by Seton, Cora
Whoa. What is that?
It was a dark wide shape, not a tree, or hill. A building? He wiped his goggles and squinted through the sheet of falling snow. Hallucination? Wishful thinking? Whatever it was, it gave him a surge of strength to move faster.
After several minutes, he’d made it. It was a flippin’ log cabin! His heart almost exploded with happiness. There were no lights, no smoke from a chimney, but he proceeded with caution. All he needed to do was surprise an armed-to-the-teeth hunter or a doomsday prepper. Silently, he approached, weapon drawn. He peeked inside the single window. All was clear. And thank holy God, there was a bed inside.
Finally, his luck was looking up.
His flashlight lit up the cabin. Wood beams, wood floor, wooden poster bed, red and white checkered curtains on one window, a table, chairs, small kitchen, tiny bathroom. It smelled musty inside. No one had been there in quite a while, but whoever owned the place had left a stack of chopped logs by the wood burning stove. His thoughts drifted to Crow’s men. Would they trace the smoke to him? Doubtful. He’d be safe for as long as the blizzard raged outside. Surveillance planes would be grounded and snowmobile travel was too treacherous until the storm passed. He lit up the wood-burning stove.
The smoke hit his cold lungs causing him to cough. His skin tingled and stung. Sitting in a worn leather chair by the stove, he took his boots off and wiggled his toes. No frostbite. He’d been lucky. The bed looked comfortable but he was too tired to move. Wrapping his arms around his knees, he put his forehead on his wrists and fell asleep.
Chapter Five
‡
A soft noise woke Ty. He was up with his Sig 226 Navy 9mm pointed at the door before his body registered that he was awake. Slowly, with his sidearm ready, he crept through the semi-darkness. Crow had found him already? The shithead was a better tracker than he’d thought. It didn’t matter now. He’d fight Crow and all his damned men. He’d kill every bastard he could.
There! He heard it again. Almost a scratching sound. Boots on the ground? Weapons locking and loading? Shit, how many men were out there? He wished he had a peephole.
Ty kept moving toward the door. He’d get a jump on the enemy and take the first shot. It might be the only one he’d get to take, so he’d make it good. With his Sig raised, he put his hand on the door. Taking a quick breath, he cracked the door open and aimed heart-level.
A creature howled. No shots blasted at him through the wood door.
What he saw surprised the crap out of him. Not an army of men, but a small sled pulled by a monstrous dog. He lowered his sidearm. Before he knew what happened the dog barked and leaped on him, knocking him backward onto the wood floor. The sled inched its way inside the cabin. The dog licked his cheeks as if he’d never been happier to see a person in all his life. His fur was full of snow and his whiskers were sideways icicles sticking out of his muzzle.
“Whoa. Okay, boy, calm down.” Ty turned his face, tried to wiggle away but the dog wouldn’t let him up. “Off boy. Let me unhook you so that you can come inside. You’re letting all the warm air out.”
When the dog finally got off, Ty rolled to his bare feet and tried to unlatch the dog’s harness. The dog barked.
“Relax, I’ll have you free in a minute.”
The dog nipped Ty’s sleeve and pulled backward toward the sled. Ty had loved many dogs in his lifetime and knew when one was trying to tell him something.
“All right. Let go and I’ll check it out.” Ty slipped on his boots. When he squeezed past the dog and sled filling up his door, he got another surprise. The sled dog was not alone. In the basket was a small furry bundle. He opened the bag carefully and found an injured dog, clinging to life. He glanced at the monster male. “I see now, boy.”
The big dog yipped as if in agreement.
“Poor girl. What happened to you two out there?” And what about the person driving this thing? He squinted through the sheet of snow, but couldn’t see the much. Had the guy fallen off miles back? If so, he was a goner.
Ty carried the hurt dog to the bed and gently put her down on top of the comforter. She had such a nice face and wise, brown eyes. She reminded him of his favorite dog, an Australian Cattledog named Honey. Ten years ago he had buried Honey beneath her favorite aspen. It still brought a lump to his throat thinking about that sad day.
He read the dog’s tag. “Sit tight, Lucy. Let me get the big boy loose so we can close the door.”
