The Loner

by Lindsay McKenna

  With a cry, Shelby saw both bullets strike the rider. Downing was thrown backward by the power of the bullets slamming into him. He tumbled off the back of his frightened horse. The stallion’s eyes rolled. It leaped to the side of the trail, frightened by the booming sounds.

  Welton cursed as the careening animal struck him in the shoulder. His hand was jerked off the woman’s hair, flying through the air, the pistol knocked out of his hand.

  Shelby collapsed on the trail. Her vision blurred. She scrambled to her hands and knees as she saw her pistol flying out of Welton’s hand. The horse had run into him, frightened by his rider falling off. Downing lay on the trail, groaning, his arms flopping weakly, blood pumping out of his chest.

  With her last ounce of strength, she lurched to her feet. Shelby had to get to the pistol that had landed no more than ten feet away from her.

  Welton snarled and cursed, rolling down the trail. He flew to a stop, his head striking a fir. For a moment he grunted as if stunned. Then he caught sight of the deputy weaving unsteadily on her feet, heading for the pistol. He jumped up.

  “Leave it alone, bitch!” he screamed. Welton hurled himself toward her.

  * * *

  DAKOTA HEARD THE TWO shots. He skidded to a halt, M-4 in hand. Storm surged ahead, speeding toward the noise. His heart plummeted as he breathed raggedly, orienting and trying to locate the direction of the sound. Had Welton found Shelby? He hurled himself down the hill, on the heels of his gray wolf, who ran with her ears pinned against her skull.

  The slippery, loose pine needles made him skid as he moved down the steep incline. Between the trees, Dakota spotted a wide horse trail. The noise had come from that direction. As he flipped the safety off on his M-4, he kept running with his focus on finding Shelby. Who had fired that pistol?

  Dakota wove around a large thicket near the trail, his heart rate tripling. There, on the trail, was Welton and he had Shelby on the ground. Dakota’s gaze jerked to the left. Another man lay lifeless on the trail a hundred feet away. He turned back to Shelby. She was kneeling on the trail, her hands tied in front of her, her neck stretched back against Welton’s thigh as he held the pistol to her temple.

  “Welton!” he roared, skidding to a halt, the M-4 jammed to his shoulder, the stock tight against his cheek. He had the convict’s snarling face in his scope, the crosshairs painted against his sweaty, angry face.

  Welton jerked his head upward toward the bellowing sound. His mouth dropped open for only a second. Shelby was drugged and it was easy to get some rope he’d carried with him tied around her hands. She struggled feebly, but his tight grasp on her hair forced her to remain where she was. “Back off!” he screamed at the man with the rifle two hundred feet above them. Who was this bastard? Whoever he was, Welton knew he was military by the way he stood frozen with that rifle. He pressed the pistol into Shelby’s temple.

  “Drop your weapon or I blow her head off!”

  Dakota’s entire focus was through the Nightforce scope. “Drop your pistol or I’m putting a round through your head, Welton.” His heart pounded wildly in his chest. He tried to compensate for his ragged breathing as he kept the crosshairs steadied on Welton.

  “Like hell I will,” Welton snarled. His finger curved against the trigger.

  Suddenly, out of nowhere, a gray wolf flashed toward Welton.

  Dakota saw Storm crash out of the brush to the left of the convict. She charged Welton, mouth open, lips curled, revealing long white canines, aimed directly at him.

  It was just the diversion Shelby needed. As Storm burst out of the bushes, she jerked up her left elbow and struck Welton in the crotch.

  Welton cried out as her elbow connected with his genitals. The pistol jerked away from her temple. He doubled over, his hand releasing her hair as he aimed the pistol at the charging wolf. Shelby cried out, collapsing on the trail, the last of her energy dissolving.

  Dakota took the shot. One to the head. The M-4 bucked savagely against his shoulder. The booming sound echoed loudly. The shot hit Welton and flung him backward a good three feet. By the time Storm leaped upon him, Welton was dead, half his skull blown away.

  Dakota sprinted down the hill. Shelby was rolling over, trying to get up, still fighting to survive. He skidded down the hill and onto the trail.

