“Killed Buffalo Moody.”
She hadn’t wanted to say it aloud. Because once the words were in the air, they couldn’t be pulled back and covered up. So she just nodded.
“All I know is that I don’t like this. We need to get back to Steele Ridge as soon as we can.”
Joss forced herself to her feet and put Fiona on her back. “Then I say we get going.”
* * *
Disappointment ate through the winner at the fact that Kingston, the woman, and the dog were all still alive. Barely even hurt. A bad burn or a busted leg would’ve been nice.
This contest didn’t have a lot of time left on the clock, but the winner was secretly happy it wasn’t over yet.
There were more tricks in the bag.
And just because they weren’t physically hurt, that didn’t mean the winner hadn’t scored some major points. The rock star was curled in fetal position, and she’d yelled at Kingston.
Maybe she was finally figuring out how half-baked the guy was. She probably only planned to string Kingston along until they made it back to Steele Ridge. She was smart enough to know a man didn’t leave his fuck buddy behind.
From a vantage point up in the trees, the winner had gotten an eyeful of their tonsil hockey in the water. Shep was a well-hung son of a bitch, that was for sure. But then they’d gone under the waterfall and the winner hadn’t been able to see or hear anything.
Too damn bad.
But when they’d done the monster mash in the tent, the winner had seen that. Had been close enough to hear every gasped word and moan. Had heard the grunt and groan of two long orgasms.
The winner couldn’t imagine Kingston getting hot and heavy enough to satisfy someone like the rock star. Then again, maybe she’d been faking it. Women did it all the time.
Whatever. They could have all the fake fucks they wanted until the winner decided it was time to finally take Kingston out of the game.
But not yet.
Because the whole match was more fun than the winner could’ve ever imagined. If there was a way to both kill Kingston and keep him alive to continue playing, that would be cool.
But there wasn’t. So Kingston would have to bite the big one. And if the chick and the dog went down, too…
Well, that was just simple collateral damage.
* * *
Shep didn’t like it. Did not like it. Did not like it.
As he, Joss, and Puck hit the trail again, his tendency to obsess was about to slip past his self-control and blow up like a string of firecrackers.
This whole trip into the mountains had been a mistake.
But if it was a mistake, did that mean what was happening between Joss and him was a mistake, too? Shep didn’t want to believe that.
He was, however, self-aware enough to know that he dealt best in blacks and whites. Joss had introduced a gray he wasn’t completely comfortable with. And now he’d led her into danger.
With thoughts and questions doing a whirling dervish in his head, Shep instinctively reached for his cord and tied half a dozen knots inside the limited space of his pocket. And shit, by the way he was working his fingers, it probably looked like he was playing with himself.
“I’m not masturbating,” he said finally.
Joss jerked her head around to look at him. “What?”
“In my pocket.” He nodded toward his right side. “I’m not touching my penis.”
“Should I say congratulations or I’m sorry?”
“I’m tying my cord.”
“I know, Shep. I was just joking. It was a bad one. Believe me, if I had a security cord right now, I’d be fondling it, too.”
“Really?” he asked. “Would you like mine?” He surprised himself with the offer.
“That’s really sweet,” she said. “But do you… do you think it might help you if you used your other hand to hold mine?”
Huh. That had never been soothing to him before, but a lot of things had changed since Joss white-water rafted into his life. “We could try it.”
She gave a sort of smile, more of a lip twist, actually. “That wasn’t fair of me. It would help me if you would hold my hand.”
Instead of recoiling, Shep found he wanted to hold Joss’s hand. He wanted to help her. To make her feel better. Instead of just enfolding her smaller hand in his, he intertwined their fingers.
She looked down at their joined hands and a real smile bloomed on her face. “Let me know if this starts bothering you.”
“It won’t.”
