If all went well, she would make it to that town before dawn. She would take some time to rest, change her clothes, eat, and continue on. There was no time to waste. Peter would not give up on looking for her. She had to get as far away, as quickly as possible. Then her plan to reclaim her life would begin, and her husband would be found out to be the horrible, deceitful person that he was.
The going was slow, but Abbey carefully made her way down the steep side of the rock face. It was difficult to climb with the packs on her back. Several times she had nearly lost her footing as the weight on her back shifted. At one point, she lost her footing and fell a good twenty feet, tumbling repeatedly despite her attempts to grab for something to stop her rapid, uncontrolled descent. She landed hard at the bottom of the cliff, hitting her left side with a hard impact that knocked the breath from her. She froze all movement as she fought to control her urge to cry out from the pain. Taking slow, deep breaths, she fought to get herself back under control, pulled herself to her feet, and continued her trek to safety.
There was barely any light from the quarter moon to help her see her way to navigate safely. It was both a blessing and a curse. She knew that the darkness helped her to escape him, yet the darkness prevented her from moving as swiftly as she wished she could. It was a trade-off, she knew, but it was necessary. She would take the darkness gladly.
It took her nearly two hours to reach the bottom of the ravine. Stopping a few minutes to catch her breath, she listened once again for some sign that she was being followed. She heard only the rushing of the water off to her left. She straightened her packs on her back, stood tall, and walked directly into the middle of the ankle high stream. The coldness of it sent shock waves through her body. Her thermal boots would help a little, but she knew that it wouldn’t be long before she would experience damage to her body in the cold water. She had to get as far as she could within the next few hours.
It would be dawn soon, and she was determined to be five miles away. She began walking, quickly at first, then settling down into a slower, more even pace. She walked almost as if she were a robot—ignoring the cold and ignoring her tiredness. She couldn’t let anything stop her.
The minutes melded into hours. She wasn’t sure just how far she had walked, but she knew she was going to have to stop soon. She was exhausted and it was best not to travel during the day until she was able to get some type of transportation. Damn Peter! His sabotage of her car was one more solid proof of his attempt at controlling her. Well, she was determined that he wouldn’t get away with it.
The sky was beginning to lighten with streaks of gray. It would only be a matter of minutes before it was dawn. She had miscalculated somehow. She hadn’t reached the destination she had hoped to reach by this time. She was becoming disoriented. She was freezing. There was no choice. She had to stop. She had to find a spot that would have to serve as a temporary hiding place. She had to change out of her wet clothes. She had to get warm, eat something, and rest.
The sky was beginning to streak with subtle shades of purple and pink. It was now or never. She made her way out of the stream and walked into the woods that bordered the stream. She could see houses in the distance but couldn’t worry about that right now. She pulled her packs off her back then reached down to unlace her boots. Her fingers fumbled from cold and fatigue. After several attempts, she finally unlaced them and pulled them from her feet. Peeling off her socks, she nearly cried out in pain. Her feet were so cold they were numb. She rubbed them briefly then reached into her backpack and pulled out two pairs of heavy socks, a new pair of sweatpants, a black T-shirt, and a bulky, black sweater.
She quickly removed her sweat-soaked clothing, stuffing them into the duffle bag to save for later. She pulled out a dry pair of underwear and a bra, quickly donning them and tugging on the sweatpants and the T-shirt, covering it quickly with the bulky sweater and the black, hooded sweatshirt, flipping the hood up and tying it securely. She pulled the socks onto her feet, one layer at a time, wincing in pain as her feet protested the movement. She prayed that she would be able to walk when the time came for her to continue her journey. Taking her sneakers from the bag, she pulled them on and tied them quickly, tugging on her thermal gloves as soon as she could. Grabbing her boots, she wrapped them in two small, plastic bags and pushed them into the duffle.
