Forbidden River

by Brynn Kelly

  “Okay, that’s good enough.”

  “So you don’t want me to stop?”

  “Uh. No. Just stop talking shit.”

  “It’s not shit. And for the record, the last time I slept with a woman was a year ago. The condoms are wishful thinking.”

  She laughed, her belly shuddering. He licked her navel, earning another shaky giggle.

  “Let me guess,” she said. “That was the last time you went on a kayak trip? A hookup with a local?”

  “Ah, actually, yeah. But it’s not a habit, believe me.”

  “Don’t sweat it. I’m okay with you not being a virgin.”

  “So we’re doing this, right?” he asked. He couldn’t help sounding a little anxious.

  “Hell, yes. Just...let’s not get too carried away.”

  “It doesn’t really work unless we get somewhat carried away.”

  “True. Well, let’s get carried away in a silent, slow kind of way.”

  Yes, ma’am.

  * * *

  IT WASN’T THE impersonal shag Tia had expected. With her limited mobility and the need for quiet they took it lazily, cocooned in warmth and safety and trust, hiding from sandflies under his unzipped sleeping bag. Hiding from everything. When they weren’t kissing, she was staring into his dark eyes, her climb into bliss reflected in his gaze like it was a meeting of souls, not just bodies. Intimate. Loving. Like a couple who had known and loved a long time. His back muscles tensed and released under her fingers as he moved inside her, the occasional haunting call of the ruru marking the passing of time. She had an urge to close her eyes and concentrate only on how good it felt, the steady build of agonizingly sweet pleasure, the solid weight of him, his chest flattening her breasts. But she didn’t want to break the connection in their gaze, the comms link between their thoughts.

  When her release came again, it was more of an implosion than an explosion, her body splintering in on itself. At that point, she did close her eyes—and held her breath to stop from crying out with the exquisite force. He moaned, crested and collapsed on top of her. She wrapped her arms tight around his wide, slick back and he slid to one side, easing his weight off her. She slung her bad knee over his hip, ignoring its half-hearted protest, and he sought her gaze again. Swallowing, he pushed a lock of her hair behind her ear and trailed his hand down to her waist. She adjusted the sleeping bag to cover them again—not that she needed the warmth—and they lay still and silent as the night re-formed around them, a frown caught on his forehead like he was trying to figure it all out.

  Good luck with that, Cowboy. A breeze caught the ferns bordering the clearing, the brush of the fronds echoing the rush of the water beyond. Somewhere far away a female kiwi trilled. Tia listened for the mate’s reply but it didn’t come.

  She was grateful Cody didn’t talk. Let their bodies have the last word, let their connection remain unspoken, let the beauty of it breathe. What good would come from words—a joke to break the spell, a briefing of tactics for tomorrow, the inevitable panicked disclaimer? You know I’m not in a good place for a relationship, right? But this was fun. Let’s do it again sometime.

  She realized her eyes had drifted shut when he shifted onto his back and she jolted out of the delirious dawn of a dream. He shushed her, slipping his arm around her shoulders and pulling her in so her body pressed into his side, her cheek on his chest. He kissed her crown for a long moment.

  “Mmm-hmm,” she murmured, snaking her arm across his waist, giving in to the weight of sleep, to a sweet bliss that wasn’t hers to keep.

  CHAPTER TEN

  CODY CROUCHED AT the junction of stream and river, watching colors seep into the landscape after the gray dawn, long enough to be satisfied their stalker wasn’t lying in wait. If Cody was doing the sniping, he’d set up in that dip between the boulders on the far bank, in that clump of ferns upriver, on that rocky bluff.

  The concrete sky sagged. The forest drooped with dew, as if salivating at the promise of rain. Far away one of Shane’s dogs barked, the echo bouncing around the valley. Cody turned his head to one side, listening. More barking. They were still a fair distance upriver but it was time to push on. He stood, rolling his shoulders. Time to wake Tia. He’d packed everything in the kayaks except the bedding.

