Her ankle felt like it was on fire. Something sticky and wet clung to her cheek and when she swiped at it, she realized it was blood. Her blood. Her fingers screamed as rock dug into them. They were as scraped and raw as Cam's: She sobbed out his name when she slipped, falling into him.
"Got you." Holding her steady until she regained her footing, he told her over the roar of the engine, "You're doing it, Haley." His arms continued to surround her as his hands lifted her farther. "You're doing fine, just don't stop. Whatever you do, don't give up."
She could almost feel the blades of the chopper dig into her skin as they whipped far too close for comfort. But then her fingers reached for and felt the top of the wall. Relief took a back seat to pain. Struggling, she tried to pull herself up and over, but she couldn't get the leverage she needed.
She cried out with frustration, which turned abruptly to horror.
Branson tilted the helicopter, probably to get a better aim, and through the window she saw him raise a rifle to his shoulder.
He was going to shoot them down.
Cam grabbed her, and in an unbelievable burst of strength, he lifted and threw her over the edge, yelling at her to stay down.
"Cam!" she screamed.
In the same instant, the helicopter lurched sideways as Branson momentarily lost control of the craft. Haley saw him struggle to raise the gun back up.
Cam still clung to the side of the cliff.
"Cam!" She scrambled to the very edge with some half-baked idea of yanking him up with her bare hands. "Hurry!"
He was trying. She could see it in every one of his trembling, bulging muscles. Haley reached down for him just as he got one hand to the edge.
Above them, Branson made a fatal miscalculation.
A horrific sound echoed as the blades caught in the sheer rock cliff, only a few feet from where Cam hung tenuously to the side.
The chopper careened wildly into the wall and caught fire, just as Cam flung himself over the top to safety. He didn't pause, but leaped toward Haley and flattened himself out on top of her, shielding her from the rain of fire as the helicopter blew up. Seemingly in slow motion, it fell to the canyon floor, far below.
When it hit, the earth resounded and shook.
Like an earthquake.
Fitting, Haley thought, as her world spun and her vision faded. Branson had created one last earthquake.
Haley opened her eyes and blinked. Cam's face hovered above her, streaked with dirt and strained with fear.
"Thank God," he murmured, yanking her hard against him. The sun had risen fully, but the air still should have been icy cold. Instead, heat from the fiery crash below scorched them and dense smoke rose, making breathing difficult.
"We need help, Haley." He cupped her face and held her slightly away from him, "Are you able to walk?"
Nodding, she tried to look over the side, down into the fire, but he pulled her back.
"Don't look," he said.
"Is he dead?"
Ripping his sleeve off, he pressed it to her cheek, wincing when she jerked back. "Haley, you're bleeding everywhere."
"Is he dead?"
"Hold still a sec!" He applied pressure, frowning when she yelped. "Dammit. You need stitches."
"Is he dead?" Haley had to know, felt as though she couldn't even take her next breath until she did. "Cam, tell me!"
"No doubt, he's very dead." His voice was very uneven and his fingers shook as he worked on her face.
She sat back, as shock took over. Dead. Branson was finally dead.
"Have to say this for you, Haley. Life hasn't been a nap in the hammock since I met you."
What she'd put him through suddenly stopped her cold. She couldn't bear it. She stood, with some half-baked idea of running and never stopping, but she cried out and nearly collapsed at the sharp pain that speared through her ankle.
Cam hooked a hand around her waist. "Lean on me," he murmured. "Don't put any extra weight on it."
She stared at him. His mouth was moving but she could hardly make out the words. She could, however, make out the haggard lines on his face, the blood seeping from a series of shallow cuts over his bare arms and hands. Her fault. A shiver racked her. "I'm fine." But she took one step and would have fallen flat on her face if not for Cam's arms. The pain twisting through her made her feel nauseous.
"Damn. Okay, darlin', sit down a sec." Lowering her gently to the ground, he glanced back at the flames leaping in the air from the ravine below. "Tuck your blouse up and over your mouth and nose," he instructed. "Like this." He pulled the neck of his T-shirt up over the bottom half of his face. "It'll help you breathe."
Breathe. She had to breathe. Branson was dead. It was like a mantra in her mind. She couldn't believe it.
Cam knelt before her to peel back her pants from her ankle. His strong fingers touched her lightly while his mouth tightened. Already, the ankle-a lovely, mottled shade of blue-had swollen to twice its normal size.
"It's just a sprain," she said, struggling to stand again.
"It's broken."
"Okay. I'll just wait here for you."
"Like hell." Before she could protest, he lifted her up behind him, piggyback-style. He shifted her into a better position, looping his arms around her knees, then started walking away from the smoke and flames.
For a moment, Haley allowed herself to cling, to close her eyes and hug his back, so thankful, so very thankful he was alive. It had been so close. Branson had almost killed him. She opened her eyes and saw Cam's grim profile, saw the blood on his temple from a cut. She knew he must be every bit as exhausted as she, yet he hadn't said a word. Guilt overwhelmed her. She couldn't believe she was letting him carry her when she'd almost gotten him killed.
"Put me down," she said. "I want to try walking again."
He didn't answer, didn't even slow his pace, just cleared his throat from the now fading smoke and kept going.
"Cam."
"You can't walk, Haley."
This wasn't about her ankle and they both knew it. "He can't hurt me anymore."
That stopped him. He looked over his shoulder at her. "That's right. He can't. But why don't I believe that you believe that?"
Because Branson and EVS, and what he almost did to your family, stand between us, she wanted to cry.
Unable to maintain the soul-searching eye contact, she laid her head against the strong width of his shoulder and sighed.
He continued across the top of the ravine and back into the shelter of the woods. After another minute, his arms, where they were hooked around her legs, squeezed gently. "You okay?"
"Yeah." She had to clear her throat of the thick tears that stuck there. "I'm fine." But she wasn't, and she didn't know if she ever would be again.
They stopped at the stream and he lowered her to a rock. He plopped down beside her to the bed of fallen leaves, his chest rising and falling harshly.
"Leave me here while you go the rest of the way. I'll be fine-"
"No… I'm not leaving you." He turned away and stared into the woods. "He's dead. Dead, Haley. Do you understand that?"
"Of course I do. So why won't you leave me behind?" She gulped, suddenly stricken with tears. She shuddered and shook, as shock again gripped her. "D-don't you t-t-trust me to stay and f-f-face the consequences?"
He took one look at her, then sighed as he pulled her close, rocking her. "You've got to stop doubting me, stop doubting yourself. Stop pushing me away."
She wished she could. But if she closed her eyes she could still see the blood of her colleagues, hear the wicked laugh of the man who'd tried to kill her, feel the pain of the man who loved her.
The sound of a helicopter had them both jerking back, startled. Cam shielded his eyes to see, then relaxed. "Finally. It's Search and Rescue. They're coming for us."