Striking Edge

by Kelsey Browning

  “Did you search for him?”

  Shep was slow on the uptake sometimes, but he was not dumb. “Yes. But he wasn’t within shitting distance. I think I should bring these people back to Steele Ridge and—”

  “Not even when the devil buys a fur coat.”

  What? What did fur coats have to do with anything? “That doesn’t make any sense. What do devils, fur coats, and Moody have to do with one another?”

  “Kingston, sometimes you wear me smooth out.” Dan sighed on the other end. “Now let me tell you what’s goin’ on here. Ol’ Moody is pulling your leg. He’s probably hiding somewhere. This is a show stunt, you see? He wants to watch how the contestants react to this. He knows where you plan to make camp tonight, right?”

  “Yeah,” Shep said.

  “Then he’ll either show up on the trail somewhere or he’ll be waiting for you at camp.”

  Why the hell couldn’t people do things that made sense? Shep didn’t know what Moody would be trying to accomplish by playing hide-and-seek today. Even if he wanted to screw with the contestants, he should’ve clued in Shep or the camera guys. “And if he doesn’t meet back up with the group?”

  “Kingston, don’t worry so damn much.”

  * * *

  When Shep returned to camp, Joss looked for some sign of success in his face. Instead, it held complete misery and more than a little consternation.

  This was the face of a man who wasn’t expecting Buffalo Moody to pull a disappearing stunt. The face of a man who was afraid he was stuck with people he didn’t particularly care for.

  “Who were you talking to?” Lauren demanded of Shep as she held out her hand, clearly expecting him to surrender the phone. “My turn next.”

  “No,” Shep said, a definitive edge to his voice. “You are not using my phone, so stop asking.”

  “You work for us,” she shot back. “You have to do what we tell you—”

  “I do not now nor would I ever work for someone like you. It’s time for you to shut up.”

  “Well, I—”

  Joss grabbed Lauren by the arm. “Leave him alone. He wasn’t expecting this either. Give him a break.”

  “I hate this whole damn show,” Lauren grumbled.

  Joss wasn’t a big fan right now either, but sometimes life gave you shit you didn’t like. You could either whine about it or get up and do something about it.

  It was clear to Joss now that she’d spent entirely too long whining and hiding the past few months. How could she expect to process and move past the deaths of her band by behaving that way? How could she reestablish her career? She couldn’t.

  So the first step back was to play this game to the best of her ability.

  Which meant it was time to take action. “Shep, what do you recommend that we do?”

  “Dan said Moody probably planned this and that we should continue the hike. That Moody will show up somewhere on the trail or at camp tonight.”

  “Only problem with that,” Bradley said, “is that Moody sets up the opportunities and basically decides who wins the game. How’s he gonna do that if he’s not around?”

  Joss wouldn’t put it past the slimeball to be observing them this very second and judging their actions and reactions. In fact, the hair on the back of her neck had been doing a crowd wave ever since they discovered Moody was missing, as if someone was out there in the trees watching this whole scenario like a living diorama.

  She shivered and crossed her arms to ward off the chill sweeping over her. She nodded toward the camera operators. “Greg and Zach will be filming us. If Moody misses anything, he can review the film. It’s honestly not that big a deal.”

  “You call starving to death not a big deal?” Lauren said.

  “You gobbled up a damn protein bar like a bear just coming out of hibernation,” Bradley said. “You won’t be starving anytime soon.”

  Lauren stomped over and pushed her face close to Shep’s. Shep took a mother-may-I step back, but Lauren simply followed. “I know you have more food in that pack.” She thrust out her hand. “I want you to hand it over.”

  “No.”

  Her face contorted, and she lunged at him and shoved him in the chest.

  But Shep didn’t budge, and Puck trotted over to lean against his leg. “Don’t do that again,” Shep said in what Joss could tell was forced calm. “I don’t like to be touched. Especially by you.”

  “What man doesn’t like to be touched?” Lauren sidled close to Shep again and stroked his arm. “Maybe one who isn’t a real man?”