  He followed the stream back up, rubbing his nape. He’d hardly slept, but when did he ever? Having Tia naked in his arms was enough of a recharge. He’d lain there thinking too much, listening to the piercing calls of night birds, the hoot of a tiny owl that swooped in and out of a tree, the trickle and rush of water, the odd scraping and shuffling that had him on alert.

  At the clearing, Tia sat studying the map, crunching into the apple he’d left for her, along with a nut bar and water. The sleeping bag, mat and tent were neatly stowed. She’d pulled back her hair, and her face was fierce with concentration. It was true what he’d said—she wasn’t like any woman he’d met. Tough and passionate. It’d take one hell of a man to count as her equal—and not a guy who’d spent six years on the run. You can’t shovel that shit while you’re swimming in it. Was that his problem? He was counting on time and distance to heal him, but the farther he ran from his guilt and grief, the heavier it got.

  Tia looked up, rubbing her lips together as she spotted him. How would this go? It wasn’t your usual morning after. They’d crossed a line last night, and not just a physical one. The last couple of years he’d watched his best buddies hook up with the right woman at the wrong time. Never thought it’d happen to him.

  And it wouldn’t happen. It wasn’t happening. Like she’d said, this was a fling between a local and a tourist, the kind of thing that happened every day—had probably happened that very day to a thousand people, from Kenya to Manhattan. Two people pairing up, having a good time, moving on. Happy blips. The what-if moment was inevitable but you pushed on through.

  “We’ll need to bust a gut to get to the falls,” she said, snapping her gaze back to the map. “There’s a river crossing right before it—a swing bridge. I’ll feel better when we’re past that.”

  He crossed the clearing. So that’s how it’d be—they’d forget it ever happened. Well, he’d never forget, but he could pretend, if that’s what she wanted. He’d also be good with stripping naked and resuming where they’d finished up last night, but maybe it was lucky they couldn’t.

  “A bridge,” he said, catching up with her words. “Does that mean there’s a track?” Another escape route?

  “Yeah, but it’s rough. An old hunting track that goes nowhere to nowhere, slowly.” She stretched her legs out. The dressing was soaked with blood. “The river’s still our best bet.”

  “Want me to change that?” He nodded at her leg.

  “Nah. It’s holding. We should go.” She went to push to her feet and stopped, wincing. He held out a hand. “I’m fine.” She tried again, smacked onto her ass, swore.

  “It’ll take a while to loosen up again, after a night’s...rest,” he said.

  Sighing, she clapped her hand into his and he pulled her up. He liked the weight of her. He liked that they were nearly eye to eye when standing. And he liked it even more when she gave in to a shy smile, pulled him closer and kissed him, as tender and intimate as sex had been last night. Is that what a relationship with her would be like—hot and fun but calming and fortifying, too?

  Way too soon, she pulled away. Her smile faded, her eyes turning down in the creases. Laid bare and uncomfortable with it. “Thanks,” she whispered. “Last night was... Thanks.” There was a finality in her tone. Officially sealing the experience into the box marked One-Night Stand.

  He should say something profound that would convey how much more it’d meant, without suggesting they had a future. He said the first words that came: “My pleasure.”

  He felt like a jerk, but what could he say? I’ll call yo
u. Let’s do this again sometime. Run away with me because you’re the hottest—and coolest—woman I’ve ever met. And then what? A woman couldn’t join the legion. And what would he do in Nowheresville, with too much time and space for dark thoughts? A few days in a year of days was cool, but any longer and he’d drown in the silence. Even if they went somewhere new, somewhere busy, his regret and heartache would come, too. She deserved better.

  She stepped back and turned with a clumsy hop. “Right. Let’s get on the water.”

  And there it was. The End.

  Their awkwardness lifted after they pushed off, with rapids to force their concentration, and hard paddling in calmer waters. Her leg impeded her more than the day before, not that she complained. Hard to use the force in your arms without a solid anchor in your legs. After half an hour a light drizzle settled, more mist than rain. Icy drops trickled down his nape. Below Tia’s helmet, her hair glistened like a spiderweb beaded with dew.

