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Damon walked up behind her and flicked on the radio he had rigged to pick up the COMS system that fed a direct line to his brothers and Riley, who worked the summit with them.
Holden, in his familiar calm yet commanding voice, coaxed a young woman to stay calm. “Look at me, sweetheart. No, not down. At me. There’s nothing down there. It’s all up here. That’s right. What’s your name?” Zahara could hear the smile in his voice over the COMS.
Holden held the girl tight around the midsection while he, from what she could see, checked their harness every few seconds. Rope fed into the pulley lugging them toward the safety of the chopper and Zahara counted each second that ticked by. Death Gulch was a steep drop of over four hundred feet to a ragged bed of rock. One slip or frayed rope and no one would survive. The depth of the cannon also meant rappelling down wasn’t an option.
The cameraman zoomed out, highlighting how far off the ground they hovered.
“What’s wrong? Why isn’t Riley moving, too?” She turned to Damon first and then Ashwood, who only returned a deathly cold stare that matched the ice in her veins. Her insides chilled, and she worked the hem of her apron between her fingers as her phone went off in her back pocket. She ignored it. Whoever it was could call back.
“Give them a minute, Zar.” Damon’s nickname for her did nothing to calm her.
As if hearing her question, Holden’s voice came through the radio again. Thankfully, her phone fell silent. She turned back to the TV. “We’re almost there and then you’ll be safe. No, no, sweetheart. Look at me.” Holden blocked the girl from looking down. He placed a gloved hand under the girl’s chin and angled her gaze back on him. She knew the effect that simple, dominant gesture did to a female. If he wasn’t careful he’d have a fawning college kid falling for him in a whole other way than he intended.
Zahara swallowed her nerves. This was his job. He’d survived operations like this before. This one was no different.
His calm manner traveled over the soundwaves and reached into her until she was able to take a steady breath, too. The climber clung to him like a python, her legs and arms linked as another member of their team helped them into the chopper.
He was safe.
Then the angle changed and the cameraman showed the public what Holden prevented the girls from seeing.
Her boyfriend perched on an incredibly small ledge as the other half of Zahara’s heart was being whipped into the jagged side of the mountain like a rag toy.
“Damon?” She leaned forward, her eyes wide. “What the hell?” It took her a second to mentally digest what she witnessed happening.
“Sharp winds cut through the canyon from here,” Damon pointed to the left side of the screen, “above Esme’s Point and come down the gulch like a bat outta hell this time of year.” He outlined the path that led straight for Riley.
Damon continued his explanation. “Some gusts can reach up to seventy, maybe a hundred miles an hour on a bad day. It’s why no one is allowed up there this time of year. Those winds are enough to knock someone on a rope quite a bit. Imagine what it would do to idiots without one.”
“I can see. Look!” Strong winds blasted large rocks causing them to tumbled down the rock face. And right toward Riley.
“Oh God, no. Please no.” she pleaded under her breath.
Riley dodged right, narrowly missing the largest rock a few seconds before another gust of wind sent him smashing against the rock wall a few feet above the stranded climber. More rock fell this time pinching the rope that tethered him to the chopper.
“He’s pinned. He can’t move.”
She stared on in disbelief. What if he died? No. she couldn’t think like that. Refused to let the fear and pain of what she suffered after losing her mom surface and paralyze her now. Steel bands wrapped around her heart.
Damon stepped up to her. “Be strong for them. He knows what he’s doing.” With that, he turned from her, leaving Ashwood to stew on the other side of the bar. Damon pulled down the mouthpiece, calling up the pilot of the chopper. “Come in, Big Bear. Drake, answer me.” Damon looked at her as he hailed his brother.
Damon didn’t wait for an answer. “You remember two years back? Point Ridge when that bitch snowstorm nailed us to the canyon wall? Same thing happened with me—the rope became wedged between two large rocks pretty damn tight. Remember?”
“Copy that.” Drake’s voice sounded solid, steady. She unclenched her fingers from around the brass railing rimming the bar and dared a look at Riley’s father. His sharp gaze bore a hole through her. He had a way of making her feel three inches tall and her soul like sooty blackness.
“Snap and pull. It’ll be a helluva ride but it will free Riley’s rope,” Damon warned, but from the look in Damon’s eye, there was no other way.
“Think Riley can handle it?” Drake crackled, and his rushed response didn’t sound convinced.
“I’m ready.” Riley barked as static cut into his words.
Zahara looked up at the sound of Riley’s voice and edged closer to Damon. All the remaining patrons now surrounded the bar too, shoulder to shoulder support for one of their own.
“You ever do any bull riding?” Damon called over the radio, a smile in place more for her benefit than anything else, she bet.
“A time or two. Might have been half-drunk on some moonshine at the time, but yeah. Let’s do this.”
“You can have some moonshine if you get your ass back here in one piece, you hear me, bro?”
