by Robin Caroll
“Uh, I thought you were tucking in your executives.” Christian pushed the door closed and then leaned against it.
“Didn’t you hear the gunshot a little while ago?”
Confusion marched over his face. A thin layer of sweat covered his brow. Her brother’s face flushed bright crimson. Something didn’t feel right. Not at all. Her heart tightened—he could be sick or something and she’d been mean to him earlier. She took a step toward him, peering into his eyes. “Christian, what’s wrong? You don’t seem like yourself. Are you feeling okay?”
Shadow barked twice—he was on alert.
Widening her eyes, Katie fisted her hands on her hips, reading her brother’s expression. “You have company?”
The crimson flush gave way to vivid red patches spreading over Christian’s face. “I, uh, told you I had a . . . uh, a date tonight.”
Shadow barked again from the back of the cabin. Muffled sounds of movement came from the den.
And she’d worried he was sick. Her protectiveness tasted like acid on her tongue. “And your date’s here, isn’t she?”
He gave a slow nod.
Katie pulled back her shoulders and stiffened. “You’re on call tonight, Christian.” She couldn’t prevent her voice from rising on the last word. Because they didn’t have direct phones in any of the cabins, all calls to guest would come through the main line and have to be patched through.
“And I’ll answer anything that comes in.”
Her heart kicked into overdrive, and she breathed hard through her nostrils. “You have a group arriving in the morning, and mine is expecting breakfast at six-thirty.”
He lifted his hands in mock surrender. “Take it easy, Katie-cat. I’ll have breakfast ready and on the buffet on time. It ain’t a big deal.”
Rolling her eyes skyward, she huffed. “Christian, you need to understand that the business is in financial trouble. Our business. You need to start doing more. Gabe’s killing himself trying to keep up with everything, and I can only do so much to help him.”
“I understand that.”
“Do you? Really and truly?” She shook her head. Her brothers were the only family she had left, and she loved them dearly. Christian just didn’t get it, and arguing about it tonight wouldn’t help. “And don’t call me Katie-cat. You know I hate it.” Without another word, she curled her lips over her teeth and let out a piercing whistle.
Shadow scampered down the hall, skidding to a stop at her feet.
“Just have breakfast ready in the morning, okay?” She jerked open the front door, then stomped down the stairs. Shadow whimpered, but fell into step beside her.
As she made her way to her cabin, gravel crunched under her sandals. Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out a peppermint and popped it in her mouth.
She pounded up to her cabin and pushed open the door. Shadow raced to his food bowl, prancing in place. Katie pressed the can of dog food to the can opener, mumbling. Her intent to call the ranger got lost in the storm of her emotions.
Hunter kept a careful eye on the men in the group after Katie left. Carter ambled to the table. His hand shook as he held the paper Katie had mentioned, whether from nerves or age, Hunter couldn’t be sure. Carter perused the list with a scrunched forehead.
“What does it say?” Walter Thompson, an experienced kiss-up in Hunter’s opinion, sauntered alongside the boss and glanced over Carter’s shoulder. His stomach poked out in a paunch, his shadow almost reminiscent of a Hitchcock profile.
“Says here we’ll need to repack our stuff to fit inside a rolled-up sleeping bag, no more than two feet in diameter.” The old man huffed, then let the paper drift to the table. He lifted a gnarled hand to rub his chin. “Go-ood Night! How am I supposed to get all my belongings rolled into a sleeping bag?
“I’ll help you.” Walter twisted to look at Carter, adulation shimmering in the eyes lurking behind the horned rims.
Paul snorted as he crossed the room and lifted the paper, but not before tossing Walter a scowl. “Looks pretty straightforward to me, Carter. Just jam your undies and toothbrush in the sleeping bag and roll it up.” His full belly-laugh echoed across the cabin, the gunshot obviously not unnerving him.
Jerry Sands laughed, making little nasal sounds. No signs that the excitement affected him either.
Hunter caught Orson’s wide-eyed stare, his weathered face wrinkled in concern. Hunter gave a slight shake of his head.
From the corner of the room, the quiet accountant, Steve, shuffled his feet. “Is anybody else concerned about that shot we heard?”
