Cort felt like his soul had been ripped right out of his body when he saw her on the ground beneath Bill, both of them saturated in blood, Kaylie half-naked. “Kaylie!” He lunged forward, ripped Bill off her, and dropped to his knees beside her, pulling her into his arms.
“He got my wrist.” Her face was pale, too pale, her hand wrapped around her wrist.
The blood was cascading from a gash in her arm, and Cort swore. “Jesus, Kaylie.” He ripped off his shirt and tied it around her wrist, while she leaned weakly against him. “It’ll be okay. Don’t worry.” Shit. It had to be okay.
Tourniquet in place, he scooped her up and ran farther into the cabin, where there were lights.
He took one look at the bed, with the chains and the blood, and he sat her on the floor on the other side of the room. Picked up her wrist and swore when he saw her shirt was already drenched with blood. “I think he clipped an artery.”
Kaylie slumped against him, her head resting against his shoulder. “I was so scared that he’d hurt you. I can’t believe you’re here.”
“I’m fine.” But he’d gotten here too late. Too damn late! Cort looked frantically around the small cabin for the something else to use on her wrist. Saw Kaylie’s jacket on the floor of the bathroom and a towel. “Stay here.” He propped her carefully against the wall, then sprinted across the cabin. Grabbed the towel, then checked under the sink.
Medical kit. Just like the one Cort had stashed in his plane.
His dad has always claimed that sometimes it was the only thing between life and death. For Kaylie, Cort had a bad feeling it was. He grabbed the kit and her jacket and raced back to her. Her eyes were closed, and her head was resting against the wall, her breasts bare and exposed.
Son of a bitch. Something in his chest tightened, a sharp pain digging in, and he fell to his knees beside her. “Did he rape you?” The question felt thick on his tongue, but he had to ask it. Had to know.
She opened her eyes slightly, then reached up and laid her hand on his cheek. “No. I’m fine.”
Tears suddenly burned at the back of his eyes, and he grabbed her hand and pressed his lips to her palm. “Jesus, I’m so sorry I took so long.”
“No. You did just fine.” Her fingers brushed weakly over his cheek. “Thanks for coming.”
He blinked a couple times to clear his vision, then tucked her into her coat, zipping it up to her chin as her eyes closed again. “You with me?”
She nodded once, not opening her eyes. “Don’t leave me.”
“Wouldn’t think of it.” A noise sounded from the porch, and Cort shot a sharp glance at the still-open door. He could still see Bill’s foot as he lay there. Not moving. Dead? If not, damned close.
Cort had hit a dead shot from close range.
He returned his attention to Kaylie, working efficiently as he properly bandaged her wrist, using gauze and tape to seal the wound as best he could. It was still bleeding heavily, and she was even paler by the time he was finished.
“My leg,” she whispered.
Cort had noticed the shirt wrapped around her leg earlier, but he hadn’t had time to think about it. Frowning, he tried the knot, couldn’t get it.
He pulled out his knife, then stopped when Kaylie sucked in her breath, her eyes going wide with panic.
Slowly, Cort reached for her. He cupped the back of her neck with his hand. “It’s okay, sweetheart. I’m just going to cut his shirt off your leg, okay?”
She met his gaze, and something in his chest broke at the pain in her eyes. Then she nodded. “I’m okay. Just panicked for a sec.” She squeezed his arm lightly with her uninjured hand. “I’m good.”
“You sure?”
She nodded, her gaze fixed on his. “Yeah. Just do it.”
“Tell me if you want me to stop.” Holding the knife loosely, he worked it beneath the shirt, gritting his teeth at her wince. But the razor-sharp blade cut through the shirt easily.
“My jeans. Help me get them off.” Kaylie struggled to her feet, and he caught her around the waist. She was trembling now, and he was getting worried.
“Just lean on me.”
She did as he said as he unbuttoned her jeans and pulled them down, revealing a deep gash in the back of her leg. A knife wound, for sure. Anger festered inside Cort, but he kept his demeanor calm. Kaylie needed him right now, and that’s what he had to focus on. “Let me look at it.” He helped her lie down on her belly and began to clean the blood off and disinfect the wound. “We need to get you to a hospital.”
