Garrett Bravo's Runaway Bride. Christine Rimmer

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her to the edge.

      “This is definitely the place,” Garrett said, taking in the skid marks. He came up beside her and peered over the edge. Her car had flattened everything in its path as it went down. It seemed impossible that she’d survived the crash and the tumble into the ravine. “You were lucky to be driving that Beemer.”

      She made a sound of agreement. “Handles like a dream and one of the safest cars around. I’m going to miss it.”

      “I can see the car.” The vehicle was half-buried in underbrush, but twisted metal and shiny red paint gave it away. “What’s that?” He pointed at something white and poufy halfway down.

      “My slip. It was hard enough climbing with the dress. I kept tripping, so I took it off and left it.”

      “You want it?”

      She looked at him, her expression severe. “No, I do not.”

      The incline was close to eighty percent. It would be steep going, but there were lots of trees and bushes to hold on to. He figured he could make it down there, get whatever she wanted from the car and get back up without too much trouble. “Anything else you want besides your purse?”

      “There’s a notebook and some pens in the glove compartment. I would really like to have those—oh, and my engagement ring should be in there, too. I should give it back to Charles.”

      “Anything else?”

      “My old red hoodie might be in the trunk. I could use that, if we can get it open—oh, and there’s a hatch through to the trunk in the back seat, so maybe...” She let her voice trail off on a hopeful note.

      “I’ll try. Take Munch and wait in the Jeep.”

      “What?” She set her stubborn chin. “I’m going with you.”

      Had he expected that? Yeah, pretty much. “Not in my flip-flops that don’t even fit you. Your poor feet are cut up enough already.”

      “But I—”

      “Stop, Cami. It’s not a good idea and I think you know it’s not.”

      “It just seems wrong to make you go alone.”

      “I’m dressed for the job and you’re not. It’ll be simpler and safer if I do this myself.”

      She mouthed a wistful thank-you at him and turned back to the Wrangler. “Come on, Munchy.” With a happy whine, the dog jumped in.

      “This shouldn’t take long,” he reassured her as she climbed up to the seat and pulled the door shut.

      He started down. It was not only steep, the ground was thick with roots, rocks and debris. Past her big, white slip, he found one white satin shoe and then the other. The soles were red, the high heels covered in dirty rhinestones. Cami hadn’t asked for them, so he left them where they lay.

      The car was upside down and badly bent and battered, the driver’s door gaping open, the trunk crushed in. The cab, though, was intact. He pushed the deflated air bags out of the way and looked for a purse, finding it easily—on the ceiling, which was now the floor. Most of the contents had escaped.

      Checking not only the ceiling but under the upside-down seats, he found the latest model iPhone, a hot-pink leather wallet full of cards and cash, plus loose makeup, a comb, a brush, a tin of Altoids and all the other random stuff a woman just has to cart around with her wherever she goes. He shoved it all back in the purse.

      The glove box popped right open for him, spewing its contents, including the pens and notebook she’d mentioned. He found her registration and proof of insurance in there, too. He even found her fancy ring. It had a platinum band and a large, square-cut diamond. The ex-fiancé might not have been the guy for her, but at least he wasn’t a cheapskate. He stuck the ring in his pocket.

      Finally, he managed to crawl into the back seat and get the trapdoor to the trunk open. After a little groping around back there, he got hold of the hoodie she’d asked for.

      The purse was more of a satchel, big enough that he could stick the notebook, pens and car documents in there, too. He tied the sleeves of the hoodie around his neck, shoved the straps of the satchel up his arm as far as they would go and crawled from the wreck.

      He’d made it halfway back up to the road when he heard Munch frantically barking, followed by a bizarre, pulsing cry.

      Adrenaline spurting, every nerve on red alert, Garrett froze in midstep. He knew that strange cry. Black bears made that sound when you stole their food or otherwise pissed them off.

       Chapter Two

      Dropping the purse, grabbing for branches to pull him forward, Garrett scrambled as fast as he could up the hillside. Somewhere up ahead Munch barked like crazy and the bear’s angry vibrating yowl continued.

      Then Cami’s voice joined in. “Shoo! Back! Get out of here, you!”

      Garrett grabbed the slim trunk of a cottonwood sapling and hauled himself higher, finally getting close enough that he could see them through the brush. They were maybe ten yards below the road. Cami had lost the flip-flops but had found a long stick. She held off the bear with it while Munch ran in circles around them, barking.

      With no weapon handy, Garrett grabbed a rock and threw it at the bear, striking it on the rump. The bear turned and let out a quick growl in Garrett’s direction, but then went right back to chuffing and growling at Cami, pawing the ground.

      She yelped in response and kept jabbing with her stick. “Back! Go!” Munch continued circling them, barking frantically.

      Garrett scuttled closer and threw a bigger rock.

      That did it. The bear turned on him. Black bears could move fast when they wanted to. And that one flew down the hill straight at him.

      “Garrett!” Cami’s terrified scream rang through the trees as Garrett lunged to the side, counting on gravity and the bear’s forward momentum to drive it right past him.

      It worked. The bear saw him move but couldn’t stop in time. It lost its footing and started to roll.

      A split second later, Munch zipped by, too.

      “Munch!” Garrett shouted. “Stop!”

      But the dog was already out of sight down the ravine. He heard the bear make that threatening sound again. There was scrabbling in the brush and grunting from the bear.

      And then a loud, startled cry from his dog.

      The bear gave another angry grunt. Brush rustled and branches snapped. Garrett caught a flash of dark fur through the undergrowth—the bear running off.

      And then there was silence.

      “Omigod!” Cami came sliding down the bank toward him. “Munchy! Oh, no!” She toppled.

      Garrett caught her before she could fall. “Hey now. Hold on.” With a gasp, she blinked up at him.

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