Christine Feehan - [Leopard 2] Wild Rain.txt

by Wild Rain(lit)

  Rio could hear Rachael murmuring softly to the cat. He shrugged into the harnesses and positioned the weapons for easy access before leaping to the next tree branch. He used creeper vines to swing to some of the closer branches,

  232

  Christine Feehan

  and hit the forest floor running. He ran through streams and small creek beds, pulled himself up the embankments using the vines and once more took to the trees.

  "Coming in from the south," he reported into the radio.

  "Go for Joshua, he's running hurt, leaving a trail. Conner's guarding the vies. Team is spreading out to leave tracks." Drake's voice came in a stream of static and heavy breathing.

  "I'll intercept. Who's on Josh?"

  "He's on his.own. Hurry, Rio."

  "Tell him to come to me. I'll meet him."

  They kept the transmissions brief and spoke in then-own dialect, which would be nearly impossible for anyone overhearing to translate. Only members of their species spoke the guttural mixture of tones and words. It was one of their greatest strengths when working.

  Rio covered several miles in record time, using Drake's short bursts of static for direction. He had to get to Joshua before Tomas or one of his men did. Joshua was in trouble, wounded and on his own. The other team members were needed to bring out the many victims and get therfi to safety.

  He heard the sound of a gunshot echoing through the trees. White mist shrouded the canopy as he flung himself through the branches. He was forced to slow down to cross the river, using a precarious route, two low-hanging branches and a creeper vine. He nearly lost his footing, leapt to the next tree, his hands shifting to claws to cling to the bark. The trunk was wide with a multitude of plants growing up it, covering the bark. The branches raised toward the sky, seeking light, but the heavy foliage from the taller trees around it blocked it from the precious source causing the tree's limbs to curl and the leaves to feather. He flattened himself against the trunk, hooked claws clinging precariously as two bandits consulted in loud whispers beneath him.

  The two men were out of breath having run ahead of the melee in the hopes of setting up an ambush. They consulted

  WILD RAIN

  233

  in their native tongue, gesturing wildly, all the while staring back toward the sounds of gunfire.

  Rio's breath hissed out slowly as he felt for the closest branch with his foot. He willed them not to look up. As high up as he was, the wind fingered his face, but below, on the forest floor, the air was completely still and sound carried easily. His toes managed to find footing and he eased down, keeping his claws hooked as an anchor as he gained more solid territory. .When he was on the branch, he leaned against the trunk and slid his rifle into position, careful not to rustle the leaves. And then he froze, every muscle locked into a ready position as only his kind could do. Waiting. Watching. Marking his prey.

  The bandits were oblivious to bis presence. They separated, moving off the trail, one bandit crouched low in the leafy foliage of the shrubbery. Impatiently the man flicked a caterpillar from a leaf onto the faint trail. Rio didn't follow the path of the caterpillar. He never took his gaze from his prey. One hand slipped up to his neck to pull the long knife from its sheath. The rifle remained rock steady, the barrel aimed squarely on target, finger on the trigger. Rio pulled the knife free. Careful to keep the first man in sight, he followed the progress of the second, who had moved ahead and off the trail to climb into the low-hanging branches of a fruit tree. As he climbed, his boot scraped lichen from the trunk and his weight, as he pulled himself up, sent fruit tumbling to the ground.

  The wind shifted slightly, playing through the leaves. The rain began again, a steady fall that had both bandits cursing as the drops soaked their clothing. Rio remained still, high in the branches above them. He caught the scent of fresh blood. He heard the whisper of clothing against a bush. That told him, more than anything else, that Joshua was badly injured. He would have shifted shape if he could and used the strength and speed of the leopard to get him home. Instead, he was dragging himself through the forest, using the easiest and most open trails.

  234

  Christine Feehan

  Rio didn't wait to see Joshua's approach. He kept his eyes on the two bandits hiding in ambush. The one below him put down his rifle twice. Tied his boot. Fidgeted. The one in the tree held his gun and watched the trail. Rio kept his rifle aimed at the bandit in the tree. The moment he saw the man raise the gun to his shoulder, he fired.

  Rio didn't wait to see the results of his marksmanship; he threw the knife at the man below him. The gurgling sound was ugly, but it told him what he needed to know as he changed position, leaping to another branch and sighting the first bandit a second time.

  "He's down," Joshua said. He leaned against a tree trunk tiredly. Blood soaked his right side. "Thanks, Rio. You're a welcome sight. They would have killed me. I don't have much fight left in me." He slid down the tree and sank to the forest floor, his legs going out from under him.

  Rio dropped to the ground and inspected the two bandits before going to Joshua. The man had lost too much blood. "You should have put a field bandage on this."

  "I tried. No time. They were everywhere. We pulled everyone out that was there. One of the men had gone missing and no one knows what happened to him. The team scattered, each taking a vie, and Conner had to cover them." He looked up at Rio. "Drake took a hit. I don't know how bad."

  Rio stiffened, forced himself to be gentle as he worked quickly on the wound. "He sent me to you."

