Two Crazy, One Wild

by Shaye Marlow

  Rory and I had made a pact that we’d never marry. I’d never considered that it would be otherwise. I’d been happy with that until…

  “Frances!” George yelled out the door. “Get in here. Take that gun from her.”

  Frances entered in a huff, eyes flashing and dark hair tumbling around her face. “I won’t do it,” she said. “Whatever you’re planning, the answer’s no.”

  George’s hand clamped around her bicep, and he steered her to his furry chair.

  “Done?” he asked me, the word clipped.

  I’d printed my name and filled in the address information, and now I hesitated, pen tip hovering over the signature line. “We need a notary.”

  “Jack is one,” George said, nodding to the guide hovering in the doorway.

  “What’s going on?” Frances asked.

  “We’re switching grooms,” George said.

  Frances’s eyes went wide. Then a furrow appeared between her brows, and her eyes deepened to green.

  “I have a condition to add,” I said.

  “As if you’re in any position to give conditions.”

  “This is a one-year contract,” I said. “If Frances isn’t happy with me at the end of one year, she can go free. And you won’t try to marry her off again.”

  “There is no reason for me to agree to that,” George said, his voice full of scorn.

  “Actually, there are 280 reasons, in an unmarked grave at the rear of my property,” I said. “Manny found the bones of the man you killed when he was putting in my runway. Agree to my conditions, or I’ll have you charged with murder.”

  “Two hundred eighty?” Frances asked.

  “Isn’t that the number of bones in a human body?” I asked, thrilled simply that she was talking to me.

  “I think it’s 206.”

  “Oh.” I looked at her father. “Make that 206 reasons.”

  “Uh, Zack,” Ed started. “We can’t charge him with murder without revealing the bar. And the fight club,” he prompted.

  “Think I give a fuck? Additionally,” I said, “since she seems to enjoy that sort of thing, Frances will have a wedding. The dress, the church if she wants it, a huge cake. The whole nine yards.” Was it just me, or were her eyes starting to shine, just a little?

  “Fine,” George said.

  “The wedding, she can get out in a year, and you won’t kill her bear. You agree?”

  “Deal. You fucker. Now sign.”

  I signed.

  He took the paper from me, and slapped it in front of Frances. I held the pen out to her.

  She was staring at me, the cogs behind her beautiful eyes turning. I just hoped she wouldn’t murder me in my sleep.

  She took the pen. And then, without argument, she signed.

  “The other marriage license,” Ed said, holding out his hand.

  George gave it to him. “Now get out.”

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  ZACK

  When we got back to the cabin, my bachelorhood was long gone, and so was my brother. Rory missing actually bothered me more than the other. Last time he’d gone out by himself, he’d sunk our boat and nearly drowned.

  “You think he went after the bear?” Frances asked.

  Oh, shit. He’d’ve had plenty of time to get up into the valley. And I’d told him about the location of that creek crossing, so he had a route. Rory could be up past George’s, right then, shooting Frances’s bear.

  I went to inspect the gun rack. “His favorite rifle’s gone.”

  Frances and I exchanged a look, then ran for the airplane. And, that’s how we wound up in the air, skimming along the valley bottom above George’s place.

  I’d thought, worst case scenario, we’d find Rory stranded along the creek, having sunk the Jeep. This was worse.

  We buzzed over a stunted clump of cottonwoods, and there he was. He was on the ground, in a marsh, running. In my experience, one didn’t run through a marsh without a damn good reason.

  Then the reason charged into view. A huge brown bear. The huge brown bear.

  Rory wasn’t carrying a rifle, and in fact, that looked like a beer bottle clutched in his fist.

  The bear was running straight at him, head up, eyes locked onto my likely inebriated brother.

  “Oh, god,” Frances said, seeing as surely as I did how badly this was going to end.

  “Fly straight at him,” I said. “Low.” Then I opened my pocket knife, kicked the door—it refused to stay open against the force of the wind, so I wound up kicking it entirely off its hinges—and climbed out onto the wing strut.

  The bear got to Rory before we did. He smacked him to the ground, then pounced on him.

