Page 31

31

Hugo

T error made Hugo’s heart skip a beat. Jo was standing on the wrong side of the bridge. Below her, the Arve raged. It was hard to believe this was the same calm, lazy river that flowed gently through the town. Out here, high in the mountains, the river roared. In broad daylight, it was a white-water rafter’s dream. But now, with night falling, the river was a dangerous place.

The helicopter’s searchlight illuminated the scene. A big man entered the circle of light, approaching from the left. He called out something to Jo, who shook her head and shouted something in response. The man—Horns, he assumed—was covering the ground fast.

Hugo clenched his teeth. He couldn’t help Jo from up here. “I need to get down there”. How he wished now that he and Tristan hadn’t set off alone. But it had made sense to split up. Kat, the pilot of their sister PGHM team, was circling a different area with Beau, Ry and Lorenz. Alex had stayed behind with Vincent and the rest of the gendarmes involved in the search.

Tristan’s voice was calm, as always was when he was in the pilot’s seat, but there was an underlying tension to it. “I can make that happen. I can land on this side of the bridge.”

Before Hugo had a chance to respond, the man rushed forward in a mad sprint and lunged for Jo. His fingers wrapped around her wrist. Jo swung away from Horns, but that pulled her away from the bridge. Hugo growled deep in his throat as Jo fell. For a moment, which stretched into eternity, she hung from Horns’s grip. She’s going to fall. She’s going to fall.

“Shit!” Tristan shouted.

Hugo forced air into his lungs. He was going to pass out if he didn’t breathe, and that wouldn’t do Jo any good. “Turn around, Tristan! Get over the water!”

Tristan quickly did as he asked, maneuvering the helicopter into position. They were lower now than they had been, but it was still a good twenty or twenty-five feet to the water. Close enough.

“I’m hovering,” Tristan informed him.

Below them, Horns lost his grip on Jo’s wrist. With a desperate cry, Jo fell into the water, arms swiveling like windmills.

Hugo pulled on a life vest and picked up his backpack. He kept his gaze on the spot where Jo had dropped. He could do this. He could intercept her. “I’m going in. On three.” It was the quickest count of his life. Feet together, arms held tight against his side, he stepped off the edge, aiming a few feet downriver from where Jo had dropped. He kept his chin tucked slightly against his body, to prevent whiplash, and braced for the shock.

It felt like hitting rock. Then the water opened up, rushing to swallow him whole. It was a bone-jarring collision, but Hugo pushed through the disorientation, surging to the surface. He had to find Jo. The current was faster than he had anticipated, pulling him down and to the left. It would have done the same to Jo. Fear filled him. He whipped his head around, scanning the water. Where was she?

There—a flash of pale skin bobbing in the churning water, just ahead of him. Hugo didn’t waste an instant. He kicked hard, his arms slicing through the current as he pushed himself toward her.

“Jo!” he shouted, his voice hoarse over the roar of the water. She didn’t respond, her body limp as the current carried her. God, no. Please let her be okay.

With a final burst of furious energy, he reached her, grabbing on to her dark hooded jacket and pulling. She was heavier than she looked. Hugo tightened his grip, pulling her face above the surface, passing one arm under her armpit.

“I’m here, Jo,” he called again. A small, gasping cough escaped her lips, and Hugo’s chest tightened with relief. She was alive. “Hold on to me,” he urged, though he wasn’t sure she could hear him. He tightened his arm, locking her to his side, and used his free hand to paddle toward the riverbank.

The water was relentless, battering them with every stroke, but Hugo refused to stop. His legs burned with the effort, his lungs straining for every breath. He spotted a low branch hanging over the water and made for it, stretching his hand toward it.

It took three tries, but finally, his half-frozen fingers closed around the branch. He held on with a white-knuckled grip, using it to pull both of them out of the current and toward the muddy bank.

The moment they were clear of the water, Hugo collapsed onto his back, dragging Jo with him. She was coughing weakly, sputtering water, but alive.

“Jo,” he said again, his voice soft now. He turned her onto her side, keeping her airway clear as her coughing subsided. He stroked a hand through her wet hair “You’re okay. You’re safe now.”

“Hugo. How?—”

She shivered violently. Hugo shrugged off his backpack, yanking out his flashlight. Her lips were turning blue. He pulled out an emergency thermal blanket and wrapped it around her trembling form.

“Horns. He’s here. He drugged me and forced me into a car.”

“How did you escape?” Hugo asked.

“I made him think I had a picture of him and Becca in the trunk. When he stopped, I slammed the trunk on him.” Pride filled him. She’d rescued herself. Pride, and horror. Because if she’d stayed in the car—if Horns had gotten her to wherever he was headed—he might never have found her.

Her expression turned fearful. “We can’t stay out here. He’s going to find us, Hugo,” she gasped.

Hugo looked back to the bridge. Tristan had put the helicopter down, and the lights from the machine illuminated the whole bridge. There were two men fighting on the bridge. Horns and Tristan. Hugo’s hands clenched into fists. He had to help his friend. But he wasn’t about to leave Jo alone. No way.

“Tristan and Horns are on the bridge,” he said.

Jo trembled in his arms. “We have to help your friend. Horns is dangerous, Hugo.”

“Can you stand?” he asked.

She tried, then shook her head. “My ankle. I hurt it when I fell into the water.”

“I’ve got you,” he said, pulling her into his arms. She went without complaint, making him think she was downplaying her injury. “I’ve got you, Jo.”

Hugo adjusted Jo in his arms, her weight feeling negligible compared to the surge of adrenaline coursing through him. Every step was deliberate, his boots sinking into the muddy ground. A part of him recoiled at the thought of taking Jo anywhere near Horns again. But he couldn’t leave her here, on her own.

