“I can also drive us both straight into Hell, ’cause I can’t see shit. I don’t fancy tumbling ass over elbows down the hillside in this thing.”
Dutch ignored him. Beneath his clothes, he was sweating even more profusely than Hawkins. He concentrated on the glare of the headlights just beyond the hood. In fairness to Hawkins, he didn’t dispute the danger of driving a truck this size up an icy mountain road when visibility was limited to a few feet. The heavy precipitation had already covered the sand that the rig had just applied. He noticed that Bull had driven the Bronco no further than the turnoff. The two inside it—his best friend and one of his subordinates—were probably discussing his blind stupidity. He couldn’t let their opinions worry him.
Grumbling and groaning, the truck labored up the twenty-degree incline. It was slow going, but Dutch kept telling himself that every inch it won moved him closer to Lilly. And Ben Tierney.
Of all the men she could be stranded with, why did it have to be that guy? The thought of her being alone in the cabin with any man was enough to make him crazy. But she was up there with a man she’d been gawking at just yesterday.
Dutch had seen other women, old and young alike, sizing up Ben Tierney, going all atwitter over his hard body and chiseled jaw. And you could bet that he damn well knew he caused a stir among the ladies.
He must fancy himself some sort of superstud. Thrill seeking, exploring, getting his picture in magazines. It all added up to a free pass into the sack with any woman he chose.
Kayaking, my ass.
Pushing his bitter thoughts aside, he said, “Heads up, Hawkins. We’re getting close to that first switchback.”
“Yep.”
“Another ten yards maybe.”
“We ain’t got a snowball’s chance of making it.”
“If you know what’s good for you, we will.”
For several seconds Dutch believed they were actually going to. Maybe he was willing it to happen so hard he saw it happening. But positive thinking couldn’t override the laws of physics. In order to make the switchback turn safely, Cal had to downshift. When he did, the truck didn’t have enough speed to propel it up the incline. It stalled and seemed to remain motionless for eternity and a day. Dutch held his breath. Then the rig began to slide backward.
Hawkins squealed like a woman.
“Give it some gas, you idiot!”
Hawkins complied, but it seemed to Dutch that his efforts weren’t as aggressive as what were called for to combat the inexorable pull of gravity. In any case, nothing Hawkins did was successful, except the gradual application of brakes that eventually stopped their downhill skid and prevented them from going off the road.
When the truck finally came to a halt, Hawkins expelled a long breath. “Fuck me. That was a close one.”
“Try again.”
He turned his head so fast it caused his neck vertebrae to pop like bursting corn kernels. “Are you nuts?”
“Put it back in gear and try again.”
Hawkins shook his head like a wet dog. “No way, uh-uh. You can take out your pistol again and shoot me right between the eyes, but at least that’d be a quick death. Better than having my guts squashed by tons of truck and sand. No thank you, sir. You can wait till this stuff clears out, or get yourself another driver, or drive it your own self. I don’t give a fuck, except I ain’t doin’ it.”
Dutch tried staring him into submission, but Cal Hawkins’s bloodshot eyes glared back at him. His stubbled jaw was thrust pugnaciously forward. They were both surprised when someone knocked on the passenger window.
Wes peered in at them. “Y’all okay in there?”
“We’re fine,” Dutch replied through the glass.
“Like hell we are,” Hawkins yelled.
Wes stepped onto the running board, pulled open the door, and immediately sensed Hawkins’s fear. “What’s going on?”
Hawkins pointed a shaking finger at Dutch. “He pulle
d a gun on me, told me he was gonna kill me if I didn’t get him up this mountain. He’s crazy as a shithouse rat.”
Wes shifted his disbelieving gaze to Dutch, who said in a tired voice, “I wasn’t going to shoot him. I just wanted to scare him into giving it his best effort.”
Wes regarded him closely for a moment, then addressed Hawkins in a quiet, confidential voice. “His wife’s up there in their cabin with another man.”