Chapter 4
Chapter Four
I hope like hell she can swim. At least enough to not drink the whole damned river.
It would be a bitch if I have to do CPR while being shot at.
The roar of the water is deafening when I surface and drag her up for air. The rest I can handle.
She sputters as we bob—two human corks sticking up in a wild current of roiling coffee-colored water.
Another rapid is just ahead.
“Get ready!”
We have less than ten seconds to breathe before we’re under again.
This time, bouncing through Class IV rapids.
It’s violent and long. A tumble of heaving water running over unseen rocks.
Fuck .
Tightening my hold, I drag Allison closer to me.
Only to be rewarded by a mouthful of long, wet hair and her screeching in my face like a wild creature, “You freaking maniac!”
She maneuvers against me, twisting her smaller body until her feet are pointed downriver.
I grin as I spit out a tangle of her hair.
“Good girl.”
So, she knows some whitewater survival skills.
Baller .
Best news all day.
My life just got easier.
“Start paddling toward shore.”
With an exasperated sound, the woman flicks her pale green eyes toward me. “Captain Obvious, are you?”
But she doesn’t pull away from my grip, and we work together, using her free arm and both our sets of legs to work our way toward the passing riverbank.
She eyes my gun as we swim. “It’s wet.”
“Along with the rest of me.”
“Will it work if we need it?”
I scoff at her. “Of course. It’s made for this. What kind of amateur do you think I am?”
With a head shake and grumble, she keeps swimming.
A nearby swirl in the water catches our attention.
Oh, fuck.
Her expression fills with a new wave of panic. “Did you see that?”
Yeah, I saw it.
My balls lurch clear into my throat. “Crocodile.”
Breathing hard, we swivel our heads, searching the murky water surrounding us.
My heart is thudding wildly when a spray of water hits me in the face.
In a single second, she’s gone. Snatched out of my hold.
“Allison!” I scramble, groping blindly below the murky surface. “Ally, fuck!”
My yell is choked off when I grab the croc, and the three of us go under the water.
Goddamn, it’s strong. Solid muscle with all the bad attitude.
The next thirty seconds are a blur of thrashing water, me clutching at the writhing reptile with my free arm, and a burning need to breathe.
This is not happening. No. She’s not being taken. No way. No fucking how.
But I’m consumed with a kind of terror I’ve only felt once. The same helpless horror I felt as I watched Hope fall.
Fuck. Fucking . Fuck.
Get it together, Truck.
Gun .
Yes.
Somehow in the chaos, I still have my pistol clenched in my hand. This has to work.
Notching the muzzle against the beast’s ribs, I pray, Please, don’t shoot her.
But we’re fucked if I don’t pull the trigger. We’ll both drown. Because I’m not letting go. I’ll die on this battlefield right next to her.
The scaled monster thrashes once more, and I pull the trigger.
Blood erupts in the water.
Time stops.
My heart flatlines.
Then the croc’s jaw goes slack, releasing her into the turbulence.
“Allison! Can you hear me?”
Limp, half-submerged in the bloody water, Allison is face down. The sight stuns me. A fist squeezes around my chest as we are dragged along by the current.
“Ally!” My hand shakes violently as I grab her shoulder. “Come on.”
Pushing the dead weight of the six-foot croc away from us, I pull her closer with bile riding up my throat and my vision blurry with panic.
“Be okay. Be okay, goddammit .”
When I roll her over onto her back, she’s pale as chalk. Her eyes are open, and her lips are trembling.
Relief rockets through me, hot and unchained. “I’ve got you.”
“Is… is it gone?”
I pull her to my chest as my heart rips my ribcage to shreds. “It’s dead. Are you in pain?”
There’s so much blood in the water, I’m not sure if she’s even got all her limbs as I swim us the last few yards to shore.
“I don’t know.” She blinks at the sky, vision unfocused.
Shock.
I need to get her dry and stop the bleeding right fucking now.
“I’ve got you.” I try to feel her arm for wounds as I swim, but I’ve got my hands full holding her afloat and paddling.
The riverbank is all mud. Every damned inch. Slick as non-stick coating, and nearly impossible to climb.
It takes all of my strength to grip a nearby root. “Come on!”
My breath heaves.
My arms strain.
Finally, I manage to lever her up on to the bank.
“T-truck?”
“Yeah, little one?”
“Am I dead?”
This is the one thing I’m sure of. “No. Definitely not.”
“Why do you have a halo?”
I snort and pant for air as I pull her the last few feet up the incline. “It’s just mist from the river playing tricks.”
“Not an angel.” Her soft voice wraps around me like a velvet vine.
“Definitely not, because this motherfucker isn’t ever getting a halo.”
She sighs and closes her eyes.
The pale color of her cheeks, the slack expression shuts down all thoughts. Panic lights my blood on fire.
“No! Stay with me.” As my hands quickly move over her body, I jostle her. “Stay awake, Ally. I need you here.”
“I’m so tired. Did my arm get ripped off?”
The bones are intact. There’s no new blood. Thank fucking god.
“Nope. All arms accounted for.”
“Oh, good,” she whispers in a slur. “I need them for my job.”
Then she goes out. Her head rolls to the side, and I nearly choke on the jagged pain in my throat.
But my shaking hands find her pulse.
