by Lia Davis
This time she left the phone out.
She was close, so close to the coordinates she could almost see Yvette, black eyes sparkling saying, “Come on, girl!” Black braids piled high on her head, nails sparkling with tiny embedded crystals, hot pink lipstick curved up in a grin as she worked her way across the steep slope.
Yvette had always loved a challenge and she’d pushed Natalie to love one too. A study in opposites, that was her soul sister, cruising on over the rugged terrain in her PINK t-shirt and booty-call cut-offs.
They’d compete over who was the fastest on the rock wall at the rec, and who could kiss the most boys at a party. They’d competed and celebrated and laughed their way through the last seven years and now—Natalie wiped back more tears—now this was the last challenge.
Her phone beeped, making the happy sounds of geocaching discovery. She was here.
The slope flattened out a bit, running north to a steep edge that dropped down twenty feet to a grassy creek bed. She put a hand up to block the sun and scanned the area. The cairn of rocks had to be up here but she didn’t see it, just grass, the occasional scrubby tree, and some bushes where it might be hiding. Time to get to work.
She crisscrossed the area from the edge of the ravine, out about forty feet, and back. Each sweep had her stomach clenching tighter and tighter until she was sure she was going to throw up.
There was no cairn. No rocks. No treasure. Just a scraped section of grass where the color of the dirt was a darker, patchy shade of reddish brown that reminded her of dried blood and made her stomach churn.
She wasn’t an expert, but the grass in the Rocky Mountains took a long time to grow back, and this area right next to the steep edge of the drop-off, had been definitely disturbed.
This had been a crime scene, she was sure of it. And someone had cleaned it up, down to the blood-soaked earth. That sheriff had definitely lied. This had to be it—the place where Yvette had disappeared.
She went to the ravine and peered over the edge. Would there be something to find down there? Had Yvette gone over? Had someone pushed her? Had it been Mr. Mysterious, or had someone else found them on the private land and taken care of both of them?
The bright mid-afternoon sun lit up the side of the drop-off. Natalie stared at a tiny winking light almost hidden under a bush. Something was down there. Something bright and flashing and calling to her, just as if it were Yvette sending her a message in Morse code. She had to get down there.
A sense of urgency propelled her to walk the edge of the ravine in both directions, but there was no spot to descend any better than the one she’d been at. She came back and stared at the drop. The sun had moved overhead and the brush at the base of the cliff, where she’d seen the sparkle, was almost in shadow.
The reflection would be gone soon. And harder to find. If she went to town and tried to find someone to come up here and spot her, she’d be wasting time. She was on her own here, no spotting partner. She’d have to find some guy in one of the rock climber bars, flirt with him and get him excited over what she might give him, then talk him into coming up here onto private property.
Her churning stomach gave an extra twist.
That was almost exactly what had happened to Yvette with Mr. Mysterious.
This was Friday. She only had the weekend before she had to drive back to Denver or her boss would be livid. She was supposed to have come up here with Yvette last month. Supposed to be here, chasing treasure troves through the state park. But instead her sucky boss had given her extra hours and she’d had to stay and work. And Yvette had come up here alone.
Where she’d met some guy who also had a love for finding treasure. And who had enticed her up here and done…what? Something that had left a spot on the ground that looked exactly like dried blood.
Natalie looked over the open slope of the mountain. This wasn’t a place you took someone to kidnap them into a car. There was only one thing you would do to a young woman out here.
Hurt her. Rape her. And leave her for dead.
If there was a clue to Yvette’s disappearance she needed to get down there now, before she lost it.
She lightened up her pack, leaving only one water bottle, a candy bar, her phone and the bear spray, just in case. She’d stuffed her climbing shoes and helmet in her pack—good thing—and some chalk. All the essentials. Just not a rope or an extra pair of hands to make sure she was safe. She changed shoes. Put on her helmet, crushing down her hair. And then she got down on her belly, took a good grip on a rock, and swung her feet out over the edge.
The part of her brain that always took over when she was on a hard climb, took over. Grip with your toes, find a good handhold. Search for the next foothold. And—go!
Swing if you have to. Test for weight. And always, go at a steady pace. Not too slow or you’d get tired. Move from rock to rock, toe-hold to toe-hold, and work your way on down. She was about ten feet from the ground when she glanced at the bottom, caught by the flash of light.
It was a phone. The light glinted up at her from the crystal-studded case of Yvette’s phone.
Natalie’s breath caught and she got lightheaded. She had to get down there.
She reached down for the next handhold, shoved her fingers in and wedged them tight. Moved her foot, reaching for the next small bulb of rock. Tested it. Went for it.
And then she was sailing out into space. She twisted her body away from the wall, tried to relax, and hit the ground. Everything went black.
Chapter 2
Luca rode Espresso along the fence line that followed the southern border of the ranch. The afternoon was getting hotter and he was grateful for the wide brim of his hat, and the fact that eventually he’d get to a point where he could ride into the neighboring ravine and both he and the gelding could take a cool dip in the creek.
The other hands at Windy Gap thought he was crazy to always volunteer for checking the fences. But they didn’t understand—they were all socially oriented and thrived on being close to the rest of the pack while too many people made him nervous.
