On the Chase

by Katie Ruggle

  “Docile?” she repeated, jerking her head back so she could scowl at him. “What am I? A cow?”

  Hugh gave her that innocent, wide-eyed look that was more aggravating than any of his other rage-inducing habits. “I would never call you a cow, Gracie.”

  As she eyed him, waiting for whatever punch line he was coming up with, she realized that he still had his arms around her. With a reluctance that she wished she didn’t feel, she stepped back, and his hold loosened and then fell away, leaving her cold and vulnerable.

  His smile turned from devilish to wry, as if he knew fun times were over. “Let me make you some food, and we’ll eat on the deck. The view from there is pretty nice.”

  “Shower first.”

  After giving her a measuring look, as if to reassure himself that she wasn’t about to collapse from low blood sugar, Hugh waved toward the stairs. “Bathroom’s the second door on the left, and my bedroom is the first. Feel free to raid my dresser and take any clothes you want.” He faked a frown. “I don’t have any Walmart jeans, though, so I can’t help you there.”

  Grace seriously considered making a rude gesture, but she didn’t have the energy. Her arms suddenly felt incredibly heavy, so she settled on ignoring his attempt at humor. “Thanks.”

  “Need help?”

  “With finding something to wear?”

  “Sure.” He took a step toward her. “Or getting up the stairs, or undressing, or…” When his voice trailed off into silence, they both stared at each other, and the air got thick and warm.

  “Um, no.” Her voice sounded several notes deeper than it usually did. She cleared her throat. “I’ll be fine climbing the stairs. And with…everything else.” She couldn’t say undressing without turning bright red. Although she normally wasn’t a blusher, there was something about Hugh that brought heat to her cheeks, as well as to other places she wasn’t going to think about at the moment. They both had enough going on—like being chased by killers—without this stupid crush making things awkward.

  She hurried away from him. Despite being distracted by the way Hugh watched her until she was out of sight, she noticed that the stairs were amazing. The heavy cross-sections of logs were held in place with curled wrought iron that looked almost delicate. The design gave the illusion that every step was floating. It was beautiful and unique and fit perfectly with the rest of the house. Her first impression had been that his house was rustic and homey, but the longer she was there, the more careful details she noticed.

  When she was in Hugh’s room, though, she tried not to notice any of those details—not the slightly mussed bed that looked like he’d just rolled out of it, or the way the room smelled faintly like that spicy, stupidly good scent that clung to his skin. Hurrying across the space, she fixed her eyes on the dresser. She needed to get some clothes and get out quickly, before she gave in to temptation and sniffed his pillow or something.

  Yanking open the top drawer, Grace stared at the stacks of underwear for a second before jamming it shut again. The second drawer was more helpful. She pulled out some athletic shorts and a T-shirt before closing the drawer and escaping to the bathroom.

  The shower felt amazing. Tipping her head back into the hot, needling spray, she closed her eyes, only to snap them open a second later when she started to tip sideways. Although she’d heard of the saying “falling asleep on your feet,” she’d never actually done it before. She seriously needed some rest. After briskly finishing washing and rinsing, she turned off the shower.

  His clothes were huge on her. The T-shirt was fine, except for wanting to slip off one shoulder or the other, but the shorts were a challenge. Grace finally tied a knot in the waistband, which kept the shorts from falling around her ankles. A glance in the mirror made her groan quietly. She looked like a kid playing dress up. Tugging the T-shirt away from her sides, she decided that at least two normal-sized humans could fit into Hugh’s clothes with her. He was just that massive.

  “Grace?” His voice coming from behind the closed door made her jump. “You okay?”

  She sighed, allowing the fabric to drape around her body again. “Fine. I’ll be out in a second.” She paused. “Don’t pick the lock.”

  She heard a huff, but she wasn’t sure if the sound was amusement or offense. Shrugging off Hugh’s reaction, she turned back to the sad figure in the mirror. Her drooping shoulders made Grace give herself a mental slap. Considering how the past couple of weeks had gone, too-large clothes were such a minor problem that they shouldn’t bother her. It was just annoying that Hugh had seen her in so many unflattering situations—the coveralls, her Walmart jeans, her post-roof-climbing outfit.

