Samantha crouched next to them. “What the hell happened to you?” she demanded.
Twinges and spasms coursed through her arms and legs. Her shoulders pounded from the savage wrenching, her swollen knee ached. She told them everything that had occurred since Fleetham and Schwarz-Silber landed on the mountain. Alex’s face grew flinty.
“The bear was simply plain bad luck.” She leaned, exhausted, against Alex, head resting on his shoulder. “I’m so glad you came when you did. I didn’t know if I was going to get away.” Her voice hitched and her throat tightened with tears. She breathed deeply, in through her nose and out through her mouth, and the panic subsided. Alex’s arms around her were home and safety.
Hydrating had helped with the light-headedness, and soon she was well enough to stand, but was thankful for Alex’s firm grip on her hand as they walked along.
“Why are you here?” she asked as they began the ascent to the lookout. “You couldn’t have known I’d be in trouble.”
“Fleetham baited us with an appointment this morning. But he didn’t show, again. I couldn’t shake the feeling he had used the meeting as a distraction. And knowing you were out here, on your own...” She glanced up at an odd note in his voice, but he continued to stare straight ahead. “I had to check. Samantha insisted on coming with me.”
To June’s extreme relief, they crested the slope and reached the plateau. Instead of the sleek black craft she’d last seen there, the familiar rounded shape of Alex’s helicopter rested next to the lookout. By now, sheer stubbornness was all that kept her on her feet, and when he led her to the cabin she folded thankfully into the spindly wooden chair.
He dug through her kit, found a bottle of pain relievers, and handed it to her. She shook a couple into her palm and swallowed them dry, hoping they would take the edge off the misery in her head. As he rolled up her sleeping bag and efficiently packed the rest of her belongings, she fingered the huge tears in her backpack. Lingering traces of futility and fear rippled through her system.
Alex turned to her, worry still haunting his face. He touched her cheek in a caress so light she barely felt it. “Ready to go?”
She nodded. Samantha waited by the trailhead leading down to Longworth village. June handed over her keys. It had been decided Samantha would hike down and drive June’s truck back into Prince George while Alex and June returned in the helicopter. They waited until Samantha disappeared into the trees, then lifted off and set their course for home.
Chapter Sixteen
June resisted Alex’s attempts to take her to the hospital once they arrived in the city.
“All I want right now is a shower,” she insisted.
“You’ve probably got a concussion,” accused Alex, “so you’re in no shape to decide what you need. I’m bringing you in.”
“I want a shower, and I want it now.” She hugged her arms across her body. “My head hurts, along with a few more bits of me, but I can handle it. I need to get cleaned up and have a rest, in my own house.”
He manoeuvred his Jeep out of the airport parking lot. “We have to let the RCMP know what’s going on.”
“You can call them from my place. Please, Alex. I want to go home. With you.”
The stern frown on his face softened. “Okay,” he said, “but I’m keeping an eye on you. If you don’t feel better soon, you’re going to the hospital if I have to hogtie you.”
“Deal.” She closed her eyes and allowed herself to relax, trusting his word. She must have dozed off, because the next thing she knew, Alex was opening her door and scooping her up in his arms.
“Put me down,” she said, words slurred with fatigue. “I’m perfectly capable of walking.” He ignored her and continued to the front door.
“I’ll get your stuff from the Jeep.” He lowered her to her feet so she could use her key. “You get in the shower.”
It was pure delight to strip out of her filthy, sweaty T-shirt and shorts, peel off the grimy socks and stand naked under the steaming spray. Water streamed through her hair, washing the blood and dirt down the drain. She lathered thoroughly, careful with the goose egg over her ear, then soaped the rest of her body, flinching as various scrapes, dulled during the trip home, woke to stinging, burning life.
She wrapped herself in her robe and headed back to the living room. Alex sat on the couch, a pad of paper on the coffee table in front of him, making notes and grunting into the phone. He watched her approach, a tiny smile lighting his eyes.