  "I know, I heard on the radio. That's like him. Three reported hi clear. You had your radio off, I tried to let you know." Joshua began to slump to one side.

  "Damn it, Josh, don't you die on me. I'll be pissed off if you do." Rio swore under his breath as he quickly worked on the wound to stem the flow of blood. The entrance hole was small and neat but the exit was a mangled, bloody mess.

  The wind tapped him on the shoulder, brought him the scent of the hunters. A pack of them, out for blood, hot on

  WILD RAIN

  235

  Joshua's trail. They'd be furious when they found then-dead lying in the midst of the shrubs.

  "Josh, I have to take you up into the trees. I have no choice. I don't want to give you morphine, you're already in shock,"

  "Do what you have to do," Joshua muttered. His lids fluttered, but he was unable to find the energy to open his eyes. "If you have to leave me, Rio, give me a gun. I don't want Tomas to get his hands on me."

  "Shut up," Rio said rudely. He retrieved his knife, cleaning the blade in the leaves before returning it to its sheath. "Let's go, the hounds are getting close."

  Joshua made no sound as Rio slung him over his shoulder in a dead man's carry. Rio hoped he'd lost consciousness. The steel muscles running beneath his skin would be needed, the enormous strength of his kind. He went up the tree, higher than he'd like but where there was more cover. He wouldn't have the necessary speed for traveling along the branches carrying Joshua's weight, so he'd need stealth and cover.

  The continual rain added to the complications, making the branches slick. Several tunes he disturbed birds and gliding lemurs. Squirrels scolded him and a thick snake uncoiled when he accidentally gripped it for an anchor as he made his way along the branch highway with Joshua.

  He was nearing the river when, without warning, the birds took to the sky. Joshua stirred, but Rio's soft command stopped him from moving. Rio cached Joshua in the crotch of a thick branch, much like a leopard might with his dinner. It was the only tree with enough foliage to hide them. He had hoped to be on the other side of the river before the bandits caught up with them. His pulley and sling was stashed and would be useful, but he'd have to leave Joshua to set it up. He checked to make certain no blood dripped to give away their position. The roar of the river drowned most of the noise, but couldn't take away the other signs of approach. "Tomas and his crew are coming, Josh.

  236

&
nbsp; Christine Feehan

  You'll have to be quiet and stay right there, no moving."

  Joshua nodded his understanding. "I think I can hold a gun."

  Rio shook his head. "No need." He crouched down beside Joshua, felt for his pulse. The man needed medical attention as quickly as possible. Rain-soaked, clothes clung to their bodies, boots rubbed bh'sters into skin. The conditions were miserable, but Rio had been in worse. "We'll get you home," he assured Joshua.

  Rio didn't waste time hesitating. leaving the rifle behind, he went through the trees as quickly as he could, rushing to beat the arrival of the bandits. He dropped into the open onto a low-hanging branch and dove into the river. His arms cut strong, clean strokes, taking him across the river even as the current pulled him downstream. On the other side, he dragged himself up the embankment, rolled beneath a tangle of buttress roots and caught up the pack stashed in the hole in the trunk.

  The bandits had broken out of the forest on the other side. They spread out, examining the ground for tracks. One was too close to the tree where he had cached Joshua. Josh was barely conscious and one wrong move would instantly bring him to the bandits' attention. Rio slowly and carefully pulled the rifle from the cover of the trunk and laid it over a root to steady his hand. He was in a bog and leeches would be swarming to his body heat if he didn't move immediately.

  He squeezed off three shots in rapid succession, looking to wound his targets rather than kill them. Tomas would be forced to carry his men to safety rather than keep up the chase. Rio scooted backward on his belly, seeking the heavier cover of brush, trying to keep larger trees between him and the river.

  The bandits returned fire, a rapid burst of bullets that chewed the bark from the trees and spit leaves and needles close to him. He stayed very still, not giving away his position as he marked new targets.

  WILD RAIN

  237

  Tomas was no fool. He knew whom he faced. He'd run up against Rio's marksmanship many times and he didn't want to lose any more men. He signaled them back into the timberline. They melted away, carrying their wounded. Several discharged their guns in a last show of anger, but they moved off rather than try to cross the river in the open to track him. They might try it further upriver, hut by that time, Rio hoped to have Joshua deep inside the forest and in the hands of his people.

  Worried that they may have left a sniper behind, Rio took his time coming out of the bog. He felt the sting of a couple of leeches as he crawled into deeper forest. It took several minutes to remove the creatures with his knife. As he retrieved the pulley and sling from his pack and rose, a bullet whistled by his head. Rio threw himself to one side, eyes examining the surrounding area. He thought he'd been well hidden, but his enemy had guessed where he would go to escape the leech-infested ground.

  The bullet had missed him by inches, but he had more of a problem than a few leeches. He had to hunt. The bandit would be patient, lie in wait for him, knowing he would have to move soon. The river separated them and Joshua was cached up hi a tree, wounded and in dire need of medical attention.

