Just Enough Light Read online

  Table of Contents

  Synopsis

  By the Author

  Acknowledgments

  Dedication

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Books Available from Bold Strokes Books

  Synopsis

  Kellen Ryan has taken the survival skills she learned on the streets and used them to create an elite search-and-rescue operation, as well as the first home she’s known in forever—a sanctuary in Haven, Colorado, high in the Rockies.

  A small mountain town was the last place Harvard-educated Dr. Dana Kingston expected to find herself. Still, when she’s offered an opportunity to partner with Kellen’s operation and develop a medical triage center, Dana follows her heart.

  Dana falls hard and fast for the enigmatic Kellen. But she quickly realizes Kellen’s heart is as carefully guarded as her past, and breaking through will take time. Except time is the one thing they may not have, because a deadly threat has returned, and this time he plans to finish what he started.

  Just Enough Light

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  eBooks from Bold Strokes Books, Inc.

  http://www.boldstrokesbooks.com

  eBooks are not transferable. They cannot be sold, shared or given away as it is an infringement on the copyright of this work.

  Please respect the rights of the author and do not file share.

  Just Enough Light

  © 2016 By AJ Quinn. All Rights Reserved.

  ISBN 13: 978-1-62639-686-9

  This Electronic Book is published by

  Bold Strokes Books, Inc.

  P.O. Box 249

  Valley Falls, New York 12185

  First Edition: July 2016

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission.

  Credits

  Editor: Ruth Sternglantz

  Production Design: Susan Ramundo

  Cover Design By Sheri ([email protected])

  By the Author

  Hostage Moon

  Show of Force

  Rules of Revenge

  Just Enough Light

  Acknowledgments

  The process of creating and writing stories largely takes place in a solitary world, with countless hours spent dreaming, researching, writing, editing…and then repeating the cycle as often as necessary. All before a manuscript finds its way into the hands of an editor.

  But much to my amazement and gratitude, writing has also opened previously unknown doors through which incredible people from all over the world have entered my life. Readers, other writers (yes, I mean you, Paige)…and my chosen family, who came into my life through my very first book.

  So I will always be profoundly grateful to Radclyffe and Bold Strokes Books for providing the platform from which my stories can take flight. To Ruth, Cindy, Sandy, Connie, Sheri, Lori, Toni, and all the others who work so tirelessly to make everything possible. And especially to you, the readers, who continue to allow me to enter your lives through my stories. Thank you for your emails, your words of encouragement, and your support. It’s both an honor and a pleasure to share this time with you.

  Dedication

  To my chosen family…forever in my heart.

  Prologue

  It had to be a dream.

  A really bad dream.

  There could be no other explanation, Kellen reasoned, as the wind whipped around her and icy rain pelted her face. The sharp stings nearly blinded her, soaked her. She blinked, struggled to focus, and forced some even breaths, in and out, as she tried to make sense of what was happening. But it was as if a fog had enveloped her brain causing her thoughts to collide.

  There’d been a call.

  She distinctly remembered that much. A call coming in about three climbers—one seriously injured—somewhere on the north face of Devil’s Tower.

  It was an area she knew well. Steeper than a lot of the other climbs in the area, technically difficult, and most of all, intimidating. The approach was both steep and exposed, made more challenging by the ever-changing weather and a prevalence of rockfall, with most of the pitches between 5.9 and 5.10 plus.

  Extractions from Devil’s Tower were always difficult. The terrain made any rescue operation dangerous and even a minor accident could be potentially disastrous. And if the injured climber had any internal bleeding, it could mean death within two hours. So it was serendipity that Kellen had a SAR team in the immediate vicinity. And just like that, a training exercise turned into a real-life rescue mission.

  While pilot and navigator worked on pinpointing the injured climber’s location, Kellen recalled getting ready. Rigging up and hooking to a winch cable in the back of the bright red Sikorsky helicopter. She could feel the helicopter shudder—caught in the changing air currents—and heard Annie tell Sam to pass north. Turning her attention from the discussion continuing on her headset, she concentrated on adjusting the harness and got ready to be lowered down to the mountain ledge.

  It was at that point that things stopped being quite so clear and time took on an eerie, slow-motion feel.

  She remembered dropping her deployment bag containing everything she’d need to stabilize and prepare the injured climber for transport. Remembered pivoting on the skid until she was facing the inside of the helicopter and giving Annie and Ren, working the winch, a thumbs-up, indicating she was ready. And she could clearly recall vigorously pushing away from the skid to begin her descent.