When he undid the harness, the dog rose up on his hind legs and put his humongous paws on Ty’s shoulders. He barked in Ty’s face.
“What now, boy? I’m freezing my ass off here.”
A muffled sound outside the cabin put his senses on alert again.
Ty shoved the dog off and grabbed his weapon. Slowly, he stepped outside, Sig drawn. What in the hell? There, curled into a ball beneath a parka, a woman was strapped onto the back of the sled. Could this day get any weirder?
From underneath her hood, she looked up at him with beautiful big blue eyes. “Help Lucy,” she whispered. Her head rolled forward. She’d passed out.
Thank God, he’d noticed the injured dog’s tag. The way the woman pleaded with her last conscious breath, made it seem like she’d lost her child. He couldn’t bear it if a girl was lost out there in the snow. Yeah, he’d help the dog, but the woman came first.
He undid her tethers and scooped her up. She was light in his arms and covered with snow. Her lips were blue. Hell, she must have been as cold as he was when he arrived at the cabin. With his foot, he pushed the sled out of the cabin and pulled the door closed behind them. The wood burning stove gave off a flickering glow. He stepped toward the light and warmth, careful not to jostle his precious cargo. The male sled dog jumped up on the bed and lied beside Lucy. For a while, he’d let the dogs share the bed, but when the lady was ready to lie down, they’d have to get off.
The woman had a delicate, beautiful face. Her long lashes made feathery shadows on her pale cheeks. Her cute nose was slightly crooked as if it had been broken. Who was she? How far had she come in this hellacious storm?
He set her down in the leather chair and situated her head to keep it from lolling about. Gently, he removed her boots. Grimacing, he saw the early signs of frostbite on her feet. Her petite toes were white and waxy. He couldn’t help but notice the red nail polish on her pretty feet. What sort of woman kept her toe nails painted even though they were hidden inside thick socks and boots? And what sort of woman drove dog sleds by herself out here in the wild frontier? A strong lady who knew her own mind, that was for sure. He couldn’t wait to meet her.
Squeezing her big toe, he waited for a response. Nothing. Her toe was numb. Icicles were already forming in her tissue. He’d have to act fast. No one else was going to die on his watch tonight. Ty stoked the fire, warming the cabin. He dragged the bed closer to the wood burning stove. The big dog lifted his head.
“Off, boy,” he commanded. “We need the bed.”
The big dog whined, but did as he was told. Ty didn’t have the heart to push Lucy to the floor, though. He’d let her stay.
The woman stirred and mumbled incoherently when he peeled off her wet clothes. He left her underwear on. Light pink with lace. Very nice. Stop looking. He scooped her up in his arms again and carried her to the bed.
He placed the woman next to her beloved dog and wrapped the blankets around her. Then he lit a lantern and brought it close to the bed. Carefully peeling back the covers, he studied the gorgeous body before him. Her skin was soft and smooth. She was fit, but not too skinny. Her arms were nicely muscled from dog sledding. And that sleek back…shit. A man could spend hours kissing her from the nape of her slender neck…
Focus! He mentally slapped himself. Be the corpsman.
He cleared his throat and began his visual search. The woman had lacerations on her neck and shoulders and—following a matting of dried blood, he felt his way through her thick brown hair—she had one gnarly lump on the back of h
er head. No wonder she wasn’t waking up. He’d have to keep a close eye on her. Concussions were serious business. If her brain started to swell he wouldn’t be able to save her. He shook his head. He couldn’t think about that.
Taking one more look at her glorious body, he concluded he’d seen the extent of her injuries. As gently as he could, he cleaned her wounds, and applied the strongest antibacterial ointment he had in his pack. She could use an IV drip of anitibiotics and a hospital bed, but there was no way he was moving her in this storm. Plus, he had no idea where the nearest hospital was, or how he’d get her there. After dressing her wounds, he tucked the blanket around her again. She needed to warm up.
He sucked in a deep breath and forced himself to bring the lantern to the other side of the bed to see the female dog’s wounds. He was afraid of what he’d find. It would kill him to watch the little thing die. He’d been there, done that with his beloved Honey. It sucked. Before he could stop it, his mind skipped back to the helo where Preston had pulled the pins on the grenades. He was so freaking tired of death.