She pulled the three blankets out of the bag and set two of them on the ground against a stack of fallen logs. She would only rest for a little while before resuming her path to freedom. Placing her bags under her head and shoulders, she leaned back into nature’s arms and covered herself with the third blanket, saying a final prayer that she would get away safely as exhaustion claimed her.
* * * *
“Charlie 5, assistance is needed at 266 Marin Drive,” the police dispatcher’s voice interrupted their musings. “Body found in wooded area behind home. Ambulance has been dispatched to meet you.”
Clay reached up and grabbed the speaker attached to the loop on his shoulder, depressed the side button, and spoke with confidence. “Charlie 5, responding. On our way.”
“See the woman Talia Sherman. Home owner called in the sighting. The body location has been noted but the condition has not been ascertained.”
“Roger that,” Clay answered.
Hunter flipped on the siren and lights, speeding up and taking the back roads that led to the isolated street. He remembered running in the woods behind that area with pack members just last month. It was a pretty good distance from Beckett pack land, but the excitement of the pack since Jace and Jackson had found their triad mate had pushed the male members of the pack to run almost in a frenzy to burn off the energy that had been building within them.
“Hunter,” Clay spoke softly.
Hunter turned to face him just briefly before returning his attention to the road ahead of him. “What?”
“I hope that person isn’t dead.”
Hunter nodded briefly. He could sense the anguish in his partner. He knew exactly what he was feeling. He didn’t think he could take another death right then either. His heart was already heavy from the horror of the previous day’s car accident.
“I think we’ll find him or her alive,” he said finally, praying that he was right.
They rode in silence toward their destination, each man filled with hope that they would find a person to rescue, not bury. Hunter turned the patrol car into the paved driveway of the small home that sat far back from the road. The woman that came out of the elegant home to greet them smiled as he parked the cruiser and shut off the engine. He turned toward Clay and took in a deep breath to calm himself.
“I hope the Fates will be kind to this lost soul,” he said softly.
Clay nodded. “Let’s go. The quicker we get there, the quicker we can help.”
Both men exited the patrol car and walked toward the woman, straightening their vests and gun belts as they approached. The woman’s smile was immediate as they drew closer.
“Hello, officers,” she greeted them warmly.
“Ma’am,” Hunter answered, nodding his head slightly.
“Ms. Sherman, if you would please show us to the place where you saw the body we would be much obliged,” Clay interjected, not wanting to waste any time. They had an injured person to aid and each precious moment that delayed their time finding them could be the difference between their chance of living and dying. Neither he nor Hunter was going to take a chance on losing another person on their watch.
“Sure,” Talia Sherman answered with more enthusiasm than was natural for the situation. “I spotted the body from my kitchen window about a half an hour ago. I think it’s a woman. It could be a young boy or a young girl though.”
“You didn’t check it out to be sure?” Hunter asked her, his voice a low growl at the obvious unconcern for the injured person.
“It’s cold out,” Talia Sherman protested. “And it’s early. I was having my morning cup of coffee when I saw the body, and I
called the police. I knew you would be able to figure it out. It’s so nice to have such strong, handsome police officers to come to my aid when I call.”
“Please lead us to the site, ma’am,” Hunter told her quickly, his irritation difficult to mask.
Clay nodded at Hunter and quickly took his place beside him. He was just as annoyed with the woman as his triad partner was.
The young woman began walking toward the backyard of her home, leading the men toward the trees that bordered her property. They both noticed the definite sway of her backside and the sly smiles that she gave them. Hunter’s growl began from deep within his chest. He heard the same sounds coming from his partner and knew Clay was feeling the same frustration that he was.
Clay was barely controlling his wolf. The anger that was coursing through him was about to snap his control. He could feel the urging of his wolf to take over his human side. He couldn’t believe this woman was actually trying to flirt with them without thought to the man, woman, or child, who was very probably hurt and possibly dying or dead.
Both men saw the small figure lying against some downed logs at the same time. Their protective instincts kicked in, and they both began to run toward the body, their powerful legs eating up the distance quickly and leaving Talia Sherman far behind.