  I hoped we could scare that bear off with just a buzz, but I doubted it, and I knew we only had one chance before he did my brother serious damage. There would be no coming back around. It was now or never. Live or die. I knew what I had to do, and so, when we were almost overtop of them, I did it.

  I jumped. Shouting my intent, I landed on top of the bear. I knew it was Frances’s pet, but beneath him lay my brother.

  So, clinging to his back, I stabbed the bear. When he didn’t respond, I did it again, and again, trying to hurt him, to distract him, whatever I could manage.

  With a roar, the bear flung me off. I flew away into the marsh, and… I have no fucking clue where my knife went. Then I was up, knee deep in muck, with a monstrous angry bear barreling at me.

  Roaring louder than he had, I ran to meet him. Like it had the Rottweilers, my ferocity confused him. He hesitated, and I came in swinging.

  I punched him right in the eye.

  He hit me then, batting me aside with a giant paw.

  I was back up in a jiffy, and noticed Rory was alive. He was crawling, and there didn’t seem to be too much red on him.

  The bear charged at me and knocked me down. Lying under him, I was pretty much screwed, but also in the perfect position. I kicked him in the nuts. I think it might have been a boy bear, because my foot seemed to make an impression. For just a moment, I thought he might turn and run. But, it wasn’t to be.

  His ears went back, his eyes rolled, and he sank his teeth into my arm. I screamed in pain.

  As I lay pinned under that bear, Frances swept by overhead. The bear didn’t so much as hesitate in his gnawing, but the sound reminded me I had something to live for. It was looking pretty bad for the home team, but I wasn’t done fighting.

  Since my arm was already fucked, I jammed it fist-first down the bear’s throat, gagging him.

  The bear backed up. Just two steps, but he spit me out.

  The airplane came roaring back toward us, and I was thinking buzzing the bear was not gonna work, not at this point, and hadn’t we already established that—

  When Frances fell out of the sky.

  She hit the marsh with a splash and a little feminine grunt that amused me even as the bear closed for another round. Then my brain caught up, and I realized Frances had jumped out of the plane, was now on the ground with us—me, Rory, and a gigantic angry bear.

  And my plane… CRUNCH SHRIEEEK FWIPFWIpFWipFwipfwipfwiiip.

  “Morty,” Frances said. Her voice was soft as she slogged toward us, her eyes on the bear.

  “Stay back!” I yelled, terrified for her.

  “Morty,” Frances cooed. Cooed. And then her arm appeared in my view as she slipped it around the bear’s neck. “Hey,” she said softly, and buried her face in the fur near its ear.

  The bear gave me a beady-eyed glare, then turned its head and snuffled at her.

  “Hey, you’re all right,” she whispered. “He didn’t mean to do it. C’mon, let’s get off him.”

  The bear grumbled an objection, his long claws digging into my hip.

  “Don’t gimme that,” Frances said sternly. “Come.”

  And the bear did. He turned, and docilely followed her away.

  I sat up and noticed my arm was bleeding pretty badly. Not spraying, thank god, but
there was a lot of blood. More than I’d seen coming out of a person in a while.

  Rory must’ve noticed it, too, because he was suddenly there, wrapping his T-shirt around the ruined flesh. “You shouldn’t have done that,” he said, face drawn.

  “You’re my brother.” I met his gaze, a whole conversation passing between us in just a few seconds. I gripped his arm with the hand that still worked, and nodded.

  My brother sniffled, nodding back.

  Then I leaned to one side, to make sure the bear hadn’t eaten my woman. Nope. He’d sat down like a ginormous dog, and Frances was petting him, playing with his rounded ear as she talked to him.

  Rory thumped ass-first into the marsh next to me, watching the same show. Speechless, same as me.

  She gave the bear another hug, then turned to look at us. Her eyes went to my arm, the shirt over which was turning crimson, and her brows drew together.

  I became aware of a noise, a fast thrumming off in the distance. Frances cocked her head, hearing it too.

  She said some words to the bear, sounding sterner now, while pointing toward the trees. “Go!”

  The bear huffed, then levered himself to his feet.

