Sand Angel (12 page)

Glamis was big. Really big.

After an hour of racing up and over hill after hill, Drew steered his quad over to the side and waited for Josh to pull alongside him.

“This is futile,” Josh said. “We’ve checked all the large dunes and exhibition sites. She could be anywhere.”

“Maybe the best thing to do is to go back to camp. She has to come back sooner or later.” Just then Drew heard the
thump thump
of helicopter wings. It was a familiar sound.

“God. No,” Josh whispered, gazing into the sky at the aircraft that moved quickly through the patches of clouds. His face lost all color.

“What?” Before Josh could answer, Drew heard the sirens in the distance. He knew they only called in the helicopter when someone was really hurt. He’d seen this scene over and over again in Iraq. Especially in places out of the way like Glamis. The helicopter and miles and miles of desert caused memories to swamp Drew. He could still hear the soldiers’ cries and screams sometimes at night.

Drew felt like one big bundle of nerves as he revved his engine and followed the crowd racing in an effort to see where the aircraft headed. Disaster was a magnet, pulling people toward it. Morbid really. Yet he had seen more carnage than he cared to ever see again.

Neither he nor Josh spoke what was on their minds.

Zoë.

Briefly, Drew lost control of his vehicle, nearly wiped out on a patch of soft sand. His quad swerved one way and then the other, making squirrellies, trails of waving lines, in the sand behind him.

Zoë had to be okay. There was so much he needed to tell her. So much of his life he wanted to share with her. His wrists and hands ached from the long ride to the restaurant. But he rode hell-bent, at the same time paying close attention to the shifts of the sand as they topped one hill and then another. The bottom fell out beneath him once and he went soaring through the air, leaving his stomach somewhere between where the ground disappeared and then reappeared with a thud. At the rise of a particularly large dune, Josh stopped. Drew pulled up beside him.

In the distance, the helicopter was landing. The lights on a ranger’s paramedic truck flashed as a crowd swarmed the area. It was difficult to see exactly what was going on, but it didn’t look good. And it was right around where their campsite was.

It seemed to take forever to get off the dune and make their way through layers and layers of gawkers. Josh and Drew parked their bikes between Zoë’s and Josh’s trailers and made their way on foot, pushing and shoving through the crowd. Drew moved like the devil was after him. Josh was right beside him.

The wall of people was too thick to breach. Josh turned to a bystander. Breathless, he asked, “What happened? Who’s involved?”

“Race gone bad,” the man said. “Damn shame too.”

“What?” Josh and Drew said in unison.

“She was a pretty thing.”

Drew held his breath. “What was she wearing?”

When the man said, “Pink,” something died inside Drew. Nothing could hold him back as he and Josh tore through the crowd. The masses broke and they stumbled into an opening.

Zoë was being loaded upon a stretcher, while two other people were being lifted into the helicopter.

As they tried to make their way toward Zoë, they were stopped by several rangers.

“She’s my sister,” Josh growled as he tried to pull away from the officers restraining him. His eyes were bright with emotion. “Let me go.” He jerked free and ran to Zoë’s side.

What was Drew to say? He couldn’t even claim to be Zoë’s boyfriend. He was probably the last person she wanted to see. In silence, he watched Josh rush to her side as the paramedic hastened to stabilize her.

Zoë wasn’t moving.

Chapter Eleven

Thump. Thump. Thump.
The repetitive sound was like giant bird wings. Zoë couldn’t tell if it was coming from outside her body or from within her head until she felt the sting of sand and a flood of warm air surrounding her. Helicopter. The pounding only added to the splintering pain in her head. She ground her teeth together.

From past experience she didn’t dare open her eyes for fear the morning sunlight would slice through them like a knife. Add to that the uncomfortable pressure that squeezed her midsection and the fact her right wrist felt weighted, Zoë knew she was in trouble. The familiar sensation of ice water rushing through her veins revealed she was connected to an IV. She couldn’t lift her hands or turn her head—neck, arm and even leg restraints.

Great. That’s all I need.
A whimper of distress pushed from her lips.

