by Lora Leigh
In front of him, Elena’s body warmed him like a mini furnace. In more ways than one. No problems in that area. And it was adrenaline. Plus basic, carnal instinct. A lush, curvy bottom pressed with decided familiarity into his crotch. A pair of soft hands pressed against his belly. He’d like to meet the man who wouldn’t have a knee-jerk reaction to that kind of stimulus. His head might hurt, but he wasn’t dead.
Dead was exactly what these cretins wanted. For Elena, too. That just wasn’t going to happen. Concussion or not.
He’d wait. And he’d find an opening. He just hoped to hell he didn’t pass out before the time came.
He tuned back in to Elena. Drifted on the sound of her voice as she told him about her three brothers. All still in Arizona. All professionals. Seemed she came from a family of overachievers. That was all good.
“That why you work your ass off all the time? Not because you want to be … top dog in the DA’s office but because you want to keep up with … your brothers?”
“A little of both, I guess. My father is very old school. He thinks a woman belongs in the home, raising babies and fetching slippers for the man of the house. This is my way of showing him times have changed and I’ve changed with them.”
“I’m sure he’s proud of you.”
She drew a deep breath. “Very quietly, but yeah. I think he is.
“What about you?” she asked after a moment. “Brothers? Sisters?”
“Yeah,” he said. “One of each. My sis is a teacher … like the old man. Lives in L.A. Married. Two kids. One on the way.”
“And your brother?”
He wondered how much to tell her. Finally decided to spill it all. “My brother is the reason I’m a cop. He’d say I’m the reason he’s a screw-up.”
She didn’t say anything. Just waited, evidently sensing this wasn’t easy for him.
“Brian always had a bug up his ass, you know? If there was trouble to be had, made or gotten into, he was in the thick of it. I don’t know … don’t know why he felt the need.”
“Why would he say that you’re the reason?”
Seth moved even closer to her warmth. “Because I was Mr. Boy Scout. Honor role. Athlete. I guess he felt he couldn’t measure up to big brother … so he took the low road.”
“And you feel bad about that,” she said intuitively.
“Yeah. I do. Could never connect with him, you know?”
“What’s he doing now?”
“Don’t know. He left home when he was seventeen. That was, hell, over ten years ago. Hasn’t been in contact with any of the family since.”
She was silent for a moment. “That has to be hard. Especially for your mom and dad.”
“Yeah,” he agreed. “It’s been hard. On everyone.”
“It’s not your fault, you know. He made his own decisions.”
“Right.”
“So why don’t you sound convinced of that?”
“Because I always figured I should have been able to … I don’t know. Help him. Straighten him out.”
“That why you became a cop? To help straighten people out?”
He shrugged, felt the effort in his throbbing head. “Maybe. I don’t know.”
“I think I do,” she said softly. “I think that’s exactly why you do what you do. It’s a good thing, Seth. You’ve done a good thing.”
Whatever, he thought, feeling the fatigue and the physical strain of the rap on his skull. Bottom line was, he hadn’t helped his brother, the one person in the world he should have been able to help.
“What’s happening over there?”
“Jake’s still snoring. Cravets is still awake.”
“Probably figures he’ll go down with us if he screws up and falls asleep.”
“As incentives go, it’s a good one.”
“Still, I don’t figure he’ll last much longer. They gorged themselves on water and food. It’s going to take a toll soon. We need to be ready. You need to do something for me now, sweetheart. Very slowly, scoot down. I’ll bring my knees up. See if you can reach in my right boot. My Leatherman is tucked in there.”
The all-in-one knife had been a birthday gift from his dad what now seemed like a hundred years ago. It was just one of many things he had to thank the old man for. In his estimation, it was the knife to end all knives.
Titanium handles, pliers, wire cutters, knife, saw, scissors. Hell, it even had screwdrivers and a bottle opener—all packed in less than five flat inches and less than half a pound.
The Leatherman was like his credit card—he never left home without it.
“Oh, thank you, God,” Elena breathed when she realized he was actually armed. “I was certain you didn’t really have a plan.”
“O ye of little faith.” He smiled against her neck then kissed her there. Just a little “trust me” kiss. A little “everything will be all right” kiss before she started slowly moving down.
“Got it,” she whispered after several minutes of struggling to remove the knife from his boot. “Now what?”
“Do you think you can work it open?”
“I’ll try.”
“Take your time,” he whispered, encouragingly, when she made a sound of frustration. “Just take your time.”
“It’s open.” She sounded breathless and winded after struggling and fumbling for several minutes.
“Good girl. I’m going to slowly turn to my other side, okay? When we’re back to back, you’re going to start sawing on the ropes around my wrists.”
“What if I cut you?”
“Darlin’, cutting me is the least of our worries.”
It took everything in him to roll to his back then maneuver to his opposite side. Sweat beaded on his brow and his stiff limbs screamed in protest. His head throbbed like a gong, his vision was blurry by the time he’d settled, exhausted, with his back against Elena’s—and she’d actually done most of the maneuvering to push them together.
“What if he sees us?”
