Her Secret Wish (2 page)
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A
s with most
things in her life, Rachel could see the crash coming. It was as if time had completely stopped, but she was unable to do anything to change the events about to happen. The truck barreling in from the right hand side showed no signs of slowing for his stop sign. Even if he did manage to slam on the brakes, he would still slide through the intersection.
For a split second, she didn’t know whether to hit the gas or the brakes herself. Her foot made the decision for her, slamming on the brake pedal full force. The BMW, her pride and joy, began to slow as the anti-lock brake system tried to halt four thousand pounds of forward momentum, but she knew in her heart that it wasn’t going to help.
Just before the collision she clenched her body, knowing that this was going to hurt like hell, if it didn’t kill her outright. As she looked up and to the right at the very last second, she caught a glimpse of the rolled iron add-on brush guard, then a flash of the man’s slack face before her world exploded.
Rachel had been through several explosions in her life, both literal and figurative, and none of them had been easy. Her mother’s suicide had been the first leveling blow when she was just a girl. It had taken weeks for her to come to terms that she would never see her mother’s radiant face again. The second had been her father. Yes, he’d been there but he’d never been the same after the loss of his wife.
As five million things flashed through the screen in her mind before she felt the impact of the truck, she wondered if this one would be as bad as Afghanistan. At least in Afghanistan she hadn’t had the killing expectation of dying she was experiencing now.
Then the expectation was gone, replaced with bone shattering force. Rachel tried to be flexible, but the rod in her spine from the last time she was destroyed didn’t allow her much of that. As the truck struck the passenger side, crumpling the doorframe and blowing the airbags, she was jerked violently to the right, then snapped back to the left. As her head smashed into the window and frame, her world went spinning.
It seemed like the devastation just went on and on, her vision twirling like a top. There was a secondary crash on the driver’s side, and sudden pain, then the world stilled. Rachel felt like she continued to spin, even though the world around her had stopped moving. Light splintered as it crept through the shattered windshield, sending shafts of rainbow across the jumbled interior.
Rachel was afraid to move but her protective instincts kicked in. Her eyes worked well enough when she blinked them open, although the left one had something in it. She tried to blink the obstruction away and realized it was from blood running steadily down the left side of her face. Yeah, she should have known. She’d hit that A-pillar damned hard.
She drew a breath and tried to get up the courage to move her limbs. She knew from past experience that this would hurt like hell, but she had to evaluate how badly she’d been injured. She had to know.
For a moment reality shifted and she was back in Afghanistan. Though she’d flown for most of her career, there had been times when she’d had to travel by ground convoy to one place or another. And being on the ground, watching troops get blown up, had caused her so much more anxiety than actually being in the air and looking down. It had been one of her greatest fears, being blown up like that.
Her reality re-centered to the here and now and even though it felt like she’d been blown up, she knew she hadn’t.
Drawing breath was fine, but as she tried to lift her head to look around needles of pain shot down along her spine.
Oh, fuck
. She breathed deeply, trying to block it out even as fear tightened her lungs. If her back was messed up again… patiently, carefully, she lifted her head. Once her gaze was square she relaxed just a little.
With deliberate care she wiggled her toes. They were good. But her left leg was being squeezed by something and was her greatest source of pain. Lifting her arm to try to wipe away some of the blood on her face, she looked down. Her view was obstructed by the deflating airbag. She couldn’t see what was squeezing her leg. Lifting her head again she surveyed the rest of her body.
There was shattered glass everywhere. It tinkled down onto her lap when she lifted her head. Scratches decorated her arms, including a nice laceration down the inner muscle of her left forearm. The blood wasn’t arterial but it would definitely make her woozy if she didn’t get it stopped.
Again, she tried to brush something out of her face. Ah, hell, her freakin’ ponytail had come undone.
She became aware of voices outside, drawing closer. Hopefully they would look at the scene before they rushed in to help. There was a long guardrail in front of her beyond the mangled dash and she saw a couple of people climbing out of their vehicles to gawk.
Glancing around she tried to find something she could wrap around her arm. Her gym bag had been on the back seat but she doubted there was any way she could reach it. The distinctive pinging sound of a message being received on her phone registered, but she couldn’t see the unit itself.
Taking another breath she knew she had to straighten herself up in the seat and try to do an assessment. That way, when first responders arrived, they’d all be that much ahead of the game.
Swallowing her fear, she gripped the steering wheel in front of her and used it to help her lift her chest. She’d expected searing pain but she actually only felt bruised discomfort. Nothing clicked or ground together like a broken bone. As soon as she was vertical, her breath began to come easier.
Oh so carefully she swiveled her head to the left and the right. Everything
seemed
to be working okay.
The BMW had come to rest against a guardrail on the eastbound side of the road. She’d been heading westbound. It was amazing that she hadn’t struck someone head on. There were a few cars directly in front of her, the drivers staring at her open mouthed. If she could have laughed and waved, she would have.
Her left leg throbbed with excruciating pain. Pushing the deflated airbag out of the way she tried to see again what was restraining her but couldn’t.
