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Bradley’s teeth chattered too hard for words, but he nodded, and that was enough.
They got him wrapped in emergency blankets and a fire started in the lee of the rock to buy time while they radioed for extraction. As he focused on the physical work of keeping the man alive, Wyatt shut out the noise in the back of his mind. But it didn’t set right to push his concern for Whitley aside or ignore the burning need to track her through her necklace.
It took another hour before Crew could get a clean approach with the chopper through the weather. By the time Bradley was loaded and stable, the adrenaline drained out of their systems all at once, leaving them bone-tired and shaking with cold too.
All at once a half dozen missed calls came in as he regained signal. He checked his phone and his heart plummeted.
Six missed calls from Carson and four texts, escalating in urgency.
With shaking hands, he called back, and Carson picked up on the first ring. “Where are you?”
“Just got Bradley stable. Chopper’s inbound.” Wyatt’s chest clamped in terror at Carson’s tone. “What happened?”
“Denver checked the agent’s calendar an hour ago.”
“Why would he do that? I thought the guy checked out!”
“Just as a standard follow-up.” A heavy pause throbbed into Wyatt’s ear. “The meeting with Whitley isn’t on the calendar. Never was. The agent signed himself out for the rest of the day before he even picked her up. This shouldn’t be off-books. Something’s wrong.”
The world tilted sideways and he felt as if he wasn’t tethered to anything, least of all a chopper extracting him and a team from the mountain.
Scraping a hand through his hair, he battled a roar. “That’s not—No! You checked him. Denver and Lex checked him, goddammit!”
“I know.” Carson’s voice had gone flat and controlled instead of panicked.
“What now? We have to follow. Goddammit, Carson, we have to follow her right now.”
“I’ve got the last known signal location. Crew already has orders to set down at the trailhead. I’ll be waiting there.”
“Fuck.”
Wyatt’s bowels turned to water as he realized that everything Whitley feared would go wrong had.
He’d failed to see this coming. Despite every precaution, every background check, every contingency they’d built into this plan, they’d missed the one thing that mattered the most.
He didn’t remember the flight to the trailhead. Didn’t remember much of anything except the roaring certainty building louder inside him with every passing second.
He’d made the call any reasonable person would have made, choosing a lost man on a mountain over a bad feeling he couldn’t justify.
And now Whitley was gone, and every second he spent getting to her was a second too long.
* * * * *
Whitley’s hands had been trembling as Wyatt walked her toward the sedan. Though she tried to hide it and focused on the crunch of gravel under her shoes instead of the roaring in her ears, she still lost the battle.
For months, being on her own meant danger was bearing down on her. Leaving the safety of the ranch felt wrong to her core, but Wyatt had made sure every possible thing was covered—the route memorized, the necklace fastened around her neck and he’d even checked the car twice before he let her near it.
She clung to the feeling of his fingers, warm and steady against her own clammy skin, and right before he opened the door for her, he made sure to catch her attention as he flipped the child lock on the inside of the door.
He’d given her an out that she prayed like hell she wouldn’t need.
As she drove away from the motel with the agent, she clung to the rumble of Wyatt’s words and the feel of his hand as he guided her into the car.
“I’m Agent Corbin.” The man offered a smile that was probably meant to be warm.
“Whitley Newman.”
His smile widened. “I know.”
