Wolfsbane (28 page)

“I have blisters in places I can’t mention, but you keep pushing me, taunting me.” She batted her hair from her face. “I don’t know who you think you are—”

“I’m the man,” he said with a grin and a pant, “who just got you to hike another twenty minutes.”

Dani stopped short. Glanced back up the hillside. A bubble of disbelief worked its way through her throat and came out sounding an awful lot like a giggle. She slapped his chest. “You could’ve asked nicely.”

“You were beyond that.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I know you.”

And they were on their way again. She bit through the temptation to complain and whine. Or to cry. He was trying to get her to safety. She knew that. But it hurt … hurts on top of hurts radiated through every pore of her body. Combat training could
not
prepare her for this. Stumbling onward, she barreled into him and yelped.

He grunted and shoved her back. “Quiet.”

Dani peeked over his shoulder. And sucked in a breath.

Crouched and peering through a grove of unruly trees, Canyon considered the anemic structure. One side seemed to have collapsed. The roof canted toward the south. The brush around and leading to
what should be the front stood knee high. Taller in some spots. But not trampled or shorn. More like … abandoned.

No light escaped through the thin slats, but that didn’t mean anything. With plenty of daylight, if someone lived there, they’d want to preserve whatever they had as fuel for a lamp. No electricity meant an alternate form of fuel and light.

“Think we can go in?” Roark whispered from behind his left shoulder.

Checking for inhabitants could prove hazardous—deadly if they’d stumbled upon the
wrong
people. Rebels. VFA. But with the drenching rain, getting thrashed in the river, and hiking for twenty-six hours without sight or sign of civilization, they needed shelter and food. This crumbling shed wouldn’t provide food—unless there were canned goods. Canyon highly doubted it. But they could at least dry out for a while. Keep the rain off their backs, especially with the clouds gathering in the distance.

“Stay here.” Hunched, Canyon scuttled out of the trees. Intentionally, he lightened his movement across the swamp-like field. Another ten feet … five … As he squatted at the southeast corner, he felt his boots sinking. Silky soft weeds swayed in the muggy breeze and tickled his face as he took in the surroundings. Searched the tree line for Roark. Smart girl. She’d stayed out of sight.

Canyon shifted around to the east wall. Sidled along to where it leaned outward, as if reaching for the trees it’d once stood among. Carefully he peered between the slats. Blinding darkness. Slivers of light peeked through from the other side and provided enough visibility that he could see cobwebs sparkling in the beams. Tipped over furniture. A critter scurried along a horizontal plank that lined the western wall. Animals. Cobwebs. But no humans.

If they were around, they’d kept their shanty in disarray to fend off intruders. Doubtful. But he wouldn’t rule it out.

Deftly, he poked his head forward, searching for owners.

No one. Taller grass.

A board creaked.

His pulse slammed through his veins. It wasn’t him. He had kept clear of the planks.

Creak!

A resounding thunk was soon followed by a gentle swish. Only then did he see the raccoon racing through the field away from him. Time to pony up and see if he was the only biped home. As he slowly pushed
to his feet, he drew the SOG from his side pant pocket and extended the blade. Crisscrossing he made his way to the door. He yanked the door open.

Squawk! Squawk!

A large black bird flew at him.

Heart thrumming as he raised an arm to shield himself, he ducked as the bird flailed past. Feathers dusted his face. Fire sliced through his right forearm. Stuffing aside the surprise he surveyed the shack. Empty. Dry.

He let out a weighted breath. The bird had upended his defenses. Had anyone else been here, they could’ve taken him without much of a fight. Holding the door, he stretched around the building and waved to Roark.

He started when she stepped from the woods, parallel to his location, not where he’d left her. She’d been moving into position, moving closer. And fast. Nice not to have to act like a drill sergeant. She knew what needed to be done and did it. Roark swept around him into the shanty.

As he let the door close, his gaze surfed the surrounding debris. “Find something to barricade the door.”

Together, they carried a broken table and propped it against the door. Canyon rigged a rope around a counterbalance, effectively anchoring the door shut. “It’s not much, but with the clouds coming, we should be safe. Soon as it lets up, we need to move out and find a town.”

Roark turned toward him—light beams seemed to tease her hair and face as she moved. “Is that smart?”

“It’s vital. We have to clear out before we’re found.”

“Then why stop here?”

The ground shook. A rumble snaked through the air.

He raised his eyebrows. The skies had answered for him.

“More rain.” She let out a long sigh.

“It’s your fault.”

She whirled on him, eyes wide. “What?”

Canyon shrugged. “You said it was rainy season.”

Lips parted, she stared but said nothing. No doubt trying to discern whether he was teasing or serious.

He kept the smile and laugh to himself.

“Then the river was your fault.”

“How do you figure?”

Hands planted on her hips, she stood firm. “You said we were safe. Then the tree hit the Hummer and knocked us into the river.”

Though he tried to stop the smile, it snaked into his lips. When she returned with a smile, it warmed him. Deep, deep inside. And angered him. He shoved it aside and refocused. “Grab some rack time. I’ll keep watch.”

“Sleep? I can’t sleep”—she raised her hands—“in the middle of all this.”

