Her limp body sagged from the seat belt. "Kathleen!" he shouted. Horror thumped him in the chest harder than the constricting shoulder harness.
The car pin-wheeled out of control into a dried-up lake
Forcing himself to block out distracting emotions, Tanner steered. Fly the jet. Don't think about Kathleen slumped beside him.
Damn near impossible.
Grinding metal sounded as rocks ripped at the undercarriage. Focus and fly. He manipulated the wheel by instinct, battling a flat in the front as well as the back. He combated ruts and rocks, tried not think of Kathleen's limp body swaying like a rag doll.
A small pyre of rocks loomed ahead. Unavoidable, but at least it would act as a brake from nature. The car plowed over the stones, jolting the vehicle more than a teeth-jarring landing.
Airbags inflated. Masked Kathleen.
The spin slowed, the car sliding sideways. Stopping.
Dust swirled beyond Tanner's side window. The radio crooned "Jingle Bell Rock" in the aftermath, everything else an echoing silence. Too quiet, as he listened to music and his own labored breathing.
No sounds from beside him.
The airbags began a hissing deflation, spurring Tanner into action. He punched the bag until he could unsnap his seat belt. "Kathleen!"
He flung aside the belt and leaned over the console. Too damned big console. "Answer me!"
She didn't respond. Not even a moan. He cupped her face, afraid to move her until he knew how badly she'd been hurt. "Kathleen, honey, wake up. Come on. Wake up."
He patted her cheeks. Her damp face.
His fingers came away with blood as red as her hair, crimson like the fear darkening his vision. With shaking hands, he examined the cut on her temple. Small, but bleeding like a son of a bitch. "Damn it, Kathleen! Open your eyes. Now! Wake up and yell at me for making you take the detour!"
Still no response. He hung his head, gasping in air to calm his thoughts as well as his heart rate.
Think. Breathe.
His nose twitched. Gasoline hung in the air. Stung his nose, his eyes. Rocks must have torn the undercarriage, causing a leak in the fuel tank.
His head shot up.
The car could blow.
He lunged for her seat belt. Forget waiting, he had to get Kathleen out now and just pray she hadn't broken anything.
Tanner jabbed her seat belt release. Nothing happened. Damn. He grabbed the strap. Mashed the button. Forced it. Still nothing.
For one interminable second, fear for Kathleen and the very real sense of her mortality bit him. Hard. He'd faced death too many times, very recently flying combat missions over Sentavo. All active duty military accepted the possibility of death on the job.
But it wasn't supposed to happen like this.
He would not let her check out because of a flat tire gone way wrong. He had always told himself he could have made a difference for his sister when she'd needed him. Well, he was here for Kathleen now and wouldn't let her die, damn it.
Determination and a hefty dose of adrenaline fired through him. He gripped the seat belt and ripped it from the buckle, his growling shout filling the car. He ignored the raw sting across his palm.
A cloud billowed from the hood. Smoldered.
No time. Worry about injuries later because, damn it, Kathleen would have a later.
He scooped her from the seat, backed out of the car, and ran like bell. With Kathleen limp and tucked against his chest, he sprinted across the packed sand.
Wind howled, wafting smoke with each gust. A small crackle, then another sounded behind him. He willed his feet to move faster. Farther. He kept his eye on the end zone, praying he'd cross a line of safety before—