Daredevil's Run (The Taken Book 2)

by Kathleen Creighton

  “How…could…you…do…that…to…me?” She sobbed the words, punctuating each one with blows from her knotted fists, rained against his chest and shoulders. Then she slithered backward, out of his grasp and off his lap, to stand facing him, hugging herself, hunched and shivering with fury. “How could you think…that was what I wanted?” She gave a hiccupping sob and amended it. “That it was…all I wanted?”

  “Alex—”

  “No.” She held out her hand like someone bent on stopping a train. “No—don’t you say anything. Don’t…say…anything.” Then she jerked around and stumbled off toward the river, heedless of the gathering dark.

  Matt watched her go in a state of bemusement and shock. The woman had obviously lost her mind. Her words made no sense. All I wanted…? What more could he have given her? The first time they’d made love in five years—hell, the first time they’d touched each other since the accident—and all he’d done was give her a mind-blowing—

  All I wanted… He played the words she’d spoken again in his mind, and this time heard them overlaid with sounds from other times, past times they’d made love. The little feminine pleasure sounds she’d made as she touched him…aroused him…blown his mind. And it came to him then, a glimmer of understanding, a tiny inkling of why she might be upset.

  Clearly, he was an idiot. A thick-headed jerk.

  Chastened, he put a hand down to check himself and found wetness, and swore out loud, then laughed silently at the irony. He wondered if Alex would be happier if she knew he’d climaxed, too.

  Alex awoke at the first hint of light and smelled wood smoke. She lay with her arm over her eyes, envisioning Matt in his chair, starting the fire, putting on the coffee, setting up for breakfast. Envisioning him in his T-shirt, with his broad shoulders and bulging muscles and sculpted chest and the strong, sturdy column of his neck…reliving the cool feathery feel of his hair on her fingers, the smell of his skin, the taste of his mouth…

  The sensation of sexual climax rocketing through every nerve and cell in her body. The agonizing, sickening, chilling sense of humiliation that came after. And she almost groaned aloud with misery.

  Oh God, how will I face him? Look at him? Talk to him? How did I let that happen? How could it have happened? He barely had to touch me and I—

  Oh, get over it, Alex.

  Mom?

  I thought I taught you to stand on your own feet and not depend on anybody. So why are you making a big deal out of this? You were long overdue for some sex, and he gave it to you. Enjoy. And get over it.

  She shook with silent, rueful laughter.

  And in the silence, heard a familiar sound. Unmistakably a snore. Coming from somewhere on her left, which was where, the last time she’d checked, Matt had his sleeping bag. So…Matt wasn’t up yet, and could not have started the fire. Who, then? Sam, or Cory?

  She took her arm away from her eyes and sat up. The camp was silent, the campfire dark and cold. On her right she could see the elongated bundle that was Sam and Cory’s combined sleeping bags. On her left, the bundle that was Matt’s. Across the river the slightly flattened circle of the moon was preparing to dip below the canyon’s rim. Somewhere a bird woke up and joined its song to that of the river. The air was cool and dry and smelled of burning wood and brush.

  Swearing under her breath, Alex rapidly unzipped and scrambled out of her sleeping bag. She was fumbling in her backpack for the satellite phone when Matt’s sleeping bag stirred, and his voice came, raspy with awakening.

  “Alex? You up? I smell—”

  “Yeah, yeah, I know.” She was jabbing buttons with her thumb. “Smells like there’s a fire somewhere. What else is new? It’s the weekend.” She put the phone to her ear and listened to clicks and then a ring. Covering the mouthpiece with her hand, she nodded toward the double sleeping bags. “Better wake up your brother.” She couldn’t have said why, but she had a bad feeling about this.

  And was shamelessly grateful for a crisis that made it possible to pretend last night had never happened.

  Across the river, the moon glowed orange behind an ominous veil of smoke. Alex kept her eyes on it as she replied to the crisp voice of the fire department dispatcher, a friend as well as the husband of one of her guides.

  “Hey, Dave, it’s Alex. I’m with a group up on the Forks. What’s happenin’, man? You got a fire up here, or what?”