Because Puck’s leash had been one of the things left behind to burn with the tent, he was keeping pace with them, trotting along on Joss’s other side. He’d become as protective of her as he was of Shep. A few days ago, that would’ve made Shep feel unsettled, maybe even jealous.
Now, he was glad his dog cared for Joss as much as he did.
They were all hiking quickly down the trail, with Shep keeping a vigilant eye out for any potential threats, when Puck’s nose shot up into the air. One quick side-eye glance at Shep, and he shot off at an angle and into the woods.
“Oh, my God. Where is he going?” Joss asked.
“Puck, here!” Shep yelled.
But his damn dog never looked back, just crashed his way through the underbrush until he was out of sight.
“Shep,” Joss gasped. “Shep, my fingers!”
He glanced down and realized he was strangling her tiny fingers. He dropped her hand. “I’m sorry. I have to find Puck.”
“Do you want me to stay here on the trail?”
“No. I told you I wouldn’t leave you alone and that goes double after what happened last night.”
Joss headed toward the spot where Puck had disappeared off the trail. “Surely he won’t go far.”
Shep didn’t think so. Then again, Puck had never, in his whole life, taken off like this. He was trained not to react as a normal dog would, no matter the temptation.
Temptation. What could possibly have tempted his dog to act against his training, to revert to his instincts? Shep’s family often referred to Puck as the canine garbage can because he was very, very food motivated. Puck had been lured off the trail by the scent of some delicious food, Shep would bet on it.
Not just any food, but one of his all-time favorite people foods. And what was the likelihood of someone having an innocent picnic way out here when he and Joss hadn’t seen a single person since they’d run into the Juney Whank guy?
“We need to catch Puck now,” he barked at Joss. “Run.”
“Shep?”
“I don’t have time to explain. Hurry and stay close behind me.”
For a dog that was so happy to laze around in the shade or on a couch cushion, Puck was a fast motherfucker when he had a mind to be.
With Joss’s fingers hooked into the back of his shorts, Shep crashed through branches and underbrush, barely feeling the scratches on his face and arms. He just hoped he was protecting Joss with his bigger body.
They’d probably sprinted a quarter mile when Shep spotted Puck hunkered down over what looked like a pile of hot dogs. He was going at them like he was competing in one of those eating contests.
“Puck, don’t!”
Puck shot him a guilty look and gulped down the wiener that was already in his mouth.
There was no sign of a recent campsite or picnic. And hot dogs didn’t grow on trees so someone had dropped these on purpose. Shep needed to get his hands on what was left of that pile of meat. “Puck, I mean it. Don’t!”
Reluctantly, Puck backed away from the food and sat. His huff of disgust came through loud and clear.
“Can you hold him while I check out what he was eating?” Shep asked Joss.
“Sure.”
She grabbed for his collar, and Shep squatted next to the few hot dogs left. He had no way of knowing how many Puck had already gobbled down. Shep broke one in half and sniffed the inside. Smelled like pork byproducts to him, but plenty of shitty people knew dogs would
eat tainted meat. How many guard dogs had been sidetracked and drugged that way to make it easier for a crook to rob a house?
But why Puck? And why now?
What the hell was going on out here?
Whatever it was, Shep could no longer afford to just meander his ass back to Steele Ridge. He needed to go on the offensive.
20
Her breath still hitching from their dash through the woods, Joss ran a trembling hand over Puck’s head and down his back. Hot dogs in the middle of a national forest didn’t make sense. And with the way Shep was sniffing and studying them, he didn’t think so either.
“Are they rotten?” she asked him.
“No. These things have so many preservatives in them that they’d probably survive a nuclear holocaust.”
Realization flooded her. “Oh, crap. You’re smelling for poison.” She scanned the area wildly, spotted a small tuft of what she was looking for. “Here, Puck.” She half dragged him to the grass. Doubtful he would graze like a cow, she ripped out a handful and shoved it into his mouth. “Swallow, dammit.”
“That’s a good idea.” Shep joined her and took Puck’s face in his hands. “Eat it, Puck.”