  If she had wanted to, Kellen could have rappelled from the helicopter with her eyes closed. Her actions were ingrained, body memory reinforced through years of continuous, repetitive training and real-life experience. She knew the drop rate was supposed to be roughly eight feet per second, and as she descended, she released the tension on the rope and moved her brake hand out at a 45-degree angle to regulate her descent.

  But in the next instant, she felt a burning pain, high in her shoulder. Her arm became numb, her hand stopped responding, and she could no longer maintain her hold on the brake. She knew the consequences. But she could do nothing to prevent what was happening.

  She knew she was falling and there was nothing but unforgiving rock directly below her to break her fall.

  *

  When Kellen opened her eyes again, she was sprawled on her back on a cold slab of rock. The freezing rain was now mixed with wet snow, and if possible, it had gotten colder.

  There was a faint ringing in her ears, but beyond that, nothing. She blinked in confusion and tried to move, but immediately stopped and nearly screamed as pain shot through her. Dazed, disoriented, unab
le to think clearly, she looked straight up and watched what could only be the winch cable as it swayed in and out of her vision.

  So this was what real fear felt like.

  She swallowed it back, exhaled slowly, and watched the icy air frost her breath. She knew that on a dark night, and especially in snow, perspectives became distorted so she tried harder to concentrate. Tried to follow the cable up until it disappeared in the fog and mist. Logic dictated it was still attached to the helicopter. But as she stared, it seemed as if the cable was connected to nothing more substantial than the thick gray clouds.

  This wasn’t happening. It was part of a dream.

  It had to be.

  But it wasn’t. She remembered falling.

  How long have I been here?

  She pushed the question aside, knowing it was only a matter of time before the team would come for her. They were good. The best. And they knew what to do.

  Even as the thought occurred, she was certain she could hear the cold air pulsing through the giant blades of the rescue helicopter somewhere above her. But by now, her head was hurting so badly it was hard to focus. Hard to think at all.

  She fought off a wave of dizziness as bitter cold seeped into her bones, and slowly began testing her limbs, knowing the team would need to know how she was. Slowly, she tested her arms, fingers—

  Her right arm was no longer numb. There was a burning sensation high in her shoulder, but it was manageable. But as she continued testing her limbs, she choked back a scream when she tried to move her left hand. A mistake. Nausea and darkness closed in. She could feel excruciating pain in her left wrist and knew it was broken. A mixture of adrenaline and shock made her shiver, but she pushed through it. Tried to stay above the pain as she gingerly tested her legs.

  And felt nothing.

  She tried not to panic as a cold fear passed through her. She wanted to scream. Wanted to weep and rail against the unfairness of it all until she was wrung dry and the fear left her. But she couldn’t. Wouldn’t.

  The snow was falling more heavily now, but she could still hear the beat of the helicopter. And then she heard her name over her com link.

  “Kellen?”

  Annie? Her vision faded, her teeth chattered, and her world narrowed to that one sound. The knowledge that Annie was near stemmed the tide of pain and fear flowing through her, but it was a struggle to get any words out. Her breathing was coming in shallow gulps, her voice labored and weak.

  Then Annie was there. Others were there as well, but she kept her focus fixed on Annie, who had dropped to her knees beside her and was gently brushing snow and her hair out of her eyes.

  “I’m here, Kel. We’ve got you. Now try to hold still, sweetie. We’re going to get you out of here as quickly as possible. In the meantime, I need you to focus, okay? Can you tell me what hurts the most?”

  She felt Annie’s hand clamp on her shoulder, anchoring her in time and place, and Kellen focused on that with everything she had. She tried to do as Annie asked, but it was getting harder to breathe. She shivered violently and felt someone palpating her neck.

  What was the question? What hurt the most?

  She tried to formulate a response and struggled to get the words out. “My head hurts…really bad…there’s something wrong with my shoulder…I’m pretty sure my wrist is broken and maybe a couple of ribs.” She swallowed painfully and forced herself to continue. Forced herself to say the words she didn’t want to think, let alone say. “Annie. Oh God, Annie, I can’t feel my legs—”

  She heard Annie saying something and became aware of a penlight flashing in her eyes. Felt someone put a neck brace on her, and the prick of an IV needle. Someone was speaking, but the words simply flowed around her, meaningless and disjointed.

  “…head injury…shoulder bleeding…legs…”

  “Annie?”

  “I’m here.”

  “Promise me…the girls…you’ll look after them…”

  She couldn’t say anything else as a cold numbness filled her. Embraced her. But it didn’t really matter. She’d done all she could.

  One last time, she tried to focus, tried to keep breathing. But it was a losing battle. Her vision blurred and narrowed.