  “Shelby, lie still!” he ordered harshly. He just wanted to make sure the bastard was dead, and he was. Storm panted nearby. Dakota ran to check on the other man on the trail. He turned him over and was stunned. What was Curt Downing doing in this mess? He pressed two fingers to the man’s exposed throat and found no pulse.

  Dakota jerked the radio from his belt and reported it all to Cade. He went toward where Shelby was sitting up, giving the GPS coordinates. They were in deep forest and there was no way a helicopter would get into the area. Signing off, he jammed the radio into his belt and knelt down in front of her. He laid the M-4 aside. Dakota quickly untied the ropes binding her wrists and threw them aside.

  His hands came to rest on her shoulders. She was trembling. “Shel, it’s all right. You’re safe now. Are you hurt?” Of course she was and Dakota examined her from head to toe. He saw no gunshot wounds, no massive bleeding anywhere else on her body. Relief coursed through him. Her eyes were wild, her pupils abnormally dilated. She’d definitely been drugged.

  “Come here,” he rasped, dragging her into the safety of his arms. “You’re going to be okay, Shel. God, I love you.” He held her tightly against him. Her breath came out in choking sobs. Her face was dirty, scratches across her cheek and her hands were bloodied. As she quivered uncontrollably, he had new worries. He kissed her tangled hair. “He drugged you, didn’t he?”

  Shelby felt herself falling off the edge of an invisible cliff, her consciousness beginning to disintegrate. “Y-yes,” she forced out, the rest of the words hung up in her mind, not accessible to her mouth. She felt the strength and power of Dakota’s arms around her. The shock of it all made her shake uncontrollably. Welton had been about to kill her. She heard Dakota’s heart racing against her ear as he shifted. He slid one arm beneath her legs and the other around her shoulders.

  “Hang on,” he growled, standing and pulling her into his arms. “I’ll get you help. Just hold on, Shel....”

  They were the last words she heard as he crushed her against himself and turned on the trail. Help. She was going to get help. The rough weave of the damp shirt beneath her cheek gave her solace. She was safe....

  * * *

  “SHE’S COMING AROUND,” Jordana told Dakota quietly, who anxiously waited nearby. She adjusted the IV drip into Shelby’s arm. “Just be with her. She’s going to need some orientation.”

  Dakota nodded. He’d not left her side since getting Shelby down to a major trailhead where the sheriff’s deputy cruiser was waiting for them. A U.S. Forest Service helicopter was nearby, rotors already turning, to take Shelby and him to the Jackson Hole Hospital.

  The door softly shut and the light blue private room became silent once more. Moving forward, Dakota slid his hand over Shelby’s shoulder. In the past hour since they’d arrived, Jordana McPherson had overseen her care. Shelby had been given a cocktail of drugs to combat the drug Welton had given her. All Dakota could do was wait while the doctor and nurses cared for her.

  Cade Garner had already stopped by. The two bodies had been recovered at the trail and were now in the city morgue, waiting to be examined by the medical examiner.

  Dakota watched as Shelby’s long blond lashes began to flutter, a sign of consciousness. He hadn’t had time to clean up. He was filthy, dusty and sweaty, but he didn’t care. He wasn’t ever going to leave Shelby’s side until she was awake and he was convinced she was going to be all right. She had gone into convulsions on the helicopter flight to the hospital. The paramedic on board had stabilized her, but it showed the power of the drug Welton had given her. Jordana told him later that she would have died from an overdose and Dakota had found her just in time.

&nb
sp; Dakota noticed her lips parted and he saw her swallow. Leaning down, he pressed a kiss to her wrinkling brow.

  “It’s okay, Shel. You’re here in the Jackson Hole Hospital. You’re going to be all right.”

  Dakota gently squeezed her shoulder as he watched her. Jordana had warned him that coming off the drug would cause her to be cold, weak and shaky. Antidrugs given to her earlier would annul the virulent effects of the drug Welton had given her. She would survive, but the withdrawal would be brutal, too.

  Shelby could hear Dakota’s low, deep voice near her ear. She’d felt the warmth of his lips on her sweaty forehead, his moist breath soothing her. Fighting for consciousness, Shelby oriented her focus to his large hand on her shoulder. It was warm. Some of her fear began to dissolve. It took every bit of strength for her to lift her lashes. As she did, everything was blurry.

