The woman who peered out at me bore little resemblance to the vivacious woman I remembered from only a couple of months ago. Instead of the sexy Betty Page haircut she usually sported, she’d shoved her lank, dark hair behind her ears, and a gray stripe showed at the roots. She’d lost weight, her voluptuous figure whittled down to nothing. The sparkle had faded from her blue eyes, and her cheeks were dull and colorless. This was the first time I’d ever seen her without her signature bright red lipstick.
“Hello, Ripper,” she said in a flat voice.
I tucked my weapon back in the holster. “Nicole. Have you been sick, sweetheart?”
“No. The flu spared me, but it took Chimney and the boys.” Nicole delivered the news with a blank face and an expressionless voice. She might as well have been reciting her grocery list.
Loss changed everybody, I guess. Maybe she had to smother her grief in order to keep going. Squashing inconvenient emotions, a trick I’d mastered.
I glanced back over my shoulder at the jeep. Couldn’t push through the door without talking to Nicole, but I got to move this along. “I’m sorry to hear that. He was a good man, and the boys...” I shook my head.
“Life is a vale of tears,” she murmured.
Was she quoting the Bible? Irreverent, profane Nicole quoting scripture?
Not the time to wonder about that. “Listen, I need help. My bike hit an elk not two miles from here. I’m traveling with friends. My passenger was hurt. Can you give us a place to stay while she recovers?”
Nicole looked over my shoulder at the idling jeep. “Of course.” She held the door open and gestured for us to come in.
I ran back to the jeep and threw open the door. “Let’s go.” Sahdev turned off the engine and Kyle climbed out, followed by Hector. Sahdev and I transferred Mac to our jury-rigged sleeping bag stretcher and carefully carried her up the steps and into the cabin.
“Put her in the boys’ room,” Nicole said, opening the door to one of the three bedrooms. Kyle pulled back the quilt, and we gently settled Mac on one of the twin beds. She was pale and her skin felt cool and clammy beneath my touch.
“Kyle, will you get my bag, please?” Sahdev asked.
“Sure.” He dashed from the room.
Nicole hovered in the doorway. “Can I do anything to help?”
“I don’t have trauma shears to cut away Kenzie’s jeans. Do you have scissors?”
She disappeared, then returned a minute later carrying kitchen shears.
Sahdev took the scissors from her. “Thank you. Could you bring a basin of fresh water?” When Nicole fetched the water, he turned to me. “Ripper, I need you to help me.”
“Yeah.” I swallowed, looking down at Mac. The hot exhaust pipe had eaten a hole clean through the denim. Shreds of blackened fabric dotted the angry, red wound, a circle about an inch in diameter. Sahdev directed me to slice open the legs of her jeans, then he peeled the fabric back from the injury. While he tended to her burn, I scanned Mac’s legs. Mottled bruises covered both thighs, and her left knee was swollen. Sahdev covered the burn with sterile gauze, then turned his attention to the cut on her shoulder. I cut off her hoodie and tee. Sahdev cleaned and stitched the laceration. Mac didn’t wake up, staying unconscious through procedures that had to hurt. Maybe that was a blessing. Or a bad sign. Shit. I didn’t know.
Around her neck, Mac wore my dog tags and the platinum necklace I’d put together for her birthday. The birthday necklace had slid sideways to her shoulder, five platinum charms hanging from a circle pendant. Our initials, a moon, a sun, and a heart-shaped padlock, my way of telling Mac that I’d locked her down, that she was mine.
Mine, and I almost killed her.
“Need a minute,” I said, stalking to the front room. I dropped into a chair and scrubbed at my face with my hands.
“The accident wasn’t your fault. You know that, don’t you?” Kyle followed me into the room.
“Not my fault?” Couldn’t keep the bitterness out of my voice. “I almost T-boned a seven hundred pound animal at speed. Mac could’ve died.”
Kyle sat on a beat-up old sofa opposite me. “I saw the entire thing. The elk jumped onto the road right in front of you. You could’ve plowed into it broadside. You could’ve run off the road and smashed into a tree. Both of those things likely would have killed you. Yeah, you laid the bike down, and Kenzie got hurt. It sucks, but nobody died.”