  “You’re up on the Forks?” The dispatcher uttered some profanity, and then, “Not a good time to be up there, Alex.”

  “Well, shoot. Tell me when’s a good time—we got tourists every damn weekend.”

  “I don’t think this was tourists.”

  “Are you kidding me? You’re saying this was—”

  “I’m saying it looks suspicious from the get-go. Right now it’s heading right toward you. We got aircraft warming up as we speak—they’ll be in the air come daylight, but if I were you guys, I’d get my butt in gear and get on down the river—now. If the wind stays steady, you’re fixin’ to get cut off.”

  Alex disconnected and stood for a moment with the phone in her hand, the back of her hand pressed against her forehead. Focus, Alex. This is no time for an emotional…whatever. You…Matt Callahan…whatever that was last night—that’s history. Right now—

  “Problems?” Cory joined them, shivering in T-shirt, shorts and flip-flops and rubbing vigorously at his arms. Right behind him, Sam was doing the same.

  “Yeah…maybe a little one.” Alex caught Matt’s eye as he heaved himself into his chair. She jerked her eyes back to Cory and Sam and forced a smile for their benefit. “There’s a fire farther on down the mountain—no big deal, but they might need to shut down the road. So we need to get to the take-out point before they do. Looks like the eggs Benedict I was planning on serving you guys for breakfast is gonna have to wait.”

  “I’d settle for some coffee,” Sam muttered through a yawn.

  “Sorry, folks, no time for a fire,” Alex said in her brisk tour-guide voice, cheery as all get-out. “Grab some cold cuts and make yourselves a sandwich while I get the boat ready to go. For you caffeine junkies, there’s Coke in the cooler.” She tucked the phone in the waistband of her shorts as she started toward the river.

  “Alex.”

  She turned back, heart galloping, smile fixed in place. Matt, if you say anything…one word about last night, I swear I will push your ass in the river.

  He rolled closer to her, eyes dark shadows in the gray dawn light. “Need any help?”

  She let out a breath, and with it a small shaky laugh. “Yeah—you can hurry those two along. And get yourself fed and ready to shove off, ASAP.”

  “Is it that bad?” He asked it in a low voice, for her ears only, and she answered the same way, but with a bite in it.

  “Look, don’t worry about it, okay? I’ve got it under control. You’re not…You just…look after your brother and his wife.” She walked away from him, chilled and shaky with poorly timed adrenaline and emotions she didn’t need and didn’t know what to do with.

  She didn’t need this. She really didn’t. She hadn’t wanted to make this damned run to begin with, and being able to say “I told you so” wasn’t going to make up for what was turning out to be a total disaster. In so many ways.

  First thing she was going to do when she got back was kill Booker T. But before she could do that she had to get three people through a forest fire and some dangerous water. And she had to do it all alone.

  Then, for some reason that thought—the alone part—made her angry. Furious. Resentful as hell. Which was odd, since if there was anything Alex Penny had always prided herself on, it was how gosh-darned self-reliant and independent she was.

  Since when do I need anybody? Alone is the way I like it.

  But, banging around inside her head the thought had a curious echo. And it came to her as she methodically checked over the boat and gear—an activity that brought a measure of reason and calm to her mind—that those were t
he same words she’d repeated over and over to herself during the first days and weeks after Matt’s accident.

  Now, as then, she tried very hard not to hear the little voice way in the back of her mind whispering, Liar…

  When they hit the first set of rapids Sam forgot all about the fact that she was a quart low on coffee. She felt like she was finally getting the hang of this rafting thing, and about time, too. She’d played loop the loop with clouds and raced the wind and won, but she’d never run up against anything quite like the Kern River. Flying was still her first love—okay, her second, after Pearse—but white-water rafting was rapidly moving up on third place for sheer heart-pumping, mind-blowing exhila ration.

  They all did a lot of whooping and hollering like a bunch of kids on a roller coaster, and by the time they’d come through the rapids everyone was laughing and drenched, and had pretty much forgotten, at least for the moment, that there was a forest fire burning somewhere between them and home. Well, not quite forgotten; that would have been hard to do with the sun glaring redly down on them through a haze of smoke like an angry god.

