Chapter

Nine

ROSCOE

G inger fades into sleep as I feel her forehead again, noting the slight increase in temperature. After what we just did, I can’t assume it’s a fever. I feel fucking on fire. But coupled with all she’s been through, I won’t be able to rest until she gets medical attention.

The fire wanes, and I morosely watch its flickering flames on the cave wall, mentally lining up next steps. We have to either walk out to civilization or hike to my cabin. Either option is punishing, even for an outdoorsman, let alone a city girl who’s been through so much. I can carry her, and I will if it comes to that, but we’ll lose precious time.

Midway through the night, I cradle Ginger in my arms, unable to sleep and listening helplessly as her respiration grows increasingly murky and congested. Her flesh heats to the point of burning, and my stomach roils.

I’m inconsolable with regret. Dammit! How could I be so irresponsible this morning? If my ATV had fuel, we’d be at my cabin with a landline and a satellite phone to call paramedics. We’d have full bellies, an endless supply of clean drinking water, an array of over-the-counter medicines, hot water for showers and baths, a cozy bed piled high with blankets, and a roaring fire to warm us.

Hours pass, locked in this internal reflection. There’s nothing I won’t do for this woman. The problem is I can’t do anything until sunrise. Every person I get close to gets hurt or dies. I can’t let Ginger fall victim to this pattern.

A high-pitched cry arrests my attention, sending adrenaline coursing through my veins. What the fuck? I strain my ears as minutes pass in silence before it comes again. The haunting, howling scream of a banshee…

A vocalizing mountain lion.

Cursing under my breath, the memory of the deer bones I spied on first entering the cave clobber me over the head. I’d forgotten about them in all the events that ensued.

Dammit!

My whole body tenses as I stir, trying not to rouse Ginger but fully animated by my need to protect her. I’ve lived four years in these woods without ever hearing this sound. But I recognize the bone-chilling cadence immediately. As if the cry is somehow etched into the most primitive part of my DNA.

Minutes pass, and the call grows closer. Normally, these big cats are elusive, only seen when it’s too late for their prey. But this one’s trying to scare us off.

“Not tonight, motherfucker,” I whisper under my breath.

Ginger stirs next to me, asking groggily, “What’s wrong?”

“I’m reviving the fire. Go back to sleep.”

Another haunting cry pierces the air. This one much closer. Shit, if that mountain lion isn’t making its way to our shelter. I’ve never seen or heard anything like this. The boughs next to me rustle as Ginger sits up, her chest rattling and inching towards panic. She coughs uncontrollably for a few painful moments while I continue stirring the fire, encouraging it to devour the fresh branches placed on top.

“Wh-wh-what was that?”

“Mountain lion.” Smoke fills the cave because the wood is still wet. Fortunately, smoke should deter the big cat as well as flames. But I curse myself as it incites a new coughing spell in Ginger.

“Oh my God.” Her voice trembles.

“It’s okay, Sweetness. I’ve got this.”

Blackness and smoke fill the cave, and Ginger hacks and coughs next to me. “Why all the smoke?”

“Wood’s wet. But it’ll still keep the cat away.”

Another cry pierces the night, closer still.

“Get the fuck out of here!” I holler into the unending darkness of night. “Ginger, I need you to make noise, too. We don’t want it thinking it can barge in here to protect its den.”

“We’re in a mountain lion’s den?” she hisses in exasperated tones, but the woman does her best to speak loudly.

“Yeah, it was the best I could do at the time,” I reply, my voice hollow. None of this is even close to the best I could do for her if I hadn’t had my head stuck up my ass earlier. I’ll never forgive myself for this night and what I’ve needlessly put Ginger through.

“Get the fuck out of here!” I scream again toward the entrance of the cave.

“But what if the man who took me hears us?” Ginger suddenly asks. Her voice has a hysterical strain to it, one I’ve heard before from soldiers dealing with PTSD. One I’ve heard coming from my own mouth. It doesn’t help that her body temperature has spiked from hypothermic to feverish in less than twenty-four hours.

