by Katie Ruggle
“You fell.” Her voice quavered as she mentally relived the moment when he went down. “Hit your head on a rock.” She reached toward the spot and hovered her fingers over it without touching the lump, for fear of hurting him. “I chased you until you got stuck on a rock, and then I hauled you out and did CPR.” Her gaze fell to his chest. “I didn’t break any of your ribs, did I? The instructor said that’s common.”
His mouth actually quirked, and she wanted to yell at him that this wasn’t a time for smiling or laughing or any type of amusement, because he’d come much too close to dying for anything to be funny for a very long time. “My ribs are fine,” he said. “My head, though…” He reached up and, unlike her, actually probed the spot where the rock had connected with his skull. His expression went blank in a way that she took as a wince of pain.
“Concussion?” she asked, still so off-balance by his almost dying that checking his other injuries was strange, making her feel as if they were concentrating on the wrong thing.
“Doubt it.” He went to stand, and she hurried to scramble to her feet so she could help balance him. Once upright, she reached for him and swayed, not sure if she was clinging to him to help her balance or his. Either way, it was good to feel the living tension in his muscles and the warmth of him after he’d been so cold and still.
She frowned, sliding a hand under his single wet layer to feel the skin over his abs. The physical exertion of performing CPR had warmed her, thawing her fingers and toes, but his skin felt cooler than usual, even clammy.
“Not that I’m complaining,” he said, the words sounding soft around the edges, “but is now the time to feel me up?” He wasn’t quite slurring, but she still looked at him sharply.
“You’re too cold,” she said, looking around them for the first time. “Should we start a fire?” There were plenty of downed branches and other fuel around, but they were all wet, thanks to the melting snow. Also, unless Henry knew how to light a fire by rubbing two sticks together—which wouldn’t really surprise her, knowing Henry—they didn’t have any way to start it.
“Where are our other clothes?” he asked, taking in the area as well.
“You dumped them all in the river when you went down like a felled redwood.” There was a tiny edge to her voice that she knew was because she was worried, but she still felt bad about scolding him for something that wasn’t his fault. “Sorry. You couldn’t help it. The branch hit you hard.”
“The branch. Right.” Comprehension lit his eyes, and she knew he was remembering what had happened. “C’mon. We need to walk.” As he turned, his legs wobbled and he started to go down. She tried to catch him, but his weight carried her to the ground with him. He managed to turn and take most of the impact of the fall, while she tumbled down on top of him.
The sign of weakness panicked her, and she hurried to roll off him. She knew he had to be in terrible condition to fall from just taking a step, and her stomach twisted into knots as she crouched next to his head.
“Sorry.” He grimaced, already trying to push up to a sitting position.
“Just take a minute,” she said, pressing his shoulder with her palm. She wasn’t strong enough to keep him down if he really tried to get up, but he must’ve agreed that it was a good idea for him to rest for a moment, since he stopped attempting to rise. The fact that he was willing to lie there scared Cara almost as much as when he’d fallen.
She rubbed his arm, almost recoiling when she felt how cold he was. Suddenly concerned that hypothermia was making him compliant, she stretched out over him, plastering her front to his. His mouth quirked, that wry expression so Henry-like that she almost sobbed again with relief.
“What are you doing?” he asked, his words shuddering slightly as his muscles shook, his body doing its best to warm him.
“Getting you warm.” She felt her own shivers ripple through her as her clammy clothes stuck to her chilled skin, and she made a face. “Well, warmer, at least.”
“We can’t stay.” His teeth clicked together audibly. “Abbott…”
“I know.” Tucking her face into his too-cool neck, she chafed her hands up and down his arms, trying to generate some heat. She wished she were bigger—or at least had a dry blanket for him. Even if they’d had time, there was no way she could start a fire, not without dry matches. Why hadn’t she done Girl Scouts as a kid?
Henry wrapped both his arms around her, holding her tight to his shivering body. “You’re so nice,” he said.
Her head popped up, worry stabbing at her insides. “You’re not going into shock, are you?”
“What?” His eyes looked clear, and the pupils were symmetrical, giving her hope that he was thinking clearly. “No, I’m okay—just cold.”
Despite his words, she continued studying his face closely.
His brows drew together, even as his mouth twitched with amusement. “I can’t give you a compliment without you thinking I’m delirious?”
“Well…”
His huff was shaky but clearly a laugh, and relief trickled through Cara at the sound.
“You don’t normally say things like that,” she said, attempting to rub some warmth back into his sides. The places where their bodies touched were starting to heat, with just the extremities still numb with cold. “You tend to show your love in actions, rather than with words.”
When he stilled, she realized what she’d implied. Love.
“Not that you…umm… Are you feeling warmer?”
“Yeah.” His gaze stayed locked with hers, unreadable emotion there, before dropping to her mouth. “A lot warmer.”
The flash of heat that shot through her made her forget ever being cold. She ducked her head, not even realizing that she’d moved until she felt his breath on her lips. Not the time or place, Cara! Knowing that her inner killjoy was right, she pulled back and tried to focus on practical things, but it was hard. Henry Kavenski had just professed that he didn’t not love her. “Did you want to try to stand?”