“Easy, Miss Davis.” Someone, a paramedic she concluded, slipped an oxygen mask over her mouth. A cool gush of air filled her lungs. “Do you know where you’re at?” His gentle voice did nothing to calm the turmoil churning inside her.

Zoë’s body ached like she’d been hit by a truck. Of course, what more could she expect after doing a full-gainer over the bike’s handlebars?

When am I going to learn?

A deflated sigh pushed from her lungs. A sharp pain caught in her chest. She fought to breathe. It burned.

Please don’t let it be a broken rib.

“Glamis.” Her voice came out muffled. She knew the drill. “I had an accident. Head hurts, ribs sore, but I’m okay.”

Yeah. Right.

After leaving Josh at the restaurant, Zoë had headed to the campsite, determined to get the hell out of there. More than angry, she was primed when a rider on a Kawasaki pulled up beside her and revved his engine. A cocky grin plastered across his face.

“So you wanna race, big boy?” The desire to wipe the sand up with this guy was strong. Who was she kidding? It wasn’t him and it wasn’t a desire—but a need. Zoë was an adrenaline junkie. There was no way she could walk away from a challenge, especially in her heated condition.

The memory rolled through her head. Sand sprayed from their back tires as they both floored it. Everything was going well, she was just about ready to take the lead when a rider and quad came from out of nowhere. The rest was something of a blur.

She remembered jerking the handlebars to the right, swerving to miss him. Behind her there was a sickening screech of metal striking metal. Screams. She turned her head to see what was happening.

One minute her wheels were on solid ground. The next—nothing. She caught air, the sand more than ten feet below.

Immediately, an epinephrine rush hit. The stimulus to her heart was amazing. It was a drug, a high that she lived for. For a moment, Zoë felt invincible. Unconquerable. Invulnerable. That was until the ground rose swiftly to meet her. The bike’s front wheel bottomed out, pushing the shocks all the way down. Next thing she knew she was doing her rendition of Evel Knievel. The sudden stop catapulted her over the handlebars. Thankfully, that’s the last thing she recalled.

Tears welled in her eyes but she fought them. When had she become such a dumb-ass? Truth was, she was getting tired of the pain but she couldn’t help herself. She was always looking for the highest mountain, the fastest track, the greatest experience.

The blood pressure cuff around her biceps began to firm, getting tighter and tighter. Dammit. She had to get out of here.

Zoë swatted at the oxygen mask. “Get this thing off me.” She raised her eyelids to see a young man dressed in white with black-rimmed glasses, hovering over her.

“Ma’am, you need to keep it on,” the ambulance attendant insisted.

“Now,” she growled. The effort it took to speak hurt like a sonofabitch. As the man reached for the mask, she glanced over his shoulder. In the distance, Josh broke from the gathering crowd, running toward her. His ashen face was something she didn’t want to deal with—not now.

“Sis, hold still.” His brows tugged together as he fell to his knees beside her.

“I’m okay. Just a bump on the head,” she insisted, even as nausea threatened to crawl up her throat. She struggled to drag in another breath. Her eyes were watering, stinging from the dust and sand and emotion that refused to be restrained.

“Miss Davis, you were knocked unconscious,” the paramedic explained.

Zoë prepared herself for the effort she knew it would take to talk. “It’s not the first time.” She tried to laugh, but the ache in her side stole it away. “Won’t be—last time.”
Please, God, don’t let Josh see how much that hurt.
She batted her lashes at falling tears. “Nothing a couple of aspirin—” the breath she sucked in wedged somewhere in her throat, “—and a shot of tequila won’t cure.” Her humor fell flat as Josh cursed, wiping the tears from her face. She didn’t need his sympathy—she didn’t need anyone’s. “Josh, get me out of here.”

Josh reached for her hand and squeezed. “Zoë, please.” She’d never heard such a sorrowful plea in his voice. “Let ’em take you to the hospital and check you out.” The worry in his eyes made her cringe. This was the reason she never contacted her family when she got hurt. Of course, he was right about the hospital, especially if she expected to leave tonight. No way did she want to place other people’s lives in jeopardy because of her stubbornness. The continuous flap of helicopter blades told her that someone had already gotten hurt.