  Abruptly, Grace cut off the mournful thought. She didn’t—couldn’t—care what Hugh thought of her.

  Gathering her discarded clothes, she opened the bathroom door, and Hugh stumbled in, apparently having been leaning on the door. Once he recovered his balance, he took in her tentlike apparel and opened his mouth.

  “Don’t say a word if you want to live,” she growled, pushing past him into the hall.

  With a choked cough that sounded suspiciously close to a laugh, Hugh raised his hands in a gesture of innocence. “I was just going to tell you that the food’s ready.”

  “Uh-huh.” It was getting harder and harder to hold her irritation at him. Instead, as she headed down the stairs, she was struck again by how beautiful his house was. Although it was vastly different from her own decorating style, the interesting mix of elegant and cozy made her feel immediately at home. When she reached the bottom, Lexi trotted over to greet her, shoving her furry head under Grace’s hand.

  “Go on out to the deck,” Hugh said from right behind her. “I’ll bring out the food.”

  Walking toward the sliding glass door, through which she could already see a breathtaking view of the mountains, she felt a flicker of regret for her snarkiness. “You didn’t need to cook for me.”

  He laughed. “I didn’t. During your five-thousand-year shower, Otto stopped by to see for himself that I hadn’t been dismembered by bikers. Knowing that all I have in my fridge are aging condiments, he took pity on us and brought food from the diner… Well, the VFW posing as a diner, I guess.”

  Stopping, she turned so she could give him her best glare. “You shouldn’t joke about that. You could’ve died. It’s serious.” Even though she wanted to keep her stern tone, she couldn’t keep from adding, “And we’ve been calling it the viner.”

  “Viner. I like it. And I know it’s not a joking matter.” Despite his words, a residue of amusement still lingered in his expression. “Otto said that, too. He was slightly annoyed that I’d been at the traffic stop today, and more than slightly annoyed that I’d dragged you along.”

  It seemed that, along with the bald biker, everyone on the police department had spotted them on the roof. Apparently, the camouflaging trees had been pretty much useless. “He saw us, too?”

  “Nope.” Although Hugh made a face, he didn’t look too irritated. “Theo, the huge blabbermouth, told him. I knew he’d tell Otto. At least I got food with my lecture.”

  At the reminder, Grace crossed the last few feet to the door. She slid it open, marveling at how the deck jutted into space. The cliff fell away beneath them, plunging to a river that had worn a deep groove in the mountain. It was beautiful and, despite the severe, vertigo-inducing drop, calming. As she stepped onto the deck, Lexi brushed by her. The railing slats weren’t very far apart, definitely not wide enough for a good-sized dog to squeeze through, but Grace figured she’d check, just in case. “Is it okay if Lexi’s on the deck?”

  “Sure,” Hugh called back from the kitchen. “Just leave the door open so she can come back in if she wants.”

  Leaving the door open as instructed, Grace moved to look over the railing. Her head spun. The cliff face plummeted to the river so far below that it looked as if someone had d
rawn the water using a dark-blue Sharpie. The dramatic plunge made her stomach lurch, and Grace took a hasty step back. Even though she didn’t usually have a fear of heights, this was different. It felt as if she were suspended above nothingness, and looking straight down at the drop made her feel as if the deck was shifting under her feet.

  Moving back another step toward the door, Grace focused on the view straight ahead of her. It didn’t matter that she was no longer looking down, though. It still felt as if the deck was swaying beneath her. Frowning, she turned toward the door. Eating in the security of Hugh’s kitchen suddenly seemed like a good idea.

  There was a crack, and then another, and Lexi let out an uneasy whine. Grace froze, trying to identify the sound. Her first thought was that someone was shooting at them again, but the noise was different. Besides, there was nowhere to shoot from, unless the wannabe assassin was a rock climber, as well. Despite the improbability of a cliff-scaling killer, Grace looked around, but saw nothing but silent mountains and the setting sun.

