CHAPTER SEVENTEEN - COLT
It’s a good thing Baggage’s tracks are easy to follow, because they cut off the main road and meander through the woods for about a mile.
The snow is churned up, her steps increasingly erratic, and I don’t know if she was just lost or running from something.
I’m dripping with anxious sweat by the time I hear the familiar hum of a snowmobile.
When the sound comes closer, I make an abrupt hockey stop, snow crystals fanning out in front of me.
I pull my gun, but as the vehicle comes into view, my mouth falls open.
Hog is riding Maggie's snowmobile, a lump of damp Baggage clinging to his chest. What the hell?
“Is she okay?” I call, pocketing my gun and quickly skiing towards them.
“She passed out.”
Now that I’m closer, I can see an ugly gash on her cheek. She’s wearing one of Hog’s jackets, but my old sweatpants are soaked through, and her lips are a worrying shade of blue. “She’s damn lucky you just happened to be coasting along in Maggie’s skidoo.”
Hog scowls at the teasing note in my voice. His eyes are deeply shadowed, and he looks pale and tense in the hood of his camo jacket. “She was getting itchy feet, so I went over to Maggie’s place to borrow it. Figured I needed to be prepared if she decided to run.”
Or he could’ve just given Baggage a ride off the mountain like a normal person, instead of lurking in the woods like a Sasquatch stalker. But who am I to lecture him when his instincts have saved the day?
“Good call. How is she?” I peel the collar of his jacket back and wince at the bloody scratch marks on her throat. “Jesus, some of those are really deep. What the hell happened?”
“Don’t know.” His tone is even more gruff than usual and his scent is sour with stress. “We need to get her to Maggie.”
“I think she needs more than that.” Maggie is a great medic, but Baggage looks like she’s in really bad shape.
Plus, if she wakes up and finds herself still stuck on the mountain, it could push her over the edge completely.
She risked her life to leave - a truth that we all have to swallow, no matter how bitter it tastes.
“Besides, Axel is coming right behind with the truck. He wants her off the mountain ASAP.”
Hog’s scowl is now more beast than man. “She goes wherever the hell she wants.”
I’d slap my forehead if I wasn’t gripping a pair of ski poles. “I get that. But her actions speak for themselves. If she wanted to stay, she wouldn’t…” Have trudged through a frozen hellscape to escape us.
Another truth I don’t speak, since there’s poking a bear and then there's just being an asshole.
Because Hog looks devastated, and now we’re face-to-face, I can feel his pain slicing through our pack bond. I don’t know what happened between them, but he’s sick with misery, and it makes my own stomach lurch with sympathy.
I reach out and pat his tense shoulder. “Come on, big guy. I’ll send up a flare, and we’ll get her taken care of, okay?”
Ten minutes later, the truck rolls to a stop where we’ve cut back through the trees.
I’m not exactly sure if we’re back on the main road, but Axel takes charge, wasting no time loading the gear and pointing me into the back seat.
I crawl inside, glad to be off my feet, but I look up in surprise as Hog passes me a limp, icy omega.
“Get her warmed up.” He presses her head to my chest, then tucks the survival blanket around her with gentle hands. “She needs your body heat, Colt.”
I’m tempted to point out that he has about three times my body mass, but I don’t get a chance because he’s shut the door and turned to confront Axel.
I can’t hear what they’re saying, but they both look tense.
As I stick Baggage’s cold hands between my coat and my sweater, their voices lift, and Axel says something about the snowmobile being fine until they get back.
It looks like Hog is hesitating to get in the truck, but Axel won’t budge.
The big vein in his forehead is throbbing, and I can feel the tug of his authority through our pack bond.
He’s not using his alpha bark, but it’s damn close as he storms around to the driver’s seat and says, “Get in the goddamn truck, Hog!”
The truck tilts and sags under their combined weight, but neither of them speak as Axel steers us down the mountain.
Even with the heater cranked all the way, it’s as cold as brass balls.
Tension, however, is a good insulator, and it quickly feels like the truck has been stuffed with wet feathers.
I let them stew for as long as I can stand, then ask, “Are we taking her to Lakewood?”
It’s the closest hospital, but it’s still an hour’s drive away, and Axel gives a curt shake of his head. “No time for that. Carla is opening the clinic early for us.”
Oh, shit. Carla is Maggie's mate, an alpha who used to run a psychiatric practice in the city before she started to exclusively treat PTSD. She’s gone head-to-head with Axel on a few occasions about our pack getting therapy, but we all know how that ends.
We spill our guts, and our commanding officers make the appropriate sounds of sympathy as they hand us over to the medical board.
A panel of headshrinkers will then no doubt decide we’re unfit for retention, and the next thing you know we’re facing forced retirement.
And who the hell are we if we're not the Law Corps, kicking ass and taking names?
It’s another twenty minutes before we're officially off the mountain, and I use the time to study Baggage’s face.
Her lips look a little less blue, and the brittle, metallic edge to her breath is starting to fade.