As if he could read her mind, his mouth crooked up, but the look in his eyes was filled with affection and something else that she didn’t want to think about too hard, not when she was trying to be practical. “Sure.” Instead of getting to his feet, though, he pulled her tighter against him for a long moment before finally releasing her.
Reluctantly, Cara peeled herself off him, immediately missing their full-body contact. Her skin cooled as she stood, and she hopped a little, trying to warm up again. Henry pushed himself up to a sitting position and then paused for a moment, just long enough for her to start worrying that she was going to have to haul him over her shoulder and carry him to Red Hawk.
She reached down to offer help, but he pushed himself up on his own, getting steady on his feet before taking her outstretched hand. The press of his palm against hers made her brave, and she stood on tiptoes to say quietly in his ear, “I don’t not love you, too.”
He gifted her with a full, gorgeous smile, using his grip on her hand to pull her in flush to him. “We’ll make it,” he promised, cupping her jaw so she met his resolute gaze. “You’ll be safe.”
“I know.” She didn’t even hesitate. With Henry, she always felt secure.
His eyes blazed with heat and something else, something like longing, and then his lips were on hers. She returned his kiss just as fiercely, determined to keep him safe as well. Breaking the kiss, he met her eyes for another intense moment before reluctantly releasing her and turning around. When he swayed, she reached out to steady him, but he managed to catch his balance. He started walking upriver, and she bit her lip with concern. Despite his best efforts, he was obviously not his usual steady self.
“Are you sure we shouldn’t get you warmer first?” she asked, hurrying to catch up.
“Physical activity will work,” he said. If she didn’t hear the slightest burr in his voice, she would’ve felt
a lot better, but she had a feeling that Henry wouldn’t show any weakness…until he collapsed again. “Besides, the sun’s out.”
Hiding her anxious concern, Cara followed him along the bank. They were so close to safety. All she had to do was climb a cliff, possibly carrying an almost-drowned Henry. No problem. Despite the overwhelming task ahead of them, she was determined. He’d kept them safe up until this point. Now it was her turn.
Chapter 17
A short time later, Henry came to an abrupt halt.
“What is it?” Cara asked.
He pointed to the beginning of a faint path that led up the slope before moving toward it. “Here’s our trail.”
As she followed, she tried very hard to be grateful for an actual path rather than their trailblazing method of getting down to the river. Her adrenaline rush was fading, however, and exhaustion was starting to set in. Her legs felt like they weighed eighty pounds each, and her soaked boots weren’t helping. Every uphill step was an effort.
Henry is alive, she told herself, trying to think of all the positives to take her mind off how much she just wanted to collapse and sleep for a week. The sun is shining. The wind isn’t blowing…too hard. No one is shooting at us…at this second. Henry is alive. She realized that she’d counted that one twice, but it—he—was worth a double count.
The thought of him brought her gaze to his back just in time to see him sway, only catching himself from falling over by grabbing the twisted branch of a stunted pine tree and using it to hold himself upright.
“Whoa,” she said, hurrying to get close enough to support him in case he started going down again. “You okay?” It was a stupid question. She knew that as soon as it left her mouth. If he’d been even close to okay, he would never have wavered.
“Yeah.” His paleness under his tan and unfocused eyes told a different story. “I just need to…sit for a second.” His knees softened, his body sagging as if he was about to plop down right on the trail.
“No, no, no,” she said, her tone halfway between panic and sternness as she looped her arms around him in a hug that was meant to keep him standing. “No sitting. We’re walking. That’ll get you warm and to a hospital, both at the same time.” She hoped that Red Hawk had a hospital—or a doctor, at least.
He leaned in to her for too long a moment, and she had to lock her knees to not collapse under his weight, but then he straightened with a grunt of effort. She eyed his face, which didn’t look any better than it had a minute ago, but at least he was standing independently.
Although he didn’t say anything, he gave a grim dip of his chin and started trudging up the path again. His pace was slower than normal, and every so often a step would waver, threatening to dump him onto the muddy path. Forgetting her own dragging exhaustion, she focused on Henry’s back, trying to push him up the slope with just the strength of their combined will.
He paused, swaying slightly, and Cara knew she had to get him moving again. “Let’s go, big guy,” she said in the most upbeat tone she could manage. Resting her hands on his back, she pressed him forward ever so slightly, afraid that too hard a push would knock him over onto his face, and then she’d never get him moving again. “I didn’t get soaked dragging you out of that water so that you could fall over and die on this trail.” He gave her a glance over his shoulder, and she was enormously happy to see a spark of sardonic amusement. That was the Henry she knew, the one who’d manage to get up this mountain.
He started walking again, slow and close to stumbling at first, but then he seemed to catch his stride. Without seeing his face, she wasn’t sure how close he was to total collapse, but at least he was moving forward and wasn’t swaying at the moment. The path gradually turned from what appeared to be a narrow deer trail into a wide, well-worn hiking route, and Cara was so grateful for its relatively even surface that she wanted to cry. Instead of having to navigate their way up the mountain, they could just grimly follow the trail, trusting that it would lead them to civilization.
