Trusting Love

by Billi Jean

  “That’s not the only thing big on me,” he said right back, just like she knew he would. They shared a look. She knew it was there now, simmering between them. She wanted to say it again.

  “I love you.”

  He grimaced and a second later dived at her, knocking her down so hard in the snow the breath left her on a gasp and distantly she heard Rowdy going wild.

  “Kris? Kris?” Robert sounded far off, like someone had stuffed her ears with cotton. She couldn’t catch her breath or force her mind to figure out why he’d done such a thing. Her breath wheezed out and the silent forest seemed to grow dark on her.

  “Kris!”

  Pain hit her so hard she wanted to scream but that fuzzy, odd ringing sensation in her ears and the dizzy lack of oxygen turned her cry into another gasp. She reached up to hold her head, sure the world would stop spinning if she did, and realised with distant shock that she was going to black out.

  Robert jerked Kristen’s jacket open and tore into the shirt underneath to reveal the bullet wound he found on her right upper arm. Blood oozed from her golden skin, making his heart tighten. He brushed it off gently to reveal the rough graze the bullet had made, ripping through the flesh. He held his hand on it, exerting enough pressure to keep it from bleeding too badly and met her frightened eyes.

  “I was shot?” she whispered.

  “Yeah,” he managed. A little to the left and her arm would have been shattered. Gently, he lowered her back down to the snowy ground and ripped a piece of his shirt off without removing his hand. He balled it up and stuffed it against the wound, and winced when she did, but he grabbed her hand and covered the material, covering her hand with his to indicate she should hold it tightly. “It’s going to be okay, though, Kris.”

  “Okay,” she whispered, but he knew she was fading. Shock did that, he knew, but the idea of her passing out scared him to his core.

  “Don’t pass out,” he heard himself say, sounding frantic.

  “I… I’m…” she blinked several times and her hand loosened under his. Blood had soaked through and fearing the loss more than the pain of holding her arm tightly, he clenched his hand on her arm. She gasped then with another flutter, her eyes closed.

  Panic could do this. Shock too. He knew it, held onto the idea with a vengeance.

  Another shot thudded into the tree on his left. He ignored it and the man using them for target practice. He had to secure Kris.

  He ripped off another piece of her T-shirt and applied it to the wound with enough pressure to keep the bleeding down as he tore off a longer strip with his other hand. Her arm was so small, his entire hand wrapped around it. His heart slammed into his ribs as panic tried to dig its ugly claws in. The need for battle was primal and had his limbs aching to move. Now was not the time, so he held back, forcing himself to secure what was most important first before going after what had threatened it.

  Two more shots whizzed by as he worked on her arm. Her bleeding had slowed down enough for him to let her go, though, so he gently tied off the makeshift bandage. She still didn’t stir. Gunshots were traumatic, he knew, but this was Kris. His Kris. Shot because of him. Working on her clothes he got her covered up, took off his jacket and tucked it up over her to her neck to keep her warm. Best she not wake up, he thought. She’d try to stop him and he’d have to explain he couldn’t.

  He stood and looked at Rowdy.

  “Stay,” he growled, barely recognising his voice. The dog whined but got down on his stomach right by Kris’ head.

  He took one more look at Kris’ too pale face and turned for the gun. More shots had been fired at their spot, but either the trees were blocking the shooter or the guy sucked. Whoever had got a hit on Kris wasn’t a sniper. He also wasn’t going to live much longer.

  The slow, easy breaths Robert took were counting down the man’s life. He knew the shooter was moving, finding a new spot to fire each time and he knew the guy thought he had the advantage of high ground.

  Robert knew better. His gut tightened and he raced for the spot across from where Kris had been shot. From the angle of that first hit, this was where he had started. If there had been others Robert knew they wouldn’t have survived past the first hit. But he was alone, and while he might have called in for back-up, they wouldn’t arrive in time.