Joss yanked out more grass, and Shep performed a dog whisperer miracle and sweet-talked Puck into eating half of what she’d picked.
“We need to get away from here,” Shep said in a low voice. “Whoever left these could still be around.”
“You think someone was trying to lure Puck to this area?”
“Yeah.”
God, all she wanted was a safe place where she could hunker down. A basement, a closet, a vault. Because these unending acres of towering trees, fallen logs, and leaf piles felt threatening. Like the forest was stalking them. But that was silly. None of what had happened out here was the work of nature.
It was the work of man. And Joss remembered enough from high school English that Man versus Man was the most unpredictable kind of conflict.
Shep scanned the forest and finally said, “This way.”
“But the trail is the other direction.”
“Which is exactly the reason we are not going that way. Hold on to Puck.” He pulled his cord from his pocket and fashioned a short leash. “I don’t think he will bolt again, but I don’t want to take any chances.”
The grass, a natural emetic, didn’t take long to work its magic. Within five minutes, Puck was hunched over and heaving. It sounded painful, but if the hot dogs were poisoned, they needed to come up.
And there were at least a dozen of them altogether.
Once Puck’s yak-fest seemed to be at an end, the dog looked away from his porcine downfall in shame. Shep squatted down to rub Puck’s head in comfort. “It’s okay, bud. I know you couldn’t help yourself.”
Shep turned and looked up at Joss. “We need to get out of here. Who knows what else—”
Something whizzed through the air and flew past Shep’s shoulder. Puck let out a high-pitched yelp that made both goose bumps and sweat break out over Joss’s body.
What in the world?
Before she could register what had just happened, Shep scooped up his dog and yelled, “Run!”
* * *
With Puck in his arms, Shep could do nothing to help Joss but shout at her to get the hell out of here. Eyes wide, she ran, and he took off in a zigzag pattern behind her. “Go right! Now left!”
If they were where he thought they were, a group of caves wasn’t far ahead.
Joss turned her head to look at them. “What happened?”
“Shut up and keep running!”
She did. He had to give her major credit for that. For a short girl, she was hauling ass. Arms and legs pumping. Breath heaving. Fiona bouncing against her back.
“Angle to the left up that hill.”
To the left she went, no hitch in her stride. And although Puck was heavy in his arms, Shep didn’t let up either. From the way his dog was panting in pathetic little whines, Shep couldn’t afford to fumble or fail. He had to get them all to shelter.
“Up a little more,” he panted out. “Look for a rocky ledge that opens into a cave.”
Joss attacked the scrum like a billy goat, powering up, up, up. The rocks rolled under her, and she pitched forward onto her palms. She didn’t make a sound, just regained her balance and climbed.
“It’s here. I found it,” she said, pulling herself onto a jagged pile of rocks and making as if to crawl into the cave.
“Wait. I need to check it out.”
She scooted to the side, found a perch on a flat rock, and held out her arms for Puck. Shep gently laid the dog across her lap, eclipsing most of Joss’s body. “Oh my God. Someone shot him with an arrow. It’s… I think it’s deep.”
Shep couldn’t think about that right now. Check out the cave first.
Inside, it smelled of bat shit, but he tossed a few small rocks into the corners. Nothing furry or poisonous scurried out. It would have to do.
He crawled back out and gently lifted Puck from Joss’s lap. His dog was panting in distress, yet he still licked Shep’s hand, trying to reassure him. “It’s okay, buddy. I will make it okay.” To Joss, he said, “I don’t think anything is inside the cave.”
“I’d bunk down with any animal right now. I’m just glad to be in an enclosed space.” After the fire, they didn’t have many clothes left, but Joss pulled a T-shirt from Shep’s pack and spread it on the ground. “You can lay him here.”
