by Leah Brooke
With the intention of settling Demon for the night, Barrett started for the stable, stilling at the strange noise cutting through the wind.
Mason cursed. “What the hell?”
Turning in the saddle, he tried to see through the thickening snow, jolting at the large crash in the distance. He slid a glance at Mason, who stared in the same direction, whirling back when a loud explosion, followed by a huge fireball erupted at the base of the mountain behind the ranch.
“Jesus!” Barrett was already moving, racing after Quinn and Grant, who’d already turned and started toward the crash. Turning in the saddle, he waved Mason back. “Make the call and get my supplies.”
It would take them at least an hour to get to the base of the mountain in good weather. He just hoped that anyone who survived the crash could hang on long enough for them to get there.
* * * *
Almost two hours later, they arrived at the crash site, long after the fire had already burned out. It only took one glance to see that the pilot was dead, his body burned beyond recognition.
Clenching his jaw, he trudged through the snow around the wreckage, worried that he would find other victims. The knot in his stomach turned to ice, the horror of the situation tightening his gut.
They searched what little remained of the rest of the small plane, and the immediate surrounding area, but found no other bodies.
Grim-faced, Quinn scrubbed a hand over his face. “It looks like he was alone, but we’d better look around.”
Barrett nodded. “I doubt anyone could have survived this. We’ll spread out and see if there’s anyone else. That plane was a four-seater. Chances are, he had at least one passenger.”
The three of them fanned out, moving in increasingly larger circles around the wreckage. The snow came down heavier now, but the mountain blocked most of the wind.
Trying his best to ignore the cold, Barrett kept moving. Fearing that he would miss something, he moved with painstaking slowness with the others, as they tried to cover every inch. Using his flashlight, he scanned the surrounding area, knowing the odds of finding someone—especially someone still alive—decreased with every minute that passed.
They’d been searching for almost an hour when a sound caught his attention.
“Shh.” He stopped in his tracks and sliced a hand through the air, signaling for Quinn and Grant to be quiet.
Both men shone the flashlights in the same direction he aimed his, but he couldn’t see a damned thing besides trees and snow.
He heard nothing but silence for the next several minutes, but he didn’t move a muscle, straining his ears in an effort to hear something—anything—knowing that missing something could mean death.
Suddenly, it came again, a low, pain-filled moan, barely loud enough to be heard.
Someone had survived!
Racing in the direction it came from, he swept the area with his flashlight, but saw nothing.
“I heard it, too.” Grant came to a stop beside him, using his own light to search. “It was weak. If we don’t find him soon, he’s a goner.”
Miraculously, it came again. Quinn, who stood to his right, raced forward and dropped to his knees in the high snow. “Over here!”
Barrett moved through the heavy snow to Quinn’s side just as he uncovered what appeared to be nothing more than a mound of clothing.
Quinn’s eyes went wide, a look of horror on his face. “Christ, it’s a woman.” He turned her gently to her back, bending low and putting his ear to her face. “Thank God.” Lifting his head, he shot a glance at them, his expression hard and cold. “She’s alive, but I don’t know for how long.”
Barrett pulled off his gloves and reached for her, running his hands over her and checking for injuries. He pulled out a knife and cut the strap of the purse she’d wrapped around her. “I hate to move her, but we can’t leave her here like this. We have to take her back to the house. She might not make it to town.”
Quinn cursed, looking at Barrett over her small form. “We’d better hurry, or she might not even make it back to the ranch.”
Chapter Two
The first thing Kendra Stevenson became aware of was the voices.
Deep baritones seemed to come from all sides, low, serious voices that stirred her senses. Solid voices. Voices filled with concern.
Where was she? Who were they?
Too tired to think, she wanted desperately to drift back into the world of oblivion, but the voices surrounding her intrigued her. Drew her.
She struggled to hear them over the wind and the sound of crunching. She felt strange, as if she was rocking, which didn’t make sense at all.
It felt as if strong bands held her, making it impossible to move. The deep voice closest to her seemed to rumble against her ear, and even though she couldn’t seem to focus on the words, the strength and confidence in it seemed to surround her, making her feel secure, even as the underlying coldness and concern sent off warning bells.
She hurt everywhere.
What had he done to her?
She wanted desperately to see him, but she couldn’t seem to gather enough strength to open her eyes.
Another deep voice sounded from somewhere by her feet, almost as deep as the other voice, but even colder.
It seemed to take forever, but she finally managed to open one eye just enough to see hard, cold features, covered with ice and snow.
She heard the concern and anger in the other voice, and shifted her gaze lower to see another man, also covered in snow, from his hat to his chest.
Ice men.
Men as cold and deadly as their surroundings.
Her eyes closed, and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t open them again.
The pain and cold seemed to go all the way to her bones. Her head started swimming again, and then she knew nothing.
* * * *
Those voices again.
Filled with rage and desperation.
Cold.
Someone carried her.
Deep voices all around her.
Why did they keep moving her?
It hurt.
Everything hurt.
They were killing her.
