Lone Defender (Love Inspired Suspense)

by Shirlee McCoy

  “More times than I can count.”

  “And it hasn’t occurred to you that it’s something you need to work on?”

  “It’s occurred to me.” He eased the pace, slowing from a brisk walk to a leisurely stroll as if they had all the time in the world. They didn’t, but Skylar wasn’t capable of much more than the new pace he’d set. He knew it. Of course he did. Jonas didn’t seem like the kind of guy who missed things. Not bad guys lurking in shadows. Not noises in the darkness. Certainly not Skylar’s limping pace and panting breath.

  “It’s occurred to me that I’m slowing you down. You got me up the mesa. You really don’t have to stick around. The guys who are after us are really only after me, and as much as I want to swoon like a Victorian lady and let you carry me out of the desert on your manly shoulders, I don’t want your blood on my hands.”

  “Manly shoulders?”

  “My point is—”

  “I know what your point is, Grady. Here’s mine. I watched my wife and unborn son die a few years ago. I was helpless to save either of them. I’m not helpless to save you. All the arguments you throw out? They’re not doing anything but wasting energy. Yours and mine.” His words stopped her cold, and she touched his arm, felt corded muscle beneath wet cotton.

  “I’m sorry. I can’t imagine anything more painful than that.”

  “It was…tough.”

  An understatement. Skylar knew that.

  Not her business, but she wanted to ask how they’d died. Why. Wanted to tell him again how sorry she was.

  “Jonas—”

  “There’s a path to the desert floor on the north side of the mesa. Not too steep. If we’re careful, we should be able to make it down without a problem.” He cut her off, his tone gruff.

  “As long as we’re not hanging off the face of a rock again, I’ll be happy.” She tripped, nearly tumbling face-first onto the ground.

  “Like I said, we need to be careful.” He wrapped an arm around her waist, urging her on. Warmth spread through her at the contact, the heat of his arm seeping through layers of wet cloth, making her want to burrow close, steal more of his warmth. She moved away instead, uncomfortable with her need, her weakness.

  Rain dripped down her hair and into her eyes, but she didn’t bother wiping it away. It was too dark to see much anyway, and she was too tired to do more than keep trudging across the mesa. They were on the path before she realized it, and Jonas stepped in front of her, his movements as lithe and fluid as a jungle cat.

  “We’ll have to go single file. I’ll go first. You follow. Stay close.” He snagged both her hands, pressing them to his waist, and her fingers twisted through his belt loops. She didn’t protest, or try to pull away. As much as she didn’t want him to die because of her, she wanted to survive. He was her lifeline. It was as simple as that. As frustrating as that. She’d spent most of her life clawing and fighting to prove that she could make it on her own, and now she had no choice but to admit she couldn’t. Without Jonas, she’d die. The wind, the rain, the cold, all sapped her strength, made her clumsy, every step an effort in concentration, every movement sluggish and difficult.

  A voice carried on the wind. Or maybe it was simply her imagination. Either way, she wanted to move faster. Her foot caught on a rock, and she stumbled, falling into Jonas’s back, her head slamming into his pack. She saw stars, felt reality slipping away. No more rain or cold or wind. Just easy darkness and silence and warmth. All she had to do was let herself go.

  “I thought you weren’t going to make me sling you onto my manly shoulders and carry you out of here.” Jonas’s voice pulled her back from the brink of unconsciousness. He’d wrapped his arms around her so they were pressed close, his warmth seeping through her chilled body, his arms supporting her deadweight. She tried to push away, but he held her head to his chest. “Just take a minute.”

  “A minute isn’t going to do me any good, but thanks for the offer.” She tried to keep her voice light, hoped he didn’t hear her desperation.

  “I did search and rescue for a lot of years,” he said, letting her go and walking again.

  “Yeah?”

  “There were plenty of times when a person I thought was equipped to survive, someone who was trained in survival or used to the environment, didn’t make it. There were even more times when someone who wasn’t prepared at all, someone I was sure I’d find dead, pulled through.”