They dropped to their knees beside the huddled form, realizing immediately that it was an adult female. They both reached out at the same time to touch her gently.
Hunter placed his fingers against her neck to search for her pulse, thankful when he felt the weak thrumming of her heartbeat beneath his fingertips. He took in a breath of relief and froze, his eyes flashing to Clay immediately as the most delicious scent he had ever smelled filled him.
“Clay,” he barely whispered.
Clay scented the delectable aroma at the exact same moment. Surprise filled him, quickly changing to complete happiness as he realized the miracle that lay before them. Seeing the way Hunter’s eyes had changed from his normal brown color to completely golden as his wolf fought for release, he fought to control his own wolf as his attention flashed to the woman who lay on the ground between them. He inhaled deeply, feeling his wolf growling possessively as it recognized their woman.
“Mate,” Clay growled, reaching out to gather the woman into his arms as gently as he could.
“Mate,” Hunter agreed, leaning forward and resting his forehead against the woman’s soft cheek.
“What’s up, officers?” Talia’s voice intruded on their discovery.
“Go back to the road and wait for the ambulance,” Hunter ordered. “We’ll bring her as soon as we can.”
“Oh, sugar, you should just let her stay here and let the EMTs do their job,” Talia told them with a lightness that showed them just how little she cared about the situation or the woman who was in their arms.
“She’s ours to protect,” Clay snapped, turning to face the woman, a low growl erupting from his chest as his wolf demanded the protection of their mate. He was in complete agreement with his wolf. “Go and wait for the ambulance, ma’am.”
Clay watched with disgust as Talia Sherman stepped back and looked at both of them. The power that exuded from them probably scared her more than just a little bit. He was relieved when she finally turned and made her way back to her house to wait for the arriving ambulance.
“Your loss, guys,” she called over her shoulder as she walked away.
Hunter’s hand trembled as he reached up to push aside the black hood of the sweatshirt that their mate wore. Anger filled him and tugged at his wolf when he saw her beautiful face covered in dirt and blood.
She moaned slightly as his hand touched her forehead and she turned toward him slowly. She opened her eyes and looked at him before turning to face Clay, the blue of her eyes glazed over with fever.
“I’m so cold,” she whispered.
Clay cuddled her closer against his body. His emotions were warring with each other. He loved that she was in his arms, but he worried that she was burning with fever.
“I’ve got you, honey,” Clay told her softly, leaning in and resting his face against her right cheek.
“What’s your name, sweetheart?” Hunter asked her as he pushed her hood back, carded his fingers through her soft, brown hair, and massaged her head lightly. He loved the darkness of her tresses and the soft silkiness of the long strands despite the blood that soaked into the right side of her hair along her temple.
“That feels nice,” she murmured, leaning into his touch. “Thank you.”
“My pleasure, darlin’,” Hunter whispered, overwhelmed with being in the presence of the woman he knew would bring love and happiness into their lives. “I’ll be happy to touch you like this any time.”
Abbey looked up at him and smiled, reaching up to gently rub the back of her knuckles across his cheek before rubbing her thumb across his square jaw. “Be careful with offering me that,” she told him, smiling. “I might just take you up on that.” She laughed softly then coughed as the chilly air of the early morning filled her lungs.
Clay tightened his hold on her and stood carefully. Hunter picked up the blankets, duffle bag, and backpack that lay on the ground beside them and immediately took his place beside Clay as they walked the distance to the back of the house. He pressed against Clay’s side and wrapped his free arm around their mate’s body. He held her tightly between them, sharing his warmth with her. He smiled as she cuddled against them and accepted their warmth gratefully.
“Thank you,” she whispered. She looked up at the man carrying her, saw the smudge of blood that was on his cheek, and reached up to wipe it gently from his face. “I’m sorry.”