But the shadows under her eyes are the color of bruised plums, and the cut on her cheek looks red and inflamed.
But it’s the scratches on her throat that hurt the most to look at, and when I try to tuck her damp hair behind her ear, it’s matted in the bloody scratches.
Shit. I try to pick it free, but all it does is scrape against her scent gland.
The sensitive patch of skin looks like it’s been chewed on by a small but vicious animal.
I peer closer, disturbed by the bruising around the edges.
Charlie used to vibrate like a feral cat when I ran my teeth over his, but this doesn’t look like the result of some sexy nibbling.
“Damn. I think there's something wrong with her scent gland.”
“Don't touch it!” The growl in Hog’s voice is just shy of an alpha bark. Axel shoots him a glare, but Hog ignores him, swiveling in his seat to pin me with his dark, angry eyes. “Just keep her warm. You don’t need to do more than that.”
I glare back at him, stung. “You’re the one who gave her to me. If you don’t like the job I’m doing, why don’t you come back here and switch places?”
He seems to swell in size, which is quite an undertaking when you already have the proportions of a small mountain. But then he glances at Baggage’s face and his shoulders slump. Something sharp and raw pings in our pack bond, and I catch my breath, but Hog just turns away.
“Enough,” Axel says quietly, his knuckles gleaming on the wheel. “We’re nearly at the clinic. When we’re parked, you can hand her to me, Colt.”
I nod, but that unsettled feeling is like a lead weight in my chest. I get that we all feel like shit about what’s happened, but unless my bond is completely skewed, Hog is in the same kind of pain that nearly broke us right after Charlie died.
I’m still trying to make sense of it when the truck door opens and Axel plucks Baggage from my arms. Despite having been warned, I bite back a protest, scrambling to follow them while Hog hangs back.
I grab his arm, too fucking stressed to baby him right now.
“Come on, big guy. We go where she goes, right?” Thankfully, he lets me drag him towards the clinic door where Carla is watching us with the kind of stare that makes me feel about three inches tall.
A tall, lean alpha in her mid-forties, Maggie’s mate has a sleek black bob and piercing blue eyes that never miss a twitch.
Given the early hour, she could probably get away with a pair of jeans, but I’ve never seen her in anything other than a crisp black pantsuit.
She smells like a simmering stew of judgment, but despite whatever she thinks about this situation, her face is professionally bland as she ushers us inside.
She leads us through the dimly lit reception area to a private room in the back and gestures for Axel to put Baggage on an exam table. She looks small and pale against the blue paper, and I wince as Carla’s gaze sweeps over us. “Give it to me straight. What am I dealing with here?”
Axel fills her in on the details, his tone as flat as if he’s presenting a field report after a particularly boring mission. Carla studies him for a moment then asks, “Previous injuries? Do you know anything about her medical history?”
I feel a throb of regret through our bond, but our pack alpha’s expression is as stoic as ever.
“We don’t have her whole history, but she’s lived on the streets for several years.
I was told she was an addict, but I’m not sure that’s accurate, and I haven’t witnessed any evidence of drug use.
There are also numerous scars on her body, but she didn’t share their origin with us. ”
Carla’s mouth has tightened and I hasten to add, “She doesn’t really speak all that much.
” I glance at Hog, remembering the rumble of his voice through the attic floorboards, but he’s staring at the wall like he’s trying to memorize the eyechart.
“I thought she was just being prickly at first, but now I’m thinking there might be something wrong with her throat. ”
Carla’s face softens an inch as she looks at Baggage, but then she’s waving us out of the room. “All right, you can wait in reception. Unless you’re planning to head back up the mountain?”
“We’re staying,” I say quickly, before my packmates can open their mouths and get us ejected into the parking lot. “If there’s anything we can do to help…”
“I’ll call you if I have any more questions.”
She shuts the door in my face, and we head back to the reception area, our boots loud in the small corridor.
There is a row of visitor chairs, a water cooler with paper cups, and a coffee table with a bunch of National Geographic magazines stacked in a neat pile.
I stare at the magazines while Axel perches on the edge of his chair like he’s waiting to launch out of a chopper.
Hog parks himself in front of the window, but since it’s still dark out, I’m not sure what he’s studying with such intensity.
I reach for a magazine, but now that we’ve stopped, I feel chilled down to my bones.
Rubbing my arms, I pace in front of the reception desk until Hog steps past me and opens the front door.
Maggie rushes in, her cheeks pink and her eyes full of concern.
“How is she? Has Carla said anything yet?”
“We just got here.” Axel stares up at her, his spine rigid. “Thanks for helping out, Maggie.”
“I haven’t really done anything yet.” She gives us all one of her breezy smiles as she nods at the exam room door. “I’ll just tap and let Carla know I’m here.”
I watch Axel relax an inch, but before Maggie can reach the door, it bursts open and Carla storms out.
Her face is bright red and her scent reeks like scorched steel.
She points at the three of us in turn, and I feel our pack bond convulse under her fury.
“You three have some serious explaining to do!”