Brave (2 page)

“I’m
too afraid not to make jokes.” She gave me a weak smile and I
had to look away quickly, or I would have been unable to drag my gaze
from her beautiful face. I tried not to admire what a trooper she was
being in the face of my anger.

I
knelt down, trying not to frighten her any more than she already was.
“Can you walk?”

She
shook her head. “I don’t think so.”

The
night had spiraled out of control—and the only thing that could
keep us alive was being in control. I was the only thing standing
between her and death. Helplessness meant death, and I’d met
that bastard up close and personal. He’d already done his
worst.

“All
right,” I said. “I’ll get you out of here.”
Adrenaline and exertion were the only things that kept me from
freezing to death.

“I
can’t leave without my backpack.”

“What?
You’ve got to be joking again!”

“I-It’s
d-d-down b-below,” she said shivering.

“This
is a pretty unstable place for us to be. I think you should forget
about it,” I tried to be firm.

“I
can’t,” she cried and those innocent-looking eyes widened
and filled with tears. And, I went to jelly just like that.
“P-p-lease, g-get it for m-me. I’m b-begging you.”
Her deep blue eyes pleaded with mine, her lower lip, plump and
trembling, her sorrow and panic pulling me under and drowning me in
her. And it was a helluva way to go. Like I had time for this, but I
couldn’t say no.

I
looked over the edge and saw it perched perilously on a small ledge.
It was pink and yellow with Winnie the Pooh on the face. I took a
deep breath and went over, using the rock face for leverage. As I got
to the ledge, it began to crumble. She screamed just as I caught the
strap. The damn thing was heavier than I expected. It wrenched my
shoulder. That grayness washed over me and I dangled from the rope,
fighting the memory, fighting the flashback and the gibbering demons
who waited to claim me.

“Are
you okay?” she yelled down, and I looked up to see her
determined expression, and the shining gratitude that I had been
willing to risk my life for Pooh. That expression galvanized me. I
latched on to her gaze, using her glorious blue eyes to anchor me,
and hung on, pushing the screaming memories, the demons, away from me
as if I was walking underwater.

I
couldn’t let the demons loose. She needed me!

“Don’t
scream!” I gritted out through clenched teeth. If she screamed,
the demons would consume me.

I
pulled myself up to her ledge and she grasped the backpack, clutching
it to her. She looked up at me with such appreciation, but I didn’t
want her to look at me like that. I wasn’t a hero. Heroes
didn’t run and hide. Heroes didn’t fail

“Thank
you. Thank you so much!”

It
seemed so surreal to be out here, without a shirt, without a jacket,
sharing a ledge in a blizzard with this beautiful woman.

“I
want you to put your arms around my neck and then wrap your legs
around my waist when I stand up. Hold on as tight as you can. Do you
understand?”

She
nodded, slipping her arms through the backpack, securing it to her
back.

“When
I get to the top, I’m going to stop so you can get off my
shoulders. I want you to crawl forward until you’re on solid
ground. Then I’ll come up. We need to move. This storm is about
to bury us.” Snow swirled around us, the wind savage as I
grasped her arm. As I lifted, she rose up on her good foot and I
swung her onto my back.

I
wasn’t prepared when she touched my bare shoulders. The contact
jarred me, made me curse softly between clenched teeth. Her legs
clamped around my waist and I bit my lip at the sensation. As soon as
she was situated, I began to climb, picking my way as carefully and
quickly as I could, using depressions or protrusions in the rock to
leverage us up. When I reached the top, I said, “Go, but be
careful.” She crawled off me and I clambered the rest of the
way up. By now the world was white.

I
easily found the stake and picked up the line that I had strung from
the deck. I couldn’t see the structure through the hard-blowing
snow. I slipped my arms under her and lifted. I was starting to get
really cold. She made a surprised sound as I hugged her to my chest.
She was light, warm, and smelled like heaven. It was as if someone
took a baseball bat to my senses and clubbed them open and aware,
filled with blood and pain.