  Within sixty seconds, Robert found where he’d knelt. Another twenty feet and he found the next spot. A shot fired from his right, and Robert felt the breeze of it passing. He turned, raised the rifle, spotted the guy through a V in the trees and squeezed off a shot. The muffled thud and crashing trees were his answer to whether the man lived or died, but the shot was too easy. It wasn’t enough. Robert’s heart pumped enough blood for him to kill dozens with his bare hands. The rage, the killing heat had him by the throat.

  Kris.

  The name blew through his mind and broke through the rage he had always fought when he was on the drug. Startled, he stopped mid-step and shook his head, blinking the sweat out of his eyes to watch where his mark had fallen. Nothing moved and after a count to thirty Robert took off, scrambling back down the hillside through the deep snow, nearly on his ass a few times in his rush to get back to her before she woke, alone and afraid.

  The shooter was dead, he was sure of it, so he broke one of his rules and didn’t confirm that. Instead he got down to where he spotted Rowdy watching him and raced to Kris’ side.

  She hadn’t woken, but he didn’t panic. Not going to. Can’t panic.

  “Kris, you gotta wake up now,” he told her, shoving the shotgun over his shoulder so he could pick her up. She was so damn light, she barely registered in his arms. Her cheek was cold, and her face so still he fought off the panic and waited to feel the warmth of her breath. When he did, his knees went weak but he firmed his stance and glanced around the empty, snowing landscape.

  Rowdy whined at his feet, clearly as upset as Robert was over Kris’ silence.

  “Rowdy, come on, she’s going to be fine, buddy,” he called, already walking towards Sam’s house. He hoped. Kris had said up this ridge and along an old highway no longer used but she’d said it would still be a visible cut in the woods. He’d see it if he saw it. If not, he’d just make his way to the road. “Kris, darling, you need to wake up,” he told her again.

  Her face was unnaturally still and her lips were pale and dry when he brushed a kiss over them. She grimaced, relieving him so much he had to pause and breathe in the sweet smell of her hair before he could keep going.

  “Robert?”

  The sound of her voice, so reedy, sent another shot of panic through him. “Yeah, it’s me, darling. How do you feel?”

  “Like someone shot me,” she whispered, turning her head to his neck. “How do you handle this like it’s a splinter?”

  He wanted to hug her tighter, but resisted because he might hurt her. “I just got used to it I guess. It still hurts, but I guess I just got used to it.” He hadn’t really ever thought about it in years, but the first time he’d been shot hadn’t been like she said. “I wasn’t always that way. The first time I was shot, it hurt like hell and I was certain I’d die. My commander at the time let me know it wasn’t much more than a scratch and sent me back out in the field the next day.”

  “What a horrible man,” she said. “For the record, I only want to be shot once.”

  “I never wanted this—”

  “Robert, I’m teasing. I think I can walk,” she added, lifting her head and looking around them.

  “Oh, like hell you can. You’re in shock. You’ve been shot. It hit your arm, and we’re damn lucky it didn’t go a centimetre to the left because it would have fractured your entire arm. Instead it grazed you, but the trauma is still there. Gunshots are dangerous, Kris, so you’re not walking or doing much of anything until I say so.”

  She stared at him obviously in shock. Maybe too much information wasn’t a good thing, he thought.

  “I never realised how bossy you were,” she murmured.


  “I am when I need to be,” he said firmly. He’d nearly died back there from the sight of her harmed. What was he going to do when he cleaned her arm? He had to do it too, he knew. Who else could? Not a hospital. He couldn’t chance waiting that long to clean it out.

  She lifted her head and looked around them.

  “Kris, settle down. Let me do this, don’t strain yourself like that.”

  “Did you use my shirt to tie this bandage? I feel like my fingers are going to fall off and my arm hurts more from the shirt than the shot.”

  “Ah, God, are you going to be one of those patients? Crying over your bandage?”

  She was still weak, but her eyes were clear, focused and if he had to guess, she was a second away from giving him hell.

  Rowdy suddenly tore off barking wildly making his heart jump to his throat.

  “Kris? Kristen? Robert?”

  “Sam,” Kris whispered. “Oh, no, he’s going to kill you.”