“He won’t. It’s dark. He’s already half asleep,” Seth assured her. “Now start sawing. And don’t worry about cutting me. I’ll let you know if you hit an artery.”
“That is so not funny.”
“I’m with you on that one, darlin’. Just get it done. We’ll worry about bleeding later.”
IT TURNED OUT THAT it was Elena who was bleeding by the time she finally sawed through the ropes binding Seth’s wrists. The rope burned her wrists raw from the constant pressure and friction as she worked to free him. She toughed out the pain, knew it would be minor compared to what Clyde Devine had in mind for them.
“You’re through,” Seth whispered and slipped the knife out of her aching fingers. “Good girl.”
Amazed at the toll that small task had taken on her energy, she sagged in relief.
“What’s happening over there?”
She lifted her head, looked down the length of her body to the darkened camp area. “Jake’s still asleep. Cravets is awake,” she whispered. “And fidgeting. Wait. He’s getting up.”
“Fake sleep,” Seth ordered.
Heart hammering, Elena closed her eyes and made her body relax, made herself lay as still as stone as the crunch of Cravets’ footsteps on the rough ground grew closer.
She heard him stop at their feet, stand there for a moment, then turn and limp away.
She lifted her head, watched as he walked in ever larger circles, as if trying to keep himself awake with exercise. Then he disappeared behind a rock—probably to relieve himself.
“He’s out of sight,” she said, energized by the excitement of a possible opportunity to escape.
Seth sat up, leaned forward and made quick work of the rope around his ankles, then around hers.
“Hurry,” she whispered as he moved to her hands and quickly freed her. “He might come back soon.”
Her shoulders ached with the sudden release, her entire body screamed with pain as her stiff joints suddenly shifted.
“Are y
ou … are you going after Jake’s gun?’
“Darlin’, the way my head’s spinning I’d probably fall flat in his lap. Let’s just get the hell out of here,” Seth whispered, tucked the Leatherman back in his boot and rolled to his feet.
He immediately dropped flat on his face.
“Oh, God.” Elena bent down to help him up. “Can you walk?”
“Yeah,” he said weakly, and on a wobbly effort rose to all fours. With her help, he pushed to his feet. Staggered and sagged against her. “I … I can walk.”
She glanced back toward the boulder, certain Cravets would appear any second and level the gun on them.
“Come on.” Seth let her sling his left arm over her shoulder to steady him. “Go, go, go.”
With one hand latched onto the wrist hanging over her shoulder, her other arm wrapped around his waist, Elena moved.
He weighed a ton and she knew he was struggling to stay upright but she didn’t care. Adrenaline spiked through her body in huge, fortifying waves, giving her the strength she needed to carry not only her weight but a good share of his.
The night was dark, the ground uneven and mined with rocks, spindly clumps of brittle bushes and barrel cactus. More than once, she tripped, caught herself then rushed ahead. She had no idea where she was going. Away. All she could think about was getting away from them.
Then she heard it. A foul curse. The echoing anger of a heated argument and she knew that Benny had returned to the camp, found them gone. Awakened Jake.
“So much for our head start,” Seth said, sounding winded. “Head for the river.”
Elena swallowed hard. The river. Her stomach dropped like a skydiver in free-fall. She had an awful feeling she knew where this was going.
A gunshot rang out in the dark, immediately followed by the jump of earth at their feet.
She ran faster, ignoring Seth’s moan of pain as he struggled to keep up with her.
“Stop right there!” Jake roared and fired again.
Missed again. Cursed and howled like a wild animal.
A series of rapid gunshots followed. Shots in the dark. Any one of which could hit their mark any second, but they jumped in the earth around them, ricocheting off rock formations.
“Move,” Seth demanded and somehow found the strength to dig a little harder, run a little faster.
“You can’t get away from me!” Jake shouted, sounding winded and pissed and a whole lot desperate. “I won’t let you get away from me!”
He was less than a hundred yards behind them now and closing fast. His voice grew closer every second.
Just as the river had grown closer. They’d reached the end of the line. Stood on a precipice overlooking the swiftly running current forty feet below.
“Tell me you can swim,” Seth said.
Elena nodded. “I can swim.”
The next thing she knew she was free-falling in midair, arms flailing, her scream caroming off the canyon walls as she plummeted off the cliff toward the muddy depths of the wild Colorado.
SIX
THE FIRST THING THAT registered was pressure. On his lungs, in his ears. The next was the current. Swift and reckless and strong. Then the cold set in. And finally snapped Seth to his senses.
Sensing he was about at the end of his capacity to hold his breath, Seth kicked his way to the surface. Burst through on a gasp only to have the current suck him under again.
This time he was ready. He pushed, clawed, muscled his way above the waterline, sucked in air and searched the dark ahead for something—anything—to grab on to as the river propelled him forward at warp speed. He found it in an uprooted tamarisk tree, snagged a root as the river whisked by, determined to wash him all the way to the gulf—or drag him under again or beat him to death on the rocky rapids in the shallows farther downstream.
Hanging on for his life, fighting for breath, he searched frantically for Elena. Could see nothing but the rush of water and dark shadows stretched out like ghosts along the shore on either side of him. Then one of those shadows moved.