“Hugo,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. “We have to help your friend.”

His jaw tightened as they approached the bridge. On the other side of the bridge, Tristan’s helicopter beckoned. Tristan and Horns stood in the middle of the bridge, between them and the helicopter. The two men were locked in a brutal fight.

Tristan had the upper hand for the moment. He slammed his fist into Horns’s gut, driving Horns back toward the railing. But Horns was a cornered animal—desperate and dangerous. Hugo’s stomach twisted as Horns lashed out, landing a brutal blow to Tristan’s jaw.

Hugo quickened his pace, his boots finding purchase on the slick embankment. He needed to get Jo to safety, but every instinct screamed at him to protect Tristan, too.

“I’m going to put you down for a moment, Jo,” he said, her voice steady. “I need to help Tristan.

Her fingers gripped his soaked shirt. He wasn’t sure how he could leave her, but she released him. “Go,” she urged. “I’ll be fine.”

He set her down gently and turned back to the two figures on the bridge. Tristan was holding his own, but barely. Horns had grabbed a piece of broken metal from the railing and was swinging it wildly. The makeshift weapon glinted under the spotlight. Hugo’s blood ran cold as he saw the jagged edge catch Tristan’s arm. His friend grunted in pain but didn’t back down.

Hugo took off at a sprint, his boots pounding against the metal as he ascended the bridge. “Horns!” he bellowed, his voice thunderous.

Horns whipped around, his face twisted with fury. Up close, he was even bigger than he’d appeared. Recognition filled his face as he saw. “I saw you with Jo. You tried to take her away from me.” His grip tightened on the metal shard. “Come to join your friend?”

Hugo didn’t respond. He didn’t need to. He closed the distance in a few quick strides and drove his shoulder into Horns, slamming him back against the railing. The man grunted, the air rushing out of him, but he still managed to swing the metal shard toward Hugo’s face. Hugo leaped back. Something in his back pulled. Too slow. He was too slow. He felt the metal slice at his cheek, the pain sharp and bright.

Fuck .

“Don’t forget about me,” Tristan snarled through the blood in his mouth. Though his friend had that upper class look about him that screamed fencing and polo were his sports of choice, he fought with a raw, unpolished intensity, like someone who’d learned to fight on the streets. Tristan ducked, grabbing Horns’s wrist and twisting until the weapon clattered to the ground. Horns roared in pain, his free hand clawing at Tristan’s arm.

Hugo snarled. They didn’t have time for this. He was going to end this now. He drove his knee into Horns’s gut, doubling him over. Hugo and Tristan stood side by side. Together, they forced Horns against the railing, pinning him there. The man snarled, struggling like a feral beast, but he was no match for their combined strength.

“Enough!” Hugo growled, his voice low and dangerous. “It’s over, Horns.”

Horns’s eyes gleamed with a wild defiance. “It will never over until Jo is mine,” he spat. Then, with a sudden burst of strength, he shoved back against them both, his body twisting toward the edge of the railing.

Hugo’s hands shot out, grabbing for him—but he was too late. Horns toppled over the side, his scream echoing as he plunged headfirst into the raging river below, close to the spot where Jo had gone over.

Hugo leaned over the edge, his chest heaving. His hand grazed the cut on his cheek and came back bloody. The current swallowed Horns’s body, pulling him out of sight. For a long moment, there was only the sound of the river and the distant hum of the helicopter.

Tristan clutched his injured arm, stepping up beside him. “Do you think he’s?—”

“I don’t know,” Hugo said, his voice grim.

Tristan nodded slowly, his gaze lingering on the water.

Hugo stood up. “We should get back. Jo’s waiting, and I want to get her to a hospital.” He paused, looking at Tristan’s bandaged arm. “Can you take us there?”

Tristan nodded stoically. “It’s fine. Get Jo. I’ll wait for you inside.”

Hugo ran towards Jo. Her head turned slightly at the sound of his voice. She stood, favoring her right ankle. “Hugo?”

“Horns fell into the river.” The words tasted like failure. He knew Jo wouldn’t ever be safe as long as Horns was out there. “I’m sorry.” His fists clenched so tightly his knuckles ached.

“Are you and Tristan okay? That’s what matters most.” She hissed as she tried to put weight on her ankle. Hugo stepped forward and put his arm around her.

“Lean on me,” he said, leading the way across the bridge to the helicopter. Tristan leaned out and helped her inside. Hugo followed.

She sniffed the air delicately. “I smell blood. You’re hurt,” she said.

Hugo shook his head. “We’re okay. Let me take a look at your ankle.”

“It’s fine. I want to go home.”

“To the hospital, you mean.”

“I don’t need a hospital.”

“You were kidnapped, held against your will, and took a dive into the river. We’re going to the hospital, Jo.”

“But I don’t need?—”

“I wouldn’t argue with him, if I were you,” Tristan said, chuckling. “Hugo will not stop until you’ve been checked out.”

“Think of the baby.”

Her mouth closed, the argument dying on her tongue. Jo’s hands instinctively went to her stomach, as if to shield the tiny life within her.

“I’m sure she’s fine,” he said softly, lacing his fingers over hers. “But I need you to get checked out.”

She exhaled slowly, resigning herself. “Fine,” she muttered, her voice quieter now. “We’ll go to the hospital.”

Hugo nodded, relief flashing briefly across his face before his expression returned to its usual calm determination. “Good.”

“I’ll call ahead to let them know we’re on our way,” Tristan asked, moving to the cockpit. A few minutes later, he confirmed. “The hospital’s waiting for us. I also spoke with Beau. They’re moving the search for Horns downriver.” Hugo’s jaw tightened. For the first time in his life, he prayed for another human being’s death.