  In the shelter of several thick trees, Rio shed his clothes, folding them neatly and setting the pile on a tree branch along with his boots. He shifted into his other form, embracing the power within him. The brute strength. The perfect hunting machine. Bold and clever, highly intelligent and cunning, the leopard began his stalk. Staying in the shadows of the trees, the large cat angled downstream, padding swiftly through the vegetation. The leopard scented blood and gunpowder as it leapt onto the low-hanging branches of a tree at the edge of the river. The cat snarled as the sniper fired repeatedly, sweeping the area where Rio had been.

  The leopard plunged into fast-moving water, using

  238

  Christine Feehan

  powerful muscles to swim across to the other side. The cat climbed up the embankment, slinking across the open area in small stop-and-start bursts, going to ground and freezing behind the cover of the shrubbery. He gained yards, then feet, until he was a short distance from the bandit.

  The man hurried quickly through the trees, intent on the other side of the river. He never saw the leopard crouched only feet from him. He never saw the rush, only felt the hit, hard like a freight train, driving him backward with powerful legs and muscles. He was hit so hard he never felt the crushing weight of the jaws that ended his life.

  Rio fought the wild nature of the beast, pulled back from the heady scent of the kill and shifted shape quickly. He still had to get Joshua across the water. It would take too much time to set up the pulley and sling. He hurried back to the man, grateful to find him still alive.

  "We're going into the river, Josh; I'm taking you to the village." x

  "You don't have to do that, Rio. Don't put yourself in that position."

  Rio hoisted him onto his shoulder. "I don't give a damn what they think about me, Josh. You need help as quickly as possible."

  "Did you lose your clothes?"

  Rio grinned, a show of teeth. "I left them on the other side of the river in a tree."

  "You've always been crazy, Rio."

  Rio heard the utter weariness in the voice. Joshua hung like a dead weight, not even attempting to hold on. Worried, Rio plunged into the river; using every bit of his strength to fight the current to get them both to the other side. Then he began to jog.

  It was a hellish, nightmare journey. Joshua's body slammed against Rio's. Brush tore at his skin. The rain soaked them both as the miles passed. Rio began to tire, his legs rubbery, his lungs burning for air. His feet, although tough and used to the travel, were torn and bloody. It took

  several hours and he stopped three times to rest, give Joshua water and tighten the pressure bandages over the wounds. Rio staggered into the village, tired and hot and soaked from the rain just before dawn. No one came out of their houses, although they knew he was there. Joshua's blood soaked Rio's skin where the man was pressed tight against him. The rain continued, a steady cascading fall that cre-ated a haze between Rio and the houses. He started toward the house of their only medic. Movement caught his atten-

  tion. The elders came onto their verandahs, watching him

  through the downpour.

  Rio stood for a moment, swaying with weariness, feel-

  ing anger wash over him. Shame. He was twenty-two again

  and standing before the council with his mother's blood and the blood of her murderer on his hands. He lifted his head and set his jaw. They would never accept him. Never want the taint of his life to touch theirs. He could protect their people, give them his share of the money, but he would always have blood on his hands and they would never forgive him. His mouth hardened and he squared his shoulders. His eyes were fiercely proud, his jaw strong and stubborn. It didn't matter if he wasn't welcome in their vil-lage. He didn't want to be there. He refused to believe that he could miss the interaction with others of his kind.

  Inside the houses the whispers would start. It always did if he had to make the journey and intrude on their space. Each time he was certain it would be different, better—that they would accept him. But their faces would be hard, or averted or they simply looked past him as if he didn't exist. He forced strength into his tired body and carried Joshua straight to the house of the medic. They would never allow him entrance, nor would they speak to him. Even if they thought the blood on his body belonged to him, they wouldn't ask questions or attempt to help. He was dead to them.

  Rio deliberately went up the stairs to the verandah and

  240

  Christine Feehan

  placed Joshua's body onto the chair there. As he turned to leave, Joshua caught his arm. His grip was feeble but he hung on. Rio turned back, bent down to him. "You're home now, you're safe."

  "Thanks, Rio. Thanks for what you did."

  Rio gripped the hand for a moment, covering the gesture with his body so Joshua wouldn't get reprimanded in front of the council. "Good fortune, Josh."

  He tu
rned, ramrod straight, walked down the steps and paused to allow his gaze to sweep with contempt, with arrogance through the village. To take in the familiar set-ting. Something wrenched at his heart, something deep and terrible. His temper was a sharp thorn, sticking in his gut and burning there. Resolutely he turned his back on them all and walked into the forest where he belonged. For a moment everything blurred around him. He thought it was the rain, but when he blinked, his vision cleared and his eyes burned. Rio forced the air through his lungs and told himself he was alive and on his way back to Rachael and that was all that mattered.

  14

  RlO entered the house in silence, leaving the door open to catch even the slightest breeze. The rain poured down in a steady rhythm, concealing the verandah and house in heavy white mists. The mosquito net performed a ghostly dance but his gaze was riveted to Rachael's face. He didn't even remember jogging home to her. His feet hurt, his body was tired and sore and a rage burned like a firestorm deep inside of him. He had stopped to bathe before coming to her, hoping the rage and pain would lessen beneath the spray of cleansing water. It hadn't.