  Became a dot of light.

  Got ever smaller.

  And then blackness.

  Chapter One

  Sitting on the side of a snow-covered mountain road with a blown front tire and no cell service, Dana Kingston was put in mind of T.S. Eliot’s thoughts on the end of the world. And she would have laughed if she could have managed it. But at the moment, the most she could manage was a small, strangled sound—a sound remarkably resembling a whimper.

  What am I doing?

  She’d been asking herself the same question for over two thousand miles. Since leaving New York on a cold and gray early January morning.

  It really was a rhetorical question, because she already knew the answer.

  At the end of her journey was a small town called Haven, Colorado. A recreation-friendly alpine community, population 6,200, although the town reportedly got its fair share of the millions of tourists that visited the Rocky Mountains each year, with skiing being the main winter attraction.

  Located high in the Colorado Rockies among some of the state’s highest peaks, Haven boasted more than five thousand acres of skiable terrain, along with acres of biking and hiking trails, apparently all within walking distance of downtown. Add an abundance of lakes, streams, and rivers, and it also became a fisherman’s paradise.

  And there, in a former mining town born during the Colorado silver boom, an opportunity awaited her that sounded frighteningly ideal. Almost as if it had been created with her specifically in mind.

  Even better, if everything worked according to plan, she would settle into a life that would be as far removed from the life she’d known as she could get and still be on the same planet—or the same solar system for that matter. Far removed from everything and everyone she’d known. Making it everything she wanted.

  Releasing a strained laugh, Dana shivered and watched the snow rapidly accumulating around her.

  When she’d checked out of the small roadside motel that morning, the sky had been a perfect blue and the roads had been clear. Just over three hours into the drive, the clouds had moved in and a light snow had begun falling. But despite the lowering clouds, Dana had been enjoying her first foray into Colorado, awed by the spectacular displays of light and shadow. White snow and misty lakes. Dark green ponderosa pine, blue-tinted Douglas firs, and snowcapped mountains.

  By the time the famed radio voice of the Rockies began issuing heavy snow warnings for higher elevations, Dana hadn’t been at all surprised. At most, she’d felt a mild concern. But she hadn’t felt any real cause for worry. Not even when the road became narrower and began twisting and turning back on itself and the surface grew slick with snow and ice. Or when the gusting winds increased and swirling snow further reduced visibility. She’d simply downshifted while her wipers worked furiously.

  She’d grown up on the East Coast, after all. During her student days, she’d driven through some of the worst winters New England could offer, and though admittedly some time had passed since those days, it was like riding a bicycle. Wasn’t it?

  She never managed to answer her own question, because that was when the left front tire on her BMW blew and it all went to hell.

  It sounded like a gunshot. Dana flinched and the acrid taste of fear rose in her throat as the car began to spin. Slowly. So slowly. In the curious way time has, it suddenly seemed to move forward in the most infinitesimal increments as she fought to regain control. The car slid through yet another blind curve before she was able to bring it to a lopsided halt at the edge of the road.

  In the process, she stalled the engine and scattered her belongings. But she didn’t care. She was simply grateful the car had opted to grab on to the deeper snow on the shoulder of the road. The alternative would have been to disappear down the s
teep drop-off she could just make out a few feet ahead, and she didn’t want to begin considering what the consequences of that option might have been.

  Releasing a shaky laugh, she leaned her head back, closed her eyes, and tried to gather her scattered wits. Then she began to shiver.

  In the shadow of the mountain, the wind gusts had a cold edge, like a knife. Razor cold. But she knew her reaction had nothing to do with the chill in the air.

  She shivered again.

  I am so screwed was Dana’s next cogent thought when she opened her eyes and considered the bright blue cast covering her right hand. The hand she’d broken three weeks earlier during what turned out to be her last shift in the emergency room.

  Her mother had called immediately, having somehow heard what had happened through a mysterious grapevine that kept her informed at all times of all things Dana.

  If you’d come back where you belong—in Boston, working for your father—this would never have happened. You know I’m right, Dana.

  Her argument was an old one, but it was one her mother brought out without fail at every opportune moment.

  Dana knew her parents had always wanted the best for her. Of that she was certain. And she had been raised to do what was expected of her without argument. Over the years, that had meant Harvard—her father’s alma mater—for undergrad, medical school, and residency.

  It had taken until the end of her residency before she realized she’d been so busy living the life her parents wanted for her, she’d forgotten to ask herself what she wanted. And though she still wasn’t certain what that might be, she did know one thing for certain. She had no interest in going to work for her father.