  Okay, that was more than enough. Joss marched over and yanked Lauren out of Shep’s touch zone. Capitalizing on the bigger woman’s surprise, Joss dragged her to the edge of camp and lowered her voice. “Stop it,” she said.

  “Why should I?”

  “First, because you’re making an ass of yourself on camera. The guys film everything. And second, because you’re taking your frustration out on a man who’s just trying to help us through the next few days.”

  “If he was really trying to help me, he would give me food and that damn phone of his.” Lauren shot a glare in his direction. “What is wrong with him?”

  “He didn’t sign on to run the show, and I’m sure the last thing he wanted was to be saddled with all of us.”

  “He’s being compensated for it.”

  “He’s not being paid for you to abuse him.” If Joss was a betting woman, she’d wager that Moody didn’t pay his local guides all that well. And if Shep’s employer was taking a cut, that meant he wasn’t getting rich by babysitting a trio of spoiled pseudo-celebrities in the wild. “And if you’re nicer to him, I have a feeling you might benefit from it.”

  “So you do think he can be screwed into submission.”

  The impulse to slap Lauren made the muscles in Joss’s arm quiver. “Screwing has nothing to do with it. Shep Kingston is obviously a professional. Allow him to do his job—his way—and he’ll help us get through this.”

  Lauren huffed and glanced away.

  “I mean it, Lauren.” Joss shifted around, where Lauren would be forced to look at her again. “Besides, you do not want the fallout if I go to the entertainment rags after filming is over and give them the inside scoop about how Lauren Estes behaved out here.”

  “You already said the film crew is getting everything. How could you add to that?”

  “Oh, I have an unlimited imagination.”

  Lauren’s mouth was frowning, but her forehead didn’t so much as wrinkle. Using Botox in LA was like popping a breath mint. Almost everyone did it, but it still stunk of desperation. “So you’re saying you’d lie.”

  “I would figure out a way to make you look so bad that you’d be lucky to be cast in a toilet bowl cleaner commercial.”

  “What makes you think I wouldn’t retaliate?”

  “Maybe you would”— Joss lifted her hands, palms up—“but quite honestly, I don’t have any further to fall in the public eye.”

  “Fine,” Lauren finally said. “But you better watch your back once Moody shows up.”

  “Just try to behave until then, and you can give me your best shot.”

  9

  “Let’s pack up camp,” Shep told everyone when the women returned from their little convo at the edge of the trees. Even he could tell neither Joss nor The Bitcher were totally happy, but apparently they’d come to some kind of truce.

  “What about Moody’s stuff?” Bradley asked.

  Shep lifted a shoulder. “Far as I’m concerned, whoever packs it up and carries it can have it for now.”

  Bradley and The Bitcher were off in a sprint to lay claim on Moody’s tent and supplies, and it looked as if The Bleeding Heart was winning. He already had the stakes pulled out of the tent and was dragging it away from the woman like a coyote with a poodle carcass.

  “Bradley!” she called to him. “Bradley, wait! Let’s talk about this tent thing.”

  Shep glanced over at Joss. “Aren’t you goin
g to try for it?”

  “And listen to more of Lauren’s bitching and moaning? No thank you. They can fight to the death over it.”

  “Less competition for you, huh?”

  She smiled, and it knocked Shep directly in the chest, making him want and ache at the same time. “That wouldn’t break my heart,” she said. “But they’re both tough, so I’m not counting on any miracles.”

  Once the other two competitors had negotiated over Moody’s possessions and the camera guys had packed up their gear, Shep waved everyone back toward the trail. “Today, we’re hiking twelve miles.”

  “You’re kidding,” The Bitcher said.

  “Lauren…” Joss’s voice was low and carried a message Shep wasn’t privy to.

  “Can’t wait!” Lauren said cheerfully, so cheerfully that it gave Shep whiplash.

  “And we’ll gain about four thousand feet in elevation,” he said. “But a lot of that will happen during switchbacks.”

  “Why can’t we just climb straight up the damn mountain?” The Bitcher asked.

