Daredevil's Run (The Taken Book 2)

by Kathleen Creighton

  Matt took another swallow of beer. Not that it helped wash down the knot in his throat. “Yeah? How’s she doing? The rafting business going well?”

  Cory’s half smile and steady gaze told Matt he wasn’t fooled. “Seems to be. Although Alex…maybe not so well.”

  The kick under his ribs caught him by surprise, made him check with his beer halfway to his lips. He coughed to cover it, set the beer down and said carefully, “What do you mean?”

  “She’s pretty angry with you, you know. And hurt. Doesn’t understand why you broke things off with her.”

  Matt leaned back in his chair and steadied his hands on the wheels. Emotions he’d learned to control threatened to break loose, something he didn’t want, not now, not with the brother he was trying so hard to impress watching him like a hawk. He huffed out a laugh he hoped didn’t sound bitter. “That doesn’t surprise me. I wouldn’t expect her to understand.” He added, as an afterthought, “Don’t expect you to, either.”

  “I’m pretty good at understanding,” Cory said.

  There was a moment when Matt thought he wouldn’t answer, when he swiveled away from the table. Then for some reason he came back.

  “Okay,” he said, then paused while he thought about how to start. “Look. All during rehab they tell you the hardest part of getting your life back is facing up to what you were before. Like, as long as you’re in the hospital, in rehab, you’re in this completely different world, and you’re surrounded by others in the same boat you’re in, or worse off than you. You look forward to going home, that’s what you’re working toward, the light at the end of the tunnel. And then when you finally get there, instead of being this great thing, it’s like bam, everything hits you at once. Everywhere you look you see stuff that was part of your old life, stuff you can’t do anymore. That’s hard.” And how’s that for under-statement?

  Cory nodded. “I can see how it would be. So you tried to avoid that part altogether. By not going back to the life you had before.”

  “Yeah, I did,” Matt said, quietly defiant. “Do you blame me?”

  “I’m not into blaming anybody—” Cory’s smile flashed “—except maybe myself.”

  “And I told you not to do that. I mean it. I’m okay with my life. I mean, hell no, I’m not okay with being in a wheelchair, but I’ve accepted it. What else can I do? Look, I went through all the stages—first, you’re just numb, then you’re in denial. You tell yourself you’re going to get over this, you’re going to get well, you’re going to walk again. When you realize you’re not, you hit bottom. There’s rage, despair, bitterness—some people never make it past that. Some people choose to end it right there. I don’t know why I managed to get through it, but I did, and I’m glad I did. I’ve got a job doing something important. At least, I think it is. I think maybe I can make a difference in some kids’ lives, and that keeps me going, getting up every morning.”

  “I think so, too. I hate to sound like a big brother, but I’m proud of you.” Cory coughed and took a swallow of beer—a ploy Matt was familiar with, had used himself a time or two—then frowned at the can in his hand. “But there’s more to life than a career. Trust me—this I know from personal experience.”

  It was an opportunity, and Matt jumped on it with great relief. Leaned forward, grinning, and said, “Speaking of which, I haven’t heard about yours, yet. You’re married, I know that much. Your wife’s name is Samantha, right? So, tell me about her.”

  This time his brother’s smile was different, somehow, as if somebody had lit a whole bunch of candles behind it. “You’ll meet her yourself, soon enough. She’s flying out tomorrow.”

  “No kidding? Hey, that’s great. No kids, though, I’m guessing?”

  The candlepower went just a shade dimmer. “Not yet. Sam’s been busy with her career—she’s a pilot, did Wade tell you?—and then we’ve both been occupied with this search. Still two missing, you know. The twins—the little girls are out there, somewhere. We’re not ready to give up just yet.”

  He took off his glasses, frowned at them, then shifted those deep, dark, see-everything eyes back to Matt. “What about you? You broke things off with Alex, so…what now? Do you have anybody special in your life? Do you plan to get married someday, have kids of your own? I’m assuming everything’s…”

  Matt jumped in with a cough and a hurried, “Oh, yeah. Everything’s fine. Works just…fine. You know….” And after an awkward pause, “I’d like to find somebody, sure.” From out of the past a pair of hazel eyes fringed with black swam into his mind and gazed at him accusingly. You found her, you idiot. And you were too stupid to know it.