“Yet,” I said. “Nobody died yet. You heard Sahdev. He has to watch her for a brain bleed or internal injuries. She’s not out of the woods.”
“It was an accident. Not your fault, man. And like my grandpa always said: Don’t borrow trouble. We’ll know soon enough if there are any complications.”
I barely heard him, my anger at myself crowding out everything else. “Jesus,” I hissed. “What the fuck was I thinking allowing her to ride without proper gear? She should have been wearing abrasion-resistant pants and a heavier jacket.”
“Oh, yeah?” Kyle leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Think about what you’re saying. When Kenzie woke up yesterday morning, you were still missing. We’d packed up the jeep, ready to take off if the fire jumped the river. It did. And we met up with you a block from the house. We met up and escaped the city by the skin of our teeth. Hours later, somebody blew up the dam and once again we’re running for our lives. Tell me, Ripper. When and where were you supposed to pick up abrasion resistant pants and a heavier jacket?”
Why was Country Club making excuses for me? Not too long ago, he saw me as a lowlife thug who’d led his ex astray.
“I should have looked for heavier gear for Mac as soon as she started to ride with me.” Regret lay like a heavy stone in my chest, choking me.
Kyle blew out a breath. “Coulda woulda shoulda. Can’t change the past. Kenz wouldn’t want you to beat yourself up like this. You should have seen her while you were missing. She brought your pillow over from your place. Slept in your tees. Did you know that when Portland started to burn, she refused to leave the city without you? The fire was practically on top of us before she agreed to go. Kenzie loves you. That was a hard truth for me to accept, but it is what it is. And I know she wouldn’t want you to blame yourself over things you can’t change.”
Did he say Mac loved me?
Kyle punched my arm. “So cut it out. Or at least wait and see if she takes a turn for the worse before you start beating yourself up.”
I met his eyes. “Aren’t you scared?”
“Shitless.” He shrugged. “Aw, hell, man. You know I still love her, but I know when I’m beat. I can’t believe that you guys survived the flu, the fire, and the flood just for Kenzie to die because an elk jumped onto the road. That can’t be part of any divine plan. She’s going to make it, and we’re all going to go to Valhalla.”
Who would have guessed that Kyle—a man I once dismissed as a pissy little bitch—would talk me down when I was spiraling into despair? I was the hard-ass, the cold bastard who did what was necessary, or so I thought, till Mac got under my skin.
I rose slowly to my feet, my bruised knees protesting, and extended a hand to Kyle. “Thanks.”
We shook hands.
“No problem. Now get back in there. Kenzie needs you.”
SIX
Kenzie
“Come back to me, Mac.”
Ripper’s voice pierced the shroud of darkness that pinned me down and held me immobile and unresponsive. Like a candle on a windowsill lighting the way home, like Polaris, pointing true north on my heart’s compass, Ripper’s voice called me back from oblivion.
I stirred, fighting to open my eyes. The narrow slit of light I spied widened as I forced my lids to open. Ripper’s face consolidated in front of me, haggard and hollow eyed. He smiled and touched my cheek. “There you are, darlin'.” Despite the smile, his expression was haunted, with lines of tension bracketing his mouth.
Here I am, I wanted to say, but my lips wouldn’t move.
My victory
was short lived. His face wavered; the image distorted and faded. If he spoke, I’d lost the capacity to hear him.
Blackness rushed back, filling me to the brim with...nothing.
A wet, warm tongue lapped against the knuckles of my left hand. My fingers twitched, an involuntary movement, since I lacked the ability to command my muscles. The licking sensation penetrated my brain fog, and as my senses awoke, I heard Sahdev speaking in a low voice.
“Kenzie...in the next room...wake me.” Only scattered words made sense, at first.
A woman murmured a response in a voice I didn’t recognize.
“Anything at all,” Sahdev added.
“Yes.”
“Hector, come on, boy.”
The rough tongue ceased licking my fingers, and the dog’s toenails clicked across the floor.
Sahdev. Hector.
I wanted to call them back; I longed for that tangible connection to a familiar soul.