I
didn’t need this as I trudged through the swirling snow with
her in my arms. After only moments of that angel face and those open
and blue eyes on my face as I walked, I wanted to snap at her to stop
looking at me. I climbed the stairs up to the deck and into the back
of the cabin. I kicked the door shut behind me. Through the kitchen
and into the living room, I dropped her on the couch like a live
grenade. But I couldn’t possibly run. I couldn’t get
away. I’d have to take the blast full out. She needed me.

And
the healer inside me was compelled to help her.

She
clutched her backpack and eyed me.

“What
the fuck did you think you were doing?” I shouted as soon as it
was safe to vent my adrenaline and fear over the sheer stupidity of
almost losing such a woman to that damn cliff.

“That’s
personal,” she said softly, and I found myself feeling like the
bad guy in this story.

“You’re
on my property. I have a right to ask.”

She
looked away, but not before she’d scanned me thoroughly, and
ignited a flash burn inside me.

The
demons laughed and danced, pushing against the flimsy safeguards I’d
built just at the edges of my vision.

She
lifted her chin and steel came into those blue eyes. “You can
ask all you want. I don’t have to answer.”

“What
is your name?”

“Alissa
Thompson. Yours?”

I
scowled at her.

“Or
you can just scowl at me.”

Geezus,
even her name was beautiful. I could barely stand to look at her. My
heart contracted and I turned my head away when she frowned. “Dakota
Grey,” I snapped.

“Well,
Dakota, I came here for my own reasons. I’d prefer not to share
them.”

“Even
though you barged onto private property?”

She
gave me a steady, I’m-not-talking look and didn’t say a
word.

“How
did you get here?” She didn’t look like Elsa, the woman
who haunted me, but her femininity and her blond hair reminded me of
her.

“I
drove my car, but had to abandon it below when it got stuck in a snow
bank, probably because I have no snow tires.”

“Unbelievable.”
I huffed out a really exasperated breath and rubbed my temple. “It
wouldn’t matter if your car was ready to start up and drive
off! You’re not going anywhere. You’re stuck here for
however long it takes for that monster out there to pass through.”

“What?”

“There’s
a blizzard. Did you think I was kidding?” I sent my hands
through my damp hair at the panic twisting in my gut. “You’re
stuck here, probably through Christmas.”

She
bit her plump bottom lip and my skin caught fire.
Not
what I needed, on top of everything else.

“Oh,
no! I can’t stay here.”

I
frowned at her, shaking my head. “You have no choice and
neither do I.”

Her
eyes narrowed at my snotty tone. “Well, with this kind of
hospitality it should be
such
a
jolly
holiday.”

I
leaned down and gritted out between my teeth. “You’re
lucky you’re not dead.

Alissa

Okay,
the gorgeous, ripped guy looming over me was really angry. I couldn’t
actually blame him, because falling off that cliff had been stupid. I
was lucky I wasn’t dead. But almost getting killed wasn’t
the only reason my heart beat faster. Not only was I safe and getting
warm, really warm, I had finally gotten a really good look at the man
who’d rescued me.

The
guy was
built
.
He had a powerful chest that tapered down to a lean waist and amazing
washboards like I have never seen in real life. His biceps bulged
with a glorious curve of muscle that literally made my mouth water.
Shocked at my reaction, I could only stare.

Then
there was his face. Thick, midnight black hair was brushed back off
his forehead, tapering down the sides of his temples and falling on
either side of his strong neck, just brushing the heavy muscles of
his shoulders. His broad forehead spanned above deep-set, pale eyes
with an intense gaze, with a firm chin and a hard jawline, a
prominent but narrow nose, and sharply defined cheekbones. When he
talked, the way he moved his mouth mesmerized me. His upper lip was
thinner than the bottom, and it looked yummy and oh-so-kissable.

His
chest started to heave as he met my eyes, and maybe I couldn’t
quite hide my awe, but instead of looking smug, he just looked more
freaked.

He
turned on his heel and left the room. I wasn’t sure if he was
coming back. The look on his face had been…tortured.

My
curiosity jumped up a notch. While I waited, hoping he’d be
back soon, I looked around. The cabin was beautiful, with its
rough-hewn logs, stunning furnishings with scattered Native American
throw blankets, and the huge fieldstone fireplace in front of me. I
wished Dakota…what a beautiful name for a beautiful man…would
put that fireplace to work, because it was getting chilly in spite of
the cabin’s sturdy construction.