Wanna bet? She’d tripped twice and fallen once in the last half hour. He’d wager Roark would sleep within minutes of lying down. “You’re dead on your feet.” When her mouth opened, he shook his head. “Don’t argue. Get some rest while we can.” He pointed to the back corner. “It’s dry over there.”

Roark surveyed the shack. “Considering your track record, I’ll try the opposite side.”

Again, he grinned. Boards creaked and groaned as she settled into a corner. Curled on her side, she tucked her hand under her head. Canyon jerked a three-legged chair toward the wall where the leaning boards gave him an inch of space to watch for trouble. If he straddled the chair and used the wall for support, he could make it work. Seated, he crossed his arms over his chest and rested his head against the wood.

The dull throb of exhaustion pounded through his legs and arms. He yawned. Falling asleep wasn’t a worry. His senses were on high alert. This territory hauled out the demons of his past. The jungle so familiar yet unfamiliar. The smells similar yet strange.

I will keep my mind and body clean, alert, and strong, for this is my debt to those who depend upon me
.

The words from the Special Forces creed echoed in his mind. He owed a great debt … to her. As the thoughts assailed him, the heavens opened up their bounty again, dumping more rain. Drops sailed through gaps and some streamed down from cracks, slicking the walls. The storm washed away the cobwebs in his mind, that tragic night alive and fresh.

She had mumbled something about her mother, then raced off. He was too busy fighting his own panic as he screamed into the coms to call off the attack. The coordinates were wrong. Had to have been.

Canyon pinched the bridge of his nose.
Shut it out. Shut it out
. Couldn’t go there now or he’d lose focus. And he
would
keep his mind and body clean, alert, and strong. For Roark. For Range. To bring Roark home to Range.

Something inside him twisted and knotted. He wanted to curse. Their names even sounded alike. Well, enough. Maybe they belonged together.

As darkness and rain dragged them into the night, he noticed a dull halo hovering over the valley below. He strained to decipher what gave off the glow. Lights?

That much illumination meant considerable light—electricity. The thin golden strand stretching across the blackened and wet landscape meant there was a town at least a day’s journey. Hours of walking. Could Roark make it?

She would. Because that’s the type of woman she was—rock solid. When he’d assessed her shoulder at the river, he couldn’t believe how mangled it was. After he reset it, she hollered—he’d done a lot worse when he had his reset after games with his brothers—but she worked through it. Even now, hours later, she made no complaint. He doubted she ever attempted anything without finishing it. They had that in common. His mom called him obsessed. His dad called it focused.

Maybe that’s why it’d been so hard to let go of Roark: obsession. That’s what it felt like, her beauty—inside and out—digging into his gray matter with a death grip.

He thrust his head back against the wood. Pain darted down his neck. Good. Maybe he’d remember that the next time he got stupid. Even if Range hadn’t set his heart on her, Canyon was too screwed up to deserve a woman like her. SOG in hand, he drew the blade along his pants and allowed the splinter of moonlight to skid off the steel.
Cut her loose
.

Elbows propped on his knees, he hung his head.
God … I’ve tried … tried to do right so many times and it backfires. But this … Roark … Help me …

He couldn’t finish the prayer. It was wrong to pray and ask for help. Wrong because he didn’t want help. He wanted Roark.

Flipping the blade closed, he let his gaze wander to the side, over the rain-slicked boards, past the crate with a can on it, beyond it to the corner … to Roark. Chin on his shoulder, he watched her sleep and slid the knife back into his pocket, hooking the clip on his material. Shadows and darkness shrouded her face, but he could make out the contours of her body. Enough for his vivid imagination to spring to life.

Canyon fisted a hand against his lips.
Curse it all!

He’d screwed up once. Divided the family. He couldn’t—
would not
—do it again. That mistake had pushed him into the Army. Not enough pain of punishment, so he went into the Green Berets. Which led to Tres Kruces. And destroyed everything important in his life, including … Chesa.

The massacre walled off his heart.

Even if Roark gave herself to him, it wouldn’t be fair. He could never provide what she needed and deserved. Because as much as he wanted her, he could never again commit.

The revelation coiled around his mind, drowning his ill-placed longing for the woman sleeping just a few feet away. Implicitly trusting him to protect her.

Just like Chesa.

Canyon stomped to his feet. The chair clattered against the floor.

He cringed, hoping he hadn’t woken her, but he couldn’t look. Why was it easier to live with and train a hundred non-English-speaking villagers than to deliver one woman to safety? What if everyone ended up dead again?

Canyon pinched the bridge of his nose. What time was it—could he take more? He shrugged. Two more wouldn’t hurt. He dumped two tablets into his mouth and swallowed.

“You okay?” Doused in sleep, her soft sultry voice reached through the night and clenched his heart.

Snap!

Yanking the SOG out, Canyon spun toward the north wall.

DAY TWO

W
hat is wrong with me, Mama?”

Wiping the tears from her face, I tried to calm my daughter. “It is normal—”

She buried her face in my chest. “It is not! Mary already carries Maut’s baby, and he took her only two months past. Bayani took me four months ago. Why does his child not grow in me?”

“Be at peace, Chesa. When it is right, it will happen.”

“But I heard him talking—orders came for them to prepare to leave.” She cried harder and louder. “He is going to leave me and with no child. What will I do? No man will have me after I have been taken by an outsider.”