“Okay, got it,” he said. He held out a hand, and when she took it, gently urged her down onto the couch next to him. His thumb massaged her knuckles as he continued his conversation. “Yes. We’ll be here. You can get me on my cell.” He disconnected and tossed his phone on the table. “You seem better.” He twisted a damp strand of hair between his fingers.
“I feel better.” It wasn’t a total lie.
“You need to eat.”
Faintly nauseous from the headache, the thought of food made her shudder. “I’m not hungry. Who were you talking to?”
“I’m going to make you some soup. You must have a can I can open.”
“My hero,” June teased, but her heart stuttered when she realized she’d spoken the truth. “Who were you speaking to?” she repeated.
“The RCMP. But you don’t have to worry about that for now. I told them everything, including the description of the helicopter. You still can’t remember the call letters, can you?”
She shook her head. “I’m sorry I didn’t notice. I was too stunned after I realized it was Richard inside.”
“They’ll make enquiries at the airports around here. Chances are someone will know about it. The cops will want to talk to you themselves, but I’ve put them off until tomorrow. Now, where’s that soup? And shouldn’t we call your parents?”
“Not now. Not yet. After all, I’m fine, and there’s nothing they can do. I want to be here, in my safe little house, the two of us.” Alex seemed to want to argue the point, but he let it ride and went to the kitchen to dig up something to eat.
She let him fuss around her, partly because he insisted, partly because she couldn’t deny how weak she felt. At first she was amused by all the attention. Then it started to make her itchy.
“Alex, stop hovering.” She patted the couch. “Come sit with me.”
He smoothed a hand down her arm as he sat beside her. “You’re sure you don’t need anything?”
She chuckled, even though it sent small stabs of pain through her skull. “I need you to stop asking me if I need anything. Can we just sit and be quiet, together, for a while?”
“You can sleep if you want. I’ll have to wake you every hour or so, because of your concussion.” He placed a pillow on his thighs and patted it.
“I don’t have a concussion. And I don’t want to sleep.” But she curled her feet up and laid her head on the pillow. “I want to be here, with you, and enjoy being alive.”
****
It had taken a lot of willpower for Alex to let June leave his sight. He’d listened outside the bathroom door, only moving to the living room to make his phone calls after the water had turned off.
She lay beside him now, pale and vulnerable, but he consoled himself with the press of her shoulder against his thigh and by watching the pulse beat in her neck. He sat still and quiet, hoping she would succumb to sleep despite her intentions.
Tenderly he feathered his hand over the bright hair and brushed the large bump above her ear. A muscle jumped in his temple. He couldn’t stop his hand from shaking as he stroked her cheek with the back of his fingers.
She lifted her face toward him and raised an eyebrow. “What?”
He worked some saliva into his dry mouth. “I thought I was scared when you called after you’d been shot at. I thought that was fear. But it was nothing—nothing!—compared to what I felt today, when I came down the path, saw that grizzly mauling you.” The memory was so raw, so fresh, it still tore at him. “It kept dragging
you along. You weren’t moving. I couldn’t tell if you were alive or dead.” He never wanted to feel that way again, unable to draw a full breath, his heart expanding, everything stretching tight.
She rolled over and snuggled closer. “When I heard that rifle boom, I didn’t even care if it was Schwarz-Silber coming back, if he got that bear off me.”
“I should have shot it. I would have, but I was afraid of hitting you. And then when it ran, all I could think of was getting to you as fast as possible. I prayed you were alive.” He, who had rarely if ever prayed before. She reached to touch his face, and he grasped her hand, holding it tightly, kissing her knuckles. His control broke, and he crushed her to his chest, burying his face in her hair. “God, oh God. I thought I’d lost you. I thought you were dead.”
He rocked with her until the ferociousness of his emotions eased and his breathing slowed.
With a hand on the back of his neck, she drew him down to her. Her lips firm against his, the kiss was a balm to his tattered soul, and he sank into her, changing the angle, deepening it.
