Daredevil's Run (The Taken Book 2)

by Kathleen Creighton

  “Probably more than one,” Matt said dryly, and Alex smiled, remembering his brother had said almost the same thing. “What?” he demanded, seeing her smile.

  Again, she shook her head and said, “Nothing.” Because there was so much she wanted to say and knew she never would.

  She finished packing away the remains of dinner, silently handing things to Matt to put in the cooler. Securing the camp, setting up for breakfast. Doing things she’d done hundreds of times before. Things they’d done together, she and Matt, so many times before.

  The ache inside her came from nowhere and quickly became intolerable.

  Just before it turned, in self-defense, to anger, she heard the crunch of wheels on the hard-packed earth and felt the nearness of Matt’s body in the growing darkness.

  “Alex.” His voice came barely above the whisper of the breeze in the pines. “What’s wrong?”

  “What’s wrong?” She said it more loudly than she meant to, turning to lean her backside against solid rock and fold her arms across her middle. “Jeez, Matt, I wouldn’t know where to start. You, this crazy run, Tahoe almost getting—”

  “Yeah, look, why don’t you forget about the stuff I already know, and just tell me what it is you’re not telling me?”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “You’re worried, and it’s not just about me, or making a Class V run you’ve made dozens of times before.” He listened to her silence. Finally, sheer frustration made him add, “Come on. You used to tell me everything, Alex.”

  “Yeah,” she shot back, breathless and angry, “used to.” She shifted restlessly, and in silhouette he saw her look up at the deepening sky, at the stars just winking on up there.

  “Back there at the put-in,” he gently prompted, careful not to push too hard, “you were upset, and it wasn’t—” he held up a hand to forestall her retort “—just because the boat failed. Booker T and Tahoe weren’t happy, either. What happened, Alex?”

  She hissed out a breath, unable to stop herself. “Somebody—” Her voice caught, and she cleared her throat and went on, tense and edgy. “Somebody filed the valve fitting.”

  “What?”

  “Just enough so it had a slow leak. Couldn’t have happened before we packed up the bus yesterday, because we’d have noticed it during the safety check. So it had to have been later. Last night sometime.”

  “Wait.” He held up a hand now because he couldn’t seem to get a grip on the words he was hearing. “You’re telling me you think somebody deliberately…”

  “Sabotaged the boat. Yeah, that’s what I’m telling you.”

  “Come on, Alex. Who’d do such a thing? Why?”

  “You think I haven’t asked myself that at least a hundred times?” She lifted her arms and let them drop. “God. It’s just not possible.”

  “Okay, you know what they say. If you eliminate the impossible, the alternative, no matter how improbable…So, what’s the alternative? You missed the damage when you checked it—you all did.”

  She didn’t reply. He couldn’t see her face, but he could hear misery and self-blame in her silence.

  “Don’t beat yourself up,” he said softly. “It happens.”

  “Yeah.” And she muttered something under her breath as she turned her head away.

  He could feel her tension, almost hear it, like a humming in the air. Knowing she was an instant away from walking off and leaving him there, he reached out and caught her hand. “Talk to me, dammit.”

  Her silence was impenetrable, her wrist like steel in his grasp. But the feel of it…the warmth, the wiry strength of it…the softness of her skin, touching his for the first time in so damn long. He gentled his grip, stroked his thumb over the tendons at the base of her palm, and wondered what would happen if he were to bring her hand to his mouth and put his lips there instead. Juices pooled at the back of his throat, and he felt like a starving man, starving for the taste of her…the smell of her.

  “Matt…”

  She was pulling against his grip, and reluctantly he let her go. But not before he felt her tremble. She took one step away from him, jerked back, lifted one hand toward him, then wrapped it with the other across her body. When she spoke it sounded as if the words were choking her. “That’s what happened, isn’t it? That day. I didn’t check it. And I should have. I didn’t—”

  “Didn’t—what?” He shook his head, trying to understand. She was talking nonsense. “Check what? What day?”