“Well, do you know anyone with a plane who can get me there fast?”
He couldn’t help smiling at her impatient tone. “Yeah, I think I know someone.” He hesitated, thinking of how crappy the weather was, and he forced himself to make the offer. “Want me to drive? I’m sure Bill’s got a truck around here.”
“No. Fly. I want to get away.” Her head was buried in her arms, her voice muffled. “My mom. My dad. They’re dead.”
“Yeah, I figured. I’m sorry.” He’d seen the stash of bodies on his way and had assumed as much. He’d caught a glimpse of Jackson’s face, but hadn’t stopped to look more closely.
Had been able to think only about getting to Kaylie.
He finished wrapping her thigh, helped her get back into her jeans, then pulled her onto his lap. He needed to hold her, feel her body against his. Alive. Warm. Jesus, he’d been so scared when he’d come to and found her gone. “I saw Old Tom, too.”
“We were coming to save you,” she whispered, into his chest. “And Bill just came out of nowhere and killed Tom, and—”
He kissed her lightly, cutting her off. Not wanting her to force herself to relive that moment right now.
Her mouth was soft and welcoming, her hand clutching at his shoulder as she kissed him back. But her lips were cold—too cold—and he broke the kiss. “We need to get you out of here.” Reluctantly, he began to lift her off his lap.
“No.” She looped her arms around his neck, buried her face in his neck. “Not yet. Just hold me, please. Just for a minute.”
Cort was unable to resist her plea. He desperately needed to feel her against him, to know she was alive in his arms. He tucked her trembling body against his chest and wrapped his arms around her. He kissed her forehead, her cheek, her eyelashes.
“Cort.”
“Yeah?” He lifted her chin and kissed her mouth. Forced himself to be gentle.
“Your scars.”
He paused. “What about them?”
“What are they from?”
He pulled back to study her. Her eyes were still closed, her head resting on his chest. “You want to know this now?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
She shook her head. “Just tell me.”
He let out his breath and hugged her closer, unable to deny her anything. Hell, she could ask him to burn his entire fleet of planes right now, and he probably would. Sure, he’d regret it in the morning, but right now, with her blood all over the floor, he wouldn’t deny her a damn thing. “When I was fourteen, my parents and I were flying in bad weather, on our way to Devil’s Canyon for a weekend campout.”
She snuggled deeper against him. “Where Old Tom was yesterday?”
Cort nodded, tunneling his fingers through her hair. It was matted and muddy, so much less than she deserved. “Devil’s Pass is tough enough in good conditions, but almost no pilots will risk it during even slightly bad weather. My dad flew it all the time.”
Kaylie set her hand on his chest, her fingers drumming weakly on his ribs. He placed his hand over hers, entwining their fingers while he relived the day he tried never to think about. “A gust of wind came up, and my dad caught a wing coming out of the pass. The plane hit hard, caught on fire.” Cort rubbed his thumb over the back of her hand, thinking that the story didn’t feel nearly as bad with Kaylie in his lap. “My dad was killed instantly. My mom took a little longer.”
Her eyes opened, and she lift
ed her head. “Oh, Cort…”
He smoothed her hair off her face, thumbed some dirt off her forehead. “She was tangled in the metal and I couldn’t get her free. Then my clothes caught fire and I had to leave her to beat them out.” He shrugged. “I’d been cut almost in half. I was bleeding so bad that by the time I got the flames out, I was so weak I could barely move. My mom was unconscious or dead. I didn’t know which, but between the intense flames and my own condition, I couldn’t get to her. I watched her burn up, not able to do anything to save her.”
Kaylie framed his face with her hands, and he held them to his cheeks. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “It wasn’t your fault.”
“I know.” But he saw in her eyes that she truly meant it, and for the first time in his life, he understood what it meant to have someone else believe in him. He’d always told himself it hadn’t been his fault, but he’d been ashamed to believe it. Until now. He bent his head and kissed her. “Thank you.”