Where am I? Where’s Ripper?
I willed my eyes to open, but they stubbornly refused. Soft footsteps approached my bed and a hand gently pushed the hair back from my face. “Everything is fine, Kenzie,” the woman said. “You’re safe now.”
Kind words. Reassuring words. So why did a chill slither up my spine? I shivered and managed a small moan.
“Shhh, sweet girl. Everything will work out for the best.”
I spiraled back into darkness.
SEVEN
Ripper
Kyle, Sahdev, and I held a huddled consultation in the front room. No idea if an unconscious Mac could understand what we said, but I didn’t want her to hear the worry in our voices.
“It’s been three days,” I said. “Three fucking days, and Mac hasn’t come to.”
An indignant protest came from the couch, where Pastor Bill sat upright, his ankles crossed like a prissy old biddy and a sour expression on his face.
“Language, please,” he huffed.
I rolled my eyes and shot the fucker a dirty look.
Nobody asked Nicole’s minister to park his wide ass on the couch or to hang around to offer his unsolicited consolation and prayers. With Pastor Bill and me, it had been a case of hate at first sight. Yesterday, he dropped by to check in on Nicole, then stayed to pray over Mac. We sized each other up with a single glance: outlaw Janissary vs. holier-than-thou clergyman. I saw the contempt in his eyes when he took in my cut, and I didn’t bother to hide my disdain for the sanctimonious man of God.
For the life of me, I couldn’t see why everybody around here treated him like he was king shit, but he was Nicole’s minister, and we were crashing uninvited at her place, so I mostly kept my mouth shut and ignored the pissant. Mostly.
“I said, I don’t appreciate your foul language,” he snapped.
Apparently Pastor Bill didn’t like being ignored. Did I give a rat’s ass? Nah. Kept my back turned to the man and spoke to Sahdev instead.
“What’s going on, doc?”
Sahdev shook his head, frowning. “Without the proper diagnostic equipment, it’s hard to know for sure. Fortunately, I’ve seen no signs of internal bleeding or spinal damage.”
“Thank fuck for that, but why isn’t she waking up?”
The good reverend sniffed then whispered furiously to his sidekick, Deacon Morris, who sat beside him on the couch.
“Kenzie isn’t in a coma,” Sahdev said. “She’s heavily unconscious, but she sometimes reacts to external stimuli.”
A couple of times, when I got in her face and demanded that she wake up, her lids had fluttered open. She stared at me, eyes wide and vacant, unblinking, like a doll, but she couldn’t hold on to even that level of consciousness for more than a couple of seconds.
“Her pupils react to light. That’s a good sign. Her swallow reflex is intact, so we’ve been able to keep her hydrated.”
“So what does that mean?”
“It means we wait and see.” Sahdev clapped a hand on my shoulder. “Don’t give up hope.”
I nodded, grasping at his reassuring words. I wouldn’t give up on Mac, not after everything we’d been through, not ever.
“You’ve scarcely slept since the accident,” he said. “Your body took quite a beating, too, and you need rest in order to heal.”
“Sahdev’s right,” Kyle broke in. “You need to sleep, man. If Kenzie wakes up and sees you looking like shit—and finds out it’s because you didn’t take care of yourself—she’ll kick your ass. And then she’ll kick ours for not making you lie down and take it easy.”
I snorted and raised a brow. Kyle and Sahdev trying to make me do anything? “Seriously?”
“Seriously,” Kyle agreed. “I’ve seen Kenzie when she’s pissed off, and it isn’t pretty. Spare us all the aggravation and take a nap.”
Almost smiled remembering the image of a spitting-mad Mac, poking her finger in my chest, telling me off and making demands. If Kyle was trying to lighten the mood, to make me stop and think, it worked. I’ve gone days without sleep when the situation required it, but hovering over Mac hadn’t made a damned bit of difference. When she finally came to—and she would come to—I needed to be alert and at my best.
“All right. I’ll lie down for a while, but if Mac stirs—”
“We know,” Kyle interjected. “If Kenzie so much as twitches, we’ll wake you up.”