  “The will to survive is a powerful thing.” She snagged his belt loops again, trying to concentrate on his words, hoping to clear her head, sharpen her thinking.

  “It is, but, all things being equal, the difference between survival and death doesn’t lie in the will to live. It lies in the ability to hope. Once hope is lost, everything else is lost with it.”

  “Don’t worry. I have plenty of hope. I’m just running short on steam.”

  “I have granola and raisins in my pack. A few more protein bars. Probably a couple apples, too. I’ll get them out once we’re on flat terrain. For now we need to keep moving.” He didn’t say why, didn’t mention their pursuers, but Skylar could feel the hot breath of the hunter on her neck, could imagine high-powered rifles aimed at her. At any moment, a bullet could slice through the darkness, slam into her back.

  The wind abated, the rocky landscape giving way to thick scrub as the slope eased.

  Solid ground beneath her feet.

  Finally.

  Skylar would have knelt and kissed the desert floor if she’d thought she could make it back to her feet again.

  “You did good, Grady.” Jonas didn’t slow as he pulled off his pack, dug into it and handed her an apple.

  “And this is my reward?”

  “Would you rather have a medal?”

  “Maybe.” She bit into the apple because she needed the fuel, not because she felt hungry. All she felt was exhaustion, pulling at her, slowing her down. Maybe the apple would help. Probably, it wouldn’t.

  The difference between survival and death doesn’t lie in the will to live. It lies in the ability to hope.

  The words drifted through her mind. Jonas’s words. Tessa’s voice. She glanced around, almost expecting to see her long-lost sister somewhere nearby.

  They’d been opposites growing up. Skylar the pragmatist. Tessa the optimist, always filled with dreams and hopes for the future. Foolish dreams, in Skylar’s mind, but she’d never had the heart to tell her sister that. Maybe, secretly, she’d wanted to believe all those hopes and dreams would come true for both of them. Maybe she still wanted to believe they would.

  She frowned, taking another bite of the apple because she was seriously afraid she was losing her mind.

  “Here.” Jonas dropped something over her head, pulled it into place around her neck.

  “What is it?” She ran her fingers along a thin leather cord, several cold beads and what felt like a stone arrowhead.

  “Your medal.”

  “It feels like an arrow.”

  “One of my grandfather’s. His grandfather taught him how to make them. He taught me. Better than anything you could buy in a store. At least, that’s what he always said. Me? I was more into bullets than bows, but he wanted me to remember the old ways, so he gave me that for my sixth birthday.”

  “I can’t take it, then.” She started to pull it off, but he stilled her hands.

  “You earned it. Besides, Pops gave me a few every year until I was thirteen and could make them myself. I used to earn money selling them at a gift store outside the reservation.”

  “An entrepreneur at a young age, huh?”

  “A kid who didn’t value what he had but, then, what kid does?”

  Not Skylar.

  Not that she’d had much to put value in.

  A drug-addicted mother. An alcoholic father. A wild older sister. A cluttered, unstable home. School had been her refuge, and she had valued that. But family had always been a distant dream. One she still hadn’t reached. “I still don’t feel comfortable
taking it.”

  “You’re not taking. I’m giving.”

  “You’re splitting hairs.”

  “And you’re fighting me again.”

  “It’s better than thinking about how many hours there are until dawn and how tired I am.”

  “Not so many left, Grady. It’s almost two, and the rain is letting up. I put a call in to search and rescue while you were sleeping. They know our situation. As soon as the storm clears, they’ll send a chopper.”

  If they survived that long.

  She didn’t say what she was thinking. Just kept walking, her gaze focused on the dark horizon. No lights. No sign of civilization. Nothing but exactly what she’d been seeing for days. “You know, I’ve spent the past six days heading toward the mesa, hoping civilization was on the other side. There’s nothing here, though. Just more desert.”

  “It’s a big place. Easy to get lost in.”

  “But you know where we’re headed.”

  “Right now we’re just headed away from what’s behind us.”

  “How much lead time do you think we have?” Her words were raspy, her throat hot. Everything was hot. Her face, her hands, her entire body, burning from the inside out.

