Bestselling Authors Collection 2012

by Trish Morey; Day Leclaire; Natalie Anderson; Brenda Jackson; Ann Voss Peterson

  He looked up at Callie, climbing the last few feet of rock-strewn slope. “Plastic?”

  “I have a slicker and some first-aid supplies.” She held up a bundle cradled in her arms.

  He needed those supplies. And she couldn’t climb the last rock wall while carrying them. He rose to his feet to take them from her.

  A second shot split the air. Rock exploded next to his face.

  Efraim hit the deck. His foot hit Fahad’s rifle, sending it careening into the canyon. Still climbing the rocky slope, Callie flattened. Beyond her, a horse whinnied. Steel shoes clattered on stone.

  The horses. They were running away.

  Keeping low to the ground this time, Efraim crawled to the slope. His thoughts raced. The shot had hit the stone near him, Callie had to be merely taking cover. She had to be okay.

  Reaching the edge, he peered over.

  She looked up at him, her freckles streaked by dust, her blue eyes wide. “Here.” She pushed the bundle toward him.

  He took the saddle bags and slicker. “Stay low.”

  “I’ll climb up. I can help.”

  “No.” The last thing he wanted was for Callie to attempt to climb the ridge and get shot for her efforts. “I’ll tend to Fahad, then you can help me move him.”

  He moved back to Fahad’s side. His cousin was still conscious, still fighting. He moved his lips, but no sound came, just the sucking noise mixed with each gasp for breath.

  “Hold on. I have supplies. It will be all right.”

  His cousin gave a light bob of the head.

  Efraim folded the slicker and pulled an elastic bandage from the saddlebags. He wasn’t sure this was going to work, but he did know that if he did nothing, Fahad would die.

  He had ripped Fahad’s shirt open as soon as he’d found him. Now he pushed the tattered and bloody fabric aside and pressed the slick side of the raincoat against the wound. Grasping the bandage roll in sticky hands, he strapped it across Fahad’s chest, fitting the slicker tight against his skin. It was far from sterile, far from ideal, but it was the best he could do. He just prayed it would work.

  Something scraped rock and Callie slipped to her knees by his side.

  “I told you to stay—”

  “It will go faster with both of us.”

  He shook his head and peered down at the badlands below. “You have to go back down the slope.”

  “I know you’re trying to protect me. But faster is better. For Fahad and for both of us.” She set her chin and gripped Fahad’s shoulders. “Now, are you going to help me sit him up or not?”

  He helped her tilt Fahad toward him. Callie wrapped the rest of the slicker around his side and over the exit wound in his back. They wrapped the bandage around his chest, securing the slicker as tightly as possible to the wound.

  Fahad gasped again and again, but this time he seemed to be getting air. Tears leaked from the corners of his eyes and trickled down the side of his face and into his beard. Beads of sweat bloomed on his forehead.

  “Fahad, who did this?” Efraim asked.

  “Followed you.”

  “Who?”

  He shook his head, the movement barely perceptible. “Don’t know.”

  Efraim’s pulse beat in his ears, loud as gunfire. Any second another shot could crack through the canyon, a bullet could plow into one of them and end it all.

  “Have you spotted the shooter?” Callie asked.

  He took a quick glance around the canyon formations. Between the hoodoos, crumbled cliffs and pocks of vegetation, he couldn’t pick out the form of a man. All he had to go on was the trajectory of the shot that had missed his head. “I think he’s to the north. And I think he’s somewhat below us because he didn’t see me until I stood.”

  “Your horse. The gunshot spooked him.”

  He glanced up. He’d assumed both horses had run. “Just mine?”

  She nodded. “I’ve competed in shooting competitions on horseback, too. Sasha’s used to it. She’s waiting at the bottom of the slope.”

  He let out a breath. At least one thing had gone right in all this. They’d need a horse if they hoped to get Fahad out of here and to someone who could help him.

  “The horse will probably head for one of the ranches around here. My dad’s. Helen’s. He’ll be all right.”