  “Don’t fight so hard,” Dakota rasped, touching her cheek. “You’re coming out of a drug overdose, Shel. You’re okay. You’re safe.” This seemed to appease her and she ceased her struggles. Even now she was trying to fight. Fight to survive. He cupped her jaw and brushed her dry, cracked lips with his mouth. He wanted to breathe his life into her, erase the death that still held her in its grip. He kissed her tenderly. His heart mushroomed with such love for Shelby that he had to force himself to ease away from her mouth. As he did so, her cloudy blue eyes opened for the first time. He smiled. Her pupils were no longer so dilated.

  “Shel?” he called softly, his face inches from hers. Their breaths mingled. “You’re doing fine. You’re coming out of it...” He threaded his fingers gently through her hair.

  A lump stuck in Shelby’s throat as she drowned in the glittering gold-brown of Dakota’s eyes. They burned with love for her, the raw emotions in them, the care so apparent in his expression. The hardened SEAL mask disappeared. In its place, a man deeply shaken by many conflicting emotions. Closing her eyes, she forced her lips to work. “I love you....”

  Her whispered words shattered him. Dakota pulled back a little more, his large hand cupping her pale cheek. “I know you do. And I love you, too, Shel. I’m here and I’m not leaving your side.”

  It took another hour before Shelby was truly conscious. Her vision cleared, the blurriness dissolving and everything in sharp, clear detail. Dakota was sitting in a chair at the side of her bed, facing her, his hand wrapped firmly around her cool, chilly one. Blips of her experience began to tease her spotty memory. Horror and terror riffled through Shelby like pulverizing ocean waves. She clung to Dakota’s warm, strong hand because it fed her strength and helped ground her back in the present. Here. With him. She took a deep breath, her voice raspy.

  “Welton?”

  Dakota eased out of the chair. He saw clarity in her shadowed blue eyes. “Dead. I shot him.”

  The finality, the tightly held rage he held in check, pummeled her. Now the SEAL mask was back in place, the implacable warrior who had saved her life. She swallowed hard. “Thank you...” She frowned. “The other man...Curt...?”

  “Welton must have shot him. He was dead when I arrived.”

  Nodding, her mouth dry, she whispered, “Yes, Curt rides his horse on the trails. He was in the wrong palce at the wrong time. He tried to stop Welton.” She then uttered, “He shot Curt.” Dakota nodded and said nothing. Shelby felt a bit more strength flow into her limbs. “Can you help me sit up? I need some water. I’m dying of thirst.”

  In moments, Dakota had the bed levered upward so that she was sitting up at a comfortable angle, pillows behind her back. He poured water from the blue plastic pitcher into a glass. He slid his arm behind her shoulders, holding her as he gently pressed the rim of the cup to her lower lip. She drank all of it.

  “More?”

  “No...thanks...” Shelby sighed as he eased her back against the pillows. She closed her eyes for a moment, her emotions crashing through her like the huge up-and-down drafts of a thunderstorm. Tears leaked from beneath her lashes.

  It was heartbreaking for Dakota to see the silvery paths of tears down her taut, pale face. He moved closer to her bedside and gently smoothed them away. He still didn’t know what had happened between her and Welton. He was afraid to ask. Jordana had inspected her closely and found nothing but bruises and scratches. He pushed away strands of blond hair from her face, just as she opened her eyes once more. They were dark and filled with emotions he couldn’t decipher.

  “God, I feel awful. What the hell did he shoot me up with?”

  “A drug to knock you out.” Dakota wouldn’t tell her she’d been given a lethal dose. She didn’t need to hear that right now. Maybe much later.

  “It did that.” Shelby felt more aware, more in her body. She held Dakota’s worried stare. “I’m remembering things now....” She reached out, sliding her hand into his. As his fingers wrapped around hers, she sighed. “After he jumped me at the bushes, where the child was, I blacked out.”

  “The little toddler is safe and sound,” he reassured her, seeing the question in her eyes. “Back with her parents.”

  “Thank God. Welton stole the baby to lure me into his trap.”

  “Yeah, I finally put that part together, too,” Dakota muttered.

  “Took me a while to figure it,” she said with distaste.