  It was a helicopter, rapidly approaching. The bear had started to trundle away, but as the sound turned into a roar, he broke into a run.

  At the edge of the marsh, just before he disappeared into the brush, the bear cast Frances one last, longing look. I knew just exactly how he felt.

  Then he disappeared.

  Frances blocked my view, falling to her knees at my side. Her cool hand was on my neck, her eyes shadowed. “Oh, Zack, you shouldn’t have done that.” Her other hand hovered over my mangled arm. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered.

  “Why are you sorry?” I asked. I was starting to feel a bit out of it.

  “Because Morty…” Her expression was pained.

  “You seriously have a pet bear?” Rory asked. “That’s so fucking cool.”

  “We need to get Zack to a hospital.”

  “That’ll be Gary,” Rory said, glancing over his shoulder at the approaching helicopter.

  Frances followed his gaze. “Why? How?”

  “I added an emergency locator to Zack’s plane, and gave Gary the other end,” Rory said.

  “You… shit.” My voice was slurred.

  The next few minutes were blurry. I felt a strong, chilly wind. Then there were voices, sounds of alarm. Hands on me.

  I was lying on something hard, with Frances’s face above me. I could barely feel her fingers tangled with mine.

  “Hold on,” she said.

  I wanted to nod. Tried to nod.

  Then I closed my eyes.

  FRANCES

  I rode in with Zack to the hospital, where Gary made an unauthorized landing on their helipad. Luckily, a bunch of very businesslike men and women in scrubs came out with a gurney anyway, and gathered Zack up. I was staring after them, tears streaming down my face, when I realized my ex-husband was standing at my elbow.

  “Calm down,” Derrick said. “It’s just his arm.”

  “If it’s just his arm, why is he unconscious?” I was ugly-crying. This was such a fucking mess.

  Dismissing me, Derrick approached Gary as he rounded the helicopter. “Hi, I’m Derrick,” he said, offering his hand.

  “And why are you still out here?” I asked, frantic with worry.

  “Any interest in some work?” Derrick asked Gary.

  “You should be in there, stitching him up!” I shrilled. Gary was the only one paying me any attention, and he looked concerned.

  “I have an airplane I need air-lifted,” Derrick said, shooting me a look.

  “He could need blood!” I yelled, tugging at his arm.

  He shook me off. “I just got off shift,” he said, then turned back to Gary.

  Wait. If Derrick wasn’t on, did that mean another doctor was? Or did they not currently have an ER doc?!

  “Frances crashed my 180, and I need to retrieve it,” Derrick said.

  “I was shot down,” I muttered, staring forlornly in the direction Zack’d been taken.

  “Why are you still out here?” Derrick demanded. “Go be with your whipping boy.”

  I recoiled. “What are you—? I didn’t do that to him.”

  “Uh-huh. Seriously, why are you still here?”

  I didn’t know why I hadn’t followed Zack. Rory had, clinging to his brother’s uninjured hand like a good life partner, and I’d felt like a third wheel.

  Everything was happening too fast. Zack was my husband, and now he was hurt. Hurt bad. What if he dies?

  I didn’t realize I’d spoken the last aloud until Gary patted my shoulder.

  “He’s not gonna die,” said Derrick. “It’s just his damn arm.”

  “Go be with him,” Gary said, giving me a little push.

  I walked toward the sliding double doors, feeling like my heart was sliding to my feet.

  “You interested? And maybe free now?” I heard Derrick ask behind me.

  “Yeah, sure,” said Gary. “I even know where that airplane is.”

  I didn’t hear them take off, because I’d entered the bright lights and stepped onto the endless shiny floor of the ER. I wandered until I found Zack. Sure enough, a bag of blood hung from an IV pole, tracing a dark line to his arm. I watched from outside his room as doctors and nurses scurried around, until one of them told me I couldn’t be there.

  I wound up out in the waiting room, with Rory.

  “So,” Rory said.

  The triage nurse was glaring at me. I could only guess that was because she and Derrick had bumped uglies at some point.

  “You should have just said the bear was your pet,” Rory said. “I would’ve understood.”

