Trapped with the Woodsman

by M. S. Parker

  She turned back to me, giving me a cool look.

  I jerked my gaze away from hers. “What does it matter?”

  “It matters because this is the first time you’ve actually let yourself feel something since he died. And you’re shutting her out, you’re shutting those feelings out.” She reached out and caught my hand. “If it had been the other way around, if it had been you instead of Ryan, and he came home a shadow of himself, blocking everybody, including me, out…would you be happy about that?”

  It was such a simple question.

  And the answer to it was equally simple. Yet, I didn’t want to voice it.

  With Cass, I didn’t have to. She saw the answer in my eyes, and she laid her hand on my cheek. “Even if you insist on blaming yourself, surely you’ve paid the price. Don’t you think?”

  She turned then and left.

  I managed to stay upright long enough for the sound of her truck to fade.

  But then I went to my knees and covered my face with my hands.

  Back when we’d been kids, the two of us would have razzed the other endlessly for crying.

  I couldn’t stop the flood, though.

  It had been waiting for a long, long time.

  My knee groaned as I pushed myself harder and faster, driving myself up the steep incline of the mountain road with relentless focus.

  It had been nearly three hours since Cass left, and I’d spent most of it in a numb haze.

  But then thoughts of Lexi crept into my mind, echoed by Cass’s comment that Lexi had looked like an abused puppy. It wasn’t exactly the comparison I would have made when it came to Lexi. But the thought of her looking hurt, scared, and confused pissed me off, and it was even worse since I knew I was the reason behind it.

  My inner logic was already nagging at me, telling me to go and see her, but I didn’t have that right.

  Not only had I caused problems for her on her job, but she’d been hurt because of me. Then when she came out here and took care of me, then gave herself to me, what had I done?

  I’d treated her like shit.

  I was ashamed of myself, and I knew if Ryan was here, he’d be ashamed too.

  Guilt was an ever-present companion for me, so it wasn’t anything new to deal with, but this time, it felt…different.

  Grief didn’t entitle me to be an ass.

  Grief didn’t entitle me to make decisions that endangered others.

  Grief didn’t entitle me to cause problems for others.

  And yet, I’d allowed the guilt that had haunted me since Ryan’s death to dictate my actions. Almost every day.

  This time, there had been consequences, serious ones.

  But I wasn’t the one suffering those consequences. It was Lexi.

  I’d fucked her life up good and proper and when she came out here to see me, I’d just been an asshole.

  It’s what you’re best at, a snide voice inside me muttered.

  I silenced it and focused on my breathing, on the pull and flex of muscles as I pounded up the mountain.

  I pushed myself harder, faster.

  But even after pushing myself to the limit and then some, the guilt was still there, along with a quiet voice, one that was the echo of Cass’s…

  It wasn’t your fault.

  By seven o’clock that evening, I was so exhausted, it took all my strength to drag my sorry ass into the shower to scrub away the sweat and dirt of the day.

  My energy had all but faded away by the time I was able to climb into bed. No sooner did my head hit the pillow was I asleep.

  At least, I thought I was asleep.

  A low, sardonic voice echoed out of the darkness around me.

  “She always was able to kick our asses when we needed it, wasn’t she?”

  That familiar voice had me jerking upright.

  I was in bed. Or I thought I was.

  But there was no way I could be hearing that voice.

  Ryan’s voice.

  Scrubbing at my eyelids, I shook my head to clear it, then peered into the dark again.

  I was in my room.

  Maybe I was imagining…

  “You’re not imagining things, dumb ass.”

  Ryan was in front of me.

  I sucked in a breath at the sight of him.

  The last time I’d seen him, he’d been in full combat gear, helmet, night vision goggles, camo, and armor.

  Now he wore an AC/DC shirt and a faded pair of jeans. The shirt was mine.

  He always stole it from me.

  I hadn’t seen it in years, not since I tucked it away inside the empty coffin that had been buried and placed in a grave in lieu of his body.

  Tears burned my eyes, and I looked at him through a veil of them. “Ryan?”

  “Who else would it be? Santa Claus?” He came over and dropped down on the bed next to me.

  “I’m dreaming, aren’t I?”

  “Yeah.”

  “So, it’s not really you…this is my subconscious, or whatever.”

  Ryan snorted. “Sure, you go ahead and believe that. But you and I both know that you’re the martyr through and through. If this was just your subconscious, you’d be dreaming about us that last night, when the mission went to shit. When have you ever dreamed about me showing up to just tell you that you’re being a dumb-ass?”

  He had a point.

  But he was dead, and the only explanation was that I was dreaming.

  I studied him, and he grinned back at me, that familiar, crooked grin.

  “You like her, don’t you?”

  I didn’t have to ask who he was talking about.

  Looking away, I stared out the window. Outside, instead of the night dark landscape I expected to see, there was just…gray. A silvery, endless expanse of it.

  “What does it matter?” I asked softly.

  “It matters because you like her,” he said, that sardonic edge back in his voice. “You haven’t paid attention to a woman since that last leave we took over in Paris. What was her name again?”