She was going to die and she couldn’t do anything to stop it.
Those voices again.
* * * *
She woke again, this time lying on her stomach, the pain drawing her back to the surface.
She winced at the pins-and-needles sensation all over the surface of her skin, a sensation intensified by the firm touch of the hands moving briskly over her. She felt the weight of something like a soft blanket, but she couldn’t be sure.
Why the hell were they rubbing so hard? What were they trying to do to her?
She tried to speak, to tell them to leave her the hell alone, but couldn’t form the words. She wanted to sink back, but they wouldn’t let her.
Leave me alone!
Her mind screamed it, but she couldn’t work up the energy to say it out loud. She tried to move, alarmed that she couldn’t seem to gather the energy.
Something soft and warm covered her, and slid over her legs, but not until a hot hand—too hot—flattened on her bottom, did she realized that what must have been a blanket had been moved away. On the heels of that thought came the realization that she wore nothing beneath it.
Naked.
She could feel hands on her skin. Hard hands that seemed to touch her everywhere at once.
She was naked, and men she didn’t know were touching her.
Panicking, she fought for a memory to help her understand how she’d gotten in this position, her struggle to move unsuccessful. She listened carefully, focusing on their words in an effort to get an answer.
“Do it carefully, Quinn. Easy. Don’t you dare fucking hurt her.”
“I’m not going to hurt her, Barrett. Shut the fuck up. You’re making me nervous.” The hand parted her bottom cheeks and slid something slim and hard into her ass. “Just finish those
Needle? Oh, God! What were they doing to her?
Panicked now, she whimpered, a low sound that she doubted anyone but her even heard. Without warning, she began to shake, her entire body screaming with pain.
Another whimper escaped, and then another, tears stinging her eyes.
“Easy, Quinn. Just hold her still. I don’t want her hurt. I’m almost done. I just have to tie this last one off.” The deep, mesmerizing voice of the man named Barrett held a hint of desperation beneath the calm control.
“I am trying to hold her still. Damn, she’s so small. Those whimpers are killing me.” The low growl in the deep, rumbling voice held a hint of anger and panic.
“She’s starting to shiver.” The silky, whispered voice seemed to come from right above her, and held a sense of relief.
“It’s about damned time.” The man on her left also seemed relieved, but his voice still held more than a hint of desperation.
The hand on her bottom flexed and firmed, holding her still, and yet another voice came from that direction. “Her temperature has to have gone up a little.”
Whatever had been pushed into her bottom slid free. “It did. Thank God. She should be out of the woods, but I still think we need to warm her up a little more.”
“I’ll hold her in the shower. I want to make sure we don’t burn her.”
Kendra moaned, trying to remember something—anything—that would explain the predicament she’d found herself in. She couldn’t tell how many voices she heard, but they seemed to be all men, and apparently surrounded her.
She couldn’t seem to stop shivering, but finally managed to get control of her hands. Encountering soft material that felt like sheets, she moaned and flexed her fingers, wincing at the slight pain.
The plane!
She remembered getting on the plane, the private plane her boss had arranged to take her to the ranch he’d become obsessed with listing.
“I’ll finish warming her up in the shower.” The deep voice from above and to the left moved closer.
The pilot of the plane had been a nice man, who’d helped calm her fear of flying. She remembered the storm, and her terror when the pilot started cursing and telling her to hold on.
He’d just gotten married, and he and his wife wanted to buy a new house.
She was going to mention helping them find one when they landed.
She’d never had the chance.
Her stomach tightened when she thought about the way the small plane had been tossed around in the sky, and the horrifying silence when the engines had stopped.
She’d heard the wind and then nothing until the crash.
She blinked back tears, her breath coming out in ragged gulps when she relived the stomach-dropping sensation of the plane falling to earth.
Remembering the moment of impact, she cried out, fighting the hands lifting her.
“Shh. Don’t panic. It’s all right, honey. You’re safe. Don’t fight me.”
Her eyes flew open at the heat coming from the bare male chest pressed against her side.
His tender smile contrasted sharply with the concern narrowing his mesmerizing eyes.
So blue.
“Who are you? Where am I?” Her voice, barely a croak, came out so weak, she doubted he could have heard her.
She blinked, finding it more difficult than usual to focus, a cry escaping when she found herself surrounded by four of the biggest, hardest-looking men she’d even seen.
“Oh, God. Please don’t hurt me.”
And she was stark naked in the arms of one of them, the one who’d stripped down to his boxers.
Oh, God! They were going to rape her!
Terrified, and wondering what they’d already done to her, she tried to fight, but had no strength or coordination. She shook so hard that she almost feared he would drop her, but to her relief, and terror, the arms around her felt incredibly strong.
The man holding her stiffened, tightening his hold as he smiled down at her. “Easy. You’re okay. I’m Mason. You’re safe. Don’t fight me.”
Don’t fight him?
She had to fight him. Despite the crooning quality in his voice, she knew she couldn’t trust him. She had to get free.
The man standing by her feet and holding the thermometer in his huge hand had a grim look on a face that only intensified his hard features.
