“We can use these extra branches to make a frame. And your pack will be the litter. And if the route is tight”—Joss swallowed—“there won’t be room for Fiona. Do… do you think she’ll be okay here?”
Although he really wanted to make her that promise, he couldn’t lie. “Probably, but there are no guarantees.”
“Puck’s life is the most important thing.”
She was stranded in the wilderness and being pursued by a psycho, yet she was calm and thinking logically. “You are a caring woman.”
“Damn right I am, so don’t sound so surprised.”
He took her face in his hands, looked directly into her eyes and thought he caught a flash of shock in them. “I’m not. Maybe I was at first. But you are not a spoiled rock star. You’ve shown me the real Joss Wynter. The real Jocelyn Winterburn. The real Jojo. You are strong and smart and fearless.”
“I’m scared all the time,” she said softly.
“Courageous is a better word. You aren’t playing a game out here. I think you are rediscovering who you really are.”
She blinked, but it didn’t clear the sheen in her eyes. “And I think you may be exactly right about that.”
* * *
God, Shep hadn’t been exaggerating when he said getting through the cave tunnels would be a challenge. And why Joss thought he might’ve been was a mystery. He was the original tell-it-like-it-is man.
When they approached the area where they would be forced to crawl, they lowered Puck’s litter to the ground. Joss’s insides and hope sank when he didn’t even whimper at the jostling.
They made slow progress, Shep crawling backward and her forward. Joss tried to stabilize the litter, making sure Puck never hit the cave’s rock walls. By the time the tunnel opened up again, Joss’s knees felt as if they’d been shredded on a cheese grater. She was huff-puffing air, and sweat was a slick layer all over her body.
“Does your cabin have a bathtub?” she asked Shep as she lifted the back end of the litter. They could share Puck’s weight from here on out.
“Yes.”
“What kind?” She was dreaming of a deep one near a window where she could gaze out from the safety of water and shelter.
“The bathing kind.”
“Good enough.”
“It has feet.”
“A clawfoot.”
“Yes.”
“If we weren’t carrying an injured dog between us, I would jump you and kiss you. Maybe jump you and do more than that.”
“Because my house has a bathtub?”
“Yep.”
“I’ve been thinking of adding on. Building another bathroom with an even bigger tub.”
She and Shep were damn well going to make it out of this cave, get Puck medical help, and share that clawfoot tub.
“We’re at the cave exit,” Shep said suddenly. And only then did Joss realize the cave had brightened a little.
They both squatted and placed Puck’s litter on the ground. She was terrified that Puck was fading away.
Joss grabbed a handful of Shep’s hair and pulled him in for a quick hard kiss. “Set those traps and get back here as soon as possible.”
He nodded once. Then he worked his way out the crack leading to the wilderness beyond.
23
Shep’s hands had never felt this clumsy before. Anxiety and self-doubt rose up in him, clawing their way up his throat and threatening to explode out of him. He reached into his pocket for his length of cord only to find it missing.
More nasty adrenaline spurted into his body.
Where is it? I need it. I need Puck.
I need Jojo.
Shep set his teeth and moderated his breathing. Slow in-breath, slow out-breath. His dad and Cash had taught him to meditate many years ago. He was in control. He was okay.
He remembered where the cord was. He’d used it, cut it into smaller lengths, to secure the ground stakes together. The rest of it was sitting in a pile beside him. He’d set it aside to use for the spears themselves.
His hands steadied and he quickly tied the spear into the free end of the swing arm. After securing the trigger post, he cut a notch in it. He looped the trip cord around the trigger pin and placed one end of the pin into the notch, careful to keep his legs and feet out of the line of fire just in case something went wrong and the spring released.
His notches in the trap pieces were perfect. He knew that, so he pulled back the swing arm to create tension, gently situated the trigger pin over the spear, and nodded. It would hold.
It would work.
He snake-crawled his way through the underbrush and positioned the spear in the second trap. It wouldn’t kill whoever was stalking them. That was too much to hope for. To be high enough to kill, the mechanism would’ve had to be in plain sight. So a surprise injury would have to be enough.
Enough to give them the head start they needed.
He didn’t want to set off the stalker’s curiosity too soon, so Shep quickly constructed a very rudimentary Goldberg machine. A small pile of rocks that would simulate someone scrambling down the hill from the cave and something to set them rolling. He scooped dirt into a piece of ripstop he’d cut from his backpack and tied it off. Then he secured it to a low branch over the rock pile and punched a small hole into it. The dirt trickled out, a sluggish flow that would give Shep and Joss time to get away with Puck.
As quickly as he could, he ducked and weaved through the trees and around to the backside of the cave. A faint sound came from inside. So faint he wasn’t sure he was hearing anything. But when he worked his way inside the small opening, Joss was stroking Puck’s head and humming to him.
A lullaby, maybe?
God, why couldn’t she sound like that when she sang on stage? It was sweet and soft, and tugged at a part of Shep he didn’t know he had inside him.
Shep’s return interrupted her song, and she scrambled to her feet. “All set?”