One. Two. Three. It’s strong.
Breath rolls in and out of her slowly. No rattles. No overworking chest or abdominal muscles.
This is good.
She’s not bleeding.
Allison is safe.
I didn’t let her die.
I collapse onto the embankment with my lungs stinging, my heart lurching an erratic rhythm, and a thank you prayer on my tongue.
“Thanks, God, for getting me this far, but that better be all the excitement for one day.”
I didn’t kill her by dragging her off the cliff.
I didn’t shoot her.
I just hope there’s no third strike.
Because I’m not a lucky man.
Watching Allison sleep is a special kind of torture. I have time to look at her.
The slender arch of her neck, the delicate but capable hands tucked under her cheek.
Those pale, soft lips pinched together in a determined line. As if the troubles of her world haunt her dreams too, just like they do mine.
It’s a wonder she’s not having a nightmare after the shit that just went down.
I’m braced for what’s coming when she wakes up. So, when her eyes flutter and she looks around, I’m close.
Shaded under the heavy leaves of a palm tree, I brush the heavy clump of her damp hair back, feeling twitchy as fuck. “Hey, ‘bout time you woke up.”
Slowly blinking, Allison raises her head. “Did I… did I pass out?”
I nod awkwardly, my neck as tight as banjo strings. “A deep sleep. You crashed after the adrenaline faded.”
Watching her pretty, soft gaze flicker with panic makes my skin tighten. “You’re safe now.”
The way her throat works is a testament to the building storm inside her.
When both her hands fly up to cover her eyes, my gut twists into a knot.
“Oh god.” A tiny voice works its way between her fingers. Then, the wracking sobs quickly come.
Fuck. Crying guts me.
I scoop her into my arms, careful not to move her too fast, and settle her on my lap. She’s so damned small compared to me. Soft and gentle.
Through clenched teeth, I fight the memories of the crocodile rag-dolling her by the grip it had on her jacket.
“You’re fine. Nothing’s broken. You’re not bleeding. No one is shooting at us.”
Goddamn. I sound like I’m talking to a SEAL, not a woman who’s clearly been to hell and back.
She hiccups and buries her face in my neck. Right against the damp skin that’s covered with sweat.
Oh lord. God. Fucking hell. Please don’t…
I can’t take her touching me.
“T-thank you.”
As my nose buries in her hair, I fight and fucking fight with myself.
Do not inhale.
Do not wrap your arms tighter around her.
But what do I do?
Both.
And even though she’s been rain-soaked, half-drowned, and dragged through the mud, something about her sweet natural fragrance drives right into the center of my chest.
Arms cinching, I try to think of something to say, but my tongue is tied around my throbbing heart.
She feels good. Warm. Alive.
“You’re welcome.” My voice is rough, gruff, even. “I was scared as all hell that I was going to shoot you.”
Shaking her head, against my chest, she murmurs, “It would have been better than being eaten.”
“He… or she would have drowned you first.”
Oh, my god. Fuck my mouth.
She makes a rocky groaning sound. “You’re not big on comfort, are you?”
“I’m not wired that way, sorry. I can fight a crocodile, but don’t ask me to get in touch with my feelings.”
This time, she chuckles softly, and a chunk of my heart’s armor falls off onto the ground.
With a little sigh, she pushes her forehead against my pec and then leans back. “It’s okay, I’m finished melting down now.”
But the sheen in her eyes is like a lie-detector test.
When I brush my thumb over her cheek, I have to swallow the Sahara Desert in my mouth. “You’re brave.”
Those two words feel like they weigh ten thousand pounds, like I can barely shove them out of my throat with all of my might.
It’s the fucking truth, that’s not the problem.
No, the root cause of my breathless, weak state is being so fucking close to her.
I want Allison Westerly.
The woman is totally kissable.
Clenching my hand, I lean back, angling my torso away.
Abort mission.
N.O.W.
I’ve got to get her off my lap.
She yawns, covering her mouth. “Is it normal for me to be this tired?”
“Yeah. You just nearly drowned. You’re not feeling short of breath or any other symptoms, are you?”
Shaking her head, she takes a couple of deep breaths, which only serves to wiggle her warm curves against my aching cock.
“Seems like my lungs are okay.”
I lift her off my lap and move to sit on my heels.
My teeth grind, my dick throbs, and my vision is weird, like my brain is being starved of oxygen.
Trying not to sound strained, I mutter, “Good, but tell me if anything changes. Sometimes people die?—”
She curls up again like a kitten, her hands under her cheek, and nestles down. And just like that, long lashes drift close, her lips part, and she’s gone.
Oh, fuck. She looks like a drowned angel.
Not good.
So not good.
What am I going to do?
I push off the ground and pace around the small opening that borders the riverbank.
As I mutter to myself, I check the satellite phone that was in my cargo pocket.
The screen is blank.
Dammit.
A cloud of emotions settles into my throat.
Am I glad it’s not working? And if I am, what does that mean?
I’m a man of action. Get shit done and all that.
Scrubbing a hand over my open mouth, I look up at the sky for an answer that I know is not going to be there.
The heavens and I don’t have a relationship. So, I turn my gaze to the river.
“This is fucked up, Truck.”
As if talking to myself ever convinced me to do something other than what I’d already decided.