The rage and fear he had bottled up became molten, melting into need. He wanted to be tender, to be careful of her wounds, but desperation filled him, made him reckless. His mouth devoured the delicate skin of her neck, scented with lemon from her shower, and his hands wrapped around her torso, lifting her to mould her once again to his body.
He slipped his arms under her knees. Cradling her against him, he stood up. “I need you, now. I need to know you’re all right, that you’re mine, that you’ll always be mine.” She shivered and he hesitated, knowing he was asking too much of her.
Her arms linked tightly around his neck, her mouth grazed moistly down his throat. “Last door on the right,” she murmured.
He laid her on the bed, unbelted her robe, and spread it open. Her body was leanly muscled, her breasts small, hips a subtle sweep. His finger circled the dark mole next to her belly-button.
She gazed at him with languorous eyes. He unbuttoned his shirt, unbuckled his trousers. When he was naked she sat up and wriggled out of her robe, letting it slip silkily off her shoulders, then reached for him.
Air hissed through his teeth as her cool fingers wrapped around his hard, hot length. His hands dove into her damp, tousled hair, holding on, encouraging her to explore his body. Her breath danced across his stomach. He groaned, the thin threads of control slipping, silvery strands stretched to breaking point. When her fingers touched the tip of his shaft, he recoiled and captured her wrist.
“Doesn’t that feel good?” she said, her voice hesitant.
“Dear lord,” he ground out. “Too good.”
Anxiety transformed to mischievousness. “I like it, too.” She rubbed him again, and he growled deep in his throat.
His legs were on the verge of collapse. If she kept touching him he was going to lose all sense of restraint. He reached down with both hands to cup her breasts, then eased himself from her hold and knelt in front of her. Toying with one nipple with his fingers, he tantalized the other with his tongue and was rewarded with whimpers of pleasure.
She seemed to liquify under his hands, his mouth, and flowed backward until she was lying on the bed. He followed her, licking, sucking. Sensations blended together in a heady swirl of lust and love. He slid into her wet and ready warmth. Only then did he allow himself to let go, to bury himself in her over and over again. She wrapped her legs around him and surrounded him, enfolded him. Arching passionately against him, she tightened. He thrust one last time.
They lay together, trembling, panting with exertion. He reveled in the long length of her pressed against him, the softness of her breasts brushing his chest as they breathed, the strong muscles of her thighs, the slenderness of her waist.
“Can you hear my heart?” she whispered. “I think it’s beating out of my chest.”
It came to him then, and the knowledge was so right, so perfect, it brought a tranquility he had never known. “I love you.” He marveled at how easy it was to say. His fingers cupped her breast absently, his eyes locked on hers.
She lay motionless, searching his face. He waited. She remained silent. His sensation of peace dimmed. “Did you hear me? I love you, June.”
“You love me?” she asked.
“I think I’ve been denying it to myself for days. But today, when I found you on the mountain...I couldn’t pretend anymore.” His hands cradled her face. For the second time that day he prayed. Please, God. Please let her love me back.
Deep in her eyes a light glimmered. This time when she spoke he heard the joy, the anticipation. “You love me?”
“I do.” One corner of his mouth quirked self-consciously. “I never believed I’d say that to anyone. But then I met you, and I’ve never known anyone like you before. I don’t think I could live without you. The idea of not having you in my life makes me crazy.”
“You’re not having a reaction to all the excitement, are you?”
This time he gave her a full on grin. “I’m positive. Want me to say it again?” She nodded. “I love you.”
She lifted her hand, cupping the hard edge of his jaw. “Damn right you do. And guess what? I love you, too.”
Elation burst inside him. He drank in the exultant gleam in her eyes, rejoiced in the gleeful curve of her lips, a mirror to his own. He wrapped his arms around her and dragged her on top of him, hugging her fiercely. “Say it again,” he said, hoarse with emotion. “Tell me again.”
