Brace For Impact (HQR Intrigue)

by Janice Kay Johnson - His Best Friend's Baby

  Yes, but she wouldn’t have had the chance to put him away for a lifetime, and maybe Torkelson, too. Having betrayed his office, he was almost worse.

  “Doing okay?”

  Will’s voice jerked her from the dark memories.

  “Peachy.”

  The cheek she could see creased with a smile.

  Maddy’s thoughts blurred as she plodded on.

  Midday, she heard a waterfall. Maddy blinked and looked around, suddenly realizing that the vegetation had changed. Deciduous trees—alders? Vine maples?—were mixed with the fir and hemlock. Lacy something draped from tree branches. She took another step and skidded on what she realized was deep green moss covering a rock.

  A firm grip on her upper arm kept her upright.

  They stopped for a rest, drink of water and bite to eat on a mossy downed log.

  “It’s going to be really slow going from here on,” Will warned her. “We may get lucky and find a few game trails, but mostly we need to stay up above the creek, which is likely one waterfall after another for this first stretch.”

  Another sound blended with the rush of water. She cocked her head. “What’s that?”

  “A bird. Maybe a warbler? We’ll see more of them, and mammals, too. Deer and black bears are the biggest. Elk tend to stick to marshy land and meadows.”

  “Bears?”

  He smiled. “I saw a mama and her cub eating blueberries before your plane went down. They didn’t pay any attention to me.”

  A branch rustled not far away and Maddy looked in alarm to see a small bird sidling along watching them. It had a creamy-white chest, brownish wings and back, with black circling a yellow crown on its head.

  “That’s a sparrow, I think,” Will said quietly. “There are half a dozen kinds up here.”

  The bird flew away so fast her eye couldn’t follow it.

  “The vegetation is going to get thicker,” Will continued. “Unfortunately, insects like these conditions, too. Flies and mosquitoes will be the biggest annoyance. I’d like to keep some elevation above the creek for now, which may save us from getting sucked dry, but if we find a pool, we might be able to wash up.”

  Maddy suddenly felt gross—sweaty, her hair greasy, what bare skin she could see on her forearms dirty and streaked with pitch where dried beads of blood didn’t show new scratches. With deep longing, she asked, “You mean, actually get in the water?”

  “Ah, probably not that.” He leaned to scratch his back on a tree trunk. “This water is melt from the glacier. The temperature won’t be much above freezing.” A teasing light in his eyes, he added, “Depends on how tough you are.”

  She wrinkled her nose. “I’d love to get clean. I have to admit, though, that I’m the kind who inches into cold water instead of diving in and getting it over with.”

  He laughed quietly, stretched and shoved his arms beneath the straps of the backpack. “Ready?”

  As they set out again, he said, “Let’s keep our voices down.”

  Maddy nodded, the reminder making her skin prickle with apprehension.

  * * *

  WILL’S BEST GUESS was that the gunmen would be waiting downstream, closer to where Torrent joined Stetattle Creek, but he couldn’t take anything for granted. First chance he saw, he wanted to cross to the other side, both because his topo map suggested the going might be easier and because the men might assume they’d stay on this side.

  He stopped Maddy when he saw what he’d wanted: a large tree that had fallen across the stream just below a waterfall.

  “Stay here,” he said quietly. “Let me take a look around.”

  He scanned with his binoculars before moving, stopping when movement caught his eye. Identifying a river otter reassured Will. Would it be on the bank if it had seen or smelled humans too close? It obviously hadn’t sensed him and Maddy yet.

  He handed his binoculars to Maddy, murmuring, “Look right above the boulder across the creek.”

  She gave an almost soundless gasp when she saw the otter. “Two of them!”

  Will took another look. Sure enough. As he watched, one slid back into the stream, followed almost immediately by the other. They hadn’t moved as if they were alarmed, though.

