Page 32 of A Nanny for the Reclusive Billionaire

His son, his lifeblood, the one living soul who depended on Rhys to keep him safe, was out there in the gathering storm, alone, unprotected, and afraid.

He has to be all right. He has to be all right. He has to be all right.

This couldn’t be happening again, not after everything he’d done to protect Oliver. He couldn’t lose his son now, when they’d just started to find each other.

He floored the gas pedal and the UTV lurched around a stand of trees and up the hill leading to the secluded beach. The air was thick and heavy with moisture. Any second the clouds would let loose, pelting them—and Oliver—with fat, stinging raindrops, soaking their clothes until they felt like lead weights. Already the wind tore through the trees, buffeting the UTV as it made its slow, excruciating ascent. Rhys swore under his breath, willing it to go faster. He punched the gas pedal again, and the UTV swerved.

“Be careful. We’re no good to him if we don’t get there in one piece.”

A light, almost hesitant touch on his knee reminded him he wasn’t alone in his blind panic this time. He had Mallory beside him, and if her ashen face and the trembling hand on his leg were anything to go by, she was as fearful for Oliver’s safety as he was.

He gave her a tight nod and eased up on the gas. The UTV ground its way to the crest of the hill and began the treacherous trek down as Rhys’s eyes frantically scanned the beach below for any sign of his son. Was he there? What if they were wrong and he’d gone somewhere else? Or gotten lost?

“There he is,” Mallory shouted over the building roar of the wind and waves.

He followed her pointed finger. Any momentary relief evaporated when he made out the tiny form of his son, crouched on the outcropping he’d thought looked like a duck. He was huddled on the ledge that formed the bill, flattened against the rock face by the force of the wind and the spray of the surf, his pale, thin arms clinging to the cliff.

“Shit.” Rhys didn’t make any attempt to hide the profanity this time. “How the hell did he get up there?”

“More important, how are we going to get him down?” Mallory asked.

“I’ve got an idea.” He turned the UTV around and gunned it back up the hill.

“Where are you going?”

“To the top of the cliff. I’ll have to climb down to him.”

In under a minute, Rhys skidded the UTV to a stop and climbed out, leaving the vehicle running and the lights on. A drop of rain splattered on his cheek, and he pulled up the hood of his windbreaker and tightened it around his face, praying the worst of it held off until he had Oliver on firmer ground.

Mallory jumped out after him. “What can I do?”

“There’s some rope in the back. Grab it and follow me.”

As much as he didn’t want to involve Mallory, this rescue was going to take them both. Even then, he wasn’t completely confident of their ability to pull Oliver to safety. But they didn’t have much choice. It was them or nothing. And nothing wasn’t a goddamn option.

Two long strides and he was at the edge of the cliff, bracing himself against a wind gust. He knelt and peered down at his son. Christ, he looked so fragile down there, his small, frail body pressed against the jagged rocks.

Rhys steeled himself to stay calm even as his heart thudded in his rib cage.

“Oliver,” he called as loudly as he could, hoping his voice wasn’t swallowed by the storm. “Don’t move. I’m coming for you.”

His son lifted his head, his eyes filled with tears. “Daddy?”

“Don’t move,” Rhys repeated. “I’ll be right there.”

Oliver looked down at the churning waves, then back up at Rhys. “I’m scared.”

Rhys flinched, his son’s thin, frightened wail clawing at his chest, wrapping icy fingers around his heart. “I know you are. Just keep your eyes on me. Don’t look down.”

Without standing, Rhys turned to Mallory. “Give me one end of the rope and tie the other to the UTV. I’m going to drop it to Oliver and follow it down.”

She stared at him. “You can’t be serious.”

“I don’t see what choice I have.”

“At least tie it to yourself so you don’t fall.”

She handed him one end of the rope, her fingers pausing to linger on his, then walked backward with the other to the UTV, where she bent down and attached it to the front axle. He made a loop in his end, slipped it around his waist, and pulled it tight.