She smiled. “You don’t fly there anymore?”
“No.”
“Why?”
He leaned his head back against the wall. “Because it killed my dad.”
Kaylie made a noise of understanding, drawing his attention.
“What?”
She looked up at him, those brown eyes full of wisdom. “Devil’s Pass makes you realize that you could die.” She tapped his heart. “It makes you human.”
“No, that’s not—” Then he stopped himself as her words sank in. Was that it? Was that why he’d never been able to fly that pass, despite numerous attempts? No. “They died there, Kaylie. That’s all. Nothing more than that.”
She sighed and leaned her head against his chest again. “Thank you for telling me. I needed to know.”
He glanced at her to ask again why she’d needed to know, then frowned when he saw her skin had become even paler. Circles beneath her eyes.
“Time to go. Let’s get you to the hospital.” Keeping her secured in his arms, he stood, taking a quick survey of the cabin to see if there was a phone he could use to call the police.
No phone, but he saw a stack of photos on the kitchen sink. “I think we found the pictures of you.”
She turned her head sharply, her gaze falling on the counter. “I want them burned.”
“I’ll take care of it.” He carried her across the room to the photos, not liking how limp she was in his arms. He doubted she was the type to let anyone carry her, and the fact she wasn’t struggling to be released told him exactly how badly she was injured.
They reached the counter, and as he’d thought, there were dozens of pictures of Kaylie. In all of them, she looked bright and put together. Perfectly made up, nice jewelry. Nothing like the matted, bloody heap he held in his arms. The real, living, breathing, heart-stopping woman who was hanging onto him.
He picked up a picture of her standing on a dock. The wind was blowing her hair, and her cheeks were flushed. She was smiling, but her eyes were empty. Guarded. Unlike the woman he knew, whose eyes were full of passion and life and energy…and fear…and pain.
Which was better? An empty life without fear, or living every moment with passion and being chased by a stalker? Somewhere in the middle.
Did she think she was going back to Seattle now that Bill was dead?
Because she wasn’t.
He couldn’t allow her to go back there and let her soul die.
“Cort!” She pointed to a stack of pictures at the back of the counter. “Will you grab those for me? What are they of?”
Cort leaned forward and picked one up. It was a photo of a man who’d seen better days. His face was bruised, his shoulder twisted. The poor bastard’s leg was in a shackle, and his calf was swollen and discolored. Rotting, crushed, and—
“That’s my brother, Mason!” Kaylie grabbed the photo from him. “Dear God, look at him.” Tears filled her eyes, and he felt the last vestiges of her control snap. “I didn’t see him with my parents. His body wasn’t there. Bill must have him somewhere,” she whispered, clutching the photo to her chest. “We have to find him.”
Cort grabbed the rest of the photos and quickly sorted through them. The fourth photo was of Mason on his back, half out of a shed, eyes closed as if he’d given up. That shed—
He looked at Kaylie and knew she’d seen it too.
Out front.
Cort was out the front door and down the steps before either of them said a word. Grimly, he shoved open the door to the shed and stepped inside, expecting the scent of rotting flesh.
Of more dead bodies.
But an empty shackle lay on the ground.
Open.
The cuffs were crusted with something black. Blood? Mud? Rotted flesh.
“He’s not here.” Kaylie slid down him, her voice thick with tears. “We’re too late. He must be with the others.”
Cort heard the roar of a plane, and he sprinted back to the door of the shed.
That’s when he realized Bill’s body wasn’t on the porch anymore. He’d been so caught up in Kaylie that he’d walked right across the porch without noticing the bastard had somehow gotten up and fucking left. Hell, he hadn’t even checked to make sure Bill had been dead when he’d rushed to the cabin to get to Kaylie. And now the bastard was getting away. “Son of a bitch!”
The plane flew overhead, the engine so loud he knew exactly what it was. Old Tom’s plane.
Bill was gone, along with Kaylie’s brother.
Kaylie hobbled up behind him. “Please tell me that’s Luke, searching for us.”
Cort put his arm around her to help take some of the pressure off her injured leg. “It was Old Tom’s plane.”