  They drifted in the quiet water below the rapids, resting, making jokes and doing some bragging and back-patting.

  “I’m glad you’re all feeling invincible,” Alex warned them, as the current picked up and the unmistakable roar of more hydraulics came from up ahead. “You ain’t seen nothin’ yet. Grab those paddles, people.”

  Then, from one breath to the next, the boat became a bucking bull. Sam gave a whoop as the bow lifted into the air, and almost at the same moment, Matt threw himself chest first onto the bow’s tube to give it more weight.

  The boat went into a spin, and Alex yelled, “Right—pull! Left—back!”

  Sam was pulling on her paddle with all her might, and from the corner of her eye she could see Cory dig in with his and twist his body to hold steady against the force of the current.

  Then suddenly he wasn’t there.

  A scream she couldn’t hear ripped through Sam’s throat. She didn’t remember dropping her paddle, but in the next instant she was lunging across the boat with only one goal in mind—to rescue her husband. She would have hurled herself into that maelstrom, too, but for the hand that gripped her arm and sent her flying.

  Struggling like a netted trout in the bottom of the boat, above her she saw motion…heard Alex scream, “Matt—No!”

  She got herself upright just in time to watch Matt snatch up the safety line and slip headfirst over the side.

  Alex didn’t know whether she was too angry to be scared, or too scared to be angry. The turbulence inside her head and heart would have made the river look like a lily pond.

  “Matt—I swear I will kill you!” She probably screamed that aloud, but inside she was sobbing, Damn you, Mattie, don’t you dare die!

  It was the nightmare she’d thought she was finished with. Or the most horrible déjà vu she’d ever experienced. Here she was again, seeing him fall, and fall, and fall, and helpless to do anything—not one thing—to stop it.

  Who was she, anyway, a little bitty woman, no more than a hundred and ten pounds soaking wet? What could she do against a force like the river? Who did she think she was, to challenge Class V rapids with only another woman to help her? Sam was a tall woman, and strong, but hell, the two of them put together didn’t have enough weight to keep the damn boat from flying around in the turbulence like a cork in a typhoon.

  She’d never felt so scared. So angry. So helpless.

  All she could do was hang on to the oars and struggle to keep the two men in sight. At some point she realized Sam was doing the same thing, and that they’d both reached out unconsciously and were clinging to each other’s hands as they watched the two dark heads disappear again and again beneath the white foam.

  Matt had only one thought in his head when he went over the side of the boat for the second time: I am not going to lose this brother before I get a chance to know him. I just found him. I’m not gonna lose him now.

  He’d grabbed the safety line before going in, but that could be a liability, if it got hung up in the rocks, or if he let himself get tangled in it. But he knew if he could just get to Cory and get the line to him, he’d have a chance. He told himself Cory had a good chance—he had his life vest; at least he wouldn’t be like Tahoe, with no buoyancy and only his own strength to keep him afloat.

  He beamed silent messages across the waves, like prayers. Hold on, man, I’m coming. Keep your head up, bro, and get those legs up, like we practiced during the safety drill. You don’t want to end up like me….

  Then he saw Cory. And Cory saw him. Matt focused on his brother’s eyes, dark as coals in all that white, kept watching them as he pulled himself through the swirling, racing current with all the strength he had in his body, watched them until he was close enough to reach out and grab hold of his brother’s vest.

  “Hold on, bro, I got you. You’re okay now—I’ve got you.”

  Did he yell that aloud, or was it only another silent prayer? He didn’t know, couldn’t have heard anyway in the rush and roar around him.

  He went under, swallowed water, but didn’t lose his grip on his brother’s vest. Came up choking and gagging, but managed to get the safety line looped around them both. He couldn’t see what was happening in the boat, which was bounding and leaping like a wild mustang, so he just started hauling himself one-handed along the line, and kept his other arm snugged across his brother’s chest. The line stretching between him and the boat grew shorter, and then he was able to throw his arm over the tube, and he felt hands reaching for him, grabbing him, pulling on him.

