Rattled (25 page)

“Oh God, what am I supposed to do?” she whispered. “I have no experience with this kind of thing. This isn’t my life.” Why hadn’t Camie been the one to escape? She would have managed better. But Erin imagined being stuck back with those men and shivered. She should be thankful she wasn’t trapped. She’d gotten this far. As long as she could still move, she had to keep going.

Rain soaked through Erin’s clothes and chilled her skin. Her thighs felt stiff in her wet slacks, and her hands ached with the chill. The horse’s hooves hit the mud with the sound of splashing and sucking. She closed her eyes a moment and thought of Drew. She remembered his warm voice and how good and safe she’d felt in his arms. She struggled to hold that feeling of comfort. She tried to re-create the feeling she’d had when they made love under the stars, when she’d felt filled with joy and power. But that remained far out of reach.

Erin opened her eyes, pushed her soggy hair off her forehead, and peered ahead through the swirling mist and gray blur of rain. The canyon seemed to close off 50 feet ahead, a blank wall of stone across the path. Erin told herself it had to be an illusion. She knew from the overview in the helicopter that the arroyo went all the way to Silver Mountain. Of course, that didn’t mean the path was clear the whole way. If the canyon really ended in a sheer wall, she’d have to turn back and lose all that time.

She urged the horse faster, gripping his mane in her numb fingers. The rain plastered her hair to her skull and trickled into her eyes.

She wiped her sleeve across her face, though it did little to dry her skin. The wind kicked up and she shivered. She could hardly believe now that this was the desert or that she’d been on the verge of heat exhaustion the day before.

She squinted into the rain. Surely there must be some way through this dead end. She was almost to the cliff when she realized the canyon had twisted to the left. She could barely see it through the heavy rain and had mistaken the curving wall for a dead end. She followed the curve around, her pounding heart a faster counterpoint to the splash of the horse’s hooves as she waited to see what lay ahead.

The canyon walls closed in, narrowing to a passage like a hallway. The horse balked at entering the narrow gap. Already the ground was a muddy mess, and water sluiced through several inches deep.

“Maybe you know better than I do,” Erin said. “But I think we have to keep going now.”

She urged the horse through the narrow slot. She could have reached out and touched the walls. Water poured down the cliffs, forming shimmering waterfalls on either side of her. The sky was as dark as dusk. She peered through wet lashes at the gloom, hardly breathing, praying that the canyon would open up soon. The horse lifted his feet high, sucking against the mud.

In 30 feet they came out of the narrow slot and Erin almost cried with relief. The water was shallower, spread out over a wider area before it poured through the gap. The horse blew and tossed his head. “You said it,” Erin murmured. “Come on, let’s find a way out of here.”

The canyon widened and the sloping sides got shallower, though not yet shallow enough to climb, especially with the rain making the rocks slick and turning the dirt to mud. The rain poured down like a stream out of a fire hose. Erin could barely see the canyon walls on each side. As the canyon got even wider, she lost sight of one wall when she stayed close enough to see the other. She couldn’t guess which side might provide a better escape. She might be missing the perfect route up now, because she couldn’t see across the canyon in the rain. Should she zigzag back and forth, or would that waste more time?

Just keep moving, she told herself. You’re still alive. That counts for something.

She heard a distant roar. She thought at first it was a long rumble of thunder, but it kept going, growing louder.

Erin cried out. She’d never heard the sound before but she could only imagine one thing causing it. A flash flood, coming their way.

She kicked the horse, aiming for the shallowest slope she could see. “Come on, come on,” she yelled. “We have to go up!”

The slope seemed impossibly steep, maybe a 45 degree angle, covered with mud and loose rocks. She couldn’t imagine how the horse could get up it, but she tried to project only confidence. “You’re amazing,” she called out, leaning low over his neck. “I know you can do this.” She kicked, squeezing with her knees to guide him. The horse bunched his muscles, seeming almost to crouch before he leaped up the slope.

They went a few feet, hooves digging in and spraying mud.