“Yeah. We need to move out.” He pulled himself back through the opening, and they carefully maneuvered Puck’s litter outside.
Joss wiggled through like she’d been scaling boulders her whole life. She picked up her end of the litter and said, “I’m ready.”
Shep led the way through some rough, rocky terrain that morphed into a steep uphill climb filled with prickly bushes and dying wild blackberry vines. But it would cover their tracks and no one would expect they’d taken the north route out of the caves.
When he felt they’d traveled far enough north and knew they could pick up another trail due east of their current position, he said, “Half a mile and we should hit the trail. Are you okay?”
“Never better.”
One glance behind him proved her words a lie. Her face was streaked with dirt and her eyes were red-rimmed, but she had a grip on Puck’s litter as if it was her last possession in the world.
“Let me know if you need to rest.”
They picked their way through the forest and met up with the trail.
“Any idea how far to Steele Ridge?” she asked him.
“About eight miles.”
Her mouth firmed into a line, and she rolled back her shoulders. “Then we’re going to run it.”
“What?”
“I know you think I’m some pampered LA princess, but I live in the Santa Monica Mountains. Definitely different from these, but I trail run when I have time.”
He didn’t want her to wear herself out, because then he’d have to figure out a way to carry both Puck and her. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“How about I promise to let you know if I get tired?”
“You’re already tired.”
“I’m motivated.” Her chin lifted, reminding him that she was no softie. She’d proved that time and time again over the past few days. “And my motivation beats my exhaustion any day.”
“Why don’t we switch?” he said. “You take the front and set the pace.”
She nodded. They gently lowere
d the litter, switched places, and picked up Puck again.
And damn, Joss was a machine. Tough with a capital T. Even though she was—as his dad would say—no bigger than a minute. Her arm muscles were defined from the effort of carrying the litter, but she never relented. Just ran—shoulders squared and feet flying.
“Do you think it worked?” she asked.
“The trap?”
“Yeah.”
“There is no way for me to know,” he said, casting a quick look at Puck and then returning his focus to the trail. It would not be good if he stumbled and fell. “But I rigged a Rube Goldberg that I think will lure this person toward the spear traps.”
“You will never stop impressing me.”
Unfortunately, that probably wasn’t true. Shep ended up disappointing people—especially women—because he couldn’t be what they wanted. Amber had often been disappointed in his performance in one way or another. She’d complained that he was never home on time. That he preferred to camp in the wilderness than to sleep in her bed. That he wasn’t reliable or considerate.
Eventually, Joss would feel the same.
Get off this mountain before you worry about all that.
So he emulated Joss and just ran. But when there was no sign of trouble, he started to worry again. They’d either gotten very lucky or had been lured into some kind of trap of their own. “I can’t think like that,” he blurted out.
She seemed to take his outburst in stride and asked, “Like what?”
“Like we might fail.” He could not let either Puck or Joss down.
“We won’t,” she huffed. “I can run like this all night.”
That was a lie. She started slowing down at least a mile back. But if there were prizes for perseverance, she would get a first-place trophy. Because he would give it to her. “If I tell you we have three more miles, do you think you can make it?”
She stumbled. He felt it from the way the litter dropped abruptly and then righted. “Absolutely.”
“Good,” he said. “Then you can definitely handle the single mile until this trail crosses Talleyville Road.”
“You’re sneaky.” She looked back at him and flashed a droopy smile that wound its way through the fog of his fear and made him hope for the future. “But I like it.”
* * *
Joss’s legs didn’t feel like Jell-O.
They felt like a soupy platter of flan. Like flan stirred together with a pitcher full of cream. No, of skim milk.
She was pretty sure she’d formed a whopper of a blister on one heel about three miles back. She hadn’t been lying when she told Shep she ran the trails. But she’d never run this fast or this far. Or for something this important.
Blisters would heal. Legs would recover.
Puck might not.
She didn’t bother to ask Shep how he thought his dog was doing. She was seeing the deterioration firsthand. Because she needed a rhythm that would keep her feet moving for the last mile, she chanted to herself: Puck is alive. Puck will stay alive.
But that only lasted so long and she started flagging again.
“Sing,” Shep said to her.
“What?”
“Doesn’t have to be loud.” He adjusted his hold on his side of the litter, taking a little more of the weight. “But it will provide a backbeat.”
“I… I haven’t… I can’t…”
“Do it for Puck. It will help him.”
Of all the songs—hundreds of them—that Joss knew by heart, none of them seemed to surface. This isn’t about you. Puck doesn’t care what you sing, only that you do it.
Or maybe it was Shep who needed soothing most of all.
They all needed something. Something to keep them going.
So Joss sang. She made up verse after verse of “She’ll Be Coming Round the Mountain,” substituting she’ll with they’ll. Because they would get off this mountain all together or not at all.
They’ll be jogging down the mountain when they come.
They’ll be eating raw wild carrots…
They’ll be drinking maple water…
They’ll be carting Puck the dog…
They’ll be counting on each other…
She sang and sang, improvising the lyrics. When she couldn’t think of any more, she started them all over again and would’ve sung them a million times more if that was what it took to get them where they were going.
