities more than she wanted her next breath—and after Afghanistan, she’d vowed never to go into a cave ever again. How time and circumstances changed a person’s perceptions.

“Maybe I should try to crawl on my stomach.” She would’ve said more, but he growled like a rabid wolf. “Or maybe not.”

“Good call.”

DJ lifted her head and watched as Ace dug in once more and reached for her. Then he repeated his earlier maneuver, sliding her along the top of the snow.

For the most part, the sliding motion was bearable. Then her sore hip hit some submerged rock or tree part. It was as if a blacksmith from hell had pounded on her body with a molten hot hammer. She screamed.

“Fuck me.” Ace added a string of curses she was fairly sure he’d learned from a long line of Marines as he’d grown up on various bases. “I’m so sorry—”

“It’s okay.” She didn’t want him blaming himself. None of this was his fault.

“It’s not fucking okay.” Ace began to slide her over the snow pile once more. “Bear with me. Once I get you off this snow pile, I’ll be able to carry you to the snowmobiles.”

Still with every single foot they traversed, he swore and rained curses down on the heads of the man who’d gotten away.

DJ couldn’t help but find him funny, sweet, and absolutely wonderful. The warm feeling that had filled her earlier grew and grew with each curse word and foot of movement over the avalanche snow. Even her pain was thrust out of her mind by her growing feelings for this man. When they found the asshat who’d shot at her and caused the avalanche, she’d thank the man for waking her up to the possibilities of a future with Ace, then she’d let Ace kill him. He deserved the honors.

When Ace stopped to readjust his tugging position for the umpteenth time, DJ raised her head and looked around. The wind and snow were at blizzard levels; if there were a tenth of a kilometer visibility, she’d be surprised.

“Will the snowmobiles be buried?” Ace had made it sound as if the one kilometer to the SSI safe place would be as easy as a walk in the park, or rather a short snowmobile ride in the park.

“I saw them as I rappelled down. The avalanche never reached the trees where we parked them.” Ace leaned over and brushed his lips over her frozen cheeks.

The kiss was brief and a total surprise. His mouth had been warm. The touch, gentle. After she got over the initial shock, she wanted him to do it again. It had felt good … right.

“We’re almost at the edge of the avalanche’s reach,” Ace said. “After that, we have a short walk to the snowmobiles and then we’re outta here.”

She gave him a tired smile. “Knowing I can ride has given me a second wind. I should be able to walk once you get me off this pile of crap.”

“We’ll see. Plus, I planned on us riding double. You can’t handle a snowmobile with your injuries.” Then he dug in and pulled her several more times.

Finally, he stopped and stood. “Okay, got footing. Up you go.” He lifted her to her feet as if she weighed less than nothing. If he hadn’t been holding her, she would’ve collapsed. “Dammit. Hold onto me, sugar.”

She placed her arms around his neck, and he swung her into his arms with her uninjured side next to his body. He began to walk toward the tree line.

“I can walk if you put your arm around my waist.”

“No, you can’t.” His glare was the blue of a gas flame.

“Ace, darlin’… I’m heavy. You did all the work.” She was about to build on her so logical argument when he stopped abruptly and stared at her.

“You called me darlin’.” She nodded even though it hadn’t been a question. He inhaled sharply, muttered “thank fuck,” and then took control of her mouth and kissed her breathless.

This kiss was as different from his first as day was to night. And she liked it way the hell more. This kiss was lush … hungry. His mouth ate at hers gently, but insistently, until she gasped and opened to him. His tongue surged inside and tasted her until her body seemed to burst into flames pushing the cold and her pain aside and replacing them with sheer pleasure.

When he pulled his lips from hers, he rasped, “I’m carrying you. End of argument.” He began walking again.

“Okay.” DJ couldn’t put together a sentence to save her life. She was darn sure she couldn’t walk. Her knees were weak from the emotion conveyed through his kiss. She tightened her hold on his neck, nestled her head on his shoulder, and breathed in his clean masculine aroma. God, she’d buy this scent if they bottled it.

When they reached the snowmobiles, which had been covered to protect them from the weather, he muttered “shit” under his breath. She looked to see what the problem was now.

Shit was right. Their transportation was buried under a foot of snow.

“Put me down. I’ll lean on one of the snowmobiles while you dig the other out.”

“Sure?”

“Yes.” But when he set her down, she stumbled as one of her feet slid off the top of a hidden rock. Her left side hit a snowmobile.

