Is that how they sounded when they prepared to strike? She wasn’t sure, but she couldn’t chance it.
“Don’t move,” she hissed, raising her sights a notch until the serpent’s maniacally grinning face dared her. She ordered her knees to stop shaking. You can do this, girlfriend. She had to. She owed him.
“Any time now....” His gaze never left the predator and his features lay in sharp contrast, as if etched in stone.
The snake’s body writhed as if it relished taunting its prey; sure it had its quarry without a fight. Those cold eyes stared deeply into hers.
This is what it must be like to stare into a bottomless pit.
“What are you waiting for?”
She’d never killed a living creature. She’d never aimed a gun at one.
The rattler swooped down on the man and sank its deadly fangs into his shoulder.
Ohmigod! Her squeamish hesitation might’ve killed the man.
Wincing, she squeezed the trigger. Loud, sharp, and deafening, the gunshot rang out.
Melissa turned away from the most gruesome sight she’d ever seen: the snake’s body had fallen between Cody’s feet, its head was still attached to his shoulder. Chunks of gross, gooey flesh had sprayed across the couch and floor.
God, she was going to be sick. As if it burned her, she dropped the despicable weapon to the floor.
A second gunshot rang out and a sizzle of light exploded from the barrel.
Cody swore as the bullet whizzed close to his head. A dangerous gleam in his eyes, he glared at her. “If you wanted to kill me, why not let the snake do it? At least you wouldn’t be up on murder charges.”
He swooped down on the gun, emptied it of bullets and holstered it in his shoulder strap.
“Aren’t you going to thank me for saving your life?” Dangerous to look into his furious eyes, she dropped her gaze to his dimpled chin.
“For almost killing me? You’re one mixed-up broad. I feel sorry for that husband of yours.”
Broad? How dare he?
When he yanked all four feet of the snake’s stiffening body from the couch, she almost wretched. Then he turned, glared at her, and sank to the floor, his eyes rolling back in his head.
Chapter Four
As Melissa’s shock subsided, as she got her revulsion under control, her gaze focused on the man sinking onto the dusty floor, his pupils dilated, and his flesh turned a sickly yellow.
Oh God! In the course of killing the attacking viper, she’d almost blown the man’s head off, too. Just a fraction more to the left and she’d have killed him. Jesse’s hands must surely have guided hers; his aim directed hers to save the other man.
Jesse, where are you when I need you?
Cody moaned, his baritone voice laced with deep torment. His hand struggled to reach his injured arm to brush away the snake’s head that still draped him like a stole.
“Lisa.” He said the word with much difficulty, his breathing raspy. His hand fell to the floor with a thud and his eyes rolled back alarmingly in his head.
Melissa knelt at his side, and put her ear to his mouth. Fast and weak, his respiration was barely audible. She put her lips to his head and was alarmed at his quickly rising temperature. She slipped her arms around his waist and tried to haul him to the couch. “We have to get you to the hospital.” But tugging with all her strength barely budged his two hundred pounds.
Panting, she willed herself to perform super human feats. Unfortunately, desire and good intentions didn’t prove sufficient. The cabin’s telephone was as dead as her cell phone. Deader. The wires had been gnawed through. They were on their own. She eyed her patient with trepidation as she gulped in several cleansing breaths of stale, dusty air, trying to regain her strength. Weak and shaking, she’d be no good to him.
“Do you have a snake bite kit?”
When he didn’t respond, she shook his shoulders gently, her fingers brushing the finally still form of the snake fragment that still sprawled over him. With a grimace, she shoved the carcass to the floor. It fell with a dull thud and she kicked it as far away as she could.
“Concentrate on my voice. Where’s the kit?” Everyone who lived in such back of beyond woods would keep such medicinal supplies. She ripped his flannel shirtsleeve off his shoulder and examined his blue-black swollen flesh. With fingers gentle as summer rain she prodded his injury, not liking the feel of his clammy flesh one bit.
This was bad. It could be very, very bad.
Why did cell phones lose their charge so quickly?