I nodded to Nicole, then retreated to the third bedroom, which had belonged to Chimney’s dad. When I spent a long weekend fishing at the cabin a few years back, Chimney, Jack, and I had spent our evenings sitting on the porch overlooking the lake, drinking beer and shooting the shit. The old man had served in Vietnam, but we hadn’t swapped war stories. Jack spied the Ranger tattoo on my forearm, dipped his head, and lifted his beer bottle in a silent salute, which I returned. He passed from cancer a year later. And now the flu had taken his son and grandsons. Three generations gone. Goddamned flu had cut down family lines like the Grim Reaper on a tear.
Kicked off my boots and stripped off my cut and T-shirt, then stretched out on the old man’s bed. The mattress was too soft, and the iron bedframe creaked every time I rolled, so I folded my arms under my head, held still, and stared up at the ceiling until I fell asleep.
Commotion in the front room roused me some time later, a pounding on the cabin door followed by raised voices. I rolled out of bed and raced from the room, in time to see Pastor Bill and Deacon Morris disappear out the front door.
“What’s going on?” I demanded.
“One of the other deacons just showed up,” Kyle said. “Said it was an emergency and he had to talk to the pastor.” Glancing out into the yard, I saw the three men carrying on an animated conversation. The third man, a bald-headed deacon whose name I didn’t know, waved his hands excitedly. As if feeling my eyes on them, they fell silent and turned their faces to the cabin.
I opened the door and stepped onto the porch. “There a problem?”
Pastor Bill waved his hand, signaling for me to go back inside. Hell, no. Not taking orders from that pissant. I stomped off the porch and approached the gaggle of men.
“What’s up?”
The deacons looked to their pastor for guidance. Pastor Bill turned to me, his eyes lit up with excitement. He spread his hands in a conciliatory gesture. “We got a report back from a hunting party. There’s a problem in the western quadrant. I’ll tell you all about it after I finish consulting with my deacons.”
The deacons wouldn’t utter a peep after the pastor laid down the law. Rubbed me the wrong way to be dismissed, but he had promised to fill me in as soon as he finished talking to his men. Swallowing my irritation, I retreated back to the cabin. Poked my head into Mac’s room, where Sahdev sat by her bedside. He shook his head. Her condition was unchanged. Nicole offered me a bowl of soup. I wasn’t hungry, but food was a necessary fuel, and I’d learned a long time ago to eat when the opportunity presented itself. I downed the soup while we waited for the pastor to return.
After about ten minutes,
Pastor Bill and Deacon Morris filed solemnly into the cabin.
“We have a situation, and you’re just the man to save the day,” the pastor said.
My brows shot up. Whatever happened, I’d gone from no-good criminal to potential hero in the space of a few minutes. Wasn’t exactly motivated to help the pastor with anything, but I’d hear him out. I shrugged, “What you got in mind?”
“I’m responsible for the physical and spiritual well-being of my congregants. Nearly thirty souls depend upon me for both guidance and sustenance.”
“Uh-huh.” When was he going to stop congratulating himself and get to the point?
“I’ve been sending men out to hunt deer, so we can smoke and salt cure venison for the upcoming winter. A team of hunters ran into trouble on the western side of Mt. Hood.”
Sahdev stepped into the front room, quietly shutting the door to Mac’s room behind him.
“I’m glad you’re here, doctor,” Pastor Bill said. “We’ll need your skills on this mission.”
“Has someone fallen ill or been injured?” Sahdev frowned.
“Pastor Bill is filling us in on a situation,” I said.
“Two of my men spotted smoke coming from the chimney of an isolated cabin. They approached the cabin and knocked on the door to introduce themselves. No one answered. They looked through a window and saw suspicious items spread across the kitchen table: wires, timers, bricks of what looked to them like explosives. Now, they’re no experts, but they believe they saw bomb-making materials.”
“That could be the man who blew up the dam,” Kyle exclaimed.
Pastor Bill nodded. “You saw the dam break apart, the water rise. We can’t know how many survivors were in the path of that flood—on the freeway, in the towns—but we can be certain that innocent people died because of the bomber.”
“What did your men do when they saw the bomb-making materials?” I asked.
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