The plane circled overhead again.
“Does Bill know how to fly?”
“Pretty much everyone out here can.” Cort stared up into the dark clouds, the hair on his arms standing up as the plane circled again. It was the same thing Bill had done with the snowmobile at Jackson and Sara’s cabin.
Kaylie followed his gaze. “He’s taunting us,” she whispered.
“He’s telling us it’s not over. Only this time, it’s going to be on his terms. Because he’s got your brother.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Cort sat next to Kaylie’s hospital bed, his knee bouncing in agitation as the nurse worked on her leg. The nurse had tried to throw him out, but he’d refused to leave, and Kaylie had supported him.
He was staying.
Her wrist had been fixed, and now they were cleaning the wound on the back of her thigh. Nothing life threatening. But Kaylie hadn’t let go of his hand since they’d gotten there.
He was still so worked up, he couldn’t sit still. Couldn’t stop thinking about all those bodies. About Kaylie at Bill’s mercy.
Shit.
“What do we do next?” Kaylie asked suddenly.
He almost grinned at her question. Here he was, obsessing over her injuries, and she was thinking about next steps. A fighter, for sure. How could she possibly classify herself as someone who hid behind storm windows and heavy blankets? As it turned out, it appeared he was the one incapable of handling the stress of Kaylie being in danger.
“Cort?”
He forced himself to follow Kaylie’s lead and focus on the situation. “I don’t think Bill’s going to hop on a plane to the Lower 48 and disappear. He’s got an unfinished agenda, and he’s not going to walk away.”
She nodded, her gaze flicking toward the door. “If I go home, he’ll be able to find me. Now that he knows my name, it wouldn’t be difficult.”
His grip tightened. “You’re not going home,” he growled.
Kaylie’s attention snapped toward him. “Ever?”
There was a challenge in her eyes, and Cort didn’t dare push it. So he simply shrugged. “Not while Bill’s out there.”
The nurse began to wrap Kaylie’s leg, and a light knock sounded at the door. It was a state trooper Cort didn’t know, wanting an interview with Kaylie. Rich
was at Bill’s right now. Cort was pretty sure Richie had nearly wet himself when Cort had delivered the news, but the young state trooper had stepped up and called in all the right people. The place was probably swarming with law enforcement and spotlights now. One of their own going bad was a huge deal. Cort and Kaylie had already been interviewed, but the uniforms had been hovering, wanting more information.
As if that would help them find a lifelong Alaskan who wanted to hide in the bush. No one would find Bill until he decided he wanted to be found.
“No interviews yet.” The nurse shut the door in the trooper’s face. She eyed Cort as she returned to the bed. “I’m fixing you up next, so don’t think about going anywhere.”
“I’m fine.” He was worried about Kaylie. She was still too pale.
Kaylie frowned at him. “What did happen to you at the plane?”
He shrugged. “I lost.” Because he’d been thinking about her instead of the fight. The sight of Bill taking off after her had snapped something inside Cort, and he’d gone crazy, attacking Bill without a plan or a weapon. He was lucky he hadn’t gotten himself killed, he’d been so insane with fear for her.
The nurse finished and snapped her fingers at him. “Shirt off.”
He glanced at Kaylie, then pulled his shirt over his head, well aware of the how the gash on his side would look.
Kaylie gasped. “You were stabbed?”
He managed not to flinch as the nurse probed the wound. “He didn’t hit anything vital. I’m okay.” Though, he had to admit, for a brief moment, he hadn’t been so sure. And looking at it now, he saw the wound was a good seven inches long, skin flapped open. Thank God for adrenaline. He hadn’t felt a thing once he’d charged after Kaylie. But now…
Shit.
“This is filthy.” The nurse made a tsk noise as she peered at his side.
He shrugged. “First aid wasn’t my top concern at the time.”
He ground his jaw as the nurse scrubbed it, doing his best not to wince. Damn, it felt like she was taking her own knife to his side.
“Be more gentle,” Kaylie ordered. “You’re hurting him.”
The nurse glanced up at him, then softened her touch.
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