  She took a step back toward him, then retreated, so upset he could see her shaking. “The day you fell. Your gear. I should have double-checked it. If I had—”

  “What?” Sudden anger sent his voice off the scale. “What in the holy hell are you talking about? You think you were supposed to check my gear? What are you, my mother? Now I need you to check up on me?”

  “It sure looks like you did!” She spat the words at him like an angry cat.

  Matt shook his head, gave an incredulous bark of laughter. “Do you even know how insulting that is? You think you should have double-checked my gear…why? Because you think I was careless? Why—oh, wait, because we were arguing? Because I suggested maybe we should get married? Because I asked you if you loved me?” He paused, not really expecting an answer. In the silence he could hear her breathing. In a voice heavy with irony, he went on. “Maybe it was a question I shouldn’t have had to ask after five years, and sure, I know it was lousy timing. But do you really think I’d be so upset over it, I’d forget to check out my gear?” Again, he tested her stubbornness. Finally, softly, he said, “I’ve been over it a thousand times in my mind, Alex. I swear to you, the gear was okay. I checked it thoroughly.”

  She answered him, a whisper of misery. “Then why did it fail?”

  She waited, but he had no answer for that. He hadn’t had one for five long years.

  Chapter 6

  Alex slept badly that night. She woke up several times, once in time to watch the almost full moon rise above the rim of the canyon and flood the river gorge with silvery light, and the stars go into hiding. She watched the river carry the moon’s broken reflection along on its rippling current without ever taking it away. She saw the pines in black silhouette, and the smooth granite boulders huddled along the riverbanks like herds of great slumbering beasts.

  Except for the chuckle of the river and the whisper of the breeze in the pines, the world was silent.

  Across the camp she could see Cory and Sam, their sleeping bags close together, touching. And Matt’s, on the other side, some distance from her own.

  I can’t hear him breathe. He always used to snore. I wonder if he’s awake, too.

  She fought the urge to call to him, whisper to him in the darkness. If she did, would he answer? What would she do if he did? Would she go to him? And if she did…then what?

  Images…feelings…Before she knew it, they came tumbling in. She didn’t want them but couldn’t stop them, couldn’t make them go away. So she closed her eyes and surrendered, let herself drown in the sweet, aching memory of how it had been…with Mattie, making love.

  He was so sensual, for a man. He loved to be touched, not just there, but everywhere. And I loved touching him, with my lips and tongue and fingers and breasts. I loved the way his skin felt…smelled…tasted. I could spend hours just…touching him.

  And he loved to touch me, too. He never seemed to be in a hurry to get inside me, as if that were the only thing that mattered. No…he would kiss me and kiss me…everywhere. Not as if that was something he had to do to get where he wanted to be, but as if this…the kissing…was all that mattered.

  Oh, Mattie. I wonder…would it still be like that now?

  What would it be like now? Even if you can’t move, can you still feel?

  We used to laugh a lot when we made love. I wonder, Mattie…would we…could we…still laugh?

  The smell of coffee woke her up. She sat bolt upright in the morning chill and saw that it was early, just
breaking day, and the pale ghost of the moon was slipping below the mountains on the far side of the river. And that Matt was already up and in his chair, with the stove going and coffee made.

  Her sudden movement must have alerted him. He turned and saw her sitting up in her sleeping bag and made a little beckoning head-jerk, as if to say, Hey, get up and get your lazy self over here. A tremor ran through her, and she saw herself rising, going over to him and putting her arms around his neck and breathing in the warm, sleepy-man smell of him.

  And so, contrarily, she took her time disentangling herself from her sleeping bag, stretched…shivered in the shorts and tank she’d slept in as she slipped on her shoes, and finger-combed her hair that had come loose from its braid. Then, and only then, did she get up and make her way across to the fire and the warmth where Matt waited to pass her a mug of coffee.

  She smiled at him as she took it and murmured, “Thank you.” Then, watching him reach to take a package of bacon out of the cooler, “You don’t have to do that.”

  The smile he gave her back was crooked. “Figured you could use a little extra sleep, after the day you had yesterday.”