Once Shep had Puck on the ground, he could see the arrow had definitely breached fur, the underlying skin, and was lodged firmly. But it was impossible to tell if it had pierced anything inside. Should he try to take it out or leave it in?
“Do we take out the arrow?” Joss asked, mirroring his question to himself.
“I don’t know what is best.”
“He’s hurting pretty bad.”
“I know that!”
“I’m sorry. I know you do. I… I just feel helpless.”
Yeah, so did he, and it was a feeling he never enjoyed. “I’m going to cut down the arrow some, enough that it’s not sticking out as far, but not so much that I can’t get leverage to pull it out if needed.” He used his multi-tool to clip the fiberglass shaft. Puck yelped, a high-pitched expression of pain that bolted its way through Shep’s body.
Overload. It was coming on, and he couldn’t afford to lose his shit right now. But he had to lose something. He tossed the butt of the arrow aside and said, “I need to throw up.”
Fortunately, he made it to the mouth of the cave in time and leaned over the rocky ledge to vomit. He didn’t have much to heave up—not like Puck and the dozen hot dogs—but the bile scorched his throat and stung his eyes.
As gross as it felt, it cleared his head. Allowed him to think.
For some reason, he, Joss, and Puck were under attack. Shep couldn’t ignore everything that had happened in the past twenty-four hours. It didn’t matter who the attacker was. All that mattered was that Shep stopped them.
When his stomach finally let up its assault, he swiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
Joss poked her head out of the cave and held out the empty maple water container. “Here. There’s a mouthful left.”
“We need that.”
“Just a little sip. A swish and spit. You’ll feel better.”
He took it from her and rinsed the taste of fear and confusion from his mouth. “Thanks.”
“Come back inside.”
In the cave, they both sat close to Puck, with Shep’s hand on his head and Joss’s on his rump. The retriever’s eyes were closed, but his breathing was still labored.
“When that arrow flew,” Joss said, “you had just turned toward me. Do you think it might’ve been meant to hit you?”
Shep thought back, remembered their relative positions. He’d been crouched over Puck just a fraction of a second before the arrow whizzed past. If he hadn’t moved, it would’ve punctured him in the upper left quadrant from the back.
“I think the shooter was aiming for my heart.”
“My God, Shep.” She grabbed his arm hard. “Are you sure?”
“Based on the trajectory, yes. Either that, or the person is a shitty shot. They’re out there right now. And they’ve made it clear they’re going to keep coming at us. We can’t return to the trail. We’d be too exposed.”
“What about the others from Do or Die? If they’ve made it back to town, won’t your sister be concerned that you’re not with them?”
“We can’t be sure The Bitcher and the others were able to make it off the mountain, either.”
“You’re saying whoever started the fire and hurt Puck could’ve gotten to them, too? Why? Why is this happening?”
“I don’t know, but I decided it doesn’t matter. If we are going to get back to Steele Ridge alive, I have to find this person and stop them.”
“You mean we, don’t you?”
“No,” he stated flatly. “I mean me.”
“I am not going to sit in this cave like a scaredy-cat while you go out and possibly get yourself killed.”
“Someone needs to stay with Puck.”
“Okay. Point to you. But I can help. Let’s talk this through together.”
“I’m already working on it in my head.”
“That’s not good enough for me. I haven’t made it to this place in my career by letting someone else make a plan for me. Not even my manager or agent. I always know what’s going on,” Joss said. “The facts. That’s where we need to start. What’s gone wrong since we left Steele Ridge?”
“Everything,” Shep grumbled. Well, maybe not everything. He’d never imagined he would meet someone like Joss.
“Not helpful,” she shot back. “First, Moody disappeared.”
“We found the fawn, and the first aid kit went missing.”
“Moody was… found.” Joss swallowed as if trying to keep her stomach from reeling. “Lauren and the others took off and took more of our stuff. And we met that weird guy on the trail.”
“Someone set a fire at our campsite.”
“The hot dogs.”
Striking Edge Page 21