  “Because,” Bradley said, “doing that would kick all our asses.”

  On the trail, Shep took the lead and said to Greg, “Do you mind bringing up the rear since Moody’s not here?”

  “As long as I can still film, it’s no problem,” he said. He turned to his colleague. “Why don’t you get in the middle of the stack, say between Bradley and Lauren.”

  To make the pattern even, it really should’ve been guy, girl, guy, guy, girl, guy. But it ended up guy, girl, guy, girl, guy, guy. The lack of symmetry made Shep twitchy, but no twitchier than the fact that he was now in charge of this group.

  For the first couple of hours, they made decent progress since everyone had some protein bar in them, but midmorning, the whole group started dragging. Shep wanted to push, hoping to stumble across Moody around the next turn. Not that he liked the guy, but he’d be damn happy to hand back the reins of this ridiculous rodeo.

  When The Bitcher flopped down on a fallen tree and sighed, Shep realized nothing he did or said would prod her farther until she was good and ready. She waved Bradley over and said, “Hon, give me a sip from Moody’s water bottle, why don’t you?”

  “Only if you share his food.”

  “You might want to pace yourself,” Shep warned. “Be sure not to gorge now or you won’t have anything left later.”

  “When Moody shows up again, he’ll take it all away. Better to gorge now and repent later,” The Bitcher said. “Actually, all the better if he shows back up and doesn’t have a bite or sip left.”

  Shep wasn’t going to argue with her. After all, it wasn’t as if the mountain was barren. He could come out here with nothing and survive for months, if not years. “Then while all of you take a break, I’m going to scout up ahead. Stay here until I get back.”

  “You wouldn’t want to leave us here unprotected, would you?” The Bitcher asked. “Maybe you should leave us your phone just in case.”

  He was torn because she had a valid point. Then Greg piped up and said, “Don’t worry about it, man. Zach and I both have sat phones.”

  “Really?” The Bitcher said. “You’ve been holding out on me all this time? Give it to me so I can call civilization.”

  “Nope,” Greg said with a grin. “Moody would have my job, my head, and my balls. You might be worth a couple of those, but I value my testicles.”

  Dear Jesus, Shep was never doing something like this again. He didn’t care what Dan threatened him with. People were the worst.

  Twenty to thirty minutes where he and Puck were on their own sounded like heaven to Shep. If they found Moody, great. But what he really needed right now was time alone, away from these people and the static they created in his head.

  But before he could take a step, Joss cornered him and said, “Would you mind if I came with you to look for Moody?”

  Yes. No. Honestly, he didn’t know.

  “How about if I promise not to talk to you?”

  Shep blinked. Could she possibly understand his need for silence? For a little serenity?

  “I won’t even talk to Puck so you don’t have to hear a human voice at all.”

  She did get it.

  “Promise?”

  Her smile lit her gray eyes, and she drew an X over her chest. A chest that Shep was now having a hard time looking away from. What would it feel like to slip his hands under her shirt and…

  “Joss is going with me,” Shep abruptly said to the group. He trained his gaze on Joss’s guitar case. “You should leave that.”

  “I…” She took a step back as though reconsidering. “Are you sure it’ll be safe here?”

  “Those four are not going anywhere,” he said. “And as long as you haven’t hidden food in there, I think it’ll be fine.”

  “If you’re sure.” She carried it over to Bradley and asked him to look after it.

  She, Shep, and Puck returned to the trail. It was wide in this area, with room for them to walk three abreast. Stop thinking about breasts. Shep was careful to put Puck between Joss and himself.

  Still, as they strolled away from the others, their threesome almost seemed like a little family.

  Although he was one of five kids, Shep had never really considered having children of his own. When Amber had hit him with her desire to get pregnant, he hadn’t known how to respond. Later, after they split, he’d heard she’d told her friends that she’d wanted a couple of snotty-nosed brats because she didn’t want to work at a job.