  He’d believed himself prepared for what they’d find in the V of the valley. Two minutes of trying to ease between tangles of alder growing out of rock changed his mind. Bulling through was probably the right technique, but that wasn’t compatible with trying to go unseen. He thought he was doing pretty well until an alder caught his boot and sent him crashing down. As he braced his hands to jump up, something jabbed his face. Swallowing a profanity, he glared at the cluster of leaves edged with spines he recognized from a guidebook. The shrub was appropriately called devil’s club.

  He forged on until he reached the torrent of water bounding down what had once been a talus slope. When the tree fell, it had ripped its roots out of the soil. Already, lush vegetation had filled in the hole, which wasn’t visible. An unwary step and he’d have gone down again. He believed in planning ahead, but didn’t even want to think about what they’d do if he broke a leg.

  Employing his binoculars again, all he spotted were a few birds. When a swarm of horse-or deerflies surrounded him and began biting, Will barely kept himself from swearing out loud. Swiping them off with one hand, he backtracked.

  Sitting where he’d left her, Maddy didn’t try to hide her relief.

  “All clear,” he said, “but it’s hard going. Take each step carefully. The damn alders will try to trip you up, and there’s loose rock hidden by devil’s club.”

  Once they started off, he used his ice ax to point to the first spiny leaves he saw, in this case on a small shrub. Maddy reached out to touch and jumped when she found a spine.

  “There’ll be nettles, too. You’ll want to keep your hand up so you don’t brush it.”

  She nodded vigorously.

  This time he separated branches and didn’t shift his weight until he found solid footing. Then he turned and reached out for Maddy, who picked her way as carefully as he’d asked.

  The roar of the falls grew louder in their ears. When the stream came into sight, he pointed out the log and the hidden pit below the mass of earth and roots.

  He bent to talk right into her ear. “I’ll cross first with the pack, then come back to help you.”

  She nodded.

  Damn, he hoped the log wasn’t slippery. They couldn’t afford for either of them to fall, and she’d have a hell of a time scooting herself across on her butt with the use of only one working hand and arm.

  Right beside the bank Will was able to step up onto the log. He moved one foot, then the other, experimentally. Not too bad. He bounced a little, finding it to be solid. Finally, he started forward cautiously. If crossing a pool, he wouldn’t have worried about falling. The drop wasn’t that far. Instead, below was a tumble of rocks and white water.

  Once he stepped out over the torrent, water from the falls misted him. He had to blink water away. The tree must have fallen this spring, he decided, or it would already be covered by slick green moss. As it was, Will made it over and stowed his pack in a dry place.

  He crouched briefly to check that the Glock hadn’t slipped too deep in the pocket to be easily available. Then he walked back across the stream with more confidence.

  “That doesn’t look hard,” she said. “I usually have good balance. I even did gymnastics when I was a kid, balance beam included.”

  He grinned at her. “You mean, you could do a backflip on this thing?”

  “No, but once upon a time I could have done a somersault and maybe jumped into a kind of split.”

  His sense of humor evaporated. “Well, don’t.”

  She gave him an unreadable look, but let him help her climb up onto the log. Having decided to go first, he took her hand and
put it on his belt. Satisfied when her fingers curled around it, he started forward.

  He glanced over his shoulder a couple of times, worried about whether he’d shortened his stride enough, whether her head injury had affected her balance.

  Even as he thought, Pay attention to keeping your own damn balance, one of his feet shot out from under him.

  He teetered over the tumble of rocks and white water, knowing he’d pull Maddy with him if he fell.

  Chapter Seven

  Head bent, Maddy concentrated on her feet. This must be harder for Will, she couldn’t help thinking, with his much larger feet. He walked with confidence, though, steadying her...until she felt him lurch. Looking up in horror she saw him stagger and flail his arms in a desperate attempt to regain his balance.

  “Let go!” he roared.

  Instead, she tightened her grip on his belt and leaned the other way as a counterbalance. She didn’t let herself think about how much he outweighed her by.

