The wind carried a faint cry to Spense.
Caity’s voice.
No other sound got his attention that fast. Not a siren, not a gunshot, not anything. In a split second, his world tunneled down to her. Other beats and tones existed, but held little importance. The noise of his feet pounding against the ground as he ran full tilt mattered only because it told him how fast he could get to her.
It was as though his mind had tuned itself to a radio station that only played one song.
His vision, too, recalibrated. The soft evening sky became a vibrant crimson. Ground cover greener, snow patches a blinding white. Objects swept past like a landscape viewed from a speeding train. He couldn’t feel his legs moving, but saw that his position on the earth was changing.
He had no idea how long it took him to reach the grove of trees, but when he did, he saw everything unfolding in front of him at once. Images viewed on a split screen.
Pandy up on her knees, first rocking on them, then crawling toward him.
Caity!
She was a blur of motion. Wrestling a tan, powerful beast.
Mountain lion.
Caity’s name exploded from his lips.
Then he detached completely.
He went to that place where muscle memory took over—the result of his special training. He played the scenario the same way a pianist plays a concerto; fluidly, automatically—without fear.
His hand found his Glock.
Too dangerous.
Caity rolled with the lion, her legs wrapping his body, her hands lifting to block her face.
He followed Pandy’s gaze to a thick tangle of ground cover. Something long and brown stood out among the twisted vines.
His blood surged.
Hurdling knee timber and rocks, he reached the rifle.
Ripped it from the grip of tangled vines, hefted it to his shoulder.
The weight was lighter than expected, a confirmation the gun was loaded with tranquilizer darts, not live ammo.
On a long steady breath, he sighted the lion, waited for his shot . . .
Took it.
The gun kicked against his shoulder.
The lion let out an angry yowl. With its paws it hugged Caity’s body to its own.
Caity’s arms pushed up.
Somehow, she got air beneath her shoulders.
Now!
Spense took aim, and fired again.
The lion made a mewling sound.
Caity’s boot landed in its paunch. Spense ran toward them, preparing to leap atop. But before he reached the pair, Caity knocked the lion away and rolled out from under it.
The lion staggered back, eased onto its side, and passed out cold.
Spense lifted Caity into his arms and carried her to the edge of the clearing.
Two things he need to know right now.
First, was Caity okay?
The tight grip of her arms around his neck, her words of love whispered in between the soft kisses she planted on his cheek told him she wasn’t seriously hurt.
Second, what had gotten into that mountain lion?
An attack like this was highly unusual.
Pandy was too smart to have provoked it. And as far as he could see there were no cubs around. Which left the sixty-four-thousand-dollar question.
What in the hell was this animal trying to protect?
Chapter 20
Thursday, October 24
6:15 P.M.
Eagles Nest Wilderness
Colorado
Laura’s luck was holding—as usual it was no good. Because she was normally in great shape, she’d overestimated how far she could hurl that rock. But due to her weakened condition, it had landed shy of its mark, putting everyone in more danger.
She crept closer to get a better look and listen. In a flush of relief, blood rushed to her head. The little one had her radio to her ear. The dark-haired woman was on her feet, mouthing words Laura couldn’t quite make out to the tall man who’d fired the rifle. Even the lion seemed to be okay, lolling on its side, its belly rising and falling with big steady breaths.
They were all alive.
Maybe she wasn’t so unlucky after all.
And maybe life wasn’t only about luck. Maybe it was about choices, too. Laura wasn’t in the habit of choosing. In her world, her parents and her doctors had always decided for her. Like Dr. Duncan said, she just needed a bit of practice.
Her plan hadn’t turned out the way she’d expected, but one bad decision wasn’t a reason to go back to letting someone else make them for her. And there was something else that was beginning to dawn like the sun, slowly inching up over the mountaintops. She’d been willing to risk her life for a complete stranger.
She held her head higher. Noticing her cheeks were wet, she batted away the moisture. Too bad she hadn’t come across a mountain lion thirteen years ago, because in a single beat, her own heart was revealed to her.
Laura Chaucer, who did not want to die, had been willing to give her life for another—and in truth, she still was.
Locks of hair and notes in her own hand meant nothing compared to that.