She stared on in disbelief. What if he died? No. she couldn’t think like that. Refused to let the fear and pain of what she suffered after losing her mom surface and paralyze her now. Steel bands wrapped around her heart.
Rone stepped up to her. “Be strong for them.” With that, he turned from her, leaving Blackthorne to stew on the other side of the bar. Rone pulled down the mouthpiece, already calling up his brother and pilot of the chopper. “Come in, Big Bear. Adam, answer me.” Rone looked at her as he hailed his older brother.
Rone didn’t wait for an answer. “You remember two years back? Point Ridge when that bitch snowstorm nailed us to the canyon wall?”
“Copy that.” Adam’s voice sounded solid, steady. She unclenched her fingers from around the brass railing rimming the bar and dared a look at the Kohl’s father. His sharp gaze bore a hole through her. He had a way of making her feel three inches tall and her soul like sooty blackness.
“Snap and pull. It’ll be a helluva ride,” Rone warned, but from the look in his eye there was no other way.
“Think Kohl can handle it.” Adam crackled, and his rushed response didn’t sound convinced.
“Kohl can handle what?” Kohl barked as static cut into his words.
Cherry looked up at the sound of Kohl’s voice and edged closer to Rone. All the remaining patrons now surrounded the bar too, shoulder to shoulder support for one of their own.
“You ever do any bull riding,” Rone called over the radio, a smile in place more for her benefit than anything else, she bet.
“A time or two. Might have been half drunk on some Moon Lust at the time, but yeah. Let’s do it.”
“You can have some moonshine if you get your ass back here in one piece, you hear me, bro?”
“Gonna need it. This will hurt like a bitch, won’t it?”
“You can handle it.” That was Lorne. The TV station crew glued their cameras on the chopper, and she looked on as Lorne was already preparing to rappel again at a moment’s notice.
“Fuck. Hey, Rone, man, turn the TV off in case this shit goes sideways.”
If they did what she thought they were talking about, the maneuver meant to save Kohl’s life could smash him against the rocks instead. She didn’t need to be an expert climber to know simple logic. His helmet and padded suit wouldn’t save him. She didn’t care how fast a shifter could heal—nothing healed a smashed skull.
“There has to be another way.” She hoped, prayed.
Rone pointed to the TV where the cameraman remained glued on Kohl dangling solo.
“It will. You have your helmet on. Your suit. You should be just fine. Now cowboy the fuck up already.” Kohl told the stranded climber to back up a few feet to safety. With his feet positioned on the wall of the mountain, he gave a quick shake of his head, hands positioned on the rope much like a rodeo rider.
A deep growl from across the bar brought her gaze over to connect with Blackthorne's. “He’s got his head so messed up with you that he doesn’t know what the hell he’s doing! Until now, he’s never had an accident.”
She didn’t quite know where to start with the malice slung her way.
“Enough,” Roared Rone, hushing everyone. “Watch as your boy does his job, old man.”
“You ready, Kohl?” Lorne peered over the ledge of the chopper as he spoke to his friend in an even tone over the COMS.
Kohl made like he was throwing a lasso as signal and then clutched the rope again.
Time slowed as she looked on. Adam rocked the chopper with a hard tug right then dipped left. The abrupt whip of the rope sent a force down the thick girth. On Kohl’s end he did the same. He pushed off the wall and sent a forceful wave up the length of rope. Small debris shifted but nothing else. She clamped down so hard her teeth damn near cracked. Each movement of the second hand on the clock felt like minutes. Hours.
Blood rushed in her ears.
“Again,” Kohl shouted over the COMS. He sounded strained, his tone roughened by the sheer strength he used to heft the massive weight of the rope.
Kohl heaved again as Adam mirrored the effect from the chopper, this time dislodging the large rock pinning the rope. Thank God.
Wind roared through the valley so loud the camera crew’s mics picked up the hollow groan as it tunneled past the steep walls. On one side, the wind slapped him, and the force of the pull sent Kohl flying through the air, the rubble like stone hail.