Everyone stared at the mousey little man. Pity for Steve washed over Hunter. Short and thin as an ice skate blade, Steve appeared to be easily, and often, overlooked. His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down as he looked around the group. “You know, that was a gunshot we heard.”
Carter let out a snicker. “Yes, boy, it was. Added a little excitement to the night, wouldn’t you say?”
“Aren’t you the slightest concerned about that, sir?” Steve shifted his weight from one leg to the other.
“Not really.” Carter shrugged, his bony shoulders lifting. “That little lady said she’d check it out with the ranger, or whatever. I’m sure it’s all fine.”
“I guess so.” Steve’s chin lowered to his chest.
Hunter cleared his throat. “I suggest we follow Ms. Gallagher’s advice and get settled for the night.” He made a point of tapping his watch. “It’s almost nine now. I don’t know about you guys, but if I have to be packed and ready for breakfast at six-thirty, I need to hit the sack pretty soon.”
Jerry narrowed his eyes, glaring at Hunter. “What’s with this take-charge attitude of yours, man? We don’t need a den mommy.”
“Just commenting on what I need—sleep.” Straightening to his full height, he crossed his arms over his chest, then relaxed and let his hands drop to his side. He couldn’t take a chance on throwing his trump card this early in the game. “So, who’s bunking in which room?”
Chapter 3
Katie stretched like a cat, the crisp cotton linens grazing her skin. The streaks of predawn shimmered through the window. A sharp breeze shot across the room, fluttering the edges of the antique lace curtains. She shoved the comforter off her legs, swinging her legs to the floor.
She opened her cabin’s back door to let Shadow out and studied the weather. An almost purplish hue painted the darkened sky, casting shadows over the river. Thunder rumbled—positives and negatives of nature colliding. The river churned, pitched, then calmed. Katie exhaled forcefully, then whistled for the Blue Heeler. After giving Shadow fresh water and kibble, she trudged to the shower.
She quickly dried off and slipped into her bathing suit. She applied a generous amount of body powder to her legs and arms and then tugged a black Body Glove wetsuit over the modest bathing suit. She squatted and rose several times, garnering room in the unforgiving second skin. Once comfortable, she hopped up onto the counter, resting her feet in the sink.
Propping her elbows on her bent knees, Katie then pulled her wet hair into a long French braid down her back. She secured the ends, and then lifted the tube of sunblock and spread it over her face.
Shadow barked.
Looking at him in the mirror, Katie laughed. Every time he watched her don the wetsuit, his black and grey body trembled with excitement. She shook her head as she jumped back to the floor. The dog loved white water rafting. Always had, ever since she got him as a pup. She took a moment to run a hand over his thick fur and nuzzle him.
She brushed her teeth, then grabbed Shadow’s safety harness and reached for her fanny pack filled with peppermints. She pulled it around her waist and went to snap the closure, but the clasp shattered, littering the floor with tiny shards of black plastic. Great. Now she had to find her old one. She tapped a finger against her chin. Where had she put it?
Katie pushed into her room. She tugged open the bottom oak dresser drawer and rifled through the mass of clutter
. Her hand grazed bonded leather. She pulled out the heavy book and laid the worn and tattered Bible into her lap. She gasped when her fingers, as if they had a mind of their own, caressed the weathered cover. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d opened the Bible. Her heart raced as fast as the Gauley current. She hadn’t bothered to read Scripture since her mother disappeared. Once a vital part of her daily routine, now something to avoid. God hadn’t stepped in then, so she certainly wouldn’t buy into the fairytale notion He would any time soon.
She shoved the Bible back into the mess, yanked out the old fanny pack, then slammed the drawer. The loud bang settled over the room. She shook her head, determined to keep the ghosts of her past locked in a drawer forever.
She stood and rushed back to the front of the cabin, eager to get away from the demons sitting on her back. Grabbing up the broken fanny pack, she then transferred the peppermint candies to the old one before zipping it shut and hooking it around her waist. Katie snapped for the dog, then shut the door behind her.
