LITMIR.BIZ

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calmly. “Fine with me. I don’t need anyone slowing me down or asking questions.”

      “Watch out for yetis up there,” Izzy said wryly. “I’ll keep a bottle of Glenlivet on ice for you.”

      “You do that. Alpha out.”

      The dark face of Blaven was veiled in clouds as Nell set off up the rocky trail. The Land Rover headed down to the inn. The first wet flakes of gale-driven snow lashed at Dakota’s face as he started up toward Blaven’s brooding darkness, Nell already out of sight before him.

      FOR SOME REASON she couldn’t shake the sense that she was being followed. For the third time Nell stopped, peering through fingers of clouds, looking for other climbers behind her.

      Only rocky slopes met her sharp scrutiny.

      Of course you’re alone, idiot. Any climbers with good sense are inside huddled before a roaring fire right now.

      But a climber didn’t turn away in an emergency. Rules of the road.

      Rules of life, too.

      Turning back into the cutting wind, Nell nursed her aching right knee and chose each step, careful not to trigger a slide in the loose rock. Her face was cold, wet from the wind driving up from the sea. She estimated she’d reach the missing climbers’ last coordinates in another twenty minutes. If the weather didn’t shift, she could begin guiding them down off the peak immediately.

      But Nell was prepared for a dozen unknown variables from shattered morale to shattered ankles. Any one of them could hamper a fast descent.

      No point tilting at windmills, MacInnes. Every rescue was different, so she’d tackle each obstacle as it appeared. She eased her pack lower on her shoulders, trying to stay loose.

      Once again she was struck by the twitchy feeling that someone was down the slope in shadow.

      Watching her.

      Blaven face.

      One hour before sunset.

      WIND RAKED Dakota’s neck.

      Icy rain howled over the cliff overlooking the restless Sea of Hebrides.

      Visibility was down to zero and already the storm was driving intermittent gusts of nearly sixty miles per hour.

      Over the slope Nell MacInnes had made contact with the frightened climbers. Thanks to the howl of the wind, Dakota could only pick up one word in three, but from what he heard, Nell was dealing with the rescue quickly and by the book.

      She assessed injuries, boosted morale and passed out dry trail rations and chocolate, then radioed down to the SAR leader to have transport with a medical team waiting at the foot of the mountain. The climbers were teenagers from an international school in London, and their leader, a burly ex-naval officer from Brighton, was clearly out of his element. Why he had tried the ascent was still unclear, but Dakota knew the speed of weather changes on Skye could take anyone by surprise.

      He fingered his transmitter. “Alpha to Teague.”

      Instantly static crackled. “Pizza to go. What can I get you, Alpha?”

      “I figure a large cheese with double pepperoni is out,” Dakota said dryly. “So I’ll settle for backup medical response at the lower trailhead. One girl up here has full-blown asthma with signs of respiratory distress.”

      “Roger that. I’ll wander on by to help and make sure it looks like a coincidence. What about the other climbers?”

      “There are seven in all, plus their leader, Ian Westlake. He might have had a heart attack. He’s holding on, but he’s no help to anyone. Nell’s about to try guiding the able ones down and I’m going to meet her on the slope to help out.”

      “Copy that. Better get the lead out, Alpha. That storm is picking up speed.”

      Bad news, Dakota thought. “Roger. I’ll check back in ten. Alpha out.”

      The SEAL stared across the slope. To his right a steep cliff fell away in a vertical drop straight down to the loch. To his left a lower ridge vanished into the notched teeth of the Cuillin range.

      There would be no climbing down tonight.

      They were on their own. No rescue chopper could land in this wind, even if any were available in this remote corner of Skye. Dakota had to help Nell hold the kids together, dig in on the ledge for the night and wait out the storm.

      In exactly eight minutes he rounded a turn and saw the little group, huddled beneath a ledge. Nell was snapping out crisp orders to a gangly teenager in a brand new parka.

      “Hamilton, get your pack lashed over that boulder. Then I want you and Meyerson inside your tent in sixty seconds.”

      “Yes, sir. I mean ma’am.”

      Once the boy’s pack was secure, he joined his terrified partner in the tent that had been pitched and tethered around stones in the lee of the wind.

      What lee there was.

      Another icy gust pounded over the ridge.

      “Wu, secure your tent. Hernandez, get that lantern ready to help him.”

      Dakota watched Nell work beside the kids, making temporary shelter. She was using their last names, which created distance and the comfort of hierarchy, making orders easier to give and follow.

      He noted that two other boys were working to secure another tent to nearby boulders, with packs tied down near the tent entrance.

      “Good job,” Nell called. “Now all of you get inside.”

      So where were the wounded ones? Dakota wondered.

      A tent flap opened. A slim girl crawled out, looking for Nell. “I found that radio you asked about, ma’am. “It’s—”

      “Wilson, go back inside and take cover. This wind is—”

      The rest of Nell’s order was swept away in an icy gust that screamed over the ridge, caught two unsecured backpacks and threw them into the teenage girl, knocking her into a spine of sharp granite. As her scream was swallowed by the wind, Dakota dove forward and caught her waist, pulling her away from the cliff edge. She moaned brokenly as he lifted her into his arms. Blood streamed over his fingers from a gash down the side of her forehead. Dakota noted her erratic pulse and diminished pupil response.

      Neck wound and probable concussion. Internal injuries were also possible.

      “Who the heck are you?” Nell blocked his way, looking angry and wary and relieved, all at the same time.

      “I was climbing over on the far side of Blaven when I picked up a distress alert from the local SAR. I changed route, circled the corrie and came up to see if you needed help.”

      Nell bit her lip, studying him intently. “You’re American.”

      “Navy.” Dakota gave a wry smile. “This was supposed to be a little holiday until I’m redeployed out of Coronado. I wasn’t counting on the weather going all to hell.”

      Nell seemed to relax slightly. “It does that a lot here. So you’re a good climber? Can you help me get these kids down?”

      “I’ll do whatever I can. Say the word.” Dakota frowned. “You’re up here alone?”

      “Yeah, I am. Look—it’s a long story and I don’t have time to fill in the gaps. I’m Nell MacInnes.”

      “Lieutenant Dakota Smith.”

      “Well, Lieutenant Smith, you can put Amanda Wilson inside this tent.” As she pointed to her right, wet sheeting snow cut off every sign of the terrain. “All of you stay in your tents and keep your backs to the rock. No one moves. Hammond, get that flap closed.”

      Dakota checked his watch as the teens obeyed Nell’s terse commands. She had chosen the camp site well, bunkered down under a ledge in the

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