They called him a loner, and that was okay with him. He loved this type of job, out here on the edges of the massive property the pack owned. The air was clear, the summer day was long. He could take his time with no one around and no expectations. Perfect.
Espresso pricked his ears up. Luca took his cue from the gelding and listened. The sound was coming from the direction of the ravine and the creek, not from the state park on the other side of the fence. On the slight breeze he heard a woman’s voice and he frowned. No one should be out here. The state park trail wasn’t heavily used, and there were plenty of signs warning visitors to stay clear.
“Damn it to hell!”
He turned Espresso and headed for the sounds of an irate woman. Not something that would be his first choice, but given that there shouldn’t be anyone here at all, it was his only choice.
The shouting died off as he drew closer. When he got to the edge of the ravine he found a pile of discarded stuff. Espresso gave a snort and wouldn’t move any closer, rolling his eyes and stamping. Luca dismounted to get a better look.
Sneakers, a half-full bottle of water, an apple, two bandannas—one bright pink, the other covered with Hawaiian flowers in purple and green, and a variety of combs, hair-ties, sticky-notes and pens. It looked like a high-school locker had been dumped in the middle of nowhere.
His nose wrinkled. Even without the extra sniffing power of his wolf form he caught the faint scent of an old kill.
No wonder the horse didn’t want anything to do with the spot.
There was something else. The ground here looked odd, like someone had decided to choose this isolated spot to clean up the dirt and scattered rocks and leave the area bare, but they couldn’t quite get out the stains from the massive amount of blood that must have soaked into the ground.
He caught the sound of someone moving down below and peered over. On the ground near the bottom of the wall a w
oman sat, frowning at a cell phone. Her long brown curls were ineptly caught up in a haphazard ponytail and even from this high up he could spot the blood streaking red on the creamy brown skin of her legs and arms.
“Hello,” he called down.
She looked up, the deep focus on her face changing to a look of surprise. “Hey!” She waved. “I’m down here.”
“I can see that.”
Her frown came back. “No need to be snarky. Can you call for help, or something? I think I twisted my ankle and I’ve got absolutely zero bars.”
Call for help. Not likely. There was no cell tower for miles here and he’d have to ride for at least an hour to get any reception. If he were going to do that, he could ride directly to the ranch in less time.
“I can’t call from here. What are you doing here?”
“Do we have to waste time on that? I’ll be stuck here all night.” She crossed her arms. “I just need someone with a rope to pull me out. Can you get someone?”
“I can do better than that, but first tell me where you’re hurt.”
“I hurt all over, but none of it’s bad. I was almost down when I fell. It’s just that I hit my foot wrong and twisted it.” She shook her head up at him. “Really, I’m fine. I just need to get out of here.”
“I’ve got you covered.”
He went to Espresso and unfastened his lariat from the saddle and got out his gloves. You never knew what you’d encounter riding out on the ranch. Last month he’d had to pull a calf from a sinkhole, and he’d made less noise. Probably would be less trouble too. The calf got a slap on the ass and ran to its mother when it had been pulled free. He doubted he’d be doing that in this case.
He tried to lead Espresso to the ravine, but the horse snorted and balked.
He leaned back over the edge. “Can you move down a little more this way?”
“It’s all rock. Do you think it will be any better talking to me from over there than over here?”
This was why he disliked dealing with people. Nothing was easy. Everything had to be explained. “I’m going to toss down a rope and get my horse to pull you up, but he won’t come any closer than this.”
“You’re having your horse pull me up? Are you crazy? That doesn’t sound safe.”
“You have nothing to worry about, he’s an old hand at the job. Now, unless you want to spend the night here while I ride for help, can you move?”
If he rode and got help for something like this, all the guys at the ranch would rib him for months about being scared of a little pussy. Or being a pussy. Either way he’d rather do the job himself.
“Fine.” She fastened her helmet on her head, put on her pack, and half-hitched, half-crawled the ten feet down the edge of the wall. “Is this good?”
“Much better.” He fastened the rope to the saddle horn and tossed it down. He positioned Espresso, told him to stand, and pulled on his gloves. “Now what I want you to do is—”
“I’ve got this, cowboy.” She expertly formed a harness with the lariat, looping it around her waist and between her legs, and around the amazingly rounded curves of her ass. When she was done she double-checked her knots. “It’s not exactly as soft and flexible as the rope I’m used to, but it’ll work.” She gave the rope two tugs and he felt it in the piece he had in his hand. “Ready. On belay?”
“Okay.” He knew the term. He’d done some rock climbing in his teens, but that was usually a team effort, so he hadn’t followed up.
She gave him a look he could feel all the way up on his side of the wall. “You’re supposed to say ‘Belay on’, if you’re ready.”
“Belay on. Now, I’m going to have Espresso back up and I’ll guide the rope. You ready?”
“Ready as I’ll ever be.” She limped closer to the wall.
“Espresso, back.” Espresso was an old hand at the job and braced his hindquarters as the rope grew taut. Luca guided the rope, making sure it remained clear of the rocks. He kept an eye out for fraying and let Espresso take the weight. Not that this woman was very heavy. She weighed a lot less than a six month calf, and nothing like a steer. The horse had no trouble, but Luca had to slow him down because of how light she was. “Easy, now, boy. Steady on.”