They slid back.

The roaring grew louder, like a freight train screaming close. Erin leaned low over the horse, urging him with her voice, her body, her mind. The horse struggled up a few more steps. They were three feet above the canyon floor.

The roar grew deafening. Erin saw a wall of water rushing toward them. Dark shapes tumbled in the frothing white spray. Branches. A whole tree trunk. Boulders too large to put her arms around.

A scream rose in Erin’s throat. She turned it into words. “Go, go, run! Up! You can do it.” The horse whinnied and tossed his head. His hooves dug into the slope.

Slid.

Caught.

Pushed.

He stumbled, regained his balance. He started to twist sideways, his front hooves sliding down the slippery slope. Erin’s upper body swung in a dizzying arc and she clawed at his mane, her fingers too chilled to even feel the pain from her broken bone. The horse scrabbled at the mud, straightened, and got a little higher.

Erin heard the roar pass behind them and felt the spray splash up against her back. She didn’t turn to look, only clung to the horse and urged him on. The sloped seemed endless. They were above the rushing floodwaters, but one bad slip and they could skid or tumble all the way back into it, to be carried down the canyon for miles.

Time seemed to have stopped. Each moment dragged on for eternity. And still her mind focused on up, up.

Finally the horse’s front hooves hit the top of the cliff, skidded on the wet rock, and caught. He hauled himself up. They stood trembling, the horse steaming in the cold rain, Erin somehow both too hot and too cold. She sucked in gulps of air and ignored the rain pouring off her face and sticking her clothes to her skin. She ached. Every inch of her body. She knew her finger hurt from the tight grip on the horse’s mane, but she could hardly pull that pain out from the background of all the other aches.

She gave the horse a weak pat on his neck. “Bushels of apples. Carrots, sugar cubes, whatever you want. A medal, if you care about those things. You’re the best horse ever.”

She still had to get to Silver Valley. She hoped it wasn’t much farther, but she couldn’t tell with the rain and low clouds. She didn’t know what she’d do when they got there. Drew couldn’t possibly fly in this. She was expecting a miracle from him, and that wasn’t fair. “I can’t help it,” she said out loud. “I’m fresh out of miracles. I’ve used up my quota for the year.”

She started to feel stiff with cold. They had to keep moving. They weren’t done yet. She had to get the horse walking so he wouldn’t stiffen up after his intense exercise. But she could hardly move. She sat limp and trembling, almost nauseated with fatigue.

A flash of lightning split the air. The crack of thunder followed on top of it.

Blind and almost deaf, Erin could barely hear the horse’s scream as he reared up under her. She felt herself sliding.

She landed heavily in the mud and heard the horse’s hooves slapping the ground as he ran away.

Drew stared out the window at the pouring rain. Would it ever let up? People talked about New Mexico’s monsoons, storms that came in short, hard bursts. But this had been going for over an hour and showed no signs of stopping. He imagined Erin and Camie soaked to the bone, shivering as they huddled against some rock outcropping. Erin was still weak from her accident, still shaken from her snake encounter. More stress and she could get sick.

He wished he were there to warm her up.

Something moved in the dark street. Drew blinked and shook his head, then leaned closer to the window. A figure stumbled down the street, someone thin and hunched, clothes dragging and caked with mud. It took him a moment to believe it might actually be Erin, slogging through mud up to her ankles. It caked over her boots, giving them the look of clown shoes.

Drew leaped for the door and jerked it open. Erin spun toward him, swayed, and went down to her knees. Drew swore and waded through the mud. He grabbed her around the waist and hauled her to the office building. She was limp in his arms, a rag doll. He dragged her inside and kicked the door shut. They stood dripping in a puddle of mud. She slumped against his chest, and he knew if he let go she’d hit the ground.

She tipped back her face, pale, slicked with rain and smeared with mud, her eyes half closed and blurred with exhaustion. She smiled.

Drew hauled her up and kissed her. Her lips were cold as a corpse, but she opened her mouth and took him in. By the time he eased back, he thought she must be steaming. He certainly was. “What happened?” he asked. “Why are you here?”