  Efraim hadn’t been thinking of the horse. He’d been more concerned about their being all right. But he gave her a nod all the same.

  Callie grabbed another bandage from the saddlebags, this one a self-adhesive horse wrap. They wrapped until they’d covered Fahad’s back and shoulder.

  Now came the tricky part. “We need to move him, get him down to the horse. And we’re going to have to stand up to do it.”

  “Maybe not.” She reached for the saddlebag. Opening the second side, she pulled out a small thermal blanket. “We can drag him.”

  “Do you have everything in that bag?”

  “I was a Girl Scout.”

  He must have missed something. “A Girl Scout?”

  “They teach you to be prepared. Always good, because around here, people are few and far between.”

  They spread the blanket and lifted Fahad onto it.

  The canyon was quiet, nothing but the wind whistling through rock formations. Efraim would like to think that meant their shooter was gone, but he doubted that was the case.

  Keeping low, Callie picked up one corner of the blanket near Fahad’s head. Efraim took the other, and they slid him across rock to the three-foot drop down to the incline.

  At the base of the steep slope, the palomino mare stood, reins draped to the ground, shifting her hooves in the dust.

  Efraim jumped off the rock shelf. His boots skidded on loose rock and debris. He went down to a knee before catching himself.

  “You okay?” Callie said, her voice breathless.

  He nodded. “I’ll take him from here.” He gathered Fahad in his arms as if cradling a baby. Fahad was only five feet eight inches tall, but he was built like a bulldog. A muscled bulldog at that. Efraim’s arms ached with his limp weight. At least the sucking noise had stopped. His cousin’s breathing was still labored, but he was breathing.

  Efraim half skidded, half ran down the slope to the horse, Callie right behind him. The place she’d left the horses was protected on several sides. Except for the rock shelf above, most of the canyon plummeted downward from their perch, and afforded a decent view of the area. Not that there was anything to see.

  And that made Efraim nervous.

  He lowered Fahad to the ground and hunched down beside him.

  “How is he?”

  “He’s breathing better but unconscious.”

  “The pain. The blood loss. It probably got to be too much.”

  An understatement. He’d never had a gunshot wound, not in all his years in the military. But years ago, he’d helped a soldier who’d been shot during an uprising in Nadar. He knew how painful it could be.

  He squinted up at the sun in the western sky. They were running out of time, and there was still someone out there gunning for them. He had to figure out what to do next. And he couldn’t afford to make another mistake. “This ranch of your family’s, how far?”

  “A few miles.”

  “Can we still make it before nightfall?”

  “Maybe. Or just after.” She glanced at Fahad. “We’ll have to take things slow.”

  The sun beat down, hot on his skin. Sweat stung his eyes. He wiped the back of his hand across his brow, realizing too late he had blood up to his elbows. And now, no doubt, all over his face. “You take Fahad on the horse.”

  “And you?”

  “I stay here. Cover you.”

  She shook her head, her hair blowing in the wind and lashing her cheeks like whips. “No. That’s not going to happen.”

  “What, then? We have an injured man, one horse and someone trying to shoot us.” He wished she had another answer, a better answer, but he doubted one existed.


  “You take him. I cover you.”

  “That is not going to happen.”

  “But this shooter, if he’s targeting you—”

  “Targeting me? And what if he is? You’re not law enforcement. I suppose you’re planning to use diplomacy?”

  She stepped to her horse and tapped the stock of her prize rifle for an answer, throwing his earlier gesture back at him.

  “Shooting targets is one thing. Engaging an enemy is another.”

  “You thought I was good enough a few minutes ago.”

  He shook his head. He hated to break it to her, but a few minutes ago, she’d been relatively protected. The riskier job had been climbing up to help Fahad. “I’m sure you’re a fine shot. But this isn’t the same thing.”

  She blew a frustrated breath through pursed lips. “COIN can proceed without me. It will die without you.”

  So that was it. He should have known. The COIN summit was obviously more important to her than her own life. Good thing that wasn’t true for him. “That’s not the way it works, Callie.”

  “Is this some sort of macho thing?”