The big dog rested his head on the edge of the bed. His blue eyes followed Ty’s every move. He seemed to say, Come on man, fix this mess.
He ran his hands through his hair and squatted down next to the big dog. A long tail wagged slowly across the wood floor.
“That’s a good boy. Please don’t bite me. I’m going in.” Ty opened the bag the dog was tucked into. He winced. Something had beaten the holy shit out of her. Lucy lifted her head. She was some sort of husky mix with a sweet face and kind, sad eyes.
“It’s okay, girl. I know what I’m doing. Sort of. I’ll try not to hurt you.”
Lucy dropped her head back down. She was exhausted too.
Ty went to work cleaning and dressing her wounds. A few were deep and required stitches. Ty was amazed she let him stitch her up without snarling or snapping at him. She whined occassionally, but that was it. Maybe she was numb from the cold too. Ty finished stitching her up and patted her head. “Good, girl. Rest now.”
He was so far beyond tired he could almost fall asleep standing up. He moved the lantern back to the table and was about to sit in the chair when he noticed the woman was shivering under the blankets.
He touched her shoulder. Shit. She was still freezing cold. Her body should’ve been warmer by now. Only one thing to do. He stripped off his shirt and climbed in the bed next to her. She stirred. He held his breath, waiting to see if she’d wake up and clock him. She didn’t.
Gently he rubbed her arms, bringing the blood into them, warming them. She smelled good. And her skin was so soft. He really should check for bumps and bruises he might have missed. The voice in his head called out, Bullshit, Whitehorse. You just want to touch a woman. It’s been too freakin’ long.
It was the truth. But what about internal injuries? Since she wasn’t awake to tell him where she hurt… He ran his hand down her side, slowly, waiting for a reaction signaling she was in pain. She didn’t squirm or cry out. Good so far. He rubbed her side in slow circles, incapable of distancing himself from the sensual pleasure of skin on skin.
Huh, what was that? His fingers found a thick ridge along her skin. A scar. Not recent. Cautiously, he traced it across her ribs from back to belly. He touched a bump where the bone had healed. She’d had a broken nose and ribs. What happened to her? Car accident? More likely, a mushing accident. This lady was hardcore. In the lantern’s glow, he saw something on the back of her neck that turned his stomach—cigarette burn marks. Three of them. Holy hell! Some dickhead had used this beautiful woman for a punching bag. Ty wasn’t the kind of man who fired up quickly, except when a woman or child was being abused.
His bastard of a father had pulled that sort of shit and hurt his mother so badly she took off. Ty was ten the last time she kissed him goodnight. A year later, dear Dad rolled a tractor in a drunk-driving incident on the rez. No one cried. Not even Granny Whitehorse, who was left to care for Ty and his five sisters.
Bastard. Who hurts women?
He studied the profile of the lady sleeping peacefully beside him. The bump on her nose made him want to wring her abuser’s neck. He’d teach the asshole how to be a gentleman the hard way. But for now, he wanted to hold her. To wrap her up and keep her safe. If she were his woman, he’d plant gentle kisses along her battered ribs every day until the memory of how she got that scar disappeared.
Gently, he touched her ribs. If she were mine, I’d show her what it is to be adored, treasured.
He rubbed lower, his finger grazing her cold belly. When was the last time he’d kissed a woman here? Poured champagne in her belly button and licked it off? Slowly, he brought his hand up, stopping when he hit the lacy bra. She stirred, pressing her back into his chest. Was she cuddling?
Heat shot straight to his groin. He reached down and ran his hand up her smooth thigh. It was cold but not freezing. He rubbed circles there too, needing to touch, press, squeeze.
Warming her up, that’s all. I’m saving her life.
Yeah, right. He was also torturing himself with longing and need. When was the last time I left stubble burn on two beautiful thighs?
He didn’t do short-term sexcapades. That was Willy’s scene, not his. Granny Whitehorse had taught him to respect women—wooing one at a time. He’d had a couple of long term relationships that didn’t pan out. Truth be told, he was grateful when those had fizzled. None of those women had been right for him.