Hellacious pain shot up and down the injured side. The pain combined with exhaustion, loss of blood, and exposure finally ganged up on her. Stars floated across her field of vision. The world spun. And, finally, her shaky knees gave way as blackness claimed her.

The last thing she heard was Ace swearing up a storm—and that made her smile.

Sanctuary Cave A8

After a hellish snowmobile ride with a semi-conscious DJ riding in front of him, followed by a hike up the steep path, carrying her against his chest, he was more than happy to see the entrance to Cave A8, the northeastern-most of their survival shelters. It wasn’t as fancy as some of the others, but it had the basics, courtesy of a solar-powered generator and routine re-supplying.

“We here?”

DJ’s slurred tones worried him. She had to be in the early stages of hypothermia. The current temperature was well below zero with the wind-chill factored in. Her protective outer gear had large tears which had allowed cold air and moisture inside. She’d been missing her hat when he’d pulled her out almost an hour after the avalanche. It was a wonder she was still conscious.

“Yeah, we are.”

“Good.” DJ lay limply against his body. She wasn’t shivering and that wasn’t a good sign. “What do you need me to do?”

God, she was barely conscious and still wanted to help.

“Nothing.” He lowered her so he could free up a hand. Her knees gave way as soon as her feet touched the ground. He scrambled to hold onto her. “Dammit. Hold on, sugar.”

“’kay.”

DJ struggled to put her arms around his torso, but he could tell that wouldn’t work. So, he braced her tightly against his body with an arm around her waist, then he entered the security code with his free hand.

When the door slid open, he swung her back into his arms and carried her into the entry cave. The automatic LED-floor lighting came on and the outer door swooshed closed behind him. He walked to the retinal scan beside the door to the inner chamber and placed his eye to it. Then he spoke into the intercom for voice recognition. “Tweeter Walsh.” The door to the inner cave slid open.

“Lights, fifty percent. Heat, sixty-eight degrees.”

The lights came on and the thermostat clicked, indicating the geothermal heating system was working.

“Neat.” Sighing, DJ snuggled her head on his shoulder.

DJ still hadn’t begun shivering. But his first priority was to make sure she wasn’t actively bleeding, then he could get her warm.

The cave was simply laid out. One rock wall held a row of storage cabinets and lockers containing survival gear. Off to one side of the cabinets was a glass-brick wall behind which was a simple bathroom. On the other side was a small kitchen stocked with non-perishable foods and a refrigerator and microwave.

Tweeter placed DJ on a bench in front of the storage cabinets and opened her jacket and unzipped her snowsuit. The warmer air of the cave, relative to the outside sub-freezing temps, had already begun to do its job—DJ was shivering.

“Hang in there.” He stroked a hand lightly over her injured arm and was happy to note the bullet wound was merely a gouge and wasn’t bleeding. He stripped her thermal leggings down enough to check out the damage to her left hip.

DJ inhaled sharply as he peeled away the fabric which had stuck to her skin where she’d bled. “B-b-bleeding?” Her teeth chattered.

“Not now.” After he cleaned it, it would bleed again. He regretted that, but wanted to make sure no rock grit, dirt, tree material, or cloth was in the wound.

“G-g-good. C-c-cold.”

“Will do something about that now. Just hang in there. You’re doing well.” Especially, considering she’d been walled into a cold, damp rock prison for sixty minutes before he’d dug her out.

Tweeter opened one of the cabinets and pulled out towels, a couple of sleeping bags, and a down-filled comforter, then made her a place to lie down. He placed an extra blanket on the bedding to protect it from her damp clothing. Shifting her off the hard bench, he laid her on the makeshift bed and then pulled off her boots.

DJ blinked liked an owlet, never taking her gaze off him.

He gave her an encouraging smile. “Going to get you dry now so you can get warmer. That means I need to cut off the ski underwear. Can you handle that?”

God only knew he didn’t want to trip any emotional triggers that might throw her into a PTSD meltdown.

She nodded and tried to smile, but an intense round of shivering had her biting down on her lip.

If she freaked, he’d handle it. But so far she’d dealt with all his touching and exposing of skin without a single complaint.

Keeping an eye on her body language, he used his knife to cut off her thermal underwear which was soaked from sweat and bloody from the two wounded areas.