  “Hopefully, enough.”

  “That doesn’t sound very promising.” She glanced over her shoulder, scanning the mesa. A shadow moved along the top. Two shadows. Three. Her pulse leaped, and she nearly stumbled. “They’re on the mesa.”

  And she was deadweight, slowing Jonas down. “I think—”

  “Don’t waste your breath. We’re together, and we’re staying together.”

  “Then we need to move faster.”

  “And risk you not being able to move at all? I don’t think so.”

  “But—”

  “If they had night vision and high-powered rifles, they’d have picked us off long ago. Since they don’t, they’ll need to climb down the mesa. Once they’re down here, we’re on an equal playing field. No way will they be able to see us. That means they’ll need to track us. That means time.”

  “And they have plenty of that.”

  “A few hours. That’s not much.”

  “It’s an eternity.” Sweat trickled down Skylar’s forehead, heat consuming her, sapping what little energy she had. She raised a hand to brush it away, her arm shaking. A week ago, she’d been strong and fit and ready to conquer Cave Creek, Arizona. Now she felt two hundred years old, her body aching and weak. It brought back memories she preferred not to dwell on. Those dark days in the hospital when doctors had stood over her bed and shaken their heads as she’d insisted that she’d walk again.

  She’d beaten the odds then.

  Maybe she’d beat them again.

  But it didn’t seem likely just now.

  They hit the crest of a small hill, and she glanced over her shoulder, saw shadows weaving their way down the mesa.

  Her foot caught on a rock, and she flew forward, her legs going out from under her so quickly she didn’t have time to try to recover. She landed with a thud, skidding a few feet forward, the breath knocked from her lungs.

  Get up.

  Get.

  Up.

  Her mind screamed the command, but her body refused to listen.

  “You okay?” Jonas crouched beside her, not touching her, not trying to hurry her to her feet. Just waiting. He’d brought them across flat ground, up a hill and was ready to lead them down the other side and out of the sight of their pursuers.

  She just had to get back on her feet and go.

  Easy.

  She scowled, pushing away from the rocky earth, her palms stinging as she levered onto her knees, struggled to her feet, ignoring the hand Jonas offered.

  “Let’s go.” Her knees stung, and she was sure her jeans had ripped. Thought her skin had ripped, too, but she didn’t have time to check for damage.

  “You need to stop looking back, Grady. It’ll trip you up every time.” Jonas spoke quietly, and she didn’t respond.

  What would she say?

  That being tripped up by what was behind her was the story of her life? That she’d spent so much time looking back that she’d forgotten to look forward, and that she’d traveled from New York City to Cave Creek, Arizona, hoping that a change of scenery would help put an end to her days of mourning what could have, should have, would have been, if only she hadn’t been such a fool?

  She frowned, turning her attention back to where it needed to be, taking one step after another after another. One breath after another. One heartbeat. Until all she knew was the movement, the pain and the soft sound of the rain hitting the earth.

  SIX

  Dawn broke as they neared a damp creek bed, the first watery rays of sun so welcome, Skylar would have cried if she’d had any energy left for it.

  They’d made it through the night.

  Made it through mile after mile of endless walking.

  Made it.

  “Thank You, God,” she whispered.

  “Don’t thank Him, yet. We still have to survive until our ride gets here.”

  “How long do you think that will be?” Because Skylar was done. More done than she’d ever been in her life. Sheer determination had kept her going through the long night. That and Jonas. But the storm had ended, the sun was rising and so was the feeling that she couldn’t take another step, that her battered, pain-filled body couldn’t go another minute.

  No matter how much she wanted it to.

  “The storm broke less than an hour ago. The sky is mostly clear. I’d say they’ll be here in the next hour.”

  “How about calling and telling them that we’re ready now?” she asked, only half joking. She felt parched and sick, her vision blurry, her head pounding. Colors were too bright. Sounds too loud. Everything amplified to nauseating proportions.

  “They know we’re ready. They’ll be tracking my cell-phone signal to find us. That may take a little time.”