  He knew as well as I did. She’d been coming on to him, but he only ever had eyes for Cass and he’d nudged her in my direction. It wasn’t so much her that caught my attention, though. And he knew it.

  It was the fact that she was warm and soft and clean, everything we’d missed out on when we were in action.

  “Cosette,” I murmured, trying to summon up an image of her to mind. But the best I managed was black hair, and the longer I tried to pull up a memory of her, the worse it got.

  “You can’t really remember what she looks like because she didn’t much matter beyond the physical,” Ryan said. “That’s not the case with Lexi. I bet you anything that if you think of her right now, you can recall everything down to the finest detail – hell, you probably have a good idea what size bra she wears.”

  I scowled at him and shoved up off the bed.

  I took one step and then turned back to him.

  “What does it matter if I can recall details?” I said sourly. “I caused her enough trouble. Hell, she could have broken her neck being out there on a night like that. She might lose her job. I bet she can recall plenty of details about me, too – starting and ending with the fact that I fucked up her life.”

  “You made a mistake,” Ryan said easily. He shrugged it off like it didn’t matter. “And please remember, you’re not the hero of the universe. She made the choice to go with you. She could have just left your sorry ass to do it on your own.”

  “It would have been better if she had.”

  “For who?” Ryan asked, sounding genuinely curious. “You? Her?”

  “Her,” I replied. “I’ve caused her enough trouble.”

  “So you’ve said.” He shoved up off the bed and paced over until just a few inches separated us. “Maybe you should stop thinking about all the problems you caused. They’re in the past, and let me tell you, nobody can tell you how stupid it is to dwell on the past when there’s no future left for them to dwell
on.”

  I closed my eyes.

  “Hey, hey…” Ryan caught my arms and shook me lightly. “It’s okay. I made my choice. If it had been you…” He stopped and looked away. “I wish it hadn’t been either of us, but I’d rather me be the only one to go down than for it to have happened to you or anybody else on the team. I had one hell of a life. Now it’s your turn, brother. Go after that sexy girl, man. Go after her, and if she lets you catch her…you better hold on tight.”

  I woke up abruptly.

  The echo of Ryan’s voice still sounded in my ears as I sat up on the edge of the bed.

  Go after her.

  I waited for the knee-jerk reaction that would inevitably follow, the one that told me I didn’t deserve to go after her, that I didn’t deserve to be happy.

  But for once, it was silent.

  I scrubbed my hands over my face as the dream slowly fell to pieces around me, like threads of cotton candy caught in a summer downpour.

  Go after her.

  I shoved myself upright and I made, a decision.

  I was going to do just that.

  Twenty-One

  Lexi

  This whole business sucked.

  That was my current frame of mind, and I didn’t expect it to change any time soon, either.

  I’d been out retracing my steps for the past hour and a half. Although it wasn’t snowing, the day had gotten warmer and with that came another set of perils.

  Mud.

  It sucked at my feet with almost every step, and if it wasn’t for the hiking pole I’d elected to take, I suspected I would have gone down more than once.

  Even with my tightly laced boots and ankle brace, I didn’t entirely trust my ankle, so I had to move at a far slower pace than normal. The last thing I wanted was to fall and possibly re-break my wrist.

  By the time I reached the fallen tree where I’d gotten hurt, I was sweating and tired and pissed. I searched around the fallen maple that had obscured the snare and couldn’t find it.

  I wasn’t surprised, of course.

  Somebody had removed it.

  Frustrated beyond all belief, I tugged off my hat and shoved my hand through my hair. It was damp from sweat. The weather was finally showing some signs of spring. It was still fairly cool, but I’d been at this long enough to work up a sweat.

  I was ready for a break. For a moment, I pondered the ranger station we’d used that night.

  Memories of Roman tried to creep up on me, but I pushed them away.

  The last thing I needed to do was dwell about the night I’d spent with him.

  Nights. Plural. I’d spent two amazing, wonderful nights with him. And he hadn’t been a complete tool, either. At least not when we’d been pressed up close together.

  But as soon as there was distance between us, he’d gone and turned into an asshat.

  “Stop thinking about him,” I muttered to myself. “Think about anything else.”

  My ankle ached, and I focused on that, and the itchy, sweaty skin under the cast on my wrist. My belly grumbled, and although I’d been drinking water steadily, I felt parched from thirst.

  All in all, I was in a lousy mood, and it didn’t help that I hadn’t been able to find a single trap or snare.

  Somehow, the poachers had known to move the one that had injured me, and I was having a hard time believing there had been just that one.

  I neared a fork in the trail and slowed down out of habit. It was as I pulled out the map that something occurred to me.

  Something that bothered the hell out of me.

  My pulse hitched a beat, and my blood started to pound hot and hard.

  I couldn’t write off the possibility that maybe the poacher, whoever he was, just moved his traps around from time to time, but there was another option.

  Somebody had told the poacher it needed to be moved, and fast. They would have had to be quick about it, because I knew Hawthorne had been out looking for it early the next morning. Had somebody been desperate enough to go out and remove it that night?

  Or maybe it was somebody who’d already been in the area.