  “It’s some sort of practical thing. You said your family’s ranch is the closest place to get help. I have no idea how to get there. I can, however, hold a gunman off and catch up with you once I know it’s safe.”

  She pressed her lips into a line, her chin set.

  He didn’t know Callie McGuire very well, but he already knew that look.

  She met his eyes. “We’ll both go. Together.”

  “Then we’ll both get killed. And Fahad will die from his injuries,” he said in a low voice. He glanced at his cousin. Fahad’s breathing was labored, but the slicker looked to have done the trick. For now. But with every second they spent arguing, he was getting weaker and the sun was dipping lower in the western sky. “If you want to keep Nadar in the COIN compact, we need to keep Fahad alive. His death will only give the dissenters in Nadar fuel for their movement.”

  “And your death?”

  “I’m not going to die.”

  She shook her head.

  “Fahad is losing blood with each minute we spend arguing.”

  “Okay, okay. I’ll do this your way.” Her eyes focused on him like blue lasers. “But you have to promise me you’ll catch up. That you’ll be okay.”

  The slight tremble in her voice held a desperation that made his breath hitch, and for a moment, he wanted to believe she was concerned about him, personally, not merely politics and business negotiations, but him as a man.

  “Promise me,” she repeated.

  “I give you my word.”

  She scrambled to her feet. “Then help me get him on the horse.”

  Chapter Three

  This whole thing was wrong. All wrong.

  Callie swung onto Sasha’s back. When she’d ridden out to Rattlesnake Badlands at Prince Stefan’s request, she’d been aiming to talk Efraim into going back to the resort where he’d be safe. Instead, he was risking his life for his cousin’s, for hers. And unless she was willing to let Fahad die, she couldn’t do a damn thing to change it.

  “Fahad,” Efraim said, kneeling next to his cousin. “Can you hear me?”

  Fahad mumbled something Callie couldn’t quite catch. His eyes fluttered and opened. His face twisted in a grimace of pain.

  “I am going to lift you onto the horse. It might get a bit rough. Hang with us, okay?”

  Fahad just kept breathing, in and out, as if anything else was beyond his grasp. It probably was.

  Efraim glanced up at her. “Ready?”

  She wasn’t sure how they were going to pull this off. Fahad couldn’t lie on his back across the saddle. Nor could he drape over it on his belly, letting blood rush to his head. She slipped behind the saddle’s cantle and sat on the stiff, leather skirt. “He’s going to have to sit on the seat. That’s the only way this is going to work.” Even then, she wasn’t sure they could manage.

  Efraim knelt down. Fitting his hands under Fahad’s shoulders and knees, he lifted the man from the ground and climbed to his feet.

  Callie reached down from the saddle, and Efraim hoisted him onto the seat. Callie guided his leg over the saddle until he sat astride. She settled him on the seat and leaned his body back against her. She could feel him groan, the sound shuddering through her body. She steadied him with one hand and held Sasha’s reins with the other.

  “Do you have him?”

  Good question. With a man who had the strength of a rag doll sitting on her lap and her legs dangling at her mare’s flanks, Callie had a challenge ahead of her. She was grateful the horse was Sasha. The palomino mare could read Callie’s shifts of weight almost as if she was reading her mind.

  She looked down at Efraim. The thought of him out facing the man who did this to Fahad chilled her to the core. If only she could do something.

  He had his pistol, but a pistol wasn’t going to do much good unless the shooter was close. Balancing Fahad against her chest, she tapped the stock of her rifle. “Take this.”

  He shook his head. “You’ll need it.”

  “Between balancing Fahad on the saddle and keeping control of Sasha, I don’t have enough hands to use a rifle. Give me your pistol.”

  He unbuckled his holster. Reaching up, he helped her strap it around her waist. She pulled the rifle from its scabbard and handed it to him.

  His hand closed around hers. He lingered for a moment, then took the rifle. “Go.”

  She clucked to Sasha and the horse moved forward. Callie kept her eyes on the horizon in the direction of the Seven M Ranch, resisting the need to look around, to see Efraim taking cover among the hoodoos and cliffs, to watch as he faded into the distance.