  The forest was noisy with birds—bells and whistles and coos and clicks and warbles and screeches and rustling that had him itchy with nerves. The hunter whistling? The clunk of a bolt sliding home? The rustle of dogs?

  As he rounded a sharp corner approaching rapids, a parrot with a rust-red belly swooped across the river, screeching. He flinched. It barreled into foliage and disappeared.

  “Kaka,” Tia said behind him. “I’ve never seen one up here. There used to be thousands.”

  “Let me guess. Before humans?”

  “Yep. We suck. Seriously, the world would be a better—”

  He glanced over his shoulder. She was frowning at something ahead, on the right bank. He followed her gaze. A wire trailed downriver, attached to a tree root. He paddled into an eddy, skimmed his hand through the water and picked it up. It was no random piece of rubbish—someone had knotted it tight.

  “Any good reason for this to be here?”

  She eddied out behind him. “Look,” she said, nodding at the far bank. “Straight across. Another wire.”

  It was tangled in scrub on the water’s edge. “The other end of this one? Why would you string a wire across a...” He blinked. “Shit. He clotheslined a kayaker?”

  Cody yanked and the wire pinged free, the root splashing into the river. He coiled it and stashed it in his kayak.

  “Cody.” Tia’s voice was flat and urgent. She pointed downstream. Something red was caught in a sieve, under a tree canopy. A paddle. “He boasted about setting traps for humans, about hunting women. Maybe this was him trying to get a woman off the river, force her into the bush where his dogs could catch up.” Tia scanned the ferns along the banks, backpaddling. “So where is she now?”

  “Maybe the kayak overturned. Maybe she bailed. If we find her kay—”

  A bark, low-pitched and husky. A shout: “Shut up!” Close behind. Shit, Shane had caught up fast. Cody kicked into gear, pulling hard into the current.

  “Tia, I want to find her, too. But right now we gotta stick to the plan, stay ahead of him.”

  She nodded curtly, her lips thin.

  “We get past the waterfall, we’re home free.”

  Another nod.

  The next rapid was short and brutal. No more sign of kayakers. Then the goddamn river began to meander, just when they could have used a solid patch of straight water to pull ahead. Every bend, every cliff, every bay, Cody expected to see camo gear, hear the zing of a potshot. The dogs had silenced—under control, on the hunt? The rush of the rapids turned into a roar, the roar into thunder. Mist billowed around an upcoming blind bend. The waterfall. A sudden scream cut overtop.

  Tia charged up alongside him. “Hear that?”

  “Yep.”

  “It was close—just through there.” She nodded at a strip of stony beach on the right bank.

  “Tia, we gotta get to the waterfall before he does.”

  “It could be her.” Another scream, indistinct. “I can’t not...”

  His gut churned. Fuck.

  “You go ahead,” she said, paddling for the beach. “I’ll check it out.”

  Dammit. He followed, ripping off his spraydeck as his kayak skimmed to a halt behind hers. He jumped out with a crunch and pulled the boat under a clump of ferns as she did the same.

  “You have to keep going,” she said, stepping out of her spraydeck. “Stick to the plan.”

  “I’m not leaving you.”

  She unclipped her life jacket and tossed it on the kayak. “This is about your brother, isn’t it?”

  “Don’t bring him into this. It’s about you.” He nodded into the forest, trying not to shout above the crashing water. “It’s about her.”

  “I can look after her—and me. Best thing you can do is raise the alarm. You’re not thinking straight because of what happened before.”

  “Don’t tell me what I’m thinking.”

  “We don’t have time to argue. Staying is a bad decision. Go.”

  Another scream, almost inhuman. He frowned. There was something odd about it. His ears couldn’t get a fix on it over the roar of the falls.

  “Cody, go.” She scrambled up a mud bank.

  Leaving made sense. Of course it did. He dragged his palms down his face, slick with mist and sweat. But, fuck it. Maybe staying was a bad decision, but it was the only one he could live with.

  He caught up with her in a dark gully where the forest muffled the waterfall to a bass boom. She shot him a disapproving look, then started.