  Her instincts screamed at her, telling her that something was terribly wrong, and she took a step toward the door. “Lexi.” The dog looked at her, tail tucked and her body slightly crouched. Her posture confirmed to Grace that, shooter or no shooter, they were in danger. “Let’s go inside.”

  With a final squealing groan, the deck collapsed beneath her feet.

  Too shocked to even shriek, Grace grabbed for the edge of the open door, catching it with one hand just before she began to slide across the almost vertical surface. Her arm wrenched painfully as her entire weight pulled against her hold, but she managed to keep her grip.

  Lexi yelped, making Grace twist her head to see the dog sliding toward the far railing. The dog’s nails futilely fought for purchase as she skidded across the now-slanted deck.

  “Grace!” Hugh shouted, sprinting toward the door. She opened her mouth to answer, but all she could do was suck in rapid, panicked breaths. Another yip caught her attention, and she watched in horror as Lexi collided with the tipped railing. One hind leg slid off the edge, and the dog scrabbled to pull herself back on the deck. Her second rear paw slipped over the top board, so that her entire back end hung over the railing, dangling over a terrifying, deadly drop.

  The dog’s muscles bulged as she strained to pull herself to safety, her eyes wide in terror, the whites showing clearly. If Grace didn’t help her, didn’t do something, Lexi was going to fall. As Hugh reached to seize her hand and pull her to safety, Grace knew she couldn’t let that brave dog die. She released her grip on the door.

  “No! Grace!” Hugh shouted. She slid, faster and faster, grabbing at the smooth deck flooring, but it didn’t provide any handholds. All her efforts at stopping her free fall didn’t even slow her down, and she crashed hard into the railing next to Lexi. The wood bowed at the impact, and every one of Grace’s muscles braced in anticipation of the slats breaking, sending her plunging into the chasm below.

  The railing held. Grace sucked in a sobbing breath, opening eyes she hadn’t even realized she’d squeezed shut. Immediately, she wished she’d kept them closed. The cliff next to them dropped straight down, leaving only air beneath them. They were dangling above nothingness. If the railing broke, she’d plunge hundreds of feet until she hit the rocks so, so far below. Only then would her fall—and Grace herself—be broken.

  The drag of nails against the railing supports yanked Grace’s attention away from the endless emptiness below and back to Lexi. Lunging toward the dog, Grace managed to grab her harness. Her fist closed around the nylon strap just as Lexi slipped over the edge of the railing.

  With a yelp, Lexi fell. Her weight jerked Grace’s whole body down against the railing. Her shoulder screamed in pain, but she clung to the harness desperately.

  “Hold on, Grace!” Hugh shouted from the door. He’d tied a rope around his waist, and he was rappelling down the almost vertical deck floor toward them. If Grace had been able to spare any oxygen to yell, she would’ve screamed at him to hurry, but the only thing she could manage was to suck air in quick, panicked gasps.

  Lexi flailed her legs as she dangled in the air, jerking on Grace’s agonized shoulder. The railing slats pressed painfully against Grace’s front, and she prayed that they continued to hold. Her fingers were numb from the tight clench of her fist, but she managed to grip the harness even tighter. She couldn’t let Lexi go.

  When Hugh was just a few feet away, the deck shuddered and dropped again. It only fell a few inches, but it was enough to jar Grace. For a fraction of a second, she was suspended, weightless, in the air, and then she connected with the railing—hard.

  One of the supports under her hip gave a sharp crack and broke. The slat under her ribs splintered next. With a sobbing breath, she felt her body lurch against the too-few remaining supports. Her back stiffened as she tried to keep from dropping through the newly formed hole, and she wrapped her free arm around a post.

  “I’m almost there, Grace. Just keep holding on.”

  She wasn’t sure if Hugh was talking about holding on to Lexi or keeping her grip on the wooden post, but Grace was determined to do both. Just as the thought passed through her mind, the slat supporting her shoulders snapped, and she was plunging through the railing.