As a one-hundred-percent, card-carrying dominant male, he couldn’t help but notice her body. She was very female with her full breasts and a slender waist that flowed into lush hips. He grimaced at the bloody wounds marring her creamy skin and scowled at the evidence of older wounds.

Use the big brain, Walsh. She’s hurting and cold.

Tweeter shoved his visceral reactions aside and pulled the extra, now damp, blanket from under her, so she lay against only dry bedding. He covered her nudity with another blanket and then layered on the comforter.

“Feeling warmer yet?” He tucked the covers around her shoulders.

“S-s-so c-c-cold.” She whimpered as another wave of shudders swept over her.

She needs body heat, dumbass.

Tweeter pulled off his outerwear, took off his boots, and shed his sweaty thermal underwear. “DJ?” He never took his gaze off her as he pulled on a dry pair of thermal leggings.

“Hmmm?” She didn’t open her eyes. Her teeth chattered and the sound had him clenching his jaw.

“I’m gonna share my body warmth. Can you handle me cuddling you?”

“Pl-l-ease.” She nodded.

Tweeter lifted the comforter and quickly scooted in next to her and then recovered them both. He pulled off the hat he’d put on her earlier and swept damp blonde ringlets off her forehead. Her too cold and clammy forehead. Snagging a towel, he wrapped it around her head, then pulled her body closer to his. He couldn’t resist nuzzling her neck and inhaling her sweet and citrus scent.

“That feel better?”

“Mmm, yeah.” She turned into his touch and inhaled. “Warm. Feels g-good.”

The fear, which had clawed at his guts when he’d realized she was being shot at and later trapped by the avalanche, released its hold. He hated she’d been hurt on his watch, but was proud of how she’d handled the whole situation. Most of all he was thankful she wasn’t hurt worse than she was and that he’d been there to get her out.

“Cold. Hurt. Sorry.” She moved restlessly against him. He pulled her closer and she sighed.

“You’ll feel warmer soon.” Tweeter brushed a light kiss over her forehead.

He allowed her to rest against him for ten minutes until the full-body shudders had lessened. Ren was expecting an update on DJ’s condition. Tweeter had given a cursory report on her wounds during the snowmobile trip to the cave.

When he released DJ’s body and wiggled out from under the comforter, she whimpered.

“Shh, sugar, I need to report in. After that, I’ll clean your wounds and feed you. Then we’ll snuggle until help comes. You have any allergies I need to know about?”

No answer.

Shit! He dropped to his knees by her side. He took her pulse. It was slow, but steady. Her skin was still too cool. Good news was, she was still shivering. But even the lesser shivering was causing her pain if the mewls and whimpers coming from her were any indication. The fact she was in pain was unacceptable.

He clicked on his headset. “Sanctuary, come in.”

Ren’s voice replied, “How’s DJ?”

“She has a shallow bullet gouge on her left arm. She has bruises and scrapes and one deeper gouge on her left hip from falling rocks and debris. None of the injuries are currently bleeding or life-threatening. Getting her warmed up. She’s been going in and out of consciousness, but that can be attributed to exhaustion and slight hypothermia. I’m going to clean her wounds, but need to know if she has drug allergies.”

“Hold on a sec.” After a short pause, Ren said, “She’s allergic to penicillin. No other medical allergies listed on her military medical records. Lacey said to use the generic cephalosporin in the kit. No pain meds if she’s unconscious. Could she have fractured anything?”

“Possibly. I’d feel better if we could take her to the hospital in Grangeville and get her checked out by a doctor.”

“I hear ya, buddy. But we won’t be able to get to you until this shit weather blows through.”

“And when might that be?” Tweeter wouldn’t be happy until DJ was x-rayed to rule out fractures as the cause of her pain.

“Twenty-four hours at a minimum. Probably more like thirty-six.”

“Fuck.” His angry tone caused DJ to whimper and move restlessly under her covers then just as quickly she stilled.

Ren relayed further info on the weather conditions and about Trey and Price’s unsuccessful chase of the shooter, who’d turned out to have a partner. “The Varneys and DJ’s father were confirmed to be in West Virginia …so we have no clue who shot at you,” Ren finished.

Dammit, he’d hoped the answer as to who’d shot at DJ would be the obvious one.

“The shooter wasn’t interested in me, or he’d have had me.” Tweeter had returned fire in the direction of where he’d thought the sniper was. There’d been no return fire in his direction.

“You sure?” Ren swore. “Forget that, of course, you’re sure.”