  Two gunshots cracked and echoed off the rock.

  Callie kept Sasha moving forward. She knew the shots were likely Efraim drawing attention to himself, trying to let her ride away unnoticed. She forced herself not to think of what might happen next, but her imagination niggled around the edges anyway. Efraim shot…Efraim lying in Rattlesnake Badlands alone while the life drained from his body… Efraim sacrificing himself to make sure she could escape.

  A sob stuck in her throat.

  In all the times she’d spoken to him before today, she’d had to remind herself to be professional. Speak about COIN and the future of Nadar. Don’t get too personal. Don’t hold his gaze too long.

  She’d been attracted to him from the first time she’d laid eyes on him, at a reception in Kyros, his hair nearly as black as his tuxedo. Each time she’d spoken with him since, she’d felt on the edge of giggling and blushing. She’d had to force herself to remain professional.

  And now?

  Now she just wanted to talk to him again. She just wanted to look in his eyes and feel that blush one more time.

  Sasha cleared the badlands. The landscape flattened into sage-pocked plains and abrupt, flat-topped hills called benches. The mountains loomed closer on the northern horizon. The scent of pine tickled the dry wind.

  The going was slow, even on the more even ground. With each sway of Sasha’s stride, Callie could feel Fahad’s weight tip to one side or the other as he grew weaker and even less able to hold himself steady. He was a big man. Not as tall as Efraim, but thick and muscled. If he tilted too far to either side, she wouldn’t be able to hold him.

  The sun dipped lower in the western sky, its aurora kissing the blue shadow of mountains before starting its slip behind. Soon she would have to navigate by the glow of twilight. She needed to keep moving. Among the mountains, twilight seemed to last forever. But when night finally fell, it was blacker than a nightmare.

  “Efraim.” Fahad’s voice was low, a harsh whisper.

  Callie leaned her face close to his. The rusty scent of blood filled each breath she took. “He’ll catch up with us. He’ll be okay.”

  “You let him…”

  She finished the rest of his sentence with her imagination. An extra shard of guilt dug into her. �
�I didn’t let him. He insisted on protecting you, protecting me.”

  “You care only for your negotiations.”

  His words hit her like a slap. “That’s not true.” She’d been telling herself that that was all she should care about ever since she’d first met Efraim. That she should be professional. That she should think only of her job. Now a part of her wished she’d never listened.

  “He shouldn’t die…”

  His voice was growing weak. She leaned closer.

  “… you should.”

  “I should what?”

  “Die.”

  The vitriol in his one word shook her to the core. She’d faced opposition before in her job. Hatred for the United States. Distrust. She’d faced some of the same from the people she’d grown up with. But never had someone wished her death straight to her face. “I’m sorry you feel that way.”

  “You have polluted Efraim.”

  “Polluted?” Words gathered in her mind, bitter words she longed to throw back. She bit the inside of her lip. Pouring gasoline on this kind of fire would only make it burn brighter, hotter. She would let him have his say.

  “You, your country…let him go.”

  Let him go? “Efraim does what he feels is best. I have no hold on him.”

  “Let him go.”

  All her experience as a diplomat, and she had no idea what to say to the man. She could find no words. “Efraim makes his own choices.”

  “Then may you both…” A rasping sound vibrated through his chest and back. He strained backward, against Callie, as if struggling to breathe.

  She shifted him to the side.

  “Your family and his…may both be destroyed.” He slumped heavily against her. He gasped in a labored breath, then another.

  She grasped the saddle’s fork and held on.

  “Whoa, Sasha.” Reaching around the other side of him, she transferred the reins into the hand gripping the saddle. She threaded her free hand along the man’s neck and felt for his pulse. His skin felt clammy. Sweat soaked his hair, his beard. A faint, thready rhythm beat against her fingers.

  Still alive, but for how long?

  She picked up the reins again and clucked to Sasha. Eyes on the horizon, she searched for the telltale signs of the creek that wound through her family’s ranch while the sun slipped behind the mountain range.