  I thought of all the rescuers and rangers who’d been tramping through this part of the park that night.

  I didn’t know how many had gone out for the search and rescue. I could always ask Hawthorne, but until he had come to some sort of decision about my job status, I wasn’t about to bother him.

  I gave a fleeting thought to talking to the IC from that night. I didn’t really know her, but SAR groups tended to rotate through the area, and if she was experienced enough to be the IC, then other search and rescue personnel would likely know her. And she’d know them.

  Brooding, I pulled my water from my pack and took a healthy swallow, eyes roaming across the terrain in front of me.

  If I didn’t find any sign of the poachers today, I’d reach out to Hailey. I hated to think that somebody involved with the SAR groups – or worse, a ranger – was involved in this, but in a way, it made sense.

  After another forty-five minutes, I made myself stop. My belly was grumbling almost constantly now, and the pain in my ankle had grown rather persistent.

  I needed a break.

  I settled on an old, dead tree stump and pulled out an energy bar. As I ate, I got my GPS. After I finished the snack, I dug into my pack for the weatherproof map of the park. Spreading it out on my legs, I studied it.

  If a poacher had been in the park that night, it was entirely likely they had a base camp set up somewhere in the area.

  The trick would be finding it.

  Briefly, I thought of a guy I knew. He worked with the state parks and had a canine partner. The dog had helped locate several poachers over the past few years.

  Maybe I could enlist him to help on his off-time if I didn’t have any luck with Hailey.

  A trained canine could definitely expedite matters. Trained to scent the most commonly hunted animals, the dogs were exceptional when it came to locating those animals, which often led to locating people too.

  I tucked the idea away and tried to focus on possible locations for the camp.

  I tapped one area with my index finger. Whoever was doing this, if they did have a camp, they were either exceptionally lucky or exceptionally knowledgeable of the area. Although the park was massive, it was routinely patrolled, and areas of concern, when it came to poaching, received even more attention.

  But it was possible to elude capture if one knew what he was doing. Much of the park was so isolated, it didn’t get patrolled, simply because there was just so much land to cover. If the poacher knew which areas to avoid, it would be…well, not simple, but easier to set up a base camp.

  Finding somewhere that wasn’t likely to catch a ranger’s attention would be key. That meant that whoever was behind this, if they did have a camp, was familiar enough with the area and with rangers to know how to avoid suspicion.

  Again, I briefly considered whether somebody affiliated with the park, either through SAR teams or through employment, could be behind this.

  “Maybe they’re working together,” I muttered. Scratching at my neck, I pondered that idea and decided it was worth considering. The illegal poaching industry reached into the millions. Places like Mexico provided so-called canned hunts and actively courted US travelers to participate in hunts where the animals were caged into one specific area, leaving little room for escape. That wasn’t the case here – a canned hunt would catch too much attention and bring down federal officials on any idiot stupid enough to try.

  But there were always those willing to break the law for profit. It stood to reason that some skilled trappers were involved in this mess, and if they were somehow working with an official park ranger, they’d be that much more efficient at avoiding capture.

  Groaning, I pressed the heel of my hand to my head. A headache pulsed beneath my palm.

  I was tired and sore and hungry. The energy bar hadn’t done much more than fill the hole in my belly, and I wasn�
��t in the mood for any of the food I’d stuffed into my daypack, either.

  But I wasn’t quite ready to give up my search just yet.

  Focusing on the map, I studied the marks around the area that had caught my attention. It wasn’t near any trails. There was a healthy spring that ran through the middle of that area, and any decent outdoorsmen would know that where there was water, they’d find animals.

  I punched the coordinates into my GPS and pondered the route I’d have to take.

  It would be a rough one, but as long as I was careful, I could make it there and back with plenty of time before sundown. But if I was going to do that, I needed to eat something more than an energy bar. I also needed to tend to personal matters, and while I was equipped to do it sans facilities, there was an outhouse not far away. I just had to trek back to the ranger station we’d used last week.

  Twenty-Two

  Roman

  “I…I’m sorry, Roman, but could you please repeat that?”

  I squeezed my eyes shut. The humor in Cass’s voice was clear, but since she’d given me a much-needed kick in the pants, I figured I could take her prodding. “I said you were right.”

  “I thought I’d never hear those words from you,” she said, laughter coloring her words.

  “Ha, ha. You’re right more often than I am, and you know it.”

  “True…but you rarely acknowledge it.”

  I snorted. “Okay. Now that you’ve had your fun, I wanted to let you know I’m going to talk to Lexi.”

  She was quiet for so long, I almost wondered if the call had dropped. But then she cleared her throat and said, “Wow. That’s surprising. Did I kick you in the ass or what?”

  “It wasn’t just you,” I said, my mind drifting back to my dream about Ryan.

  “Then what was it?” she asked softly.

  I hesitated, reluctant to go into detail. But if anybody would understand, it was Cass. “I had a dream about Ryan.”

  She didn’t speak, so I continued. “It was…it was weird. Not dreaming about him, because I do that all the time. But we’re always back overseas, on that last mission. This time, it was like he was right here with me. He was wearing my AC/DC shirt.”