Once they were far enough from the river that the trees thinned again, the wind picked up, cutting through her thin single layer. It’ll dry our clothes, she thought, reaching for positives even as she clenched her teeth together to keep them from chattering. Henry was visibly shivering, making dread cling to her insides.
When she wasn’t staring at him, she was checking for Abbott over her shoulder. As she glanced behind them for the thousandth time, a movement down by the river caught her eye. She immediately focused on the spot below them, but she couldn’t see whatever it was that had grabbed her attention. Maybe it’s a deer, or a bear, or men with guns… Swallowing hard, she turned her attention back to a wavering Henry.
“Faster,” she ordered, desperate to warm him up and put more distance between them and whatever was by the river. He gave her an incredulous look, but his not-quite-focused eyes made her even more determined. “Let’s go. Move it. You said you went to something like boot camp, so show me how it’s done. We’re running this trail now.” Her body screamed a protest as she picked up a jog, but she ignored it, everything in her concentrating on the man in front of her.
His steps picked up a little speed, but he was still just walking, and the toes of his boots dragged across the rocky surface of the path. She darted another quick glance into the canyon. Even though she couldn’t see anything, her heart beat faster as nervous tension slid up her spine.
“Fine,” she said, putting all the attitude she could dredge up into her words. That was all that was left except for panic and terror. “I’m passing you, then. Try to keep up, slowpoke.” She darted around him, taking the lead and hating that she couldn’t keep her eyes on him in case he started to go down. When she heard the shuffle of his boots behind her picking up speed to a stumbling jog, the flood of relief was so strong it made her dizzy.
She allowed herself a glance over her shoulder to see that Henry was just a few strides behind her, and his gaze looked a little more focused…as he stared directly at her ass. She cleared her throat loudly, and his eyes locked with hers as his steps became more even and measured.
“Nice view,” he said, and she couldn’t even be embarrassed, because she was just so thrilled that he was looking almost like himself—well, a completely worn-out version of his normal self.
“Thank you,” she said primly, delighted to see the corner of his mouth twitch up in a Henry-type grin.
The rest of the hike was brutal. They alternated between jogging and walking when the slope got too steep or the footing was tricky. Henry kept his focused expression, but the pallor underneath his tan grew worse, and his features drew tight with strain. Cara was so focused on keeping an eye on him and also making sure she didn’t fall over herself that she almost ran into the trailhead post.
“Careful,” he warned, his voice gruffer than normal.
She dodged just in time to not hit the sign head-on, and then stopped and stared for a full five seconds at the etched letters that proclaimed Red Hawk was point-two miles straight ahead. “Did we…” She didn’t even want to dare to hope, in case it was an illusion and they had ten miles of upward slogging to go. “Did we actually make it?”
“Looks like,” he said in words that were barely more than a grunt. She stared at the sign once again, still marveling that their hike from hell was almost over.
Henry grunted again, although this time it sounded more like air had been knocked from his lungs. Whirling around, Cara jerked back, bumping into the trailhead sign she’d just been so gleeful to see.
Geoffrey Abbott stood between them and the safety of Red Hawk, holding a pistol aimed right at them.
Cara took a sideways step, trying to get between the two men, but Henry must’ve had the same idea, since their sides bumped together. If she hadn’t been hyperfocused on the gun in Abbott’s hand, she would’ve glared at Henry. Why did he always get to protect her? Why couldn’t he let h
er save him from danger every once in a while?
“Kavenski,” Abbott said, a certain smugness in his tone that exponentially increased Cara’s desire to punch him in the face. “You know, all of this could’ve been avoided if you’d just given me what I wanted the first time I asked.”
When Henry didn’t respond, Cara asked, “What did you want?” She needed to keep him talking until her racing brain could come up with a plan that didn’t end with her or Henry getting shot.
Abbott’s gaze flickered toward her. “Just for him to tell the truth. That’s all.”
“What truth?” She hated that her voice shook when she wanted to sound as impassive as Henry.
“Your boyfriend didn’t tell you?” Abbott sounded positively gleeful. “He’s taking the fall for someone—someone I’d love to see finally go down.”
“Why?” Now Cara wasn’t just drawing out the conversation to distract Abbott. She was honestly interested in why Henry wasn’t fighting the false charges with every resource he had.
“That I don’t know. Kavenski? Care to share?”
“I have the evidence you need,” Henry said, his voice deadly calm. “I’ll take you to it. Hurt Cara, and I’ll kill you.”
His flat tone made her shiver with its utter certainty. Even if she hadn’t seen him take down two of Abbott’s men on the trail, she wouldn’t have doubted his willingness to kill for her safety. In a morbid, violent way, she almost found it sweet. As Abbott’s attention turned to Henry, Cara let her eyes dart around, trying to find someone or something that she could use to get them out of this situation. A tiny movement in the brush a few feet away from Abbott’s feet caught her attention, and a rough plan began to form.
Tipping his head to the side, Abbott looked as if he was considering Henry’s offer, but then he offered a cold smile. “No. It’s not worth it. You’re too slippery for me, Kavenski. I’m cutting my losses.”