Once outside, the roar of the river shattered the serene setting. The crispness in the air made her breath visible, hanging like a puffy cloud out of her mouth. Strong gusts sent the autumn leaves adrift. She hauled in a deep breath, filling her lungs to capacity, then let it out in a rush.
The first glimpse of sunbeams shot across the sky. Maybe Gabe had been right—Emily would decrease in strength before she made landfall. Katie glanced down at her waterproof watch that had been her father’s. Grief tugged at her heart. She swallowed back the sorrow, burying it deep as she strode toward the main lodge. If Christian didn’t have coffee made and breakfast ready, she’d rip into him like nobody’s business, boyish grin or not.
Hunter slung the bedroll over his shoulder and glared at the other men in the group. Paul and Jerry tried to roll their sleeping bags, bulging with clothes and who knew what else. A sheen of sweat glistened on Paul’s bald spot. They laughed at themselves as they made attempt after attempt, but to no avail. Jerry’s mustache twitched as he chuckled. Hunter glanced at his watch and sighed.
Setting down his neatly wrapped bedroll, Hunter moved Paul out of the way with a nudge from his elbow. He slammed his palms down on the sleeping bag, flattening and smoothing. He squished the end into itself, keeping the bundle tight as he rolled it up. Once finished, he tied it securely with the attached string.
“Hey, that’s really good. Where’d you learn to do that?” Paul’s eyes were as wide as paddles.
Hunter lifted a brow. “Scouting.” Still on his knees, he wobbled beside Jerry, who grappled with his bag. He gave a slight shove on Jerry’s arm.
Jerry stiffened under his touch, shrugging off Hunter’s hand. “I can manage by myself.”
Narrowing his eyes, Hunter studied the investments man. Medium height, medium weight, with average brown hair and bushy moustache, Jerry defined normal to a T. That sent a red flag waving in Hunter’s mind.
Hunter pushed himself off the floor, strode across the room, picked up his small bedroll, and then slung it over his shoulder again. He shrugged. “Suit yourself. I’m going to the lodge to eat breakfast. I’m not up to facing class-five rapids without a hearty meal first.” He opened the cabin door. It barely took three seconds for Orson and Steve to grab their packs and step out into the morning.
Paul stood still, eyes darting from the group at the door to Jerry, then back to the other men. Hunter stepped across the threshold, pulling the door closed behind him.
The chill in the air nearly stole his breath. When they’d arrived last evening, it’d been warmer. Hunter glanced down at his jeans and wondered if he should’ve brought his personal wetsuit with him. Blowing into his hands, he studied the other two men over his tented fingers. No, he did the right thing. No need to tip off anyone that he was anything more than what they thought he was. At least, not yet.
He moved toward the stairs. The cabin door creaked open. Jerry and Paul must’ve finally finished packing and joined them. Good, always better to keep everyone together where he could keep track of them. Once they were in the boat, his job would be easier. Truly, keeping up with six men in a raft, how hard could it be?
Hunter led the way to the main lodge, enjoying the morning’s peace as opposed to last night’s ruckus. Had Ms. Gallagher discovered who’d fired the gun last night? More than anything, he wanted to believe her offhand explanation. His trained mind, however, suspected it’d been more than a lost hunter. Either way, he’d ask as soon as he saw her.
Katie sipped black coffee, letting its heat warm her body. She glanced over at the executives rushing to grab breakfast. True to his word, Christian had everything ready and set out in the lodge this morning.
The front door opened, letting in a gust of air along with the last two straggling men. Loose papers on the counter took flight.
She set down her mug, then leaned over and retrieved the sheets of paper. She straightened and settled them on the counter before lifting her gaze to meet that of Hunter Malone’s. Her heart flipped and twisted like a deflated raft in the current.
“Good morning, Ms. Gallagher.” His cheerful tone sounded too close to Christian’s this morning for her liking.
She gave a curt nod. “Morning, Mr. Malone.”
His eyes widened for a split second before the guarded look reappeared. The slip occurred so quickly, she wondered if she might have imagined it. He smiled. “Please, call me Hunter.”
“Hunter.” She lifted her mug and took a long sip, then cringed as the scalding liquid scorched her tongue.