  Rob laughed, so relieved he didn’t care what the old man said. “Hell, he can do whatever he wants, he brought horses,” he said, spotting the old cowboy heading towards them on a big grey, two horses following on leads. As soon as Sam drew close enough to talk he examined Kris, then met Robert’s eyes steadily.

  “What in the name of tarnation are you doing? What happened to Kris?” Sam demanded, pulling his horse up to a halt next to them. The other two horses stomped, but stopped right behind the first. Sam’s dog barked once at Rowdy for getting too frisky and Kris whispered Sam’s name.

  Robert didn’t waste time. “Kris has been shot. There are probably a dozen men in these hills that want something I have, Sam. They can’t have it. Kris needs her wound cleaned and she’s lost blood. We need to find a safe place nearby and fast.”

  “Well, hello and how are you, too? Damn near scared the life out of me when I spotted the Jeep in that ravine and now you say she’s shot? What the hell have you been doing? I thought you’d be protecting her, not dragging her into all—”

  “I’m not that bad, really. He won’t let me walk,” Kris started.

  “Well, damn right he won’t let you walk.” Sam switched sides like an old lady switched lanes of traffic. “Now, Robert, you tighten that first horse up and get Kris on it. You know how to ride, if I remember correctly, so get behind her. And don’t give me no sass, either, miss. Gunshot wounds are dangerous,” he told her. “You shot the guy?” he demanded of Robert a second later.

  “I did. But there’s more.” Robert set Kris carefully on the horse Sam had indicated and waited for her to nod before he tightened the cinch, putting foot to stirrup right after. The big chestnut stood still, waiting for him until he’d got up behind Kris to move a few steps forward. Robert stopped him with a hand over Kris’ on the reins.

  “Horse’s name is Lucky, see that he behaves, he’s only three, and full of piss an’ vinegar.”

  Robert nodded and took the reins from Kris, settling her back so she rested in his arms, against his chest. She trembled slightly he noticed. The horse pawed the ground and shook his head, but stood calmly enough.

  “Saw those men. I knew something was wrong when I did. Here,” he handed Robert a baseball cap. “Put that on, it’ll hide a bit of you. If she could ride, we’d not stand out so much, but we can’t chance it.”

  “True. Thanks, Sam. We need to get her cleaned up. Any suggestions?”

  “I am right here,” Kris grumbled.

  He ducked his head and brushed his face against hers, pulling her back more into his chest to keep her as warm as possible. “I know, we’re doing what we can, darling.”

  “I know, but I wasn’t shot in the brain. Why not head for the ranger’s cabin? It’s empty and hasn’t been used in a few years. Would they know of it?”

  Sam puffed out his cheeks and thought about it, Robert guessed by the way the old guy took off his cowboy hat and stared off at the hills. The snow had increased. Time was running out. Even Lucky seemed restless suddenly, probably picking up on his own need to get moving.

  “How could you tell the men were the ones hunting me?” Robert asked.

  “They stood out. Dressed in regular clothes, but they had that hard bearing of men that thought they were soldiers.”

  “Thought they were soldiers?” Kris repeated.

  Robert tucked her up closer when she tried to sit up.

  “They didn’t look like they were anything more than stand-ups, you know? Men that wanted to be cops, but weren’t. All except for one of them. He was mean enough,” Sam said with a nod. “Yeah, he didn’t give the impression he took orders very well.”

  Walters. Robert nodded, staying silent.

  “They hadn’t got the rangers in on this yet, but I saw them with the local sheriff’s men and a few state troopers. There was a fire up at the old T Bar ranch. House burnt to the ground, some kind of gas leak, they said, but these men were already there investigating it. Police told me the men had thought someone had set fire to the house and then run into the hills.” Sam shrugged. “Don’t sound right to me. Kids start fires just fooling around and we sure as hell don’t need special ops to come in and find them, but if those men weren’t wannabe military I’ll trade my last stamp.”

  “They’re worse than special ops, Sam, much worse,” Robert assured him. The old guy had found out a ton of information that they could use.

  “Then I guess we head to the cabin, see about Kris and then I see about getting you to Laramie.”