In a guttural voice, she strained out through tightly clenched teeth, “Don’t leave me, Richards. I haven’t repaid my debt to you yet. You can’t leave the party when it’s just getting exciting.”
Shadows danced across the rugged planes of his ashen face, muting his features. His familiar ruggedness tugged oddly at her heart. Flashes of Jesse’s lifeless face, eerily translucent and lit by flames, flitted before her tightly closed eyes and she fought to push them away.
Death wouldn’t dare show its unwelcome face again in one so young and virile. Yet Cody struggled to breathe, and he was so very limp.
An anguished cry erupting from her raw throat, she flung back her head. She buried her face in the injured man’s chest, absurdly borrowing strength from him.
A trembling hand stroked her hair and he said in a raspy, hoarse voice, “Check … saddlebag.”
Her head jerked up and sniffing, she brushed a burning tear off her cheek with the back of her hand. “Where?” Her heart brimmed with cautious joy as her gaze sought his. The man visibly fought death.
Thank God, he wasn’t giving up.
“In the kitchen? On the bike?”
His muscles rippled and his fingers fluttered feebly.
Melissa covered his clammy hand with hers and squeezed it gently, lending him her strength.
His lips moved fractionally but no sound passed his lips.
Willing him to speak, to guide her, she lowered her head and put her ear to his mouth.
Please be his guardian angel, Jess. I’ll take a rain check.
“Saddlebag. On the bike,” Cody Richards mumbled.
“Good.” Cautious relief flooded her. “Don’t try to move. I’ll be right back.”
She flew out to the bike as if the wind picked her up and carried her. Her fingers fumbled with his backpack, but the darkness draping the forest made it difficult to find anything. She squinted up at the sky, mentally cursing the twinkling stars. Then her wrist bumped into something long and metallic. Exploring further, her fingers curled around a long, cylindrical object and she smiled. Excellent. A flashlight.
Melissa felt for the switch and flicked it on, illuminating the contents of the bag. Frustrated, knowing that time was her enemy, she grabbed the pack, hauled it into the cabin, dumped the contents on the wooden floor and shone the light on it. Finally, she discerned the object of her search and grabbed it.
Now, what to do with it? Shining the small circle of light on the back of the box, she read and re-read the instructions, losing valuable time. It was the one commodity Cody didn’t have in abundance. Impatience gnawed at her, brought on by the obstacles in her path; she was on the verge of swearing, but bit back the words her father would have rebuked her for voicing. A well-bred young lady didn’t curse and swear, even in dire circumstances. She almost laughed aloud at herself.
Well-bred young ladies didn’t share back-woods cabins with spiders and snakes, either. Especially not the human variety.
The snakebite kit instructed her to drain the venom from the victim’s body. Unfortunately, time was running out. She had no idea how long it had taken her to find the kit, how many precious moments she’d lost reading directions.
She struggled to hold the awkward light under her chin, directing its beam to illuminate the kit. Finally she found a venom suction machine. But it wasn’t the most serviceable grip; she dropped the flashlight to the floor and it rolled away from her. The light clicked off and she had nothing to
guide her, save a pencil-thin stream of moonlight shining dimly through the gritty windowpanes.
On all fours she groped around in the inky shadows, grossed out to feel around. What if she stuck her hand in an entire nest?
Shivers shimmied down her spine, permeating to her fingertips and toes but Richards didn’t have time for her to be squeamish, so she forced herself to get over it. Besides, Jesse would protect her. He always did.
With blind faith, she ran her hands over the unseen floor, wincing when a splinter pierced her palm. She uttered a sharp cry that was really no more than a small mew, then clamped her lips shut, feeling ashamed for her pain that must be nothing compared to the man’s. Blundering forward, she broke through a whisper-soft spider’s web.
Despair threatened to overwhelm her, but she made herself immune to fear and focused on the man’s need and his complete reliance on her. Finally, her knuckles grazed the hard metal casing of the flashlight and she almost leaped for joy. She’d never been this happy to find her stockings laden with valuable baubles on Christmas morning, and she’d not felt this relieved when she’d found her lost diamond pendant hiding on the back lawn.