  “I don’t think I have a little time left in me.” Her legs gave out, and she was on the ground, Jonas leaning over her, his cool hand pressed to her cheek.

  “You’re burning up.” He brushed strands of hair from her forehead, his hand settling there.

  “Funny. I feel like I’m freezing.” Her teeth chattered, and he frowned, opening his pack, his jaw set, morning light falling on a hard, handsome face.

  High cheekbones. Pitch black hair that fell past his collar. Blue-green eyes. Full, firm lips. An ancient warrior come to life.

  “You should have told me that you were feverish again.”

  “And slowed us down more than I already had? I don’t think so.”

  “We lost our friends a couple hours ago. We could have stopped for a while.” He handed her aspirin and water, glanced at his watch. His skin was deeply tan, his hands broad and strong. Climber’s hands. Climber’s forearms.

  And Skylar shouldn’t be noticing.

  Wouldn’t be noticing if she weren’t out of her head with fever. After all, she’d tried the relationship thing, had dreamed of family and love, had pinned her hopes on a handsome, interesting man. All she’d gotten for her efforts was a broken heart.

  She choked the aspirin down her swollen throat. Gagging, hoping it and the water wouldn’t come right back up again.

  “Take it easy.”

  “I don’t think I have a choice.” The world spun, and she closed her eyes, trying to still its whirling motion, feeling her heart fluttering, her pulse whooshing in her ears. A cold, wet cloth dropped onto her forehead, and she shivered, shoving it away, scowling when it ended up right back where it had been.

  “Leave it, Grady. You’re way too hot, and I don’t plan on losing you when we’re this close to safety.” The tone was gruff, but she could hear the fear in it.

  I watched my wife and unborn son die, and I was helpless to save them. The words whirled through her head, spinning with the world, mixing with Tessa’s warning. You stay too long in one place, and you’ll die there. And she wa
sn’t sure who was sitting next to her. Wasn’t sure if she was in the past or the present. Wasn’t sure whose hand pressed the cold cloth to her head. Wasn’t sure where she was, barely knew who she was.

  “I’m not going to die, Tessa,” she managed to say as cool fingers traced a path to the pulse point in her neck.

  “You’re too ornery to die.” Jonas’s voice came from far away, and she forced her eyes open.

  “I’m not ornery.” But she wasn’t sure about the dying part. Her teeth chattered as Jonas tucked the Mylar blanket around her, eased up her head and slid his pack beneath it just as he’d done in the cave hours ago.

  Was she still there? Still in the cave? The long climb, the long walk, the endless struggling, nothing more than a vivid dream?

  She sat up, heart pounding too fast, the world spinning even faster. Tears spilling down her cheeks, and she didn’t even know why.

  “Shhhhhh.” Jonas brushed moisture from her face, urged her back down. “You’re fine, Grady.”

  “Am I dreaming?”

  “You’re sick.”

  “That much I knew.”

  He chuckled and shook his head as he pressed the cold cloth to her forehead again. She closed her eyes, wanting to escape the spinning world and the throbbing pain in her head, the burning pain in her throat. The lush desert landscape that had become her enemy.

  “Tell me about Tessa.” The words intruded on the velvety blackness Skylar was falling into, and she frowned.

  “I’m too tired.”

  “Tell me anyway.”

  “You’re trying to keep me awake, because you’re afraid I’m going to die.”

  “Tell me about her.”

  “She was my older sister.”

  “Was?”

  “Was. Is. I haven’t seen her in fifteen years.”

  “You don’t get along?”

  “We did. She left home when she was sixteen.”

  “A runaway?”

  “She would have been if there’d been anyone to report that she’d run, but my father was too steeped in alcohol to notice, and my mother overdosed a few years before Tessa left. There was no one but me, and I was too young to know what I should do. So, I just did what I’d been doing for years. I took care of Dad and went to school, took on more babysitting jobs and ran more errands for the neighbors to help with the bills.” She was saying too much, telling Jonas things she’d never told anyone else. Not her good friends. Not any of the guys she’d dated. Not even Matthew, and they’d been months away from marriage before she’d realized what a slimeball he was.