Page 61 of Flint's Battle

That was all the warning they got before Blake was banking hard, nearly toppling them all over as she swooped toward the road, all that fog swirling past the window. Flint grabbed Bowie, helping him pick his ass off the floor when the SUV came into view off to the left. Nothing but taillights careening across the highway, cutting off an on-coming car before heading for the barrier. The vehicle jumped the curb then crashed through the metal supports — dragging a chunk of the fence with it as it bounced along the gravel shoulder.

Either one of the rear posts had held or the SUV hit something because it was airborne a moment later, the ass end pitching up before it did a full revolution — hanging at the high end for what felt like a lifetime before continuing over and off the edge. Nothing but a trail of posts and debris scattered along the roadside left in its wake.

Blake banked hard, screaming toward the cliff at some insane speed. Barely slowing down before aggressively bleeding off all the airspeed and planting the skid gear on the gravel.

Flint was out the door and running for the edge before Blake had spooled down the engines. His heart pounding and his stomach lodged up near his throat. Fog curled along the ground, creeping up and over the edge before spilling onto the shoulder. Quickly hiding any trace of the accident.

He skidded to a halt, going to his knees before leaning over the lip — peering into the eerie darkness. Taillights lit up the gray with a crimson glow, the hum of the engine drifting through the air.

Bowie landed beside him, trying to stretch out farther to get a better look. “What are you thinking? Ropes from what’s left of that barrier?”

Flint shook his head, pushing to his feet. “That’ll take too long, and those rocks don’t look too stable. I’ll put my faith in Blake.”

“She won’t be able to get too close without worrying about striking the blades.”

“Then it’s a good thing she’s got a hoist.” Flint turned and returned to the chopper, spelling it out.

Blake merely nodded. “Get your asses inside and ready the hoist. Before I change my mind.”

The men jumped back in, preparing the cable on the hoist as Blake rolled on the throttle, then lifted off. She didn’t gain more than several feet before sliding sideways, making it look easy when Flint knew she was fighting just to keep it all level with minimal visual cues and the rain and gusts tumbling up the cliff trying to toss the machine around.

She focused out the window, bringing the machine into a high hover. “I don’t want to get any closer in case the downwash affects how the vehicle’s balanced. I’d aim for just right of it — go in through the back. Knowing the cliffs over here, the SUV’s likely wedged which means you’ll never get the doors open. Andthere were two heat signatures in the rear. Chances are, one was hers.”

Flint nodded, readying himself as Bowie manned the hoist. A lean then a push and he was clear of the deck, quickly descending toward the vehicle. The rotors started him spinning, but Bowie managed to get it under control before Flint reached the rocks — grabbed onto a small outcrop.

He slipped the loop over his shoulders then twirled his finger. The line shot up, disappearing into the fog. Quinn would come down, next. Then Carter and finally Bowie. Kian would stay onboard and ready the bucket Blake had for water rescues. Because Flint knew there wasn’t a chance in hell Emery could climb the cliff. Not with her shoulder screwed. And that was assuming she hadn’t sustained any new injuries.

Flint took a deep breath, then picked his way over, nearly slipping a couple times on the slick rock. Rain poured from the sky, a low rumble of thunder drifting in off the ocean. A sure sign they were running out of time.

He reached the vehicle just as it groaned then dropped a foot, the rocks scratching a line down the sides. A shrill screech lingered in the air, the chilling sound sending goosebumps along his skin.

Flint scrambled lower, briefly checking the stability before opening the rear window. The chassis jerked, again, at the added weight, settling a few inches lower. A pause to ensure the damn thing had stopped moving then he was shining his mag light inside.

Carnage.

That’s what he saw. Blood and glass and more blood. Splattered across the interior. Some pooled on the dash and windshield. He bounced the beam around, searching for Emery amidst the debris, praying all that blood wasn’t hers, when someone groaned.

He panned right, skipping over some blond-haired guy barely breathing, then shifted to the left — outlining her silhouette a moment later. Her eyes were shut, her hair a tangled mess around her shoulders. She had a cut across her forehead, bits of glass embedded in her skin.

Flint surveyed the interior. A section of the rear seats had collapsed backwards, pieces of equipment blocking the way. But it was more the driver’s seat that had Flint worried. Even with his limited view, he knew the damn thing had pushed into the back, most likely pinning Emery’s legs between it and her seat. She wasn’t wearing a seatbelt, her left arm loosely wrapped around one end.

The vehicle creaked, again, shaking for a few moments before stilling. What was likely another upcoming drop. He searched for something to lever against the seat when Bowie tapped him on the back.

His buddy pursed his lips, obviously coming to the same conclusion. “This thing is barely hanging on. We’ll do what we can to hold it steady — give you time to get her out, but work fast, brother.”

Bowie disappeared followed by more grating sounds as his team tried to brace the vehicle. But as tough and strong as they were, they’d never stop the SUV from careening into the rocks below once it truly gave way.

That was all the motivation Flint needed to throw caution to the wind and climb partway into the back. He did his best to clear a path, finally grasping Emery’s hand with his. He checked her pulse — thready but there. She groaned again, blinking a few times before opening her eyes — staring up at him.

He smiled, giving her hand a squeeze. “Hey, beautiful.”

She squinted, winced, then zeroed in on him. “Flint?”

“Expecting someone else to ride to the rescue?”

She smiled, crying out when she obviously moved the wrong way. “And break your streak? Never.” She panted a few times, eyes tearing over. “Jack…”

“Is in surgery but the doctors say it looks good. So, let’s focus on getting you out of here so you can tease him. Okay?”

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