He watched her lean back in the harness and use her feet limping—rather than walking—her way up the wall. The closer she got the more he could see the sweat gleaming on her dusky skin, and the fine lines of tension in her face. When she got close he reached down and hauled her up, giving Espresso the command to halt.
She felt light and fragile in his arms, as he pulled her shaking body back from the ledge and lowered her to the ground.
“Wow, you really are a cowboy.” Her deeply lashed brown eyes quirked at the corners and she gave a little laugh.
The shift to friendliness in her face gave Luca a rush. Man, she was pretty, even under the dirt and grime. Her wayward curls escaping from under her helmet looked soft, like sheep’s fleece, and her mouth had a fullness to it that had him wondering how she’d taste.
He grinned and tipped his hat. “Luca Weylyn. At your service, ma’am.”
She grinned back. “Sorry I was such a bitch. Thanks for the rescue, Luca Weylyn.” She picked at the laces on her dirty black climbing shoe and stared at the swell of her ankle. “Damn it. I think it’s really swollen.” She pulled the shoe and sock off.
He squatted at her side and gently touched her puffy skin.
She flinched. “Ouch! Don’t you think we should get a professional to look at it?”
“Shh.” He applied pressure, checking the bones. “I think you’re right. It’s a sprain.” He rocked back on his boot heels.
“Oh, and are you a doctor as well as a cowboy?”
“No, but I am experienced enough with sprains.” He smiled at her quip, liking her more and more, now that she wasn’t frowning at him. “They’re a pretty common injury. Not that you shouldn’t get an x-ray, but what you really need is ice and a wrap.”
He went to his saddlebags and pulled out the first aid kit. When he’d turned around, she’d pulled off her helmet.
“You’re carrying ice?”
“No. But I do have something that will work.” He gave her a stern look. “As you should have if you’re going to be messing around out here in the wild.” He shook the package of instant ice, then squeezed it, to start the chemical reaction, and pressed it to her ankle. “What the hell did you think you were doing, climbing that all by yourself. You have shoes and a helmet, but no first aid kit or partner? And this isn’t public land. You shouldn’t have been here in the first place. It’s not safe.”
Her face iced over. “It’s none of your business, cowboy.”
“It’s Luca.” He finished wrapping her ankle. “And you should be damn glad I found you. We only do this fence line once a week and something definitely is hunting out here, you could have been dinner for a mountain lion, or something else.”
Her light brown skin paled. “What do you mean, something’s hunting out here.”
Damn. He spent too much time only around pack. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have mentioned it.” He went to stand up and she grabbed his arm.
“No, tell me.”
He hesitated.
“Look, it’s important.”
“There’s obviously been some kind of disturbance over there. There’s still traces of blood.”
Her large brown eyes grew even wider and the pupils shrank down to tiny scared pinpricks. “Is that what that is? Blood.” She swallowed hard. “I wasn’t sure. How can you tell something died?”
He’d already told her too much, but he couldn’t not answer her. “There’s a lot of blood. Too much.”
She let go of his arm and stared at the spot on the ground. “Thank you for being honest.”
He flushed, unaccustomed red heat crawling up his neck and over his face.
He was being anything but honest. If he were, he would have told her that the someone who’d killed here was definite
ly human because they’d cleaned up. There were no bones scattered around the scene. No signs of scavenging.
Either whoever had killed had taken care of it, or someone had come along later and cleaned up, long after the blood had soaked deeply into the dirt and sandstone. But he couldn’t tell her that because the only people who were supposed to be here were pack. And the idea of pack out here killing something and then hiding it, went against the grain. Hunting was a good activity, not something to hide.
“Now, let’s get you out of here.”
She went to get up and he scooped her up instead. She was warm, her curvy ass nestled just below his arm and her cleavage squished in the low scoop neck of her tank top. He found himself feeling protective and very male. As if, now that he’d rescued her, she was his responsibility.
“What’s your name?” He needed to distract himself from her obvious appeal. She wasn’t pack, she was human, and while shifters and dormants had relationships all the time, the dormants were pack. They got it. But this woman, she could only be a casual fling. And this was a far-from-casual feeling.
“Natalie.”
“Okay, Natalie, up you go on Espresso and we’ll get you somewhere you can get some help.” He settled her on the gelding and mounted up behind her. It was a tight fit on the Western saddle. Her thighs were wedged against his and his ass was smack against the cantle. But he wouldn’t want it any other way. It felt good, to be pressed against a woman like this, the scent of her hair rising to tease his senses.
It had been too long, since he’d been in any kind of a relationship. Too long indeed. And his body was not shy in telling him. He tried to think about something, anything, to keep his cock from rising up any further and pressing into the sweet curves of her ass.
As they rode down the slope in the direction of the ranch, she leaned back against his chest. The gentle sway of the horse had her rocking in his arms.
He was crazy. She was a human. She shouldn’t be on ranch property, let alone heading for the main compound where she might catch a glimpse of all the secrets of pack life.