Cherry snatched the COM from Rone. “Come on, Adam, pull up. Pull up.” Her words mingling with Lorne’s as they barked the same order.
He did. But too late. Cherry watched as Kohl switched back and took a hard blow against the jagged rock face sticking out from the mountain. His shoulder and right thigh took the entire blow. Thick nausea worked up the back of her throat but she forced her stomach back into place.
Rone rested a hand on her shoulder as Lorne’s voice crackled over the system. “He’s okay, baby. He’s okay. He’s giving the thumbs up and smiling. He’s okay, baby girl, He’s okay.” Sometime between Rone’s ‘cowboy the fuck up’ and Kohl’s command to do it again, she’d forgotten to breathe.
Air rushed into her burning lungs and dots faded in and out of her vision. She flicked a brief look at Rone before turning back to the TV, where Kohl signaled to Lorne from below. “It looks like his COMs busted on impact, though.”
Cheers rang out and she struggled to talk over them. “Lorne. Lorne, thank God. Please, get him out of there. Both of you get out of there. It’s too dangerous.” Right now, she didn’t care who overheard her crazy, frantic begging and obvious fear.
“Soon. We have one more.”
Rone slipped the handle from her and hushed the crowd. “You have maybe fifteen minutes before the winds get too bad up there. Fifteen, you copy.”
“Loud and clear,” came Adam this time.
“I’m going down,” Lorne cut in a second before she watched him rappel from Old Betty’s metal belly.
Fear trickled into her blood as stiff talons of wind curled around her men and whipped them like dandelions dangling over Death Gulch. No wonder it was called that. These men would be the death of her.
CHAPTER THREE
Somehow she let Rone talk her into leaving the bar an hour early and wait for Lorne and Kohl back at the Wylde’s home. When something happened to any of the family, everyone held down the fort together and the Elder’s home served as home base.
Backed up to the outskirts of town, the Wyldes had one of the best properties. Close to five acres of pure peace and quiet. Something you didn’t find in downtown Houston. She swore even the mosquitoes knew not to disturb the peace here.
Movement caught her eye along the back edge of the property. Luscious pines and oaks stretched into the sky, the branches mingling with the stars as an elk calf called for his mom amongst the large roots. Cherry smiled. They had a slice of heaven she would miss dearly.
A familiar ache settled around her heart.
She’d miss them. She knew that fact like she knew she had to leave this borrowed life. Her sister needed her. But the one fact she hated most of all was that they deserved better. A mate that could give them children.
Various shades of pinks and purples merged into dusk that matched the indigo color of her tank top. Despite the amount of light the day held, she could still see the twinkle of the brightest of stars fighting to shine through.
She blew out a deep breath through her nose. No matter how much she tried to twist or turn it, Kohl’s father had a point and the truth of that tore at her conscience.
The brusque old coot rubbed her the wrong way every time they came in contact. After today and nearly striking her, everything changed. Their fling was no longer just that…a fling. She dreaded telling Kohl but keeping it from him wouldn’t be fair either. She couldn’t remain here and be subject to his father’s outburst. What if she found herself alone with him and his anger?
But she couldn’t ignore one more truth. After the adrenaline an
d fear seeped from her body and left her mind clear enough to think she’d checked her messages. While hanging from that damn rope Kohl had dialed her phone instead of focusing on getting his ass out of harm’s way. Cherry pressed the phone to her ear and listened to the message again. “Hey baby, I know you’re watching TV right ‘bout now. Don’t worry. We’ll be home in time for dinner. Lorne sends his love too.”
Love? She hadn’t mistaken it. He had used the one word she never expected to hear. Love. That was the first time she’d heard it from either of them. Was it from the stress of the day? Or could it be true? Did he just want to soothe her at the time? A new fear inked a thought into her brain, but she dashed it away.
When they arrived and she saw with her own two eyes that both men were fine she would excuse herself, return to her apartment over Rone’s bar, pack and be gone by morning. The small details like convincing the oldest Wylde brother to fly her to Fairbanks would be another problem for the morning. For now, she only needed to keep her pillowy soft stuffing inside together for a little while longer.