He
finally came back into the room carrying a case. He’d put on a
blue plaid shirt and buttoned it almost to his chin. I felt
disappointed. Well, obviously, he couldn’t walk around half
naked. It was December, for God’s sake. But, still.

He
set the case down on the floor. “Let me look at your ankle,”
he said, the request for my permission in his voice, but the anger
still brushed each word.

I
took a deep breath, but not because of the pain, but at the thought
of those strong hands touching me.

I
slid my leg toward him and he grasped my foot, carefully removing the
boot. He pulled off my sock, then touched my bare ankle. He was so
gentle, and he huffed out a deep breath, as if he’d been
holding it too long. My skin prickled and awareness threaded through
me like a slow seduction. He moved my ankle around and I jumped at
the pain shooting through the joint.

“Sorry,”
he muttered. Then he slid his palm over my instep. His hand was hot
and rough with calluses, and I wanted more, just more.

And
there was definitely something about the man in front of me. Some
tragic air that seem to cling to him. I wasn’t exactly the most
intuitive person on the planet, but it was evident to me.

His
dark head was right at my waist, his six foot frame bent over. My
fingers itched to touch his hair, which was crazy. This man was a
complete stranger, and it would be stupid to start something when I
was stuck here for a few days. My mission for Charlie was my
priority.

“You
can set down the freaking backpack. I won’t touch it.”

I
set it on the floor, thinking of my promise to Charlie. I couldn’t
let my best friend forever down. I’d come here for the sole
purpose of making Charlie’s wish come true. It was about him,
and had nothing to do with getting lost in Dakota’s touch, or
falling into those enticing gray pools of his eyes.

I
wasn’t exactly a rebel, and I had gone outside the lines for
Charlie only because it was a necessity. My parents barely knew I was
alive, and Charlie was my real family. But in spite of their neglect,
my parents expected impeccable behavior and obedience. My father had
‘suggested’ I major in political science, but it’s
not the major I chose, and I wasn’t sure how my parents would
react. They were so indifferent toward me, I couldn’t imagine
they cared one way or the other what I was going to do with my life.
At twenty-two, I should be making my own decisions. With my
graduation in the spring, I would be free from my parents’
apathetic prison and strike out on my own.

The
struggle to get them to notice me, the tantrums and the anger, the
acting out, the withdrawing were all in my past. Now was a time to
move forward with what I planned for my future as soon as I carried
out this one final Christmas wish for Charlie.

Dakota
moved my ankle again and I grimaced, but the pain was minimal.

“It’s
not broken,” he said as he turned to the case and opened it.

“That’s
the most amazing first aid kit I’ve ever seen. Are you a
doctor?”

His
shoulders hunched and he said harshly, “No.”

“A
paramedic?”

“It’s
EMT, and again, no. I used to be one.”

“What
do you do now?”

He
completely ignored my question and said, “Your ankle is
sprained. It’s going to hurt for a little bit, but I’ve
got some ibuprofen. I’m going to wrap it and get you some ice
to put on it. The ace bandage will help with the swelling. So will
the ice.” He did what looked to me like a completely
professional wrapping job with the ace bandage, snug but not too
tight.

He
stood and left the living room. I was so thoroughly intrigued by him.
His looks and body aside, there was something about him.
Something…wounded. I knew about being wounded, and maybe that
was why I recognized it in him.

I
couldn’t forget how he’d come to my rescue, and it was
only natural to be thankful for his help. He’d hefted me up an
almost sheer rock face on his bare back. He’d carried me so
easily against that wide chest of his. But I knew that my response
wasn’t just gratitude for his heroic rescue. I wasn’t
exactly innocent. I’d dated in high school and some in college,
lost my virginity to a drummer I met at a roadhouse in California. It
hadn’t lasted, but he was amazing in bed.

But
even back then, I’d known that guy had been a boy. Dakota was a
man. He was at least twenty-five or twenty-six, and if he wasn’t
a doctor by now, he was still some kind of medical professional.