Still, he missed…this. Placing hot kisses here…He dragged his hand up the inside of her leg, letting his imagination go. Nibbling the ticklish soft skin here. Make her laugh and wiggle beneath me as I go. But I’ll be slow, oh baby, so slow. She’ll be impatient and greedy for me, demanding more, more, more. Chuckling against her warm skin, I’ll lick and drive her crazy.
Up, up his hand went, slowly, rubbing circles on her inner thigh. Her skin was warming up with his touch.
She’s breathing fast and heavy. I’ll swirl my tongue across her panties. Make her whimper. She’ll arch her back, begging me to rip her panties off. Her wish will be my command. Whatever she wants, she’ll have and more. I’ll lick her juices while she lifts her hips. Pressing my tongue inside her folds, I’ll savor her until she tilts close to pleasure’s sharp edge. I’ll bring one finger inside, and another, and suck her nub until she comes over and over…
His thumb grazed her lacy panties. And reality slapped him. What in the hell was he doing?
As if hearing his thoughts, she sighed and opened her legs. He had access to her sweet spot. He didn’t move. His heart pounded in his ears.
She wiggled her ass into his erection. Did she want him to keep going? Was she awake? It took all of his strength to keep his thumb from rubbing the slow circles against the silk of her panties. Once started, he wouldn’t be able to stop.
He waited for… something… anything. Give me a sign.
She snored.
Every cell in his body screamed to wake her up. To take her in his arms and kiss the heat back into her body. To love a stranger was not his M.O. He had to get a hold of himself.
He pulled away and watched her sleep. Hell, she was beautiful, especially in the soft glow. He brushed her long brown hair off her face and tucked it behind her petite ear. Her brow crinkled in a frown and the shivers started up again. She was still too cold. Wrapping his arms around her, he held her as closely and as tightly as he could. Lying on his side, he tucked her into his chest, spooning her.
He took her cold fingers into his mouth, one by one, warming the frost nipped tips. She moaned softly, not from discomfort. It was a sexy sound that caused his body to react.
Down, boy, he told himself. Again.
He loved spooning a woman, especially when she had fallen asleep in his arms. But this one hadn’t. He curled her hands in one of his and tucked them against her belly. He tried to forget about the full breasts in the pale pink lacy bra and the sweet, sweet ass pressed against him. The forgetting part wasn’t w
orking very well. He laid his head down on the pillow. Deeply, he inhaled the coconut fragrance of her shampooed hair. He’d stay with her until she warmed up and then he’d get up and sleep in the leather chair. She wouldn’t know he’d been in bed with her. There would be no uncomfortable explanations.
That was the plan.
Chapter Six
‡
Holly lolled around in semi-consciousness. It was as if her brain had been unplugged and was taking a while to charge up. She’d been having the sexiest dream that left her wanting and bothered. When was the last time that happened? Before she married Ronald. That was for darned sure. Being with the man had sucked the sexy right out of her. She was pleasantly surprised it was coming back. Holly needed to be wanted again. To feel loved.
She kept her eyes closed, enjoying the light buzz from the dream and feeling safe in her bed for the first time in five years. But that didn’t make sense. She was supposed to be scared. She always woke up scared. Electric charge of confusion raced through her brain and with it pain kicked in.
Oh, wow, her head hurt. It was as if she’d been kicked in the head by a…giant moose. Memories started to seep back. Lucy curled up in the snow. Blood.
Lucy!
Her eyes flew open. Lucy was under a towel on the bed beside her. She was alive! It was a miracle.
Holly reached out of the covers to pet the soft gray ear. “Oh, girl. I’m so happy to see you.”
She was still fuzzy-headed, but her senses were coming alive. Where was she? How did she get here? Half a blink later her mind melted into a puddle of hot panic. Naked man. In bed. Touching me.
She screamed bloody murder.
The man jumped off the bed in a flurry of movement. He snatched up a serious looking gun and pointed it at her. Okay, he wasn’t naked—he was wearing camo pants and socks—but that wasn’t the issue. He had a gun pointed at her!