“Elena!” he yelled above the low baritone rumble and hissing roar of the rapids less than a hundred yards downstream.
“Seth!”
She was within a few yards of him, clutching a boulder while the water waked around her like liquid in a blender, trying to dislodge her from her precarious grip and drag her further away.
“I … I can’t hang on much … longer!”
“You can!” he shouted above the rushing water. “You can do it! I’m coming.”
Head cleared by the cold and by panic for Elena, he worked his way toward her, grabbing the next root, letting go, hand over hand, floating quickly to her side.
He wedged himself against the boulder, grabbed for her outstretched hand. Missed.
Grabbed again.
And latched on just as her other hand let go.
“I’ve got you! I’ve got you!” he assured her, slowly pulling her in while cascading water washed around his head and the current did its damnedest to tug her away.
Finally, he reeled her to his side, shifted until she was wedged between him and the boulder while the cold Colorado washed around them in a swift, deadly caress.
“You hurt?” he asked against her soaking hair, yelling to be heard above the roar of the rapids ahead.
She shook her head, her body quaking with cold against him. “N … no. Fr … reezing.”
Not really freezing, but close enough. Hypothermia was a real possibility with the water temp running a very cold fifty-something.
“We need to get out of here. Hang on. Just hang on.”
He searched the shoreline. Less than two yards of wildly rushing water lay between them and relative safety. He reached for an overhanging tamarisk root. Missed. Stretched and tried again. This time he caught it.
“Turn around,” he ordered. “And hang on to me.”
Very slowly and carefully, her limbs stiff with cold and fatigue, she maneuvered her body against the boulder until she was facing him.
“Atta girl. Now wrap yourself around me like a monkey. That’s it. Don’t let go. Whatever happens, do not let go, okay?”
Shivering uncontrollably, she nodded, clung.
He paced himself, puffed in several deep breaths and took the plunge. With only the root to hold them both, he swung their weight toward the shore. The root snapped when they were halfway there. They dropped back into the current like stones and the Colorado had them in her grasp again.
The water sucked them under as they swirled and spun, at the mercy of the river intent on claiming them as her own.
Then he hit solid rock, felt the air burst out of his lungs on a rush, gasped on a spear of pain as his ribs took the brunt of the crash. Never letting go of Elena, he wrapped his free arm around a stone spire that rose out of the water like a tree trunk and saved their lives.
“We’re okay, now,” he panted into her hair. “We’re … okay.”
Several deep breaths later, he mustered the strength to drag them the rest of the way out of the water and up onto the damp, sandy bank.
Where he collapsed. Flat on his back, beyond feeling pain in his head or ribs. Barely believing he was on solid ground with Elena spread out on his chest. Panting. Gasping. Choking up water and battling to catch her breath.
His hand felt like it weighed a ton as he lifted it, cupped her head. “So … that was refreshing, huh?”
She breathed deep. Managed to lift her head. “You’ve got a … strange sense of humor, King.”
He smiled into the night. “And you like it.”
She made a weak sound of exasperation. “Yeah. I like it.”
He wrapped his arms around her, held her trembling body tight. “We’re not out of the woods yet, you know that, don’t you? They’re going to come looking for us.”
“May … maybe they’ll think we … drowned.”
“Maybe. But they’ll still look.”
She was quiet for a long moment as she s
quirmed closer to the warmth of his body. “How f-f-f … far downstream do you th-th-th … think we rode the river?”
“Hard to say. Half a mile if we’re lucky. Less if we’re not. Can’t figure they’ll try to find a path down in the dark. At least we’ve got that in our favor. Jake and Cravets are not outdoorsmen. They aren’t dressed for hiking. They’ll lick their wounds until morning. Start their search at first light.”
The violence of her shivering alarmed him.
“In the meantime, we’ve got to warm you up.”
“And you’re going to d-d-d … do that how?”
“You know how.”
“Oh, nnnn … not that old cliché,” she sputtered, but there was a faint smile in her voice.
“Yeah, that one,” he said, admiring her grit. “Lucky for me. Can you sit up?”
Her entire body trembled as she pushed herself up and sat on the rocky shore beside him.
“Come on. I’ll help you.”
She didn’t say a word. She just lifted her violently quaking hands over her head and let him strip off her wet shirt. Huddled into herself when he went to work on her boots then tugged them off along with her sodden socks. Lifted her hips after he’d worked the zipper on her fly and let him shimmy the wet cloth down her legs until she was shivering in her bra and panties.
“Hang on,” he said gently as he stood and tested his balance. Iffy, but better than he’d expected.
As quickly as he could, he stripped down to his boxers then spread their clothes out to dry on the branches of spindly willow and salt cedar limbs and on rocks that still held the residual heat from the sun. Then he hurried back to her side.
“Black,” he said easing down beside her where she sat on a small patch of coyote willows and horsetail grass in her black bra and bikini panties. “Even better than red.”
“One … track … mmm … mind,” she stuttered between chattering teeth as he drew her tightly against him, fusing their flesh together so their body heat would combine and draw from each other and eventually increase both her body temp and his.
