42. Arden
42
ARDEN
It took my brain a moment to register the person in front of us. A count of one, two, three . And then I nearly collapsed, tears springing to my eyes at the sight of Trace on one of the sheriff’s department mounts.
He was off his horse in a matter of seconds, striding across the distance and pulling me into his arms. “What the hell happened? I get a panicked call from Cope saying Whiskey came running home like a bat out of hell, but you guys were nowhere in sight.”
Trace didn’t wait for an answer; he simply turned and yelled, “They’re over here.” Then he was back, his gaze skimming over me.
“I’m okay. But Linc needs a hospital.”
In a single heartbeat, Trace transformed from worried brother to law enforcement. “What happened?”
“Someone shot at us.” Just saying the words felt ridiculous, implausible. Yet they were completely true. “Linc tackled me to the ground, but he got hit in the side. And I smashed the sat phone in my fall.”
Trace’s gaze snapped to Linc. “You saved my sister. ”
Linc smiled, but his face was too pale, and his brow was dotted with sweat. “Like I told Vicious, I’m kind of partial to her.”
“Let’s see the wound. I’ve got a first-aid kit?—”
“Your sister already stuck me with a tampon.”
Trace’s brows rose as he turned to me. “A tampon?”
“Two, actually,” I huffed.
Trace scrubbed a hand over his face. “Huh. Not a bad idea.” He pulled a radio from his pocket and called in our location, asking for EMTs to meet us at the bottom of the trail, then looked back at Linc. “We’re gonna get you in a litter. Carry you the rest of the way.”
“I’m okay?—”
“Lincoln Pierce, if you try to play the macho man right now, I will make your life a living, blue-balled hell. Do not argue with him,” I snapped.
A cat-that-got-the-cream smile stretched across his face. “Your sister loves me.”
Trace arched a brow, amusement teasing his expression. “Does she, now?”
“Big time,” Linc said.
“I do not,” I clipped, the panic and fear digging in. If I didn’t love him, I wouldn’t lose him. That was the rule I’d made in my head. It was completely ridiculous, but it was the only thing I had to hold on to.
Linc only smiled wider. “Keep telling yourself that, Vicious.”
He tried to take a step toward me but stumbled slightly. Trace and I both surged forward. I ducked under Linc’s arm, trying to prop him up. “Where’s the damn litter?” I barked.
Just as I asked, Shep and Kye burst through the trees. Everyone talked over one another. Shep and Kye peppered us with questions, and Trace tried to answer them before barking out orders. But all I could do was focus on Linc: the way he leaned more weight on me, how his breathing had become more labored, shallower.
Terror dug in as pressure built behind my eyes. An engine sounded, along with shouts. EMTs had used one of Cope’s ATVs to get up to us. They were moving now, taking Linc from me.
My ears buzzed as I watched them work. One of the medics, a guy I recognized from town, looked up at me and grinned. “Nice thinking on the tampons.”
I nodded numbly. “I can go with him, right?”
The smile slipped from the EMT’s face. “Of course.”
It didn’t take them long to get Linc on the backboard and an IV in. As soon as they were set, I jumped onto the second ATV behind Shep. He followed the EMTs and Linc, but I couldn’t take my eyes off Linc.
He was always so big and full of life. But now, everything about him seemed fragile. As if the slightest shift could pull him from this world.
As we got closer to Cope’s property and my barn, I saw the crowd of people. Sheriff’s department personnel, my family—too many all at once. They descended on us, but I didn’t say a word, couldn’t. I ignored every question and focused on following Linc.
The EMTs lifted him into the back of the ambulance, and I climbed in behind him, settling on the bench. One worked on Linc while the other slammed the doors and ran to the driver’s seat. A heart monitor was hooked up, and I tried to focus on the beeping, the sound that told me Linc was still alive. But it wasn’t enough.
“I’m okay, Vicious.”
But nothing about Linc’s voice said he was. It was too weak, raspy. As if he were fading.
I gripped the edge of the bench seat as the ambulance started to move, my fingers digging into the cushion. It took everything in me to force them free. I took Linc’s hand, holding it as gently as possible.
“I know you’re okay,” I lied. I didn’t know at all. But I held on anyway.