  His consciousness protested. Hey, I wasn’t the stupid one.

  You could have changed her mind if you’d tried hard enough.

  I would have. I meant to. I thought I had time….

  Cory’s voice broke into his inner debate. “You and Alex…”

  “Whatever we were,” Matt said evenly, “it’s history.”

  “That’s…not the impression I got from her.”

  Matt jerked away from the table, needing a physical outlet for the anger that spasmed through him. “Look—you don’t…You have to know her.” He gave a short, hard laugh as he wheeled into the kitchen and lobbed his empty beer can into the sink, liking the clatter it made. “She’s got some issues, believe me.”

  His brother’s mild tone told him he wasn’t impressed by the display. “So, tell me about her.”

  Sam’s “Hey…” was mumbled and sleepy, and Cory closed his eyes in contrition.

  “I woke you. I’m sorry. I didn’t think about the time difference.”

  “No…no, ’sokay.” He could hear rustlings, and for a moment, knowing she preferred to sleep nude, enjoyed the mental picture of his wife getting herself propped up on pillows and the sheet pulled up across her breasts. “Tell me. You’ve seen him? Talked to him?”

  “Just came from having dinner with him. He fixed us hamburgers.”

  “Umm. Yum.”

  “Sam, I wish you could have seen him. He coaches a bunch of teenagers with SCIs. Have you ever heard of ‘Murderball’?”

  “I have, actually. Well, gee, Pearse, what did you expect? He’s your brother. So, how is he? I mean, you know, about…”

  “Being paralyzed? He seems to have adjusted very well. Ask me how it was seeing him like that.”

  “Okay.”

  “In a word, awful. I kept thinking I could have changed things if I’d…you know. That he wouldn’t be in that chair if I’d been there for him.”

  “Pearse—”

  “I know, I know. He already told me what he thought of that notion. There is something I’d like to do for him though. This is something I think I might be able to fix.” And maybe it’ll help with these guilt feelings…

  “Okay, tell me. Can I help?”

  “I think so, yes. You’re still coming tomorrow, right?”

  “Right. Hitched a ride with the U.S. Navy. Leaving at O–six hundred. You’re picking me up at Edwards, right?”

  “You bet.” Cory let out a breath. “I’m going to take Matt back to the mountains, Sam. He’s adjusted okay in most ways, but…he’d never admit it, but I think he’s lonely. He’d like someone—a wife, kids—but I don’t think he’s ever going to be able to find anyone as long as he’s got this unresolved thing for Alex Penny. His ex-partner. I’m positive he’s still got feelings for her, and it’s a big hurting empty inside him.”

  He listened to some more rustlings, and then, “Darlin’, I know you want to help your brother, but meddlin’ in his love life? I don’t know about that…Do you think taking him back to the life he used to have is such a good idea? Seems like that could be pretty hard.”

  “Oh, yeah. He admitted that. He said it was the reason he chose not to go back. But I think there’s more to him not going back than not wanting to face his old life. He’s got more guts than that.” He paused. “I think he’d have gone back if she’d asked h
im to.”

  “Well, why didn’t she? Maybe she doesn’t have the same feelings he does.”

  “That’s just it—I think she does. Sam, she’s still hurt and angry after five years. That doesn’t come from nothing.”

  “True.” He heard a swallowed yawn. “Then why? Is she just proud? Stubborn? What?”

  “Mmm, I don’t know. Some, maybe. But Matt told me some things about her that might help to explain why she didn’t ask him to stay. Apparently she grew up in a trailer park in a little town on the Mojave Desert. Single mom, father deserted her mother as soon as he found out she was pregnant. Mom was bitter but tough, and raised her daughter to fend for herself, be self-sufficient, not depend on anybody but herself, and especially not a man. She died of cancer about the time Alex met Matt.”

  “Oh boy.”

  “Yeah. Add to that the fact that Matt’s got his pride, too, and he’s trying to prove to himself he can make it on his own, doesn’t want pity, doesn’t want charity, so the only way he’s going to stay on the river is if his partner convinces him she really wants and needs him.”

