Flash Point - Savannah Kade Page 0,32

her. The boy shifted a little bit, his face buried into the back of her neck. She could feel his terror in the clench of his arms around her neck. So far, he'd managed to not choke her out, but she didn't put much stock in that remaining the case.

For every step she managed to make, one foot would slip out from under her. Each time her heart clenched, she would flash to a sudden fear that this would be the time they would slide down.

What if she fell and hit the mud hard, and it jolted Jason loose? There was nothing holding the boy onto her, except his own strength and terror. Reaching up with one hand for one moment—she couldn’t spare it any longer than that—she patted his arm around her neck and said, “Good work. Let’s keep going.”

It took an eternity to reach the top even though there was no real top. She just kept climbing. By the time she was far enough up to see Leo, she was on her hands and knees, digging the toe of each boot into the mud for whatever purchase she could find. Jason’s extra weight now pressed her downward into the mud, rather than trying to pull them both off the steep upward side of the ravine.

“Jo?”

Her head snapped up to look at the same time Jason's did.

“Thank God!” Leo seemed relieved but it didn’t change his stance. He was braced against a sturdy large trunk, one booted foot against the base. His hands slowly pulled in the rope and anchored it every time she gained another foot toward the end.

Despite his obvious relief at seeing them, the tension on her rope didn’t change. Thank God.

When she finally got close enough that he let some slack into the line, her breath cut and her heart stuttered as she realized she was okay. She wasn't sliding backward. Leo had made the right decision.

He moved with speed and precision, his hands quickly lifting the boy off of her back. Only then did she realize how heavy the burden she'd been carrying was—not only the physical weight of the child, but the concern that she could lose him at any moment.

She heard Leo's voice talking calmly and rationally to the boy. She watched as the steady ranger set Jason onto his own feet and moved him carefully away from the sloped edge and the danger.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Jo moved one foot forward in an attempt to stand upright. But as she did, the mud gave way from underneath her, and she slipped and fell backwards into the ravine.

Chapter Twenty

Something moved at the corner of his vision.

Leo had his hands on Jason Ryder’s shoulders, steadying the boy while making sure he was upright and assessing him.

The kid needed a foil blanket and heat. He needed food.

And Leo needed Jo.

His head whipped around and he saw her arms fly up as she slid backward and down the ravine out of sight.

He'd not anchored the last several feet! And she was falling.

Leo’s first instinct was to run toward her, but he fought the urge despite the clench in his heart and the need to rescue her. If he went over the edge, he'd either wind up going into the ravine and needing a rescue himself, or if he was lucky, and he caught her as he went by, he’d add to the weight load on her harness system. Neither was good.

He’d screwed up. The rope was dragging along the ground, her weight uncoiling it as she slid backwards into the ravine. It dug into the dirt, making it nearly impossible for him to grab.

“Go!” He pointed and yelled to the kid even as he ran toward the rope and the edge. The earth slipped away under his feet with each step.

He knew to keep one eye on his rescue ward, and he watched as Jason Ryder slowly moved backwards—too slowly for Leo's tastes, but there was nothing he could do right now. Jason Ryder was old enough to take care of himself for these few moments.

Leo needed to get Jo.

Every movement felt like running in a nightmare. Each time he stepped, he slid backwards. Still, he fought to get closer to the tree, to where the rope was anchored. When he finally got his hands around it, it was taut and his feeble yanks felt like they accomplished nothing.

It was absolutely wrong form … everything he was doing and, for the briefest of moments,