“Going to treat DJ’s wounds now and try to get something warm inside her. I’ll check back in once I make her more comfortable.”

“Roger that. Out.”

Tweeter pulled on sterile gloves and then placed sterile drapes under her hip and the wounded arm. He gave her a shot of antibiotics since he could see detritus in the hip wound and he wanted to play it safe. She moaned, but didn’t rouse—that scared him and he didn’t like the feeling. He needed to see her tropical blue eyes and hear her voice.

Wanting to get this over with so he could cuddle her, he began cleaning the wounds. As he worked, he pondered what the shooter’s objective had been. An expert sniper could’ve easily killed them both. While the visibility had been somewhat bad, it hadn’t been so bad that the shooter couldn’t see them.

His conclusions? The shooter was either a really crappy shot, or the shots were … for what? Scaring them? Warning them off the perimeter areas? Plain old shits and giggles?

None of the reasons made sense or were acceptable.

Tweeter growled. No motherfucker shot at his DJ and got away with it. He’d find the bastard—sooner or later. Then he’d discover why.

*

DJ roused to consciousness slowly. She was warm and dry. Moving one of her arms, she discovered she was wrapped in something soft and heavy. She wiggled within the confines of whatever trapped her and moaned at the pain which shot up and down her left side.

“DJ?” Ace’s voice came from her right.

She turned her head and found him watching her; his body aligned alongside hers. “Where are we?” She scanned the area around them and saw cabinets, some computer equipment, and stone walls.

He frowned at her question. “Don’t you remember? We’re sheltering in Cave A8.” He placed a patch of some sort on her forehead. “Are you in pain? You can have something now that you’re awake. You’ve been unconscious for a while.”

“Mmmm. I’m achy, but I can handle it as long as I don’t move too quickly.” As she became more alert, she vaguely recalled key pads and retinal scans. Things before and after that were lost in the thick, pea soup fog filling her brain. She frowned. “I didn’t get shot, did I?”

She would’ve recalled that, wouldn’t she? She’d been shot before—in Afghanistan.

“A gouge on your arm. The wound on your hip was from falling rocks or something in the avalanche.”

“Avalanche?” She closed her eyes and searched through the mess in her head. “Oh, yeah. Sniper. I had to squeeze into a hole in a rock. God, why is it so hard to think? To remember?”

“You’ve been through a lot.” Ace’s voice was comforting and she let it wrap around her senses and calm her. “Don’t stress yourself. It’ll all come back to you.” He hummed under his breath as he pulled the patch off. “Good. Your body temperature is finally back to an acceptable reading.”

“I had a fever?”

“No. You were hypothermic.”

She sighed. “Okay. If I do get a fever, you need to know I’m allergic to…” She tried to lick her lips, attempted to swallow, but her mouth and throat were as dry as the Mojave Desert.

“Penicillin. Ren checked your medicals. I already gave you an alternative antibiotic. Your wounds had some debris in them. I didn’t want to take a chance.” He placed his hand under her head and lifted her, then held a bottle with a straw to her mouth. “Here drink some water. It might taste odd since I added electrolytes to it. Then I’ll get you some juice or hot chocolate. Your choice.”

She sucked at the water, made a face, and then pulled away and shook her head. “No more.” She shivered. “Why do I feel so cold now?”

“Probably from inactivity.” Ace cuddled her against him. He was like a blast furnace. “Want something to warm you up?”

“Besides you?” she asked and then blushed.

He chuckled and kissed her forehead. His lips blazing hot against her cooler skin. “Yeah, but you can have me, too.”

“That sounds like a plan … but I’d like some hot chocolate also.”

“You got it.” Ace lowered her to the pillow, slid out from under a thick comforter and then tucked it back around her.

“How long have we been here?”

“A little over ten hours.” He placed an extra pillow under her head and then moved away to what appeared to be a kitchenette.

Suddenly chilled, DJ burrowed further under the covers to escape the cooler air of the cave. Whoa, wait a minute.
What am I wearing?
She struggled to look under the blanket and found— “Ace! This isn’t my shirt and I don’t have on any bottoms. What—”

Panic hit her with a force similar to the avalanche she’d just survived. While her forebrain was aware Ace was honorable and merely caring for her, her hindbrain had pulled up the violence from her past and screamed at her that men were beasts.

“DJ—” Ace hurried to her side. He knelt and reached to touch her.