Dammit. It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. It was a race, just like any other race. Instead of showing her true feelings, the fact that she cared, like always Zoë turned to sarcasm. “So, genius, if you’re riding with me to the hospital, how are we getting back once they discover it’s just a bump on the head? Taxi? Here in the desert?”

Color flared across his face, revealing Josh hadn’t thought that far. “Uh…I’ll have Drew follow us.”

“No.” Her abrupt response caused a burst of heat behind her eyes. She paused, gathered her strength. After the agony subsided, she said, “You follow. I’ll be okay.” She glanced at the paramedic’s blurry name tag. “Tell him, Smith.”

Smith nodded, pumping the blood pressure bulb so hard she swore her arm might fall off. “Like she said, it’s probably nothing, but it’s best to make sure.”

Josh hesitated, then pushed to his feet.

God love him. Even with all his interference, Zoë knew he cared. How could she stay mad at him? “How fast can this meat wagon go?” she asked as Smith and his female partner raised the gurney and slid her into the ambulance. Faking a smile, she added, “Can I drive?”

An uneasy chuckle squeezed between Josh’s thin lips. “Better tighten those straps or you’ll be in for the ride of your life.” She heard him add, “I’ll be right behind you, Zoë.”

“Lock and load,” Smith yelled to his partner and the door slammed shut. With a jerk, the ambulance lunged forward.

“Man. I hate hospitals,” Zoë groaned.

Fortunately the outcome was as she predicted. A mild head injury and bumps and bruises from thinking she could fly without wings. Nothing serious—this time. Luck didn’t last forever. How much longer would hers hold out?

The nurse pushing Zoë down the hallway was nice enough, but it was humiliating riding in a wheelchair when she had two perfectly good legs. Instead of meeting Josh in the waiting room, Zoë would have given anything to have her rig outside. She didn’t rely on anyone. With shaky hands, she clutched release papers and her boots in her lap. The nurse had given her a little pair of blue booties to wear.

Bottom line, Zoë was scared. She’d had the last three hours strapped to a backboard to think about things. Riding was her life, she loved it. It defined her. She wouldn’t know who she was without it, but it had become a crutch. What hurt the most was the discovery that what had happened between her and Drew had been an excuse for her behavior. She had no one to blame but herself. She’d been weak, unable to deal with his “rejection”.

It was time to make a change, time to get her life back on track. How did one do that when the past looked her in the eyes? Drew stood beside Josh. His stare was intense as his gaze swept over her. She got the impression he was taking inventory, counting fingers and toes. He needed to look beyond the obvious because it was brain cells she was missing. She knew better than to take her eyes off the road.

Josh shifted his feet nervously. The sheepish expression on his face told her that he expected her to explode the minute she saw Drew, but she didn’t have the energy. Soul searching was tiresome and her body ached. All she wanted was her bed.

Drew kept his distance. Josh moved forward, leaning in to envelop her in a big bear hug. Damn him for being so good to her. Zoë fought tears threatening to fall. She wouldn’t cry.

“Look at you,” Josh whispered. He released her to stretch to his full height. His fingertips hovered over the bandage on her forehead where a goose egg lay beneath. “Zoë—”

She eased her head away. “Scraped and bruised but good as new.” Her attempt to soften the moment didn’t work. Her chin quivered as she fought control.

“This can’t go on.” As his mouth opened to continue scolding her, she pushed out of the wheelchair, making him take a step backward.

“Josh, don’t go there.” Without another word she headed for the sliding glass doors.

“Miss Davis,” the nurse called out to Zoë, but she ignored the woman. Instead she scanned the parking lot for Josh’s truck.

The day had gotten hotter. A sultry breeze teased her long hair. She could feel the heat of the asphalt through her booties. The rough surface made itself known with each step. The smoky scent of someone barbequing from a nearby neighborhood filled the air. Her stomach growled, a reminder she hadn’t eaten today or most of yesterday. She needed something before taking a pain pill, which she fully expected to do once she got back to her trailer. No need to fill the prescription the doctor gave her. She had plenty in her bathroom cabinet.