Clay nuzzled into her hand and kissed her palm lightly. “There’s nothing for you to be sorry for, honey,” he told her, his voice suspiciously gruff.
“I don’t feel good,” Abbey whispered.
“We know, sweetheart,” Hunter told her, leaning down to kiss her forehead lightly. “We’re going to take you to the hospital and make sure all of your injuries are taken care of.”
“No!” Abbey croaked, struggling immediately and pushing herself from the strong arms that held her.
Clay allowed her to push from his hold to stand between them but never stepped away from her as she began to sway with dizziness. “Honey, please let us take care of you. We’ll make sure you’re safe. We’ll protect you and help you.”
“I don’t need help,” Abbey insisted, reaching out to hold onto the hands that both men offered her. “I’m fine. I just need to get warm.”
“Sweetheart, you need medical attention,” Hunter told her gently. “You have an injury here.” He reached up and touched her right temple lightly. “And you’re burning up with a fever.” He ran the back of his knuckles across her cheek to soothe her.
Abbey leaned into his touch and closed her eyes as the exhaustion that filled her made her crave his gentleness. She felt him press against her side and winced slightly as the pain in her left side flared.
“You’re hurt here, too?” Clay asked her, touching her side gently.
“I’m fine,” she insisted.
“No, honey, you’re not,” Clay stopped her gently. “Please. Let us help you.”
“But I don’t want you to be in danger,” she whispered, her body sagging against them both. “He’ll hurt you.” She knew this with certainty. If Peter had the lack of morals to actually shoot at her with every intention of killing her, he would not think twice about hurting anyone who helped her to escape and ruined his plans.
“No one is going to hurt us,” Hunter told her softly, reaching out to cuddle her against his side. “And we’re damn sure going to make certain no one is going to hurt you either. You belong to us now, and we’re going to take care of you and protect you.”
“I don’t understand,” Abbey told him, reaching up to rub her right temple, moaning when she opened up the gash that was crusted over with dried blood. “Who are you?”
“My n
ame is Hunter and his name is Clay,” he told her gently. “We’re your mates.”
Chapter 3
Abbey couldn’t prevent the whimper of pain that escaped her as she was jostled from side to side. She was fully aware of where she was. When the EMTs did a quick examination of her before they loaded her into the back of the ambulance she had struggled briefly for freedom, but it was of no use. She was completely exhausted and had no strength in her to argue with them.
She had been careful not to give them her name. She couldn’t risk Peter finding her. She wasn’t far enough away from him. She hadn’t completed her plan to hide from him until she had put her barriers in place and started her slow but thorough elimination of him in her life.
“Blood pressure is low,” the EMT sitting beside her said quietly. “What’s the ETA?”
“We should be at Denver Memorial within twenty-five minutes,” the driver called to them from the front of the cab.
Abbey tried to focus on the man taking her blood pressure. She squinted her eyes, trying to push through the haze of blurriness, and saw the nametag that identified him as C. HUTCHINSON. She had heard the driver call him Carter. He seemed like a nice enough guy but there was no way she could trust him or any other man to protect her.
Closing her eyes, she concentrated instead on the rocking motion of the ambulance and the memory of arms holding her protectively and gently. That was a nice thought. She would go with that.
Twenty-five minutes later, the ambulance pulled up to the emergency entrance of Denver Memorial Hospital. Abbey only knew brief moments of lucidity as she was transferred inside. The sounds and smells of the hospital made her stomach roll. Squeezing her eyes tightly closed, she tried to block out the bright lights that bombarded her senses. She heard growling and a scuffle of bodies as she was pushed through the corridor then knew no more as she succumbed to blackness as the trauma team surrounded her. Before she gave over to the relief of unconsciousness, she felt two sets of hands touching her arms and smiled, realizing that the two kind men who had found her were still with her.
Abbey's Protectors [Beckett's Wolf Pack, Triad Mates 4] (Siren Publishing Ménage and More) Page 4