  “No—take him!” he was able to choke out, and only when he felt Cory’s weight pulled from his arms did he allow himself to relax. He held on to the side, then, panting and coughing up river while the boat galloped over the last of the rapids and loped into quiet water.

  He was hauling himself up the side of the boat, grateful for his gloves and wondering if he had enough strength left to make it when he felt Alex grab hold of his shoulders.

  “This part I got,” he told her, laughing…panting. “Could use a lift on the hind end, though.”

  “I should let you stay in there,” she said, in a voice as gritty as it ever got. But she leaned over and got a grip on the back of his vest and heaved, and before he had time to grab another breath, he was on his back in the bottom of the boat with his legs still up on the side.

  He’d forgotten how strong she was for such a little woman. Plus, there was the fact she was mad enough at him to spit nails. Was he a crazy fool to think that was a good thing?

  He caught a breath to stifle a threatening grin, then twisted around, looking for Cory. “How is he?”

  Sam was kneeling beside him, and Cory’s eyes were closed, his face contorted with pain. “Broken collarbone, I think. Maybe some broken ribs.” She threw Matt a look over her shoulder, then gasped and swore. “Lord, Matt, what about you?”

  “What about me? I’m fine.”

  “You’re bleeding, you idiot,” Alex said tersely.

  That was when Matt noticed the barber-pole spiral of blood running down the calf of his elevated leg. Well, hell. He figured it probably wasn’t a good time for a flippant remark about the perks of being paralyzed, with Alex already of half a mind to kill him—which he still couldn’t convince himself was not a good thing.

  Alex mad at him he could take—gladly. Time was, she’d been mad at him half the time anyway. Alex not giving a damn—that was what he couldn’t accept. And had decided he wasn’t going to, not anymore.

  He watched her pick up his foot—not gently or gingerly, either, so it appeared she wasn’t squeamish about touching him—and bit down on his lower lip to keep from grinning as she scowled critically at his injury.

  “You’ll live,” she announced, bending his knee and placing his foot on the same level he was, handling it as deftly as if she’d been doing it forever. “Probably won’t be bleeding to deat
h anytime soon, either. Must’ve scraped it on a rock. Next time keep your feet up.” Muttering about rookie mistakes, she offered him a hand, and didn’t flinch from meeting his eyes when he took it and let her anchor him as he pulled himself to a sitting position.

  Her eyes. Greenish, now, and dark as quiet water, fringed with black and filled with accusation and anger, confusion and pain. Looking into them, he felt the elation leave him. He wanted to take her in his arms and hold her and tell her everything was going to be okay.

  Or, he ruefully amended, it would be, if only she could get over her issues, whatever they were—pride, independence, mom, commitment—and realize she needed him as badly as he needed her.

  There—he’d said it. Not aloud, but to himself, which was halfway there, right? I need you, Alex Penny. I thought I had everything figured out, things were going okay, my life was on track. But Cory’s right, there’s more to life than a career. And the truth is, I really need you in mine.

  “Think you can handle a paddle, Matthew? If you’re not too beat up, you can help me get this boat to shore.” Alex’s voice, rough and cranky as nine miles of bad road, and music to his ears.

  “Hand me a paddle,” he said, grinning because he knew how much it must have cost her to ask for his help, even for something like this.

  But it was something. Baby steps, he told himself.

  Alex hated to admit defeat, but she’d had enough. Enough of this damn run, enough of Matt, and enough of this damn river. Should’ve listened to her instincts in the first place. Why had she agreed to it, when every ounce of common sense had told her it was crazy?

  Yes, why did you, Alex? Because…admit it, you wanted to see him again. Yes, you did.

  With Sam and Matt helping, she managed to beach the boat at a spot they sometimes used for emergency take-outs because it was a fairly easy hike up to the road—for someone with working legs. The first thing she did, once her feet were on dry land, was call the Rafting Center. She was a little surprised when Linda handed the phone right over to Booker T. He gave her his usual, “Hey, sweet pea,” but Alex could tell he was worried.