Chapter 6
Tucker
The crisp mountain air stings my nostrils as we move in silence through the dense timber, our boots crunching over the thick carpet of fallen needles. Dawn”s first golden rays are just starting to filter through the canopy high overhead, casting long shadows that stretch before us like obsidian claws.
Rhylee pauses every few yards to check another one of her makeshift monitoring stations—a tangle of wires and sensors strapped to tree trunks or half-buried. She frowns in concentration as she consults a bulky handheld device, meticulously recording whatever data her gadgets have collected overnight.
I hang back a few paces, my eyes constantly roving the surrounding terrain for any sign of our elusive prey”s movements. Snapped twigs, tufts of coarse fur snagged on branches, piles of scat—all the subtle clues that a tracker would recognize.
And all the while, I can”t stop my own thoughts from circling back to those heated memories from last night. To the feeling of Rhylee’s lush curves melting against me, her nails scoring delicious trails down my back. To the whimpers and gasps that spilled from her parted lips as I buried myself to the hilt over and over until we were both shuddering with release.
Just the echo of those fevered sensations has my blood pumping hotter, my palms growing damp as I curl them into fists at my sides. Christ, she damn near made a feral beast out of me with those sweet cries and sinful writhings alone. Like she was made for taking every punishing inch, yet still hungry for more of my brutish claiming.
My jaw ticks as I force the dangerous thoughts aside once more. I can”t afford any distractions right now, not when we”re deep in unfamiliar territory with an unpredictable apex predator stalking about. One misstep, one lapse of focus out here, could prove deadly for both of us.
”Hey, you need to take a look at this,” Rhylee murmurs, her brow furrowed as she beckons me over to her latest monitoring station.
I grunt in acknowledgment, lengthening my stride to reach her side.
”What am I looking at?” I grouse, peering over her shoulder at the jumble of numbers and charts flickering across the screen.
”This is displaying a heat signature analysis from one of the remote sensors I set up yesterday,” she explains, jabbing a finger at a bright, amorphous blob glowing in the center. ”See this concentrated spike here? Based on the intensity and radius, it could indicate a rather sizable warm-blooded mass passing through this area sometime overnight.”
One thick brow arches as the implication dawns. ”You think it was one of the big cats?”
Rhylee purses her lips, her eyes narrowing as she toggles through a few more screens of data. ”Potentially. Though the thermal footprint seems larger. Almost like... a human?”
An uneasy prickle crawls up my spine at her assessment. I straighten, my senses instantly kicking into high alert as I scan the shadowed undergrowth around us.
”Where”d you set up that sensor?” I ask.
She points toward an overgrown game trail cutting through the trees about a hundred yards ahead. ”Just up that ridge over there.”
I stride over to where Rhylee indicated. Something isn”t right here. I can feel it in my bones—that same sixth sense that”s kept me alive through too many close calls to count.
I crouch low, inspecting the churned earth and crushed undergrowth. And there, a battered aluminum can half-buried, embossed with a logo I recognize all too well. Bud Lite.
”Shit...” I hiss through clenched teeth, my grip tightening on the rifle slung across my back. Only one kind of low-life scum would be littering my territory with this kind of trash.
A few more steps reveal another damning piece of evidence—a spent shotgun shell caked in crimson stains that could only be blood.
”Tucker?” Rhylee appears at my side, her eyes going wide as she catches sight of the cartridge cradled in my palm. ”What is that? What”s going on?”
”We got us a poacher, Doc,” I growl, straightening to my full height as fury simmers through me.
She pales, one hand flying to her throat. ”Hunting the lions? But that”s-”
”A damn federal crime that could earn a body some hard prison time if caught,” I finish grimly. ”And these bastards aren”t the type to just roll over if we stumble across their path.”
Rhylee”s lips part on a soft exhale, her eyes wide and suddenly wary behind those stylish frames. ”So what you”re saying is... we could be in real danger?”
I grunt, raking a hand through my hair as I survey the area again. ”The good news is, it seems to be just one of them. But if he thinks we’re onto him, he might decide a couple of innocent bystanders need to have a tragic ”accident” out here in the wild.”
Her throat works on a convulsive swallow, those big eyes flicking up to meet mine with a flash of fear. But just as quickly, that stubborn core of steel resurfaces, and her chin juts out in determination.
”Then we need to alert the authorities,” she insists. ”Get the rangers involved to put a stop to this before any more animals are slaughtered.”
”My thoughts exactly,” I murmur in grim agreement.
I turn on my heel and start retracing our path at a brisk clip, Rhylee scrambling to keep pace behind me. Every shadow, every whisper of movement through the dense brush, has me tensing in anticipation of an ambush. I keep a white-knuckle grip on the rifle”s stock, ready to put it to use at a moment”s notice to protect us.
To protect her.
We break into the small clearing where we made camp, and my gut bottoms out at the sight that greets us.
Gear and supplies are scattered everywhere, ripped open packs and shredded sleeping bags strewn haphazardly across the trampled grass. The firepit is nothing but a pile of cold, blackened ash, any signs of our cozy setup obliterated.
”Oh...” Rhylee breathes, her hand flying to her mouth in horror. ”He was here...”
I grunt in terse acknowledgment, my eyes narrowing as I scan the area for any other signs of danger. “Grab whatever you can carry,” I mutter to Rhylee in a low aside. “We need to get out of the area.”
She nods, falling into step at my heels as we quickly scavenge through the wreckage to salvage any undamaged essentials—food, water, a change of clothes. I shove it all into a single, intact pack as my eyes continue roving for any sign of the most critical item.
”The radio...” Rhylee says, panic edging her voice as she rifles through the debris in vain. ”Tucker, they took the radio!”
My jaw tightens as the ramifications sink in. No way to call for backup, to alert the rangers to the poacher’s activities or our own precarious situation. Unless…
”Let’s go,” I growl, shouldering the supply pack and grabbing Rhylee’s wrist to pull her into the cover of the treeline. ”Keep quiet and keep up.”
She gives a jerky nod, her face pale and pinched. I tighten my grip on her wrist and start leading us at a ground-eating pace deeper into the shadowed timber, toward the only place I can think of out here.
She may not like it, but there’s no way in hell I’m letting any harm come to Rhylee while I”m still breathing.