  She feigned outrage in a squeaky whisper. “Me! You’re the one that went for a swim.”

  He handed her a stainless steel bowl, a whisk and a carton of eggs. “Okay, then, make yourself useful. First morning out—omelets, right?”

  “Surprised you remember that.” She set her coffee on the grill’s prep shelf, and as she leaned past him to take the milk from the cooler, inadvertently brushed against his arm.

  Her heart jolted and her skin shivered at the touch. Had she done it on purpose? Surely not. But she hadn’t tried very hard to avoid touching him, either.

  “Some things you don’t forget.” His voice was a husky drawl, so close she could feel his breath on her temple. She turned her head to look at him, and her braid tumbled over her shoulder to dangle between them. He didn’t have to move his hand much in order to grasp it.

  An involuntary breath escaped her, not quite a gasp. She glanced down at his hand in its fingerless glove, holding her braid, his thumb stroking across the bumps and crevices, then lifted her eyes to his. They were so close, gazing back into hers. So close. If he tugged on her braid, even a little, and if she obeyed that summons…It would take no more than that.

  Their eyes held. Time stopped.

  A twig snapped in the quiet. Voices murmured across the camp. Alex straightened up, breathing again, as her braid slithered through Matt’s loosened grasp.

  “Our guests are awake,” she said in a croaking voice, and only realized she’d said our when it was too late to take it back.

  It was a picture-perfect day. As if, Alex thought, the river were trying to make up to them for its surliness the day before. The rapids were hair-raising enough to get everybody’s adrenaline pumping, but they all came through them without mishap. And in the quiet water between, there was time for picture-taking and storytelling, to surprise a doe and her fawn drinking in the shallows, and to catch an even more rare glimpse of a bobcat bounding away across the rocky hillside.

  As the guides usually did during the quiet times on the river, Alex gave talks on the river’s history, geology, flora and fauna, although she felt self-conscious doing so now, with Matt there. He’d always been the better storyteller.

  She said as much at one point, after forgetting a key point in the lecture she’d been giving on the role the Kern River Valley had played in the gold rush. Cory had smiled and said, “It runs in the family.”

  “Really? How’s that?” Matt had seemed surprised.

  “Dad loved to tell stories,” Cory had explained. “Used to make them up himself. That was before you were born, though. Before Vietnam.”

  And it had hit Alex then, with a chilly sense of shock and shame, that this river run wasn’t even about her and Matt and whatever may or may not have been between them. She’d been so caught up in her own issues and emotions—how could she have forgotten what it must be like for him? Not just coming back to the river, and the life he’d once loved so much, but trying to get to know a brother he hadn’t known existed, a whole family history he didn’t know anything about.

  Yeah, you’re one selfish bitch, Alex. The least you could do is quit thinking of your own issues and try not to make things any harder for him.

  They took out for the noon break—a sumptuous spread of cold cuts, fruit and veggie plates, breads and cold drinks—nonalcoholic, since they still had more rapids to run that afternoon. Another of the cardinal rules of river rafting, right up there with “Watch for Rattlers” and “Leave No Trace,” was “Don’t Drink and Boat!”

  After lunch, Sam volunteered to help Alex with the cleanup, while Matt and Cory went up the river—presumably to take care of personal and private needs. Alex was glad to have the help, and the company, since she wasn’t all that comfortable with the course her own thoughts had been taking lately. Not after her lightbulb moment on the river.

  And besides, she genuinely liked Sam. Not being one who got close to very many people, and being an only child besides, Alex didn’t exactly know what having a sister would be like. But if she did have a sister, it would be okay with her if she was something like Samantha Pearson.

  Which—combined with her chastened mood—was probably why, when Sam asked her how it felt, being around Matt again, she didn’t try as she normally would to evade the question. But she couldn’t answer it, either, thanks to the unexpected knot of emotion that came from nowhere to clog up her throat and make it impossible to do more than shake her head and give a meaningless little ripple of laughter.

  “I do know how it is,” Sam said gently. “From personal experience.”

