Mountain Challenge (Mont Blanc Rescue #9)

Chapter 34

34

Ry

“ T urn off all lights,” Hugo said in a low voice. Ry and Beau did as he asked, though Ry couldn’t see anything beyond his own two feet.

Around them, the storm raged. Visibility had been getting steadily worse over the last hour. The path Adeline had pointed them to had long since ended, but they trudged on through the knee-deep fresh snow, looking for a mountain hut that might or might not exist. Ry’s biggest fear, echoed in Beau’s and Hugo’s serious expressions, was that Adeline might have been lying to them, after all.

But going back wasn’t an option. Not until they were sure.

“Look left, beyond the ridge,” Hugo continued, in that same low, flat voice. And there, right where Hugo was pointing, he saw it. A soft cloud of smoke—so thin it was almost unnoticeable, except there shouldn’t be any smoke at all in an abandoned mountain hut.

Isla. Please hold on. I’m coming.

“I’m going in,” Ry said.

“Fucking slow down, Ry,” Beau said, his deep voice low enough not to carry over the storm. “We’re going to do this the right way. No foolishness.”

Ry’s gaze darted between the two men—Beau, tall and steady, despite the storm raging around them, and Hugo, all brute strength and sharp instinct, ready for action. The three of them were a group forged in teamwork, but tonight, they were more than that. Tonight, they were everything to Ry—willing to give everything to rescue Isla and Laura. But if anybody had to risk their life, it should be him, and not Beau and Hugo. “I’m going in,” he repeated.

“Not on your own,” Beau said, in a voice that brooked no disagreement.

Ry’s breaths came out ragged. He didn’t want to fight Beau. He owed him more than he could repay. But he wasn’t stopping now, and he wasn’t waiting. Because he could feel Isla was close, and that trumped all other considerations.

“What if it were Valentina or Ren?” he asked, striking a low blow.

Beau’s eyes narrowed. His voice lowered even further, low enough now that it barely reached Ry, even though he was standing inches away. “I fucking know what you’re going through, Ry. I went through the same thing during the earthquake, when Valentina and Ren went missing. And I’m not trying to stop you. Hugo and I are with you, every step of the way. But we need a plan. We can’t just barge in there. If they’re here, we don’t want to do anything to put Isla and Laura at risk.”

Fuck . Beau was right, as usual. They couldn’t endanger Isla and Laura. “What do we do?”

“We need a distraction,” Hugo said, pulling his gloved hands into fists. “Leave it to me. You two circle around back, find a way in.”

“You’re going to walk right up to him in this storm? How?”

Hugo smiled a wolfish smile, though his dark eyes were dark with tension. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll keep him busy.”

“Alright,” Beau said. “But don’t you fucking dare get yourself killed, Hugo. Distract him and then get the hell out of here.”

They synchronized their watches and pulled on their ear pieces. Ry and Beau jogged off towards the ridge. The wind howled like a living thing, flinging icy snow in their face. With every step, their feet sank down to their shins in snow. Ry thanked his lucky stars that the moon continued to shine despite the storm’s best efforts. Not bright enough to counteract the storm, but enough for them to see where they were stepping.

Beau looked at his watch. “Thirty seconds. We wait for Hugo’s signal. Then we move in. We get the women and get out again. No distractions.”

No distractions . Ry could read between the lines. No killing anyone, is what Beau meant. But Ry couldn’t guarantee that. “If he’s hurt them, he’s dead,” he said. Again, that violence coming to the fore, making him realize this was who he really was. His true self coming out.

As they approached, the faint glow of lantern light became visible from one of the hut’s small windows. Ry’s heart raced. There was no longer any doubt. There was someone inside.

The sky lit up as, on the other side of the small hut, Hugo turned on his head lamp. Then came his shout, loud enough that it could be heard through the storm. “Help! Help!”

Ry and Beau huddled, their backs to the stone wall, waiting for some response from within. At first, nothing happened. Then the light inside the hut moved. A man’s shadow passed the window, moving towards the front of the house, the lantern swinging slowly in his hands.

Hugo’s strident shouts continued. “Please, I need help! My wife is trapped!”

The light disappeared into a front room, but now there was a second voice as well, a voice Ry knew well. “What the fuck’s going on?”

Ry didn’t wait. He reached for the window frame and shoved upwards, hoping it was as rickety as it looked. He’d break the glass if he had to, but that would make noise. He increased the pressure—felt something pop—and then the window moved up. He stopped when there was space for a body to go through. “I’m going in,” he said, getting a leg over the windowsill before Beau could say anything.

A roar broke through the storm. Then another one. Shots, coming from the front of the house. Fuck . Still straddling the windowsill, Ry crossed gazes with Beau. “Go,” Ry said. Beau nodded and took off running back into the night, towards Hugo.

Ry stilled, listening for any sound coming from within the house, but all was silent. He stepped inside a small bedroom, landing silently on the wooden floor, and closed the window behind him, locking the storm outside. He heard noises coming from the front of the hut, but there was nothing he could do about that, other than hope Hugo and Beau stayed safe.

Ry turned his headlamp on its lowest setting, giving himself only the bare minimum light he needed to not trip over any of the furniture. The room smelled musty, as if nobody had stepped inside in a long time. It’d been a child’s bedroom once, judging by the single bed and the sports paraphernalia hanging on the wall. In a couple of strides, he reached the door, pausing once again to listen before pulling it open to see a hallway with three other doors—two locked ones and one open one. Ry ignored the open door, which led to what looked like a small white and green bathroom, and focused on the other two doors. He pulled over the one closest to him.