But Shep abruptly said, “We’re at the road.”
Only then did Joss blink the sweat out of her eyes and realize they’d come to a beautiful strip of blacktop. Completely deserted blacktop. “Which way into town?”
“West,” he said, gesturing to their right. “But all we need is for one person to drive by.”
“They’ll pick up hitchhikers?”
“This isn’t the big city,” he said. “And people around here know me.”
If he said so, but Joss mentally prepared herself to break into a run again. She was just about to suggest they speed up when a Black Tahoe slowed behind them and came to a screeching stop. A lean man with dark hair jumped out and ran toward them. “Jesus, Shep! What’s going on?”
“We need to get Puck to the vet. Now.”
“Let’s load him in the backseat.” The man grabbed Joss’s side of the litter and eased it away from her. Her hands remained in a cramped, curled position while the men slid Puck into the rear seat of the Tahoe.
Joss blinked, for some reason registering that the cargo area of the SUV was filled with stacks of tissue boxes and antibacterial wipes.
“You need to get in the car!” the other man called out to Joss, yanking her away from thoughts of whether or not he had a whopper of a cold. “Move it. Now.”
Because Shep had taken the seat beside Puck, Joss stumbled toward the passenger door. The intense stranger jerked it open for her and took her arm to help her inside. He quickly shut the door and rounded the hood to jump in the driver’s seat.
They went from zero to rocket ship in a blink.
The man beside her glared into the rearview mirror at Shep. Joss wanted to climb over the console and beat him with her fists. If he had any idea what—
“What the hell happened?” he demanded, his harsh words directed at Shep.
“It’s a long story.” Shep’s head fell back and he closed his eyes. “Just get Puck to the vet and I’ll explain everything.”
24
His brother drove like a man possessed. Although Puck was loyal first and foremost to him, Shep’s whole family loved his dog fiercely. He was family. Period.
Way might’ve taken the turn into the veterinarian’s gravel parking lot slightly too fast, but he stopped the Tahoe with the smooth ease of a hot spoon slipping through ice cream. Shep pushed himself out of the car and turned back to scoop up Puck. His chest was barely rising and falling.
Although Shep’s stomach tried to rebel the way it had back at the cave, he swallowed the bile. Puking wouldn’t help right now.
Joss dashed for the front door, rattling the chimes hanging on it, and yelled inside, “We have an emergency coming in. We need a doctor now. Now!”
“Fucking hell,” Way muttered as he jogged toward the entrance beside Shep and pointed to Joss’s back. “That’s Joss Wynter.”
“Her name is Jocelyn, but I get to call her Jojo.” He turned sideways to carry Puck through the door and one of the vet techs was already waving them into the back.
“In here.”
Dr. Orozco quickly looked over Puck, but Shep couldn’t get a read on her expression. Was the lack of facial muscle movement an indication that the situation was hopeless? Or hopeful?
Damn, he hated not knowing.
“He needs surgery immediately,” she said as she palpated Puck’s side. “It looks like the arrow kept him from bleeding out, but I won’t know the extent of the damage until we get inside and see what’s what.”
Shep didn’t want to let Puck go back through that door. Into the treatment area.
To be put under and cut open. He had the sinking feeling that if he let him go, he’d never hold him in his arms again. Dr. Orozco must’ve understood because she put a tender hand on Puck’s head and the other over her heart. “I will help him to the very best of my ability. And I’m very good at what I do.”
Joss tugged on Shep’s arm, pulling away his grip on Puck. “Let the vet have him, Shep. You’ve done everything you can.”
The yawning space inside Shep was emptier and darker than anything he’d ever felt before. And he’d felt plenty of empty darkness in his days. “He’s all I have.”
Way clamped an arm around Shep’s shoulders and squeezed hard, leading him out of the exam room and toward a waiting area filled with bright colors and a mini dog park. In the far corner, a sign asked people to leave donations of toys and towels for the local animal shelter. “No, he’s not. You know that. Where’s your paracord?”
“Wrapped around a couple homemade spears up near some caves.”
“What? Why were you making spears?”
“It’s a bit of a long story,” Joss told him.
“I’m calling Cash and Emmy, having them meet us at your cabin,” Way said to Shep. “Once they’ve given both of you a good look, you’re going to tell me what the hell happened up there.”
“But Puck—”
“Is in good hands,” Way reassured him. “Dr. Orozco will keep you in the loop.”
Shep shot a final look at the door leading to the rear of the vet clinic. Way was right, but Shep hated leaving Puck.
Within half an hour, Shep’s cabin was under assault from his family. Way’s call to Cash and Emmy turned into some kind of damn phone tree, and every Kingston was hovering around somewhere. Shep was pretty sure there were a few Steeles on his front porch, too.
He’d never had so many people in and around his home.
Cash had hunted up a thin piece of rope and pushed it into Shep’s hands. “Hang on to this.” But what Shep found he really wanted to hang on to was Joss’s hand. They sat on the couch side by side while Cash looked Shep over and Emmy did the same with Joss.
Striking Edge Page 23