She leaned her head on his shoulder. “It’s good to see you too.”

He gave her a little shake. “Erin, what’s wrong?”

She spoke as if each word was a struggle. “Those two men came. They got Camie. I ran. I had a horse but he got away. They had a gun.”

Drew’s arms tightened convulsively around Erin. Half a minute passed before he could speak. “Are you hurt?”

Her eyes were closed. “Don’t think so. Tired.”

Tired and cold. A good recipe for hypothermia. Drew dragged her to the coffeemaker, leaving a trail of wet mud. He poured a fresh mug and held her with one arm while he lifted it to her lips. “Drink this.”

She choked down the hot, strong coffee. She made a face but her eyes looked clearer. “I don’t like coffee.”

“Good. Come on, into the shower.” He carried her into the bathroom and propped her against the counter as he turned the water on hot and stripped off her clothes. She started to shiver. “Do you think you can stand in there on your own?” Not that he’d mind getting in there with her, but that could lead to distractions, and from what she’d said, they couldn’t afford the time. Besides, the shower was so small that even when he was alone he had a hard time turning around without banging his elbows.

Erin nodded. “The coffee helped,” she said through chattering teeth.

“Okay, you get in there and get warm. What about Camie, is she hurt?”

Erin shook her head. “I don’t know. The guy just said he had her. She was fighting, I don’t think she would stop unless....”

Drew squeezed her shoulders. “She’s tough, she’ll be all right. And we’re going to go make sure of it.”

Erin gazed at him, her eyes filled with hope and despair. “But how? You can’t fly in this.”

“I will if I have to. It won’t be the first time I’ve done something crazy. Now get in there and warm up. I’ll find you some dry clothes.”

He fished through the lost and found box, which offered a surprisingly thorough selection from the antiterrorist training students and others who had passed through the town. Hell, some of the stuff looked like it must’ve been left behind by the old miners and ranchers who had abandoned the place. He found a pair of worn but clean camouflage pants that looked like they might fit, a T-shirt, and a flannel shirt for warmth.

What about underclothes? Even if he could find some in lost and found, he had a feeling Erin wouldn’t want to wear a random stranger’s panties. Drew had extra clothes in his bag, since he’d been thinking he might spend a few nights camping with the women. He picked out a pair of boxers and some thick socks. Erin would just have to go without a bra. He pictured that and smiled.

He stepped back into the bathroom to deposit the clothes. Erin stood under the hard spray of the shower, her head tipped back and eyes closed. The light golden tan of Erin’s arms and legs faded softly to pale skin on her torso, except where the hot water had brought out a rosy flush on her belly and chest. She lifted her arms to scrub her hands through her hair and her breasts rose slightly with the gesture. Drew felt like he’d been punched in the gut. He clenched his hands to keep himself from stepping forward and grabbing her. He told himself to close his eyes, but his eyes wouldn’t obey.

His rasping breath echoed in his ears as he set the clothing on the counter. Erin opened her eyes and smiled at him. He stared into her eyes for a long moment, then slowly raked his gaze down her body and back up. Her eyes widened and she lifted a hand to the shower wall, swaying as if her knees wanted to buckle. Drew smiled smugly, sure he’d warmed her up more than coffee or a shower ever could.

He grabbed a towel and stepped toward her. Erin fumbled with the shower faucet and turned off the water. Drew wrapped the towel around her and jerked her against his chest. She stared up at him with wide eyes as he bent his head to whisper in her ear. “We don’t have time right now for what I’d like to do with you. But next time you take a shower, I want to be there to scrub your back.” He nipped at her ear. “And your front. Everything.”

She went limp as if her legs had given out, but she stroked her hands up his back and met his kiss with equal heat. Drew crushed her against himself. He eased back only when he knew he was reaching the breaking point. Another moment and he wouldn’t be able to resist the urge to take her right there. He panted, waiting for his vision to clear.