  “Which goes against the whole mind-set she was raised with. So, how do we go about fixing this?”

  “I told you. We’re going to take him back to the river. I want to book us a rafting trip—you, me and Matt. They do trips with all sorts of disabled people, so I know it’s doable. Then, once we get him there, we let nature take its course. I’ll butt out, I promise.”

  “Okay,” Sam said, softly laughing, obviously not believing that for a minute. “That’s fine…but how do you intend to convince this little brother of yours to go along with your plan? From the sound of things, he’s got a mind of his own.”

  “I’ll put it to him in the one way he won’t be able to refuse,” Cory said, letting his smile into his voice. “He’s a bit of a daredevil. So, I plan to dare him.”

  “No way,” Alex said. “Not in a million years. Out of the question.”

  “You go, girl,” Eve said, clinking beer bottles with her across the remains of their burgers and fries.

  “That’s what I’m gonna tell him, too. First thing tomorrow.” Alex took a chug from the bottle, then lowered it and demanded of Booker T, who was gazing at her from under his beetling white eyebrows and shaking his head, “What? You don’t think I won’t? Eve’s right. Why in the hell should I let my paraplegic ex-partner book a tour with me when he friggin’ deserted me? Didn’t even have the guts to come back here and help me run this damn outfit? Who needs that? Who needs him?”

  This time Eve’s “Hear! Hear!” was echoed enthusiastically by Bobby and Ken and a couple of the other river guides who were obviously a beer or two up on the rest of the crew. Randy, the photographer, who had his mouth full, gave a thumbs-up gesture. Linda, Booker T’s wife, who also manned the Rafting Center’s store and was too kind and sweet to say a bad word against anybody, just smiled and shook her head. Booker T scraped back his chair and stood up.

  “We got boatin’ to do tomorrow, people,” he announced to a chorus of boos, which he ignored. “Time to be headin’ on home. C’mon, sweet pea.” He pulled out Linda’s chair for her and offered her a hand with a gesture like an old-time gentleman, which he did sort of resemble with his sweeping handlebar mustache with its waxed and curled-up ends. Then he gestured at Alex. “You, too, baby doll. Morning comes early.”

  “Ah, hell, BookerT, we’re just getting warmed up. The night is young!” And as far as Alex was concerned, home was the last place she wanted to be. Home was quiet, and empty. She wanted music and noise and a few more beers. Hopefully enough to block out the memories.

  Evidently Booker T could read her mind, because he shook his head and said, “Come on—we’ll drop you off home,” as he took her by the shoulders and guided her up out of her chair. His touch was gentle, and although Alex could have resisted it, she didn’t. It was a mystery to her why, but Booker T was the only human being on the planet she’d let boss her around like that.

  So, she laughed and hollered her goodbyes and Booker T hooked one arm around her waist and the other around Linda’s, and he danced them both out the door of The Corral with a Texas Two-Step to the Billy Ray Cyrus song that was playing on the jukebox. By the time they got to the parking lot, they were all singing along with Billy Ray at the top of their lungs, having a good time. Alex thought it would be a fun idea to ride in the back of Booker T’s king cab Chevy truck and keep right on singing all the way—the whole half mile—to her house, but Booker T somehow managed to maneuver her into the backseat instead, where she had to sit on some coiled-up rope and leather gloves and a bunch of other stuff she couldn’t even begin to guess the nature of.

  Booker T slammed the door on her complaining and got into the driver’s seat while Linda climbed in beside him. He started up the truck and pulled out of the parking lot, and Alex scooted forward and put her folded arms on the back of his seat.

  “Booker T?”

  “Yeah, baby doll?”

  “I’m tellin’ him tomorrow. I mean it. No way am I booking Matt Callahan for a tour. Huh-uh.”

  “And why’s that?”

  “Well…hell, isn’t it obvious? I mean, he’s a—”

  “Cripple?”

  The word stabbed into Alex like a thorn, and she sucked in a shocked breath because she’d never thought Booker T would say such a thing. Something so mean. But it’s what you were thinking.

  I was not!