  “Hear that?” she asked.

  A snorting, ahead. Not dog, but he’d swear it wasn’t human. He overtook her—and froze. Farther down the narrow gully, a monster of a black boar tottered and swayed to its feet, curved tusks glowing white in the gloom. Holy shit. Grunting, it lowered its huge matted head—and charged. Cody reared and smacked into Tia. She yelped. An instant of weightless panic and then he landed on dirt, taking her out on the way down. The boar barreled toward them, getting bigger by the second. It threw up its head and squealed. Then its legs buckled and it thudded to the ground, the impact shuddering like a quake. It slid to a stop so close that Cody could feel its hot breath.

  “He’s bleeding,” Tia whispered, pointing past Cody to a deep, dirty gash in its flank, oozing with fresh and dried blood and yellowy gunk. Behind it, on the leaf litter, was a long red smear. “The dogs must have had a go at him—a while back. He’s dying.”

  “Jesus, a lucky break for us. Let’s go.” He shuffled off her legs and pushed to his feet. “You okay?”

  “We can’t leave him like that,” she said, hopping to her feet. “That knife still in your pocket?” She held out a hand.

  “Ah man.” They were sniper fodder and she was stopping to be humane? “I’ll do it.”

  “I can do it.”

  “Tia, I would totally be cool with watching you take on a wild boar. Hell, I’d buy tickets. But you’re injured.”

  She pressed her lips together. Her skin had paled, her freckles standing out. He’d landed right on her leg. Fresh blood stained her bandage. The pig squealed, the sound digging into his brain. A dog barked, the echo masking its location.

  “Make it quick,” she said.

  The exhausted beast didn’t give much of a struggle. It’d had enough of fighting. Still, it stung Cody in the chest to watch its life end, with a twitch and a slump. I’ve had enough of death, Tia had said. Cody’d had enough of death seven years ago. You go mad or you go numb. Which way was he headed? He felt warm pressure on his lower back, under his life jacket. Tia. She jerked her head the way they’d come, her face grim but back to normal coloring. He nodded.

  A few steps from the beach, Tia stopped, grabbing his arm. Something was churning through the undergrowth, still out of sight but coming their way. The ferns carpeting the gully remained still.

  “Run,” s
he whispered.

  He pushed her ahead but she stopped short, forcing him to sidestep to avoid taking her out. A dog flew off a bank and landed in front of her. Squat and white with pink-rimmed eyes. It advanced with a rumbling growl, saliva dripping from bared teeth like some demon hound. The growl grew into a bark, then another. A whistle answered—from downriver. Shit, the shooter had gotten ahead of them. Cody drew out his knife and flicked it open.

  Tia cursed. “Shane must be on the swing bridge, above the falls. Waiting for us to round the corner in the kayaks.”

  “We almost did.”

  “We need to lure him away.” She straightened. “I have an idea. Sit, Jaws, sit,” she commanded.

  “Was that your idea? It ain’t working.”

  “No, that’s me giving it a chance to cooperate. Take off your life jacket. Wrap it around your arm.”

  Cody blinked. “Holy shit, for real? I liked your first plan better.”

  “When Shane told me about training the dogs to go after humans he held out his left arm, like this.” The dog snapped as she raised her arm, elbow wide. She pulled it in. “That’s what he trained the dog to go after. If we get it to latch on, we can contain it long enough to leash it. And shut it up in the meantime.”

  “You make it sound so simple.” He unclipped the life jacket and slid it off. “Is this the dog that attacked you?”

  “Yep.”

  “It went for your leg, not your arm.”

  “You have five seconds to come up with another plan. Four, three—”

  “Ah, fuck it. You take the knife, just in case.”

  He placed it in her nearest hand, wound the jacket around his arm and jumped in front of her, offering his forearm.

  “Jaws!” she said, her voice low. “Attack!”

  “Whose side are you on?”

  The dog pulled back slightly, scrabbled on dead leaves and jumped. Cody winced. Its teeth locked around the jacket. Holy shit, the pressure... He clenched his teeth so hard his jaw clunked.