Cherry smoothed away nonexistent wrinkles in her tank top and jeans as she leaned against the thick pine post of the porch. Crickets sang their lullaby as dusk set in. Alaska’s midnight sun lit the sky…a beautiful thing to behold after such a long winter. She barely believed the first nights of endless day as the sun never dipped beyond the horizon for three solid months until she experienced it for herself.
Unable to sit idly by and wait, Cherry ran her fingers through her hair, tying the lengths into a long plait around her shoulder, and then undoing the work only to rework her raven locks again.
“Girl, you’re going to wear the boards down or work yourself bald if you don’t take a seat.”
Rowdy laughs and teasing fed through the crack of the door as the Elder of the Wylde den stepped out of the house and closed the door behind him. Five brothers and their sister each tried to talk over the other as they worked to prepare dinner for a hungry crowd. Adam and Everett’s mates were also here, doing their part as a tight unit of support.
Such a large crowd made her antsy. Besides, show the slightest bit of weakness and they would descend on her like a pack of mother bears. She smiled but shivered at the same time.
Give her the wide open space where she could gather a thought or two before the men arrived. What she told her sister was true. After today, cutting ties would be harder, but it had to be done.
“Here. Take a good belly full of this.”
She took the offered glass of clear liquid from the oldest Wylde.
“Thought you may need a little of the good stuff before the boys took it all.” Mr. Wylde winked at her, and the gentle look in his eye pulled a smile from her. If Lorne looked anything like his father when he hit sixty, some lucky woman would be very happy. A dull pain bloomed in the space around her heart and her throat clenched until it was hard to breathe.
“Once you take a drink of that you’ll feel better.” He kept his words nonchalant and his tone even.
She appreciated his silent understanding.
“Something on your mind, baby girl?”
She swirled the silver-ish contents of the glass. “You know, Lorne calls me that. I can see where he gets it from.”
Mr. Wylde’s mouth turned up in a knowing smile. Silver graced the edges of his beard and worked around to dust through the length of his dark hair, making him look every bit the wise man she knew him to be. “There’s a lot more he gets from his old man, but he probably wouldn’t appreciate me saying so.” The chair groaned as he lowered his formidable weight into the cushion. With his broad shoulders and sturdy waist, his children shared the same features down to the mischievous twinkle in his eyes. Tonight though, his eyes didn’t twinkle and worry worked deep grooves along his forehead.
He rumbled a low laugh. “Smart girl,” he acknowledged her silent understanding of what he meant, raising his glass in a salute. She followed his lead and took a seat in one of the many wicker chairs decorating the front porch. “Momma might be a little shy in saying so, but we understand the pull of love versus the rules of society.”
“You mean, you and Mrs. Wylde? You...” She knew what he meant but wanted to hear the words. She ran a finger around the rim of her glass. How did she ask what she thought he was saying without being nosy, or worse, disrespectful?
He spoke softly, as though he the memory was still fragile. His eyes focused on nothing in particular as wisps of the past flitted across his somber expression. Golden eyes settled on her. “The answer is yes, baby girl. Probably not many remember or choose to forget, but in the end I guess it doesn’t matter because it wasn’t meant to be. Mercy was hit the hardest. She loved us both and we loved her. A woman’s heart is a little more tender than a man’s.”
That explained a lot. “I’m sorry, Mr. Wylde.”
“It’s okay. And it’s been ten months, going on eleven. ’Bout time you started calling me Jasha. You’re making me feel old, girl.”
She wouldn’t say he looked his age and that brought another thought. How long did shifters live? Would he outlive his human mate? Would Lorne and Kohl?
Cherry nodded, working through the few details he shared. Did the rest of the Wylde bunch know? She’s never heard anyone talk about having another father. Millions of questions paraded through her mind, and all of them had to do with how he’d survived such pain. But asking them? She couldn’t without feeling guilty.
“Mercy and I continued on, had the family we talked about before the accident.”
Traces of pain lingered in his voice and said volumes more than what he actually shared. She recognized the sound of that pain, knew the damage it caused and the remains left behind.