  “And the college, Sam, we need to get to the college,” Kris said, shifting with a gasp when she must have jarred her arm. Robert immediately moved to pull her tighter, gently holding her wrist folded to her chest to keep it stable.

  “Keep it like this and try not to move it,” he told her quietly.

  “I’ll try,” she whispered, sounding weaker.

  “Show us the way, Sam,” he said louder, kneeing his horse into moving. “Rowdy, come,” he called and watched the dog fall in behind him. “We don’t have time. I bound her wound, but it’s bleeding and she’s going to be tender for days as it is without suffering from too much blood loss.”

  “She can stay with me,” Sam offered.

  Kris immediately stiffened in his arms. “No—”

  “No, I’m not leaving her, “Robert said clearly.

  Sam raised his eyebrows and whistled through his teeth. “Well, then, maybe it’s best we get a move on,” he said. He clucked his tongue and guided his mount around a grove of fir trees. “Wouldn’t want to have to argue with the two of you,” he called back.

  “You need to remember I’m not leaving you,” Robert murmured, still aching from seeing her in pain. Gunshots were dangerous. She seemed fine, but panic still ran through his veins.

  “I’m trying,” she said, settling her head on his chest.

  She sounded tired, weaker than before and when he gently touched her bandage he knew she’d bled through.

  “Not much farther, Sam?” he asked as soon as he’d pulled up next to the old man.

  Sam glanced down at Kris’ closed eyes and seemed to get his meaning. “Ten minutes. There’s a first aid kit there with a small gas stove. They keep the tank filled for emergencies. No need for a fire. I’ll leave you off and go get my truck. Have you ploughed out in no time.”

  “Hear that, darling? Looks like we’ll have some alone time, soon,” Robert whispered when Sam moved on ahead of them.

  She groaned and tucked her head in tighter to his neck. “And you won’t let me do anything about it, I’m sure. Probably for weeks.”

  He laughed, amazed all over again by her. The panic eased at her words. The wound was small, luckily missing anything that could have harmed her drastically. She’d hurt, but after they cleaned the wound, she’d heal quickly, he hoped.

  “Nah, not weeks, but until that arm of yours is healed over, we’re going easy on you, that’s for sure. No more samplings any time soon.”

  “Oh, Robbie,” she said with another
groan, “Don’t make me laugh. It’ll hurt too much, I think.”

  “Damn, I’m sorry, I won’t do it again,” he promised, holding in his laughter.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  “You do know you made me do this to you, twice, no three times so far, not counting the head wound in the crash?”

  Robert gave Kris a cool look for that, but didn’t pull the angry expression off as well as he must have hoped because he was so white. She never would have thought he’d be squeamish over blood, but hers seemed to have him white as a ghost.

  “I just don’t want to hurt you.”

  “And that’s what you’re going to have to do to make sure I don’t get infected. So, just do it. I promise not to cry,” she told him, not sure if she should make that promise. He needed to pour the hydrogen peroxide right on the wound. No doubt it would hurt pretty badly.

  His grip on the brown bottle tightened until she tugged at his arm. “You’ll bust that and then what will we do?”

  He didn’t answer but his grip loosened. He looked so lost, like a little boy being told to do something so horrible he couldn’t. She’d never dreamed he’d be like this, but then she’d never dreamed she’d be shot and needing him to do this.

  “Robbie, if you can’t, I can do it, really. I can.”

  That seemed to be enough to shake him out of it.

  He frowned at her and his face tightened in that way it had when they’d been on the run. “I’ll do it. Just hold still, I’ll have to use it all, and flush the wound after with water to make sure nothing remains.”

  She didn’t wince, but she wanted to. Her skin was cold, but hot too, varying in degrees based on what she was conjuring up in her mind. “Just do it please. I’m getting freaked just—ahhhh!”

  He grimaced at her cry and she shut if off by biting her lip hard enough to leave a mark. The icy cold peroxide turned to heat almost instantly and that heat burned her open wound as if he’d punched it with sharp needles. She concentrated on Robert’s face, refusing to even glance down at what he was doing.