  Yeah, actually. Considering how much he doted on Ernie, he probably would have.

  I buried my face in my hands.

  He touched my arm. “It’s not your fault.”

  “What if he dies?” I asked in a tone that was more wail than anything else. Oh, god, I’d lost it.

  Rory patted me on the back à la Gary. “Hey, now. He’s not gonna die. Hasn’t Zack given you his ‘I’m hard to kill’ speech?”

  “Yeah,” I sniffled. What the hell was wrong with me? I didn’t cry.

  “He’s not kidding,” Rory said. “He’ll be fine.”

  I groaned. “I’m not good for him. I got him friggin’ mauled, almost got him shot, got him attacked multiple times…”

  Rory sighed. “Frances, this pains me to say, because I really am jealous of how much time Zack’s been spending with you, but… you’re worth a little pain.”

  I gave him a watery smile, unsure if anyone had ever said anything so sweet to me.

  “If you think about it, it’s actually a match made in heaven. You get him hurt, and he bounces right back. You probably woulda killed anyone else by now.”

  I started crying again. Oh, god, now even the stink-eyed triage nurse looked concerned.

  “What’s wrong?” Rory asked.

  “We’re married.”

  “What? Me and you?” Rory scratched his head. “I don’t remember—”

  “No! Me and Zack.” And then, I told him the whole sordid tale, while clinging to and crying on his shirt. My nose was running, leaving silvery streaks, and for a moment I was paralyzed with embarrassment. Then I said fuck it—this was the man who’d whacked me upside the head with a chocolate bar.

  “So, you’re part of the clan now,” Rory mused. “Does that mean I can call you Fanny?”

  “No,” I growled. Had he even heard me?

  “Well, Fanny, Zack swore he’d never marry, but it sounds like he didn’t have much of a choice. I forgive you,” he said, tightening his arm when I would’ve pulled away.

  I sputtered.

  His face became suddenly serious, an expression so strange on him, it captured my complete attention. “I know I’ve been kind of an ass, and I’ve done some stupid things, but I want
you to know that I’m sorry,” he said. “And I want you to know that I won’t do anything else to try and hurt you or scare you away. I won’t ever hit you again, or hurt you in any way, I swear it.” His eyes burned into mine with absolute sincerity, and for a moment, I couldn’t find my voice.

  “Wow, that was… sudden,” I said.

  “Zack is the most important thing in the world to me,” Rory said. He took a deep breath, nodded. “So… you’re in.” He squeezed me, rocking me back and forth as his eyes regained their usual crazed glimmer. “I have another sister! This means you’re gonna start to cook and clean, right?”

  “What? No!”

  Rory frowned. “But that’s what good wives do.”

  “I never said I’d be a ‘good’ wife,” I said. “Besides, it’s only for a year.”

  “Just a year?” Rory laughed in my face.

  “Zack said—”

  “Do you not realize how obsessed with you Zack is?” Rory asked. “He got thrown in a river for you. He built you a gazebo. He bought a plane for you. He took on four angry Rottweilers for you. Zack fucking loves you.”

  “He…” Yes, I’d heard Ed say it, too, but I’d pretty well dismissed his declaration as one man’s opinion.

  “Loves you. That’s right. That’s what I said. Believe me, I recognize the symptoms after watching Helly and Gary and J.D. and Thea go down this same path. Irrational behavior, check. Hell, he’s even been doing a mating dance.”

  Okay, maybe if Rory—the man who knew Zack better than anyone—saw it, too… maybe there was a chance Zack actually did love me. My heart started to race as I considered it. But, “Mating dance?”

  “What would you call it, your little morningly tease? You two have been dancing around each other like those birds of paradise, with your feathers all puffed out.” He studied my expression. “What, you didn’t know?”

  “I just… I thought… usually, I just… sex,” I mumbled.

  “I mean, look at you. You’re distraught. It’s delightful,” Rory said, grinning.

  Holding his gaze, I wiped my nose on my arm, then swiped my arm across his.

  He held his arm out in front of him, staring at its new silver glaze. Slowly, his hair stood on end.