“Hot?”
She stared into his mocking eyes before turning away. She headed toward the buffet line where Christian stood, filling the steaming pans with scrambled eggs, bacon, sausage, and biscuits. Hunter’s hand on her forearm stopped her as she reached for a plate.
She lifted her gaze to his face. “May I help you?”
“Did you talk to the ranger last night?”
Heat spread up her neck to her face. She lowered her stare to the floor. “No, I didn’t.”
“So, you don’t know where that gunshot came from?”
“No. But since there were no other outbursts last night, I’m sure it was nothing.” Katie smiled. “Don’t worry about it. You’ll be safe and sound.”
Christian introduced himself to the men and now engaged in a playful argument with Jerry Sands about imports and exports. Katie bit her tongue. Why couldn’t her brother take her overnight group and let her guide the day-trip ones scheduled to arrive later this morning? The little voice inside her head answered—because Gabe was depending on this trip to keep the business afloat. She wouldn’t let her brother down, not if she could help it.
Plopping a spoonful of eggs onto her plate, she sensed Hunter’s presence in the buffet line behind her. She finished selecting her food, then sauntered to the long dining table where Carter and Walter already sat.
Katie set down her breakfast, and pulled out the chair next to Steve Smith, the quiet accountant. His shyness propelled her to make him feel welcome. The others in the group came across as so boisterous it would be easy to overlook this slight of a man. Even though she sometimes cursed her own stockiness, she secretly harbored gratitude for her hearty build. It helped secure the confidence of men who put their lives in her hands.
Steve smiled at her. “Good morning, Ms. Gallagher.”
“Please, call me Katie.”
Patches of crimson graced his cheeks.
How endearing. “So, is this your first white water rafting adventure?”
“Yes. I mean, the company took us to float the Buffalo River in Arkansas last year, but I don’t think it compares.”
Katie nearly spit out the eggs she’d just shoveled into her mouth. The Buffalo River compared to the Gauley? Instead, she smiled gently. “No, it’s not quite the same. We have several class-five rapids, some of the most vicious you’ll ever find.”
His mouth formed an “O.”
She bit back a laugh, not
wanting to insult the man.
“But the Royal Gorge in Colorado might compare.” Hunter Malone’s deep voice was felt rather than heard when he spoke…so close she could feel his breath against her neck.
“Have you rafted the Royal Gorge, Mr. Malone?” She allowed a teasing lilt to slip into her tone.
“No, ma’am. And it’s Hunter, remember?” His eyes sparkled, hinting at the humor lurking in their depths.
“Right. Hunter.” She lifted her mug. “So, how do you know about the Royal Gorge if you’ve never been?” Taking a sip of coffee, she studied him over the rim.
“Friends of mine went last year. On their honeymoon.” His dark chocolate eyes sparkled even more.
“Really?” She set the mug down. “Sound like fun people.”
“Oh, they are.”
“I have to say, Ms. Gallagher, I’m a little surprised you’re our guide.” Walter’s aristocratic nose lifted higher.
Steeling herself against the bristling rushing to her surface, Katie forced a smile at the man across the table. “Because I’m so young?”
Under his breath, Hunter chuckled. Beside her, Steve gasped softly.
“Because you’re a woman.” Walter’s face twisted into an arrogant grimace.
“I assure you, sir, I’m quite competent to guide. I was born on this river and have rafted it since I could sit up by myself.” Heat crept up the back of her neck. She sucked in air. Calm. Keep calm.
Carter let out a roar of laughter and clapped Walter on the back. “See, she’s a professional.” He gave a curt nod in her direction. “Besides, she looks like hearty stock to me. We’ll be fine.”
Heat fanned across her face.
“He meant that as a compliment,” Hunter whispered in her ear. He opened his mouth to say something else, but the lodge door swung open, drawing Katie’s attention.
A woman in a bright pink wetsuit waltzed through the door, making a beeline for Christian. “Hi, my name’s Ariel. The man in the store said you were going to be my group’s guide today.” She glanced around the room. “I guess I’m a little early. The others won’t be here for some time, but I thought I could get a cup of coffee from you.”