  Vaguely, she heard Hugh’s panicked shout, but everything was a blur. Her body jerked once when her downward drop was halted by her grip on the post, and a second time when Lexi hit the end of her short free fall. Agony shot from Grace’s fingers all the way up her arm and through her shoulder, but still she didn’t let go.

  “I’ve got you, Gracie.” Hugh’s hands were on her, and she’d never been so relieved. He pulled her back through the hole in the railing, Lexi’s weight a painful drag on her shrieking muscles. Grace welcomed the pain, though—it was so much better than numbness. If she couldn’t feel the nylon strap burning her palm and cutting into her fingers, she wouldn’t be sure that she still had the dog safe in her grasp.

  As Hugh hauled her toward him, her feet struggled to find purchase, but the broken bits that remained of the railing supports cracked off like Popsicle sticks. Grace finally managed to stand on a post—the same one she’d been clinging to just a second earlier. As soon as she found her balance, Hugh reached down and grabbed Lexi’s harness. In one motion, he slung the dog over his shoulder.

  “You can let go,” he said, but the words didn’t make any sense. She wasn’t about to release her grip on Hugh’s shirt. It was only when he gently worked her fingers free of Lexi’s harness that she realized she still clutched the strap. It almost hurt worse to release her grip than it had to hold the dog suspended in the air, but her fist finally unclenched. As soon as Hugh let go, her arm dropped to her side. It felt like the entire appendage was on fire, and Grace wasn’t sure if she could even lift her arm.

  “Ready to get off this?” Hugh asked. Although he sounded steady, almost teasing, she could feel how tightly drawn he was, how he shook slightly under her clutching fingers.

  There was no way she could speak, so she just gave a jerky bob of her head. He turned around, and she gasped as she was pulled with him by her one-handed death grip. Immediately, he stopped and looked at her.

  “Get on my back,” he said, crouching slightly. The command was a relief. Her body moved to obey him even before her brain could start doubting if she could manage it. She climbed on piggyback style, wrapping her legs around his waist and hooking her good arm around his shoulders, careful not to strangle him accidentally. In that position, Lexi was right next to her, and Grace turned her face into her furry shoulder. Small, continuous shudders ran through the dog.

  Step by laborious step, hand over hand on the rope hooked around his waist, Hugh climbed the steep slope of the broken deck. Grace clung to him, shaking harder than the dog. On Hugh’s fourth step, there was a low groaning sound and the deck listed to the right. His foot slipped, and he lurched sidewa
ys with a pained grunt, the rope holding all three of them going taut with the strain.

  Swallowing a shriek, Grace tightened her grip on Hugh and focused on breathing. In and out. In and out. They would make it back into the house. Hugh wasn’t going to let them fall.

  “I’ve got you,” he grunted, as if he could hear her panicked thoughts. She felt his chest expand as he took a deep breath, and then he was moving again. His breathing was rough, and Grace remembered that he’d been shot just weeks earlier. She could only imagine the agony he was in. Despite that, he held strong, hauling them closer and closer to the sliding glass door.

  They were so close. If she hadn’t been clinging to Hugh for dear life with her one usable arm, she could’ve reached out and touched the doorframe. The muscles in his arms and shoulders were straining as he surged up and forward, finally landing one foot inside the house. As he pushed off with his other leg, there was a loud, splintering noise followed by several explosive cracks. The deck dropped, falling out from under them, and Hugh lunged through the doorway, throwing all three of them to the blessedly solid and horizontal floor.

  For endless seconds, they lay there in a panting, shivering heap. Lexi was the first to shift, wriggling out from where she was half pinned by Hugh’s shoulder. Immediately, she pressed close to them, as if seeking comfort.

  The dog’s movement brought Grace back to reality, and she realized that she was sprawled across Hugh’s back. A vague pang of guilt pricked her through the foggy haze of shock. He’d saved them, and she’d plopped her entire weight on him as thanks. She rolled off him—at least she tried. Before she could land on the floor next to him, Hugh had turned over and snaked out an arm, hooking it around her and pulling her back to him, on his chest this time.