She clicked the light on again. “Hang in there a little longer. I’ve almost got it.”
Again, she shone the light on the miracle box and opened it. She stared at the miniature suction machine that looked as if it couldn’t suction a baby’s nose and gulped. She was supposed to suck out poisonous venom with this scrap of machinery?
She eyed it suspiciously, but the alternative would be to put her lips to the wound and suck out the venom. Right, and poison her also. Or risk amputation by tying a tourniquet around his arm.
No way could she cut off someone’s arm.
Lifting a fervent prayer to the powers on high, she squeezed her eyes tightly shut. Her chest was so tight with worry she thought it might burst.
Breathless, thoroughly exhausted, she forced herself to continue to make sure she got every last drop. When she poured hydrogen peroxide over the wound it boiled as if it was a bubbling cauldron. Her fingers shaky, her head pounding as if someone struck a gong in her head, she bandaged the wound as best she could in her flickering light. Then she elevated the injured limb as the instructions demanded, and propped it up with a small pillow she’d found on a nearby chair. She forced fever reducer through his lips, then dribbled water down his throat.
He spluttered, almost choking, but she saw his Adam’s apple work as the liquid passed through his lips. She repeated the process, raising his perspiration-soaked head higher so that it went down easier this time. She cradled him against her breast and supported him between the crook of her arm and the scruffy couch.
When he trembled, she cursed herself. Even though it was summer, the temperature had fallen several degrees since the sunset. Someone running a fever, possibly in shock, would freeze.
Gently, she lowered the man’s head to the soft cushions of the couch as she eased herself out from under him. Her eyes now accustomed to the moonlight, she stood over him and really allowed herself to look at him for the first time.
Not classically handsome like Nathan, Cody had a rugged attractiveness that was far more appealing. Like her Jesse. His nose would have been Sicilian-perfect except for a bump and slight turn attesting to one too many fights--with friends like her Cro-Magnon captor, most probably. His lips, even in fitful sleep, were strong and wide. It was a mouth that knew what it wanted, a mouth that would never be petulant. A day's growth of beard was evident along his strong jaw-line.
Tremors racked his huge frame, and she chided herself for being a poor nurse. The man needed a blanket.
In the bedroom, she found a bed blanketed with a dusty cover. Extra cautious, she crisscrossed the mattress with her stream of light, and then snatched off the coverlet. All the while she kept both ears perked and a close eye on the shadows for any sign of movement however slight.
She tugged at the edge of the spread, laying it out flat on the floor to ascertain that no suspicious lumps or movement writhed within. Then she shook it from the corner. Finally satisfied that it was snake-free, she did the same with the blanket underneath and the pillows at the head of the bed before bundling them into her arms and returning to her charge.
She laid the linens on the floor by the head of the couch, and then lifted Cody’s head to slide a pillow underneath. As if he was seven, she securely tucked the covers about him.
Out of old habit she brushed her lips to his forehead again and smiled when his flesh felt cooler to her touch. Good, the fever had broken. Her fingers lingered, brushing the stray strands of golden hair off his forehead. Taking her Florence Nightingale job very seriously, she took a last glance at her bandaging job to ensure blood from the wound didn’t seep through.
Satisfied that it looked clean and secure, she stood and rested her hands on her hips. Surveying the rustic living room her glance lit on the snake’s remains.
She made a hard and fast decision. She didn’t know how long they’d be holed up in this cabin together before she could safely leave the injured man to get groceries. And their earlier search hadn’t unearthed as vast an amount of food as Cody had obviously counted on. At most, they had two days supplies. Perhaps three, as she suspected she couldn’t eat for a good long while.
They were liable to starve in this back of beyond and she didn’t dare leave him alone. And he wouldn’t be able to help her get him to the cycle for at least several days.
As Jesse had drummed into her head, food was food. She’d prefer a grocery store, but that wasn’t an option. Rattlesnake meat now topped the menu. She was sure it was a delicacy somewhere.