  The battle was brief. Swearing, he came upright and she did the same. Her pulse had skyrocketed and she gasped for breath. Neither moved for at least a minute.

  When finally his muscles tensed, she felt it. As if nothing had happened, he took the next step. Like an echo, she did the same.

  On the other side he hopped off the log and turned to reach for her. Water dripped down a face drawn tight with strain. His mouth was clamped shut, turbulence in eyes darkened to charcoal.

  Hands at her waist, he swung her down but didn’t release her. Instead, he just looked at her. Voice hoarse, he said, “I’d have taken you with me.”

  “I...didn’t think,” she admitted.

  He shook his head. “I should say thank you, but when I think of you falling onto those rocks—”

  She shivered at what had been a very real possibility. She didn’t like imagining him hitting rocks, his body tossed by jets of white foam. “We’re okay.”

  “Yeah.” His hands slid up her back until his arms closed around her. She let herself lean on him, hear how hard his heart hammered. After a minute he murmured, “We’re good.”

  Being so close to him felt good. Necessary.

  But he drew a deep breath, let his arms drop and stepped back. “We need to keep moving.”

  Even as she regretted the space that had opened between them and the mask he’d drawn over his face to hide what he felt, Maddy knew he was right. She still felt shaky, but that was more likely because her muscles were rebelling against the past two days’ exertions than as a reaction to the near-disaster, although she wouldn’t swear to it. Neither cause kept her from walking.

  Just ahead of her, Will plunged into a dense wall of greenery. Maddy hurried to follow, suddenly alarmed. If he got ten feet ahead of her, she’d lose sight of him.

  Over the next ten minutes, as they shoved through alder thickets, sweated and swatted at insects, Maddy thought of that mountaineer’s description: pure misery. And he, at least, hadn’t also faced an ambush.

  Jerking her hand away, too late, from a clump of nettles, she also envisioned Will’s map. It was not encouraging to think, We’ve barely started.

  * * *

  WILL HAD NEVER been happier to see the trace of a game trail. At this point he didn’t give a damn what animals used the trail, wearing down some of the low-growing plants and breaking whip-thin alder branches that would otherwise be trying to slap his face. Could be wolves, deer, bears or all of the above. A wealth of mammals made their homes in these mountains, including badgers, pine martens, minks and some of the big cats, which were unlikely to allow themselves to be seen. Like marmots and pikas, bighorn sheep and mountain goats stuck to the higher elevations, and he thought elk preferred marshy lowlands. There were undoubtedly beaver dams along the Stetattle—in fact, if he and Maddy were ever to get their bath, it would probably be in a pool behind a dam built of sticks. Some of those animals were nocturnal, which was just as well. Give him a bear any day over an annoyed porcupine.

  Maddy tugged urgently on his shirt. “I hear something behind us.”

  He didn’t waste time swearing. “This way.” He urged her into a dense tangle of alder and devil’s club.

  She moved as fast as she could. When she tripped on a rotting, downed log, he rescued her from the fall but said, “Get down behind it.”

  Within seconds both sprawled flat amid ferns and lower branches of a tree with sharp needles. Will withdrew the handgun from the pack and raised his head, expecting to see armed Taliban slipping in near-silence through these woods.

  He blinked. Wrong landscape. Not Taliban. He was disturbed by an expectation so vivid; the enemy soldiers had momentarily had real substance.

  Will watched for any movement.

  Like Maddy, he heard the rustling of branches first. Was that a camouflage uniform...? He expelled air in relief.

  “Take a look,” he whispered. “Quick.”

  Maddy carefully lifted her head, too. “Ooh.”

  The doe was followed by two fawns, spotted and with impossibly long, slender legs. Will bet they weren’t more than a few weeks old.

  “Those creeps wouldn’t shoot her, would they?”

  “Gunfire would give away their position. It would draw attention they don’t want, too. Hunting and guns are illegal in a national park.”