  Needless to say, Shep’s mom had never been in Amber’s fan club. Oh, she’d tried to get along with her for his sake. But the two women couldn’t have had less in common if they came from two different planets.

  His mom had recently retired from her job as an environmental engineer, and Amber was still a cashier at Hoffman’s Grocery. Shep didn’t like to shop at Hoffman’s, but when he couldn’t avoid it, he tried to check out through another clerk’s line. Because even now, more than five years after their divorce, Amber still liked to yap his ear off.

  Joss shrugged out of her pack and dug through it as they continued to walk. Without a word, she offered him half of a half of a protein bar. The one he’d sent via Puck last night.

  Most of time, his emotions were what most people might consider muted, especially compared to the way NTs seemed to feel everything so keenly. But Joss had a way of touching something inside him with her small gestures. His instinct was to hand the bit of protein bar back to her, but he remembered something his dad had told him. That people who care for one another offer little gifts to each other. Half of the giving was to accept the gift gracefully and gratefully.

  Shep broke off a piece for Puck and gave him a sit command. His retriever’s focus never wavered from Shep’s face. No sly side-eye glance at the food. Just pure eye-to-eye from human to canine. It was one of the few types of eye contact that never made Shep feel uncomfortable.

  “Okay.”

  Puck politely took the bit of food from Shep’s hand.

  Clearly enjoying the ritual, Joss smiled. But she didn’t speak. Even Shep’s sisters would’ve had a hard time doing that. “You can say something,” Shep said to Joss, realizing he meant it. He liked the sound of her voice.

  “Oh, thank goodness.” Her words came out in a rush of breath. “He’s amazing, just an incredible dog.”

  “He was well trained.”

  “By you?”

  “Some, but mostly by the puppy raisers and the organization that matches them with people like me free of charge. When a puppy is ten to twelve weeks old, volunteers take him into their home. Until the dog is about two years old, the puppy raisers socialize him and teach him basic commands.”

  “And then what happens?”

  “They return the puppy to the organization for advanced training.”

  Mouth open, she blinked up at him. “You mean they just give him up? But… but isn’t that horribly hard?”

  “Yeah, it is tough
even though they go in to puppy raising knowing the dogs aren’t theirs to keep. Some people do it again and again, raising multiple puppies in hopes of them being placed.”

  “God, that takes a lot of commitment, and a lot of love,” she said, smiling down at Puck. “Do you have any idea you are just a big offering of love wrapped in fur?”

  Puck grinned up at her, his lolling tongue belying her effusive praise and his innate intelligence.

  “We should probably go off trail,” Shep said, even though he was pretty convinced that Moody wouldn’t show himself until he was ready to. “Not too far, but I figure the group needs a few more minutes of rest.”

  “Sure won’t hurt.”

  Although Puck remained close to Shep’s side, he weaved right and left, sniffing the fallen leaves and pine needles.

  “You think he could track Moody?” Joss asked.

  “Maybe. But he’s not really trained as a hunting dog.” But in direct contradiction of Shep’s words, Puck suddenly set his legs and buried his nose in leaf debris, his snuffling becoming audible and labored. “Sit, Puck.”

  He did as directed, but his entire body vibrated. Shep hunkered down and brushed away a few leaves. When he spotted something blondish-brown, his whole body stilled. He took a breath and held Puck’s leash out to Joss. “Will you take him for a minute and walk him about ten feet that way? His command is let’s go.”

  “Sure.” She took the leash, gave Puck his command, and led him to a cluster of maples that were starting to show the promise of fall’s vivid colors. “Do you think he found something?”

  “Probably just a sack of trash someone tossed off the trail.” But Shep had a bad feeling about this. Something wasn’t right here, and he didn’t want what was buried here to tempt Puck. He usually had a gut of steel and had been known to eat just about anything, including a few of Shep’s mom’s not-so-delicious baked goods.

  It only took Shep a few seconds of digging through the debris to realize Puck hadn’t stumbled across some carelessly disposed of garbage. Under the decomposing leaves was the body of a dead fawn. By the looks of it, a June or July baby.