“Frankie!” Kendall yelled.
“It won’t hold on its own!” She heard sirens, tires screeching, doors slamming. And voices. “Get him out!” she yelled at Roman.
“Not until you’re clear,” Roman said.
“I’m okay! Get him out!” Her arms burned, but the hook remained in place. Barely. If the car went, hopefully it would tip up enough for her to roll free.
“Hey, Frankie. What ya doing under there?”
Frankie laughed as Fletcher Bradley’s friendly face dropped down beside her. But she saw it, even as she sputtered mud. He was worried. “Is he out?” she managed to ask.
“Door’s jammed. Gonna have to yank him out through the window, but that means he has to crawl onto the seat first. You got a hold of the car? You bench-press more than this, right?”
“Stop making me laugh, you clown.” But she could feel it—between the car and her grip, the car felt...steadier. At least for now. “You here alone?”
“Nah. Brought my wonder twin. Hey, Matt!”
Matt Knight leaned over to look under the car.
“One of you needs to help Roman get Parker out,” Frankie ordered. “The other can go look for Oliver. He must be nearby given the amount of blood in the car.”
“On it.” Matt elbowed Fletcher and off he went to search for Parker’s grandfather. “Look, Frankie, we can’t tow the car back up. It’s too far gone. We’ve got another idea, though. You have some give with that mud? Cause it’s going to get tight under there.”
Frankie understood immediately. They were going to let the car go. “I’ll be okay. You do what you need to and get Parker out.” She squeezed her eyes shut, took a few calming breaths as she spotted Matt and Kendall moving into place.
“Gotta do this fast. Frankie? When we give the word, you unhook that hook. We don’t want it taking you with it.”
“Okay.” Her muffled response had Roman dropping down. “I’m fine,” she said before he could speak. She met his eyes and felt a moment of gratitude for their calming dark depths. He had things under control, she thought, as he gave her a sharp nod.
Frankie lifted her chin, saw two pairs of hands wrap around the chain. She lowered her head into the mud and felt it squish up around her ears. Her hands, sore and cold, kept a vise lock on the hook, her thumb poised to release it when the order came.
“Parker, remember what we talked about? I need you to move nice and easy. There you go.” Roman’s voice drifted above the roaring in her ears; the same roar she’d become accustomed to in her nearly ten years as a firefighter. “Good boy, Parker. Now scoot just a little closer to the door. I’m going to reach out and when you can, I want you to take my hand, okay? You’re going to do a bit of flying. Just like a superhero.”
“Like Frankie?” Parker asked.
“Just like Frankie,” Roman confirmed. “On the count of three, okay? One...two...”
“Three!” Matt and Kendall yelled as they pulled down hard on the chain. The car over Frankie dropped down, pushing her deeper into the mud. She felt metal brush against her nose. She tasted oil in her mouth as she struggled to maintain her hold on the hook.
“Got him! Let it go!” Roman yelled.
“Now, Frankie!” Matt hollered.
Frankie popped the hook free just as Matt and Kendall released their hold on the car. The world moved into slow motion. The car arced up, the ground dropping from under the back tires, and for a moment, Frankie thought the vehicle would land on top of her before it crashed into the ravine. Two pairs of hands locked around her ankles and pulled, hard, dragging her through the mud and toward the SUV. She released the chain before it smacked her in the face.
The deafening crash of the car hitting the bottom of the ravine echoed in her ears as she lay there, inches deep in mud, staring up at Matt and Kendall.
“And me without my camera.” Matt grinned and held out his hand. “Looking good, Frankie.”
She grabbed hold, slightly tempted to drag him into the mud with her, but instead, she surrendered to the obscene sucking sound that erupted when she was pulled to her feet. She wiggled a bit, felt mud slip down the back of her shirt, the back of her pants. The back of everything. Instead of shaking it off, she spun toward Roman and found him holding Parker, the dark-haired little boy clutched around his neck like an octopus. “How is he?”
“Got quite a bump on the head.” Roman leaned back, moved long bangs out of Parker’s face. “Some scrapes and bruises, but he should be okay. Wouldn’t hurt to call an ambulance.”