Vegas Revenge Wedding (Nevada Bad Boys 2)

Chapter 3: Heather

I don’t know how long I slept, but when I woke up, I realized something was clearly wrong. The weather outside was a lot colder than I anticipated, and the storm wasn’t letting up. I tried to turn the car on, just to get something flowing in the vents for a moment, but it was totally out of gas. It wouldn’t even turn over.

Oh God. This is really, really bad.

I couldn’t even get it to power on so I could use the radio for a possible weather update. I sat there with my teeth chattering, my skin cold to the touch, and not even enough heat from my breath to warm me up. I got my lighter from my bag and struck it, using it to just warm my hands.

Sweet Jesus. Heat!

Once they were slightly warm, I rubbed them on my neck and face, trying to transfer some of the heat. It wasn’t perfect, but it was a temporary relief. I lit a cigarette, no longer caring about the air quality, willing to just trade it away for a little bit of warmth. My situation was getting desperate.

I don’t want to die out here.

My phone was completely dead and if I didn’t have help soon, I was going to be joining it. I started to regret my decision to stop. I should have pushed on or turned around. It was too late for that, too late for anything except the cold misery of my impending demise. I reached down and pulled my jeans back up—at least they’d find a corpse with some dignity intact. The clothes I had used to cover them had been totally ineffective and they felt like icicles. Even my pussy felt like it had frozen shut.

“I’m going to die a virgin.” I tried to fight back tears. “I’m actually going to die here...”

Attempting to fight the tears didn’t stop me from crying, but nothing ran down my face. My tear ducts were apparently so cold and frozen I couldn’t even produce tears. I couldn’t see out my windows so I had no idea if I was buried in snow or not, but I was not going to try and open the door. The little bit of heat I had would be gone in an instant if I did.

Please. I meant it, God. I’ll go to church! I promise!

I tried to think of the good times, the fun I would have had with my friends, but dark thoughts clouded my mind. I thought about my funeral, the tears that would be shed, and the life I would never live. I would never fall in love—not really. I would never have a wedding or a honeymoon. I would never have a baby.

Stay positive, Heather. Try to stay positive.

My attempt at positivity failed before I even thought the words. Time would forget I even lived and there would be nothing left of me except a few news articles about my stupidity, freezing to death in the middle of nowhere. Even if I could somehow get word out, I didn’t even know how to tell someone where I was.

This is how it ends. This is how I die.

I lit another cigarette and nursed the little warmth it provided, but it was minuscule. When it went out, I tried to just use my lighter for heat again, warming up my hands the best I could. My feet were hopeless and felt like numb ice cubes stuffed in my shoes.

“God...” I muttered. “I know we don’t talk much, but I really need a miracle right now. I need something Biblical here with divine intervention...”

I doubted I was worthy of that kind of intervention but I didn’t know what else to do besides pray. The wind was louder than my thoughts.

I SLIPPED IN AND OUT of frozen consciousness, seeing warmth in my mind even though it didn’t exist. I wondered if the warmth was death, beckoning me into the afterlife with an illusion of warmth. My mind was in absolute disarray and it felt like madness gripping my brain. Suddenly, I heard a noise that didn’t sound like the weather.

Was that in my head?

I opened my frosted eyelids slowly. The sound was like a clicking or a scraping. I listened intently, trying to listen past the echo of nature. The sound got louder. I had no idea what it was. I pushed my face towards the window and then I leaped back when something metallic scraped across the glass, followed by a beam of light. It scraped again and again, exposing more light, and then I saw a face peering in. Was it an angel? Was it God himself? Had he personally come down to save me?

Church! Every Sunday!

The face disappeared and I moved to the window, pounding on it. I heard more scraping and my heart started to race. I wasn’t going to die. Someone or something was out there. My car door moved and I realized it was locked. I tugged on the frozen lock to no avail. I slammed my shoulder into the door several times, just trying to force it open, but all I got for that was a searing pain in my arm.

There was more scraping and then the face appeared in the window again. A fist pounded on the door.

“Are you in there? Heather?” A man’s voice yelled out over the whipping of the wind.

“Yes!” I yelled.

He knows my name! I’m being rescued!

“Get away from the window; I’m going to have to break it. I can’t get the door open.” His voice was nearly drowned by the wind, but I understood enough to crawl over the middle console.

My joints hurt and my flesh was cold, but I started rapidly pushing stuff back into my bag, everything that I could grab. A hard thud hit the window, followed by another one, and then the window shattered. It stuck in place, not falling immediately.

My savior tapped it several times until it fell inside the car, almost like a perfect sheet of shattered glass. The ice that had built up held it together, even though he had scraped some of it off. He reached a hand through and I pushed my bag into his hand. He pulled it out the window and tossed it on the ground, reaching inside for me again.