As long as she was being practical, she wrapped the snake in a pillowcase and carried it to the moonlit clearing. Telling herself it was no different than skinning any other fresh game, she took the knife from the snakebite kit and prepared it to the tune of her tone-deaf whistling. She cut the rattle off for a souvenir for her patient when he pulled through this ordeal. She wouldn’t allow herself to think if he pulled through. Even the ghost of the thought made her grit her teeth.
Just as Jesse had taught her, she smoked the meat. She held it out on a long green stick, watching as the flames sparked and smoked against the velvety backdrop of midnight blue sky. In better circumstances, camping out under the heavens might be very romantic.
C’est la vie.
Chapter Five
Cody drifted in and out of consciousness. Cold sweat saturated his covers.
He couldn’t be one hundred percent sure, but he suspected that an angel ministered to him, giving him cool sponge baths, spoon-feeding him mush that tasted like crushed leaves. She seemed to float in and out of his sight, murmuring soothing words to him when the pain ran through him in rivulets.
Then she gave him something that sent him floating on clouds as if he were an angel himself. He could get used to this part.
Little by little, Cody regained awareness. Vague images teased his memory and he could swear the princess was his angel.
Blinding sunlight pierced his eyelids and he opened one heavy lid, then the other. He tried to speak, but his mouth felt dry and it had a horrible metallic taste in it. His tongue feeling three times its normal size, he tried to lick his lips. They felt parched and his tongue didn’t want to move the way his brain commanded.
He was a horrible mess.
Unaccustomed to being weak or dependent on anyone, he grimaced and tried to swing his legs off the couch and sit up. But that was a mistake and he groaned when pain hit him in the solar plexus and felt like a piano had dropped on his head. Gently as he could, he lowered his head back to the lumpy, sweat-stained pillow, closing his eyes against the merciless glare.
The screen door banged, sending pain coursing through his eardrums to every raw nerve ending in his body. With all his strength, Cody opened one eye a slit to see who entered the room.
The princess entered, clad in stonewashed blue jeans, her tailored white blouse tail
s tied at her waist and exposing a tiny triangle of taut stomach and a dainty belly button, her shirt sleeves rolled up blue-collar-worker style. On her, it looked extremely alluring. Especially when the early morning sun highlighted streaks of molten lava through red hair that billowed down to her slender waist.
She was the angel of his dreams, with hands as soft as a baby’s bottom. Hands that had touched him in places that would make a lesser man blush. Just the thought made his blood boil.
But she couldn’t be an angel. They usually didn’t enter through the front door as this one did. And they were usually quieter.
Suddenly her expression changed and she halted mid-step, her brilliant green-eyed gaze riveting on him. Her eyes narrowed, then widened and he thought he detected a trace of pleasure before it was quickly veiled. She was at his side in two steps, her warm palm on his forehead, then cupping his cheeks.
“Sleeping Beauty finally awakes,” she murmured, barely loud enough for him to hear. She walked around so that she could look squarely in his face. Without a trace of shyness, she leaned over him, her breasts brushing his bare arms, making him inhale sharply. Her finger pads prodded his upper left arm, sending shooting pain screaming down his arm to his fingertips and he winced.
“Still sore.” It wasn’t a question.
“That’s … an … under … statement.” His words skipped syllables and sounds, his voice sounded crackly due to his cotton-dry throat. It hurt to breathe. It took super-human effort just to twist on his side to get a better look at her. His muscles screamed from the abuse, objecting from even minute exercise. He forced his eyes open wider to study her face. His hand captured her slim wrist and he was surprised when she didn’t try to pull away.
“What happened?”
“You cozied up to a rattlesnake that wasn’t in the mood for company. I think he was a mite perturbed when you jumped on him with all 220 pounds....”
“One-hundred eighty-five.” Cody grimaced at how weak he felt. He wondered how much muscle he had left, if any. Rattlesnake bites were nasty critters.
Deadly Love Page 6