  “Hey,” he called softly, touching her chin, “don’t be hard on yourself, Shel. No one could have seen this coming.”

  “Maybe not.” She shrugged, which caused sharp pain in her shoulder. She reached up, sliding her fingers across it and remembering more. “I woke up in a truck. I was lying on the backseat. I was coming out of the drug haze and seeing Welton driving like a demon.”

  “A fisherman at the wharf where he tied up the boat saw him drag you out of it and into a green Chevy pickup truck. Do you remember any of that?”

  Shaking her head, she licked her dry lips. “No...nothing.”

  “That fisherman not only had the license plate of Welton’s truck, but he gave me the keys to his Jeep so I could pursue him.”

  “That was so kind of him,” she murmured, touched. “As evil as Welton was, we have people like that fisherman who tipped the scales in the opposite direction.”

  Dakota breathed a sigh of relief. Shelby seemed almost completely present, her voice stronger, her mind working. He continued to hold her hand. “Welton had chosen one of two dirt roads that were close together. I stopped and talked to a driver of an SUV who had engine problems, and he saw the truck race by, but didn’t see which road Welton took. I parked and ran over to both of them to try to figure it out. There were a lot of fresh skid marks on one, and that’s the one I took. It was the right road.”

  “I knew I had to get out of the truck. I knew once he stopped, I was dead. I unlatched the rear door and somehow dived out it.” Shelby shook her head. “I felt like a rag doll. My legs wouldn’t work right. I was weaving around. I couldn’t run a straight line if I tried.”

  “I don’t know how soon after I got to where he crashed the truck.” Dakota felt some satisfaction as he added, “Storm already had your scent and when I turned her loose, she headed back down the road where you had apparently fallen out of the truck. She led me directly to you.”

  Rubbing her brow, a headache coming on, Shelby whispered, “Bless Storm. She made the difference. Curt Downing surprised me. He was riding his horse around the corner at a trot. He damned near ran over me. I couldn’t even move to get out of his way. I was helpless. By that time, Welton had caught up to where I was.” She shook her head. “Curt Downing tried to help me, but Welton shot him off his horse.” She looked up at Dakota’s grim expression. “That horse went ballistic and crashed into Welton, knocking him away from me.”

  “And that’s when I arrived on the scene.”

  “I saw you put the rifle to your shoulder. He had a hold of my hair and I couldn’t do anything. The drug was taking me under. I had no fight left in me.”

  “You had enough left in you to jam your elbow into the bastard
’s crotch. You gave me a clear shot, Shel.” Dakota reached over and looked deeply into her marred eyes. “You fought with everything you had. You never backed off even with the drug in your system.” His voice lowered, unsteady. “You’re the bravest woman I’ve ever seen. You were magnificent. I don’t think anyone else would ever have done what you did. You saved yourself from Welton.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  “I WANT TO GO HOME.” Shelby looked up at Jordana and then Dakota, who stood nearby. The doctor frowned as she checked her vitals and the IV.

  “Shelby, you nearly died from a drug overdose.” She took out a penlight and held Shelby’s jaw lightly. “Look into my eyes,” Jordana said, moving the light slowly from one eye to the other.

  Dakota said nothing, just watched Shelby’s eyes dilate properly and then move back to their normal size. It had been four hours since she’d regained consciousness.

  “Okay,” Jordana said, concern in her tone. She looked across the bed at Dakota. “I know you were a trained combat medic.”

  “That’s right.”

  Jordana turned back to Shelby. “You’re not out of the woods yet. But what I can do is let Dakota take you home and stay with you. He knows the signs of drug overdose, of convulsions. I’ll give him some medicine in case you need it.”

  Shelby swallowed hard. She was so grateful. “Thanks. I owe you one....”

  * * *

  “I’M SO GLAD TO BE home,” Shelby whispered as she was led to her bedroom with Dakota’s hand beneath her elbow. Her knees were still unsteady and he was afraid she’d fall.

  “You have a beautiful house,” he said, looking around. Entering the bedroom, he noticed a pink, flowery spread across the queen-size bed. The drapes were open, allowing in light.

  “I feel safe here,” Shelby said. She’d called her parents earlier and let them know she was all right. They were going to travel back to Jackson Hole tomorrow to see her and take up residence once more in their home.