above the ground, which put the door handle around the height of my head given the grade of the incline. I unlatched the handle and opened the door enough to get my shoulder wedged into the opening, then pushed it open even more.
The truck groaned and shifted closer to me.
“Carly, back up!” Wyatt shouted, sounding panicked. “What the hell are you doin’ down here?” He had a cut on his forehead and blood had trickled down the side of his cheek. His mouth quirked as he took in the sight of the tire iron. “Here to finish me off?”
“Shut up. I’m rescuing you,” I said, scanning the floor for my purse. “I can see how it might be confusing to you, what with your caveman attitude and all.”
“Who said I had a caveman attitude?”
He had a point. Acting like an ass and offering to carry my suitcase didn’t exactly qualify him for caveman status. “My apologies. I shouldn’t have made the presumption.”
“Stop talkin’ nonsense and get away from this truck. If you try to climb inside, it could fall and smash you or take you with me.”
I glanced down and realized there was plenty more hill for the truck to fall down, with a bed of large rocks and boulders at the bottom of the thirty-foot deep ravine. I briefly wondered if I should go for help after all, but then the truck groaned again and slid a couple of inches down the length of the tree, which was bowing dangerously close to uprooting completely or snapping off from the weight of the truck.
I jumped back, losing my balance and nearly tumbling down the slick hill.
My panic began to resurface, but I took a deep breath to center myself. I could do this. I had to do this.
“Carly. Get out of here,” he pleaded, and I was surprised that he sounded genuinely concerned.
“Look,” I said, trying to think this through. “My purse is in the truck and I have a pair of scissors in there. If I can reach them, then you can cut yourself out.”
He thought about it for a moment. “Fine,” he said. “I can try it, but if the truck starts to move, then you get the hell away from it and go get help.”
“Okay,” I agreed. “Do you see my purse?”
“It’s at my feet,” he said, “but I can’t reach it. I already tried once before you got here.”
“Maybe you can grab the purse with the tire iron. You can loop the handle with the end.”
He was silent for a moment. “Yeah. It’s worth a shot, but you’re going to have to throw it to me. Don’t touch the truck.”
I considered tossing the crowbar to him from where I stood, but I didn’t have the best aim, and I was worried my adrenaline would make me heave it too hard and smash him in the face. So I sidled closer to the open door. At least the floorboard was lower now, the seats about shoulder-level to me.
“You’re too close, Carly,” he said, looking anxious. “Get back.”
“I’m not sure I’ll get it to you if I’m this far away, and I only have one shot.”
He held up a hand. “Just be careful. It’s not worth me gettin’ out of here if the truck smashes you in the process.”
I shot him a grin, but it was wobbly. “Ah, see I knew you liked me after all.”
Guilt filled his eyes. “Carly…”
“Let’s discuss it when I get you out of here.” I lifted the tire iron. “You ready?”
“When you toss it, back the hell up in case this thing comes crashin’ down.”
“Okay.”
Whispering a quick prayer, I heaved the crowbar toward him. As soon as it was free from my grasp, I scrambled backward, watching to make sure he caught it. But just as his hand wrapped around it, I promptly lost my footing and hit a patch of mud. With nothing to hold on to, I started sliding down the hill.
“Carly!” Wyatt shouted.
I’d only descended about five feet before I grabbed a scrub tree. The trunk bent but held my weight. I took a deep breath, then called out, “I’m fine!”
“Can you get back up?”
“Yeah. I didn’t slide very far.” I took another deep breath to slow my racing heart. “Did you get my purse?”
“I’m not moving a muscle until I’m certain you’re out of the way. I’m not going to risk taking you with me if the truck falls.”
I took a moment to reassure myself I was fine, then