Disappointment filled him at the sight of an ancient, empty kitchen, illuminated only by the moonlight streaming in through the window … Then his breath caught in his throat at the sight of an open trapdoor on the floor by the corner, leading to a set of old stone stairs. Ry turned his light on high and rushed down. The musty smell of damp wood and cold stone assaulted his nostrils. His heart almost stopped at the sight of the thick metal door at the end of the stairs. If he’d harbored any doubt, the sight of the three modern iron sliding bolts that had been drilled at different heights would have eased them.

Heart hammering inside his chest, Ry reached for the first bolt. It creaked as it slid back, but Ry wasn’t worried about the noise anymore. Speed mattered now. His breath fogged with the next exhale—it was cold down here, too cold. He gave the second bolt a pull. It was stiffer than the first one, but eventually came loose with a dull grind.

He was down to the final bolt. His heart in his throat, he shivered at the thought of what lay beyond the door—the thought that Isla might be not be there, or that she might be hurt. Or worse. But Ry couldn’t afford to hesitate. Not now. He yanked on the bolt, and was inside the room before the metallic clank had stopped resonating.

He squinted in the semi-darkness at a slim, human shape huddling on the floor. His heart skipped a beat. Isla . He took a step forward, then started as something struck him from behind. He shifted sideways on instinct, and the blow that had been meant for his neck, hit the back of his shoulder instead. Careless . He knew better than to storm in without clearing the room. He turned, simultaneously reaching for his attacker’s wrist while slamming him against the wall. Then something struck him— some instinctive recognition, his heart sensing what his physical senses hadn’t yet been able to identify.

Isla .

At the very last instant, he reached out and placed his arm between her and the wall he’d almost just slammed her into. “Isla,” he breathed out shakily. “Did I hurt you?” To think that he could have hurt her. Had he hurt her?

Silence met his words. His hand came up to brush gently against her cheek. “Baby. Are you okay?”

The single lantern hanging from a beam cast long, flickering shadows on the rough stone walls. He looked back at Isla and knew he would never, ever be able to unsee the horror of that moment. Isla, on her feet in front of him, naked except for her black thong, clutching a now bloody spoon in her hands, a glassy look in her eyes.

“Isla,” he said, stepping back to give her some space. Because he didn’t know what Getty had done to her, but he needed to get through to her, to let her know he wasn’t going to hurt her. “Isla, it’s me. Ry.”

The spoon clattered to the ground.

“Ry …” Her throat moved compulsively as she struggled with the words. “Are you really here?”

He moved a step closer, ready to catch her if she fell. “I’m here, Isla.”

“Get out,” she whispered. “He’s going to come back.”

“Everything’s going to be okay.” As he spoke, he listened for any sound above them. Because they weren’t out of danger yet.

He felt something sticky behind his shoulder, looked down on the floor, and caught sight of the small spoon she’d stabbed him with. A small burst of pride shot through him, that even amid such horror, she could have found the strength to fight back. He’d have to tell her how much he loved her courage. But first, he had to get her out of here.

“Help me …” Her trembling was getting worse.

Ry wanted to pick her up and take her away, but he wanted to follow her lead on this. “Tell me what to do.”

“Laura needs help. She’s been unconscious for … a long time. I got her to drink some water, but that was a long time ago …” Her body swayed, and this time Ry did reach forward to grab her. Because he would not let her fall.

Together, they reached Laura’s body. She was unconscious, as Isla had said, but her slim body shivered against the cold—which could be a good sign, in this case. Ry put his feelings aside, forcing himself to examine the young woman as he would any other patient in the same situation. As if this wasn’t Isla’s best friend fighting for her life. Her breathing was steady, but her pulse erratic. He didn’t like the look of the thick, hard lump on the side of her head, but there was nothing he could do for her here. They had to get her to a hospital.

“He hit her,” Isla stammered fearfully. “Back in the house. She was unconscious when I arrived. I tried to keep her warm but?—“

“Shhh. You did the right thing, Isla. We’re going to get you both out of here. We’re going to—“ A sound from the staircase made Ry recoil. He turned, muscles tensing, and placed himself between Isla and the doorway. Moments later, he relaxed as he recognized Hugo. Behind him, Isla trembled violently.

“It’s okay,” Ry soothed. “It’s just Hugo.” He quickly took off his winter jacket and placed it around her naked form. When she pressed herself closer to him, her head against his chest, his heart felt like it might shatter. “I’ve got you, Isla,” he whispered, bending to place an arm under her knee and lift her in his arms. “I’ve got you and I’m not letting go.”

“We lost him in the snow,” Hugo hissed. “We need to get out of here." With his sleeve, he wiped absentmindedly at a trail of blood that dripped from his forehead.

In Ry’s arms, Isla’s body shuddered. “He will not let us go. He’s crazy.” Her voice shook. “He beat the other guy to death in front of us.”

The other guy?

Hugo nodded grimly. “The hiker’s body is out on the snow. He’s dead.”

“Did you get through to Tristan?” Ry asked. They needed the helicopter here—and now.

Hugo shook his head. “The sat phone wasn’t working, but Beau is walking to the top of the ridge. He’s pretty sure he’ll be able to get a message out from there.”

Ry heard what Hugo didn’t say out loud—that Beau was out there alone, in the middle of a storm, and Miles Getty could be anywhere. Ry swallowed. They wouldn’t be helping Beau if they stayed down here, where Getty could come back and trap them.

“Take Laura, please,” Ry said. “We need to get her out of here.”

Hugo didn’t wait to be told twice. He took off his coat and placed it around Laura, then lifted the unconscious woman in his strong arms, nodding at Ry to lead the way.

“Put me down. I can walk,” Isla said, her voice hoarse but stronger than it’d been moments earlier.

“You don’t have to.” But even as he said it, he realized it would be good to have his arms free. He would not let Getty hurt Isla—not ever again. He set her down, but kept her by his side as, together, they started up the stairs, Hugo moving silently behind them.