  “No! You know it’s not—shoot, we take disabled people on the river all the time, you know we do.”

  “Well, then?”

  “Jeez, Booker T, he wants to go on the Forks. That’s a class V. He can’t—”

  “He’s done it before, dozens of times.”

  “Not in five years, he hasn’t!”

  Booker T pulled up in front of Alex’s little house, set among the granite boulders and bull pines with the privacy and isolation she normally loved. He cut off the motor, and in the silence said quietly, “That’s what’s bothering you, isn’t it? The fact he’s been gone five years. What are you afraid of, Alex? That he can’t do it, or that he still can?”

  Still can…make my heart hammer and my skin hot? Still can…make me want him?

  She sucked in another breath—an angry one, this time—and whooshed it out along with, “No, that’s not—Look, I’m not afraid, okay? That’s just stupid.” I’m not afraid. I’m not.

  “Okay, you’re not afraid. So, why not book his trip?” He opened his door and got out, then opened hers for her and held out his hand to help her down. “You’re not chicken, are you, baby doll?”

  She could see the snaggletoothed smile lurking underneath that mustache. Damn him.

  “Damn you, Booker T.” She let him walk her to her door and open it for her and turn on the lights, then paused in the doorway to give him a sideways look. “You know you’re the only person on God’s green earth that gets to call me ‘baby doll.’ You know that, don’t you?”

  “Maybe that’s what’s wrong with you,” Booker T said as he started off down the pine needle–strewn walk, heading back to his pickup.

  “What’s that supposed to mean? Hey, Booker T—” She stomped her foot and started after him, and he paused with one hand on the truck’s door handle to turn back to her.

  “You never got to be any lovin’ daddy’s little girl,” he said, then yanked open the door, climbed in and drove away.

  He left Alex standing there with tears smarting her eyes, cussing out loud and ashamed at herself because she’d just remembered. Booker T and Linda’s only daughter, Sherry Ann, had died in a car accident when she was just seventeen.

  But she still wasn’t booking Matt Callahan and his brother on a trip down the Forks of the Kern. No way, José.

  Chapter 3

  Alex spent a restless night in the company of dreams that weren’t quite awful enough to be called nightmares, but close.

  First, she was back on the Mojave Desert where she’d spent h
er childhood. She, the grown-up Alex, was climbing the tree that stood beside their mobile home. It was an old tree shaped by decades of desert wind so that it seemed to hover with its limbs spread protectively over the trailer, sheltering it from the relentless desert sun. Down below, her mother was yelling at her to come down from there before she fell and broke her neck. Alex smiled and kept climbing. And then she fell.

  Except, instead of the tree, it was a rocky cliff she was falling from, and as she was falling she looked up and saw a face peering down at her from a ledge up above. Matt’s face. He was yelling at her, something she couldn’t hear because of the wind rushing past her ears, and he was holding out his hand for her to grab hold of. But she wouldn’t. She scowled at him and kept falling, and just before she hit the ground, she woke up.

  She was drenched in sweat, so she threw aside all her covers and pulled off the oversized T-shirt she’d worn to bed, flipped the pillow to a dry side and went back to sleep.

  And she was right back on that cliff, still falling. Only now she was naked, and Matt was still peering down at her, holding out his hand for her to grab on to, and instead of yelling at her, he was smiling. Smiling that beautiful Matt Callahan smile that could melt her heart like vanilla ice cream in the Mojave sun. She watched the smile get smaller and farther away as she fell, and fell, and fell, and again, just before she hit the ground, she woke up.

  The ringing telephone woke Matt in the darkness. He groped for the handset, squinted at the time in the lighted window. Jeez, was that…4:00 a.m.? He thumbed it on, swearing under his breath. “Who the hell is this?”

  “Are you insane?”

  “Alex?” He jerked himself half upright, got himself propped on one elbow and his throat cleared, stalling for time, waiting for his heart rate to get back to normal. When it didn’t appear it was going to anytime soon, he tried instead for the lazy Clint Eastwood drawl he sometimes adopted with the kids when he wanted to appear cool. “Nice of you to call. Haven’t heard from you in a while. What’s it been, five years?”