In the distance she could hear sirens, several of them, and she wondered what had happened to the guy in the truck. Her car had surely taken the brunt of the damage. With that huge brush guard on she doubted he’d even felt hitting her expensive little car.
There was a scrabbling outside and a few voices lifted in alarm.
“Are you okay in there?”
The deep voice came from the back of the car but Rachel didn’t swivel her head to look; she was still being cautious. “Y…yeah.” She cleared her throat. “I’m fairly okay.”
“Good. I’m trying to get to you. Just hang tight, okay?”
Rachel choked out a laugh. “Sure. I’m not going anywhere,” she promised.
There was a scrabbling in the back of the car again, then a pounding. The car shook around her as if someone were trying to break into the vehicle.
“What’s your name, ma’am?”
That deep voice was incredibly calm. It stood out from the concerned yammering of the onlookers.
Then his words registered. Rachel would have laughed if she’d been a little more with it.
Ma’am? Really?
“Rachel. Searles.”
“I wish we could have met under better circumstances, Rachel.” His voice strained as if he were lifting something. “My name is Dean. Dean West. I’m on Denver PD. First responders have been called and they’ll be here any minute. We’ll get you out, okay?”
“Okay,” she whispered. “My left leg is trapped. Otherwise, I seem to be intact.”
“Well, that’s good to know.”
Rachel rested her head against the seat, adrenaline making her muscles quake. She wanted to bolt.
Think about something else, damn it.
“Is the other driver hurt? I saw the crash coming but couldn’t do anything about it.”
Dean’s voice was muffled. “Nah, I think he’ll be fine. His vehicle is a lot beefier than yours.”
“Mm,” she murmured. She blinked, wondering why it was so hard to keep her eyes open. The blood loss? “Hey, Dean?”
The car rocked again, as if he were trying to rip the passenger side door open. “Yeah, Rachel?”
“I think I’m going to pass out, honey.”
There was a pause in the jostling of the car and then it started up again in earnest.
Rachel let her eyes fall shut and hoped Dean managed to get it open.
* * *
Dean cursed as
her voice went quiet, her head lolling forward at an awkward angle. Blood-stained honey blond hair hung forward over her face. Sweat began to bead his forehead as he tried to wedge one of the doors open but it wasn’t working. The woman had been struck in the passenger side but the driver’s side was wedged against the crumpled guardrail. The expensive black BMW had been totally crunched. There was no way to get into it. Wait. The most intact part of the vehicle was the hood. Careful of the buckled edges, he climbed up onto the hood, lying on his stomach. The windshield had been shattered and glass glittered all over the inside of the car.
The woman didn’t move when he said her name. Daring to reach through the obliterated windshield he searched for her carotid artery in the side of her neck. The beat was there, though a little fluttery and faint. “Rachel? Rachel.”
She didn’t move. Dean looked down her shoulders and body. There was a slice down her left arm but he couldn’t see anything more than that. Scrambling for something to stop the bleeding he looked through the car, but didn’t see anything. “Shit,” he muttered.
Sitting up on the hood of the car he stripped off his orange Columbia t-shirt, folding it in half. Leaning back down he wrapped the fabric around her arm, trying to put pressure on it without hurting her.
Long dark eyelashes fluttered and her eyes opened, then winced in pain.
“I’m sorry, ma’am. We need to put pressure on this to stop the bleeding.”
Golden eyes the color of warm caramel lifted to his as if it were the hardest thing in the world to do. Dean grinned at the woman, trying to be reassuring.
“Oh, damn. You’re too cute for your own good,” she mumbled. “And look at those muscles. Hmmm.”
Dean laughed but didn’t let up the pressure on her arm. “Thank you. Try to keep your head still, okay?”
An ambulance pulled to a stop right beside him, silencing the siren. “Rachel, your ride is here.” Reaching up he ran his thumb over the arch of her left brow, wiping away the blood. Though his training screamed for gloves before he made the action, some visceral urge overwhelmed his common sense.
Her eyes flickered but she didn’t turn her head. “I’ll take your word for it. You’re going to have to pull the car away from the guardrail before I can get out, though.”
Dean felt a trickle of fear roll down his spine. “Why Rachel?”
Blinking, trying to brush at the blood on her temple, she moved her chin toward the floorboards. “My left leg is trapped. Gonna need something to wedge it out.”
A paramedic caught his attention and Dean repeated what she’d just said.
“Fire department’s on the way. They’ll get her out. Can you squeeze over a little?”
Dean did as he was asked but didn’t let release the pressure on her arm. Rachel’s eyes flicked to the paramedic, then back to his own as if she didn’t want to lose the connection. Dean didn’t want to either. Even as the medic asked her questions, she continued to look at Dean.
“Your eyes are amazing,” she sighed.
Dean gave her a brilliant smile. “Thank you. I have to say, yours are too. Like caramel that’s been left in the sun to melt.”
A cell phone chimed from inside the jumbled car and she choked out a laugh. “I can’t come to the phone right now…”