  Her gaze shifted to the Glock in his hand. He smiled wryly. “Don’t blame me.”

  The sound of her soft chuckle went straight to his groin. He almost groaned. “Can you go on for a while longer?”

  Her “Yes” was clipped. Maddy rolled away from him.

  Crap. He’d been curt, killing the mood. Just as well. He couldn’t afford to let her get to him. His focus had to be absolute, getting Maddy out of the mountains safely his only goal. Later...

  Not later. Never. The gulf between them was too wide, too deep. He’d grown up in poverty, she in privilege. He’d scraped out a BA from community colleges and online courses; she’d gone to Stanford and had a law degree. The men she dated didn’t have ugly scars on their faces and bodies. They knew fine wines, the best restaurants, not the layout of cave systems where terrorists had set up camp. Will liked and admired Maddy—yeah, he wanted her, too—but she wasn’t for him.

  Game trail or not, their pace was painfully slow. They took a break for her to down more pain pills and for them both to eat or drink. He ate some nuts but skipped the candy bar. He hoped she hadn’t noticed how few were left. Instead, he gave one to her while he ate a tasteless energy bar. Tonight would be their last hot meal, and it was a miracle he’d tossed more extras in than he’d remembered. By tomorrow night they’d be getting hungry. Nothing serious; they weren’t that far from Diablo and the Skagit River.

  Maddy needed the calories more than he did. The effort she was making despite fever and pain was taking it out of her. In fact, not more than an hour later he glanced back and immediately knew she was about to hit the wall. She’d dropped back and her eyes looked glassy.

  When they came to a small stream, one of the numerous tributaries carrying snowmelt down to join Stetattle Creek and eventually the Skagit River, he decided the timing was perfect.

  They crossed the stream on moss-covered rocks, more or less keeping dry, after which he led her upstream through the usual tangle until he found a mossy cove behind a cedar noticeably larger than any surrounding trees. A blackened scar on the trunk suggested it might have survived a forest fire that burned its compatriots.

  Once again he spread the pad and sleeping bag before helping Maddy sit down. With a moan, she toppled onto her side, curling up.

  Will laid a hand on her forehead. Speaking of burning. He needed to replace all her bandages to give himself a chance to search for obvious signs of infection. With nothing but soap and antibiotic cream, there wasn’t much he could do, but that little would be better than nothing. For now, he’d let her rest.
>
  * * *

  MADDY COULDN’T SAY she felt better when she woke from her nap. Well...just lying down was a relief. She automatically turned her head until she saw Will partway around the tree sheltering them. Cradling a metal cup in his hands, he rested his back against the tree and sat with legs outstretched, crossed at the ankles. His brown hair was disheveled and the stubble on his jaw could now be described as a beard. His flannel shirt had tears, his jeans were dirty and his forearms and hands looked like he’d done battle with an annoyed bear.

  Feeling a sting, she lifted her own arm. It was crisscrossed with angry scratches. More gingerly, she touched her cheek. Yep, face, too.

  Will’s head turned. “Nice nap?”

  “I have no idea. It was more like lights out.”

  She loved the way his smiles both creased his cheeks and crinkled the skin beside his eyes.

  “That was my impression,” he agreed. “Lucky you weren’t still standing up.”

  “I guess sleepwalking shows it’s possible to do both things at the same time.”

  “Some soldiers will tell you they do it all the time.”

  She wanted to smile, but it was hard to move the muscles in her cheeks when her head ached the way it did. “I don’t feel so good,” she said after a minute.

  “No,” he said quietly, “you have a raging fever. Once you have a cup of coffee, I want to check all your wounds. We can clean up a little in this creek, too.”

  Without turning, Maddy couldn’t see it, but she could hear a pleasant little ripple that was separate from the louder rush of Stetattle Creek.

  “No dip in a deep pond?”

  “Afraid not. Trust me, once you feel the temperature, you won’t want to jump in.”