He had to be the meanest-looking man she’d ever seen. With olive skin, and eyes that appeared as black as his hair, he looked like an outlaw from the Old West, a man she’d never want to tangle with.
Mason chuckled. “Yeah, Quinn can be as scary as he looks, but that’s not his threatening look. That’s his scared look. We’ve all been scared to death, waiting for you to wake up.”
Being held against a hot, hard chest, with her legs bent over an amazingly muscular arm, she knew her slit was exposed completely to the other men, but there wasn’t a thing she could do to cover herself.
She tried to look around for her clothes, or for any sign of where they’d brought her, but nothing looked familiar. When the effort proved too much, she dropped her head on to his shoulder, fearfully eyeing the other three men.
All three of them stayed close, watching her intently.
Shaken and shivering, she flattened a hand on the hard chest of the man holding her, and managed to push away from it just enough to look up into his face.
His dark blond hair hung almost to his shoulders, his eyes a startling blue. Staring down at her, his harsh features softened. “You’re safe. We’ve got you. Just be still. I don’t want to hurt you. Just relax and let us take care of everything.”
She tried to speak, but couldn’t get her voice to work, and swallowed heavily before trying again. “What’s going on? Who are you?”
She glanced away, warily eyeing the other three men who stepped closer.
The concern in their eyes and their reassuring smiles eased some of her fears, allowing her to relax just a little.
Frowning, she tried to focus on a vision that came and went, a vision of men covered in ice. “Where am I?” She stared at the man closest to her.
He had movie star looks and strong masculine features that somehow combined into one of the handsomest faces she’d ever seen. His overlong brown hair framed his rugged features, his smile and light brown eyes filled with warmth and concern. “Hi, honey. I’m Grant. Just be still so you don’t pull those stitches.” He jerked a thumb toward the man standing beside and slightly behind him. “Barrett worked hard on them, and he won’t be happy if you rip them out.”
Her gaze slid to Barrett. He was built like a mountain, standing taller than the other men, with impossibly wide shoulders.
Forcing a smile, she nodded. “Thank you. I’ll do my best.”
She couldn’t remember ever seeing such a big man in her life, which frightened her even more. His brown hair, shorter than the others, stood up in places as though he’d run his fingers through it repeatedly. His sharp eyes, a chocolaty brown, lingered on her face, his features tight as he held his arms out slightly as if to catch her.
Scared, she looked from one to the other as they accompanied the one carrying her into an oversized bathroom. The one holding her slowed. “Just relax and let us take care of you. I’ve got to get you into the shower so we can warm you up some more. Do you remember what happened to you?”
Kendra closed her eyes as the horror came rushing back. “The plane crashed. There was a storm. It shook and then we went down. The pilot. What happened to him? Sam. Is he okay?”
She stiffened, wincing as her body protested the tightening of her muscles. Surprised to see that the bathroom appeared to be as large as her living room in her apartment, she tried to push against his chest again, relieved that her voice sounded stronger. “Leave me alone. I can take a shower by myself. Where are my clothes?”
The man holding her smiled. “We found a suitcase that appears to be yours, but honey, you wouldn’t even be able to stand on your own. Barrett shot you full of painkillers before he stitched you up, and numbed part of your leg. He was scared that you would wake up in pain. Besides that, you’re as weak as a newborn kitten. Can you tell us your name?”
“Kendra. Kendra Stevenson.”
The low timbre of his voice grounded her, the solidness of it and his presence somehow reassuring her.
Stepping into the large shower, he turned on the water, his movements careful as though he feared jarring her. “Barrett Brown is the man who was standing by your feet. He used to be a doctor. I’m Mason Malone. You can talk to all of them when we get out of here. Right now I need to warm you up a little. Tell me if the water gets too hot for you. I have to bring your temperature up a little at a time. We’re damned lucky you don’t have frostbite. Here’s Barrett now. I know he’s big, but you don’t have to be afraid. He’s a big teddy bear.”
The man he spoke of reached a hand in to test the water. “Big teddy bear, my ass. It’s okay. You can make it a little warmer in a few minutes. Don’t let her move around and rip those stitches out.”
Mason moved her back and forth under the spray. “I’m not gonna let her rip her stitches out, Barrett. There, honey. How does that feel? We’ll keep warming it a little at a time and get you defrosted.”
Barrett shot him a glare, before turning to her. “Christ, we’re lucky to have found you at all. After we found the pilot, we looked around, but had no idea there was anyone else on board until we heard you moan.” He glanced at Mason. “I’ll get some towels. Quinn went to heat up some soup.” The shower door closed with a click, leaving Kendra alone with Mason.
Kendra shivered, grateful for the heat of the shower, but it wasn’t enough. She felt cold all the way to her bones. “Put me down, please. I want to be alone.”
Mason shook his head, reaching out to adjust the temperature of the water. “No. You’ll just fall and hurt yourself even more. You probably don’t feel it right now, but you’ve got about a dozen stitches in your right thigh.”
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