  Alex cleared her throat, buying herself the time she needed to tuck her emotions safely away. “Yeah, you said that before. What…I mean, how do you know? From…what…”

  Sam laughed. “What personal experiences, you mean? Okay, well, in a nutshell, Cory and I met when I was really young. He was a friend of my dad’s, and thought he was too old for me. Or, maybe that I was too young for him—because I was. Too young to settle down, anyway. Too young to know what I wanted. He was patient for a long time, willing to wait for me to do all the stuff I wanted to do, that I thought I wouldn’t be able to do once we—well, long story. Anyway, the upshot of it is, he got tired of waiting and we broke up. And then Cory got married to somebody else.”

  Alex made a shocked sound. “You’re kidding.”

  “Nope. The marriage didn’t last, but I was devastated.”

  “I can imagine!”

  Sam’s smile was wry. “Stupid me. I always thought he’d be there for me, forever. And then one day he wasn’t.”

  Yeah, thought Alex, I know how that is.

  “I didn’t think I could ever forgive him for that. But then…a few years later, we met again under…let’s just say, difficult circumstances. Again—long story, but we came close enough to losing each other forever that it kind of put things into perspective for both of us. In the end, it wasn’t easy, but we just…had to forgive each other.”

  She paused, then added, “And for Cory there was the other thing—this issue about his family.”

  “Yeah,” said Alex, “he told me about that.”

  “Well, he’d been keeping all that inside, and it was really hard for him to open up to me. Once he did—” She shrugged and Alex saw the sheen of tears in her eyes. “But what made it possible for us to get through all that was…” she brushed at her eyes and gave a small, self-conscious laugh, the kind of thing Alex could see herself doing if she got caught with her emotions showing “…we really really wanted to make it work. You have to have that. Otherwise, I think…it’s just too darn hard.”

  Alex murmured, “Yeah…” Those emotions she preferred to hide were percolating dangerously.

  Sam turned to give her a piercing look, weighing a plastic bag full of cut-up veggies in her hand. “So I guess my question would be
…do you? Want to make it work with Matt?”

  Oh Lord. Do I? Now Alex resorted to that painful little laugh as she muttered, “It’s complicated.”

  “Always is, hon.”

  Oh yeah. Especially right now. “He’s got a lot going on,” she said carefully.

  “About his family, you mean.” Sam snorted—something else Alex wasn’t above doing herself now and then. “There’s always gonna be family issues. Now me—my dad disappeared from my life when I was ten.”

  “Hah,” said Alex, “mine split before I was born.”

  “Yeah, well, mine turned up alive and well when I was eighteen.”

  “Okay, you win,” Alex said, laughing. “You definitely take the blue ribbon for father issues.” But she was remembering Booker T’s words: You never got to be any lovin’ daddy’s little girl.

  Sam was smiling. “Not really. My dad and I get along great, now. Turns out it wasn’t his fault he was gone so long. He’d been shot down in the Middle East and was in an Iraqi prison all that time. Nobody knew he was there until Cory got himself kidnapped. He was this famous journalist, see, so they sent Special Forces to rescue him. And, whoops, they found my dad with him. That’s how I met Cory.”

  “Wow.” It was the only thing Alex could think of to say. What did you say to someone with a story like that? Filled with a vast, inexplicable sadness, she became very busy arranging plastic bags full of food in the cooler.

  “So,” Sam said casually as she passed the bags to her, “your mom never remarried? After your dad left?”

  “Never married. Period. Nope, I think she’d about had her fill of getting her heart broken. She raised me all by herself, which couldn’t have been easy. I wasn’t exactly an easy kid. But…my mom was a tough cookie.”

  “Was? So…she’s gone now?”

  Alex nodded, staring down at her hands, guarding that private pain carefully. “She died—cancer. The same year I met Matt.”

  The silence that fell was only in the small space between them. Beyond it, the river sang its usual song, scrub jays screeched in the manzanita and a hawk whistled high in a cloudless sky. And from somewhere out of sight came the rich harmonies of two brothers’ laughter.