Mercy, short for Mercedes, was Lorne’s mother. Quiet, always quick with a smile, but ready with a firm hand when it came to her boys. The pain she must have suffered after losing two of her children to accidents proved the strength of her nature and loyalty of a strong family. She imagined that being a mother of so many one would have to be equal parts hard and soft to raise six male alpha shifters and two female shifters, all with a stubborn streak the size of Alaska.
High beams from a cherry red Ford reflected off the front windows, and they both turned. She still found the color of their truck ironic and a little funny. She placed her glass down as they both stood. Lorne’s high 4x4 rumbled through the tall grass and came to a stop at the edge of the field right before touching the lush grass of his momma’s manicured yard.
Cherry glanced up as Mr. Wylde wrapped an arm around her shoulder and pulled her in for a brief hug. “Follow your instincts, baby girl, and everything will be okay.” With that, Lorne’s father swung the front door open and called for his wife. “Woman, get out here—the boys are home.” He spoke as if Kohl belonged among their den.
Two doors swung open on opposite sides of the truck. Whiskey gazes sought hers. Every promise—every safe fact she clutched to her chest— faded away until all she could see were them. There waiting for her to jump into their arms.
Lorne and Kohl stepped around the truck, all warm smiles and open arms.
Her footing slipped and she drew up short of throwing herself into their waiting arms. She may be desperate for them, but she couldn’t afford to arm them with the munitions to use on her when it came time to part ways.
She could barely breathe. “You’re home.” Their watchful gazes seared her soul. Twisting her fingers into the end of her braid, blood rushed in her ears. Everything in her told her to go to them, accept the safety of their open arms, but she couldn’t move another step now that she stood so close.
Cherry glanced between the two men and found her missing ire hanging in the wings, waiting for her to pull her head together. “You scared the hell outta me. Both of you.” She wound the ends of her braid between her fingers. Anything to keep all ten digits, and every other body part, on this side of the invisible line they toed, oblivious to her self-imposed boundaries.
It was increasingly hard to be mad at either of them with them looking at her that way, those gold and brown eyes watching her every move. They were dangerously lethal to her willpower. Every step they took she took a half pace back, working hard to keep her brows pinched in a scowl.
“Yeah, it was a bit of a rodeo up there, sweetheart, but those kids are safe and sound.” Lorne glanced at the ground separating them.
Two steps and they swallowed up the safe space she coveted. Both men angled themselves toward her, their soft touch and sweet kisses inches away.
“Bet those teenagers won’t try a climb like that again,” Kohl added, his thumbs hooked in the front of his jeans, his shoulders pinned back with tension. His eyes roamed over her, and she got the suspicion he wasn’t focused on the words coming out of his mouth, but on her.
“Where ya going, baby?” Lorne’s lips parted with his softly spoken question.
She swallowed. Alaska knew how to grow her men. Tall enough to make the submissive in her purr when they pressed her curves between their rock-hard bodies. Arms made for wrapping around a woman and enough muscle she still had areas she never grew tired of exploring. And dimples to match. Lawdy, those dimples. She and Pepper, their younger brother’s sweetheart, had downed many bottles of wine talking over the power of a dimple or two.
Lorne’s graced either side of his cheeks while Kohl had only one that creased the top left corner of his lip when he smiled. Or kissed her.
Mmm. One last kiss wouldn’t hurt. Right?
Both clipped the sunglasses they held to the front of their shirts. Hands, calloused and possessive caught hers. One more night, just the three of them, and then she would say her goodbyes. Yeah, she liked that plan better. Hot sex was always the best way to say adios.
She wore a simple gold band on her left middle finger Lorne loved to tinker with. He played with it now, working the metal in circles. “Something wrong, sweetheart?”
Yes. “No.” Everything was wrong. Mainly her stupid soft heart that confused lust for love all the damn time she was within touching distance of either shifter. Why couldn’t she be more like her sister? “I’m just happy you’re both okay.”
Bear Their Secret: Wylde Den Three (Alaskan Den Men Book 12) Page 3