A carefree giggle bubbled out of her throat. “I love you.” She kissed his cheek. “I love you.” And his other cheek. “I love you.” And when her lips met his, he found home.
****
June’s first view when she opened her eyes the next morning was Alex, lying on his back on top of the bed covers, arms crossed over his chest. Stubble shadowed his strong jaw, and despite sleeping soundly at the moment, dark bruises under his eyes attested to a disturbed night. She had vague memories of him throughout the wee hours, waking her to ask simple questions, watching for the dangerous symptoms of concussion, each time allowing her to slip back into a healing sleep.
Scrapes and bruises tugged at her, and her knee was slightly swollen, but the headache had almost disappeared. Carefully she slipped out of the sheets and sat on the edge of the bed, waiting for any sign of light-headedness or nausea. When all seemed well, she limped out of the room, shrugging into her robe on her way to the kitchen.
The display on the coffee machine told her it was barely nine o’clock. While the liquid dripped into the pot, dispersing delicious curls of caffeine-laden scent into the air, she puttered around the room, putting away the dishes Alex had washed the night before.
She filled two mugs and headed back to the bedroom. He lay as she had left him. She sat on the edge of the bed, and he still did not stir. The knowledge that he loved her was so big, so new, she could hardly believe it. She stroked her mouth against his. His eyes opened, dark and drowsy.
“How are you feeling?” His voice was gruff. He cleared his throat, then gave her a hopeful look. “Is that coffee?” He shifted to rest against the headboard and gratefully took the mug she handed him.
She hugged her own cup with both hands, enjoying the heat seeping through the porcelain. “I feel almost one hundred percent, thanks to you.”
“Anytime.” He studied her over the lip of his mug. “How’s the headache?”
“Hanging on, but not bad. Much better, in fact.” Unaccountably, she felt shy, wondering how to bring up the subject she most wanted to talk about.
“I didn’t dream last night, did I?”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “Dream what?”
“That you told me you loved me?”
Relief surged through her. She smacked his knee. “I’ve wanted to tell you for days. I was waiting for you to see the light. Too bad it took a near death experience—mine—before you did.”
The glow in his eyes set up a throbbing in her veins. “I love you, June. And I’ve never be
en happier about anything in my life.”
They sat, smiling idiotically at each other. She blew on her coffee, took a sip. “So, what happens now?”
He sputtered into his mug. “What, about us? Can’t a guy have a few months to get used to the idea?”
She stared blankly at him, then the penny dropped. Her snicker rolled into a howl of mirth. She laughed until her sides ached, until tears rolled down her cheeks. He was forced to rescue her tilting coffee cup.
“Today,” she hiccoughed. “I meant what happens today. Oh, God. You should have seen your face.”
He gave her hair a quick yank. “All right, that’s enough out of you. If that’s the case, what happens now is that you have breakfast, and get more rest.”
She wiped the last of her tears on the bed sheet. “What about Richard and Schwarz-Silber? Did you hear anything last night after I fell asleep?”
“Samantha brought back your truck. The keys are in the kitchen.”
“Good. What else?” His expression betrayed his urge to dodge her questions, to hide knowledge from her. “Tell me, Alex.”
“Detective George called,” he said reluctantly.
“Who’s that?”
“The younger of the two investigators into Iain Prevost’s murder. You met him at my office the day you brought the note.”
She curled her legs under her and sat cross-legged on the bed. Her knee complained but the stretch felt good. “What did he say?”
“They haven’t found any sign of the helicopter, Fleetham or Schwarz-Silber.” His eyes drifted down and she realized her robe gaped open slightly. She covered herself and he took a gulp of hot coffee, wincing.
She huffed out a breath. “So now what? What do we do?”
“Detective George wants us to go into the detachment today so you can give your report directly. Then we come home. And we wait.”
“Wait!” There must be something they could do, she thought in disgust.
He clasped her hand. “We wait. The RCMP has it under control. We could do more harm than good if we go off on our own. You have to trust them to do their job.”
Mountain Fire Page 15