“Even if he’s out here, Ginger, which I highly doubt, he’s not going to stumble into an actively vocalizing mountain lion’s territory unless he’s got a serious death wish.”

“Oh, you mean, like us?” The words come out hurriedly, followed by a long, heavy pause.

She means, like you.

The wet wood smothers the fire out completely now. Not what I was going for. I feel around the cave, working in pitch-black to remove the wettest branches from the rock ring and replace them with drier wood.

I strike another spark into a nest of kindling using my necklace, operating completely in the dark. I work quickly and efficiently, having mastered this aspect of bushcraft with my eyes closed. After all, fire is often most needed when sight can’t be relied on.

After the fourth try, a glowing ember lights in the kindling nest, like a ray of hope in the sudden heaviness of the night. Cradling the nest in my hands, I blow on it, fostering and cultivating it with my breath until flames shoot upwards, licking ravenously past the dried twigs and leaves surrounding it. I place it gently beneath the sloppy tree branch tepee I staked in the dark, watching with satisfaction as the blaze takes off. The puma’s cries fall silent, and the cave fills with an interminable quiet.

We sit in silence, mesmerized by the flames.

After some time, Ginger’s voice pierces the quiet. “I’m sorry about what I said.”

“Which part?”

“About the death wish.”

I grunt. Her words remind me of why I can’t keep her. I can’t force this woman to spend her whole life walking on eggshells because I’m a fucking headcase. It’s not fair to her. It isn’t what she deserves.

“I shouldn’t have said that.”

“I know you didn’t mean it that way. The only thing that hurt me wasn’t something you said at all…” I’ve never been this open or vulnerable with anyone.

“What was that?” she asks almost inaudibly, her attention still focused on the ambient sounds encircling us…as if her whole body strains in anticipation of another sound from the puma.

Clearing my throat and trying not to sound as butthurt as I feel, I explain, “Now that we’ve got the fire back up, it won’t be back.” Unless it’s got rabies. I leave the last caveat out because it’s highly unlikely, and it’s a worry Ginger doesn’t need.

“Thank God,” she says, relief tinging her voice. After a few moments of silence, she prompts, “You were going to tell me what I did to hurt you…”

I level my gaze on her, delighting in the way the firelight licks and kisses her flesh, illuminating her in shades of gold and tempting me to kiss every inch of her. But my words feel inordinately heavy as I confess, “You doubted my ability to keep you safe from the mountain lion and that fucking lowlife kidnapper. I know, I know. It’s dumb on my part. The fragile male ego coming out in me, but if there’s one thing I want you to trust about me, it’s my ability to keep you safe. It may be the only thing I can ultimately offer you.”

Her gorgeous blue eyes pierce me as she licks her lower lip, inflaming me some more. She moves closer to the fire, rustling the boughs and filling the air with the scent of evergreens. Every inch of her curvy softness, I devour with my eyes. Will I ever get enough of her?

Raising her chin defiantly, she says, “I don’t doubt for one minute your ability to keep me safe … when I think about it rationally. But I’m not like you, Roscoe. I’ve spent my whole life trying to do everything right so nothing would ever go wrong.”

“Some things are outside of our control, no matter what we do.” My eyes flicker towards Ginger, annoyed she sits apart from me. I’ve lost my fucking mind. These aren’t rational thoughts.

Awkward silence engulfs us. Minutes tick by. Finally, she asks quietly, “Roscoe, why aren’t you holding me?”

Before I can filter myself, I confess, “Because you chose to sit away from me. But I want to hold you.” What the fuck is happening to me?

Despite her question and my confession, she doesn’t move. The beauty needs me to come to her. I crawl to the spot where she sits, roughly pulling her into my lap. She wraps her arms around my neck, snuggling under my chin into my chest and admitting, “Something’s wrong. I don’t feel right.”

“I know, Sweetness. As soon as dawn breaks, I’ll work on getting you back to civilization.”

She bursts into sobs, and I hold her closer, feeling the warm saltwater drench my chest.

“Why are you crying?”

“Because I’m pretty sure you won’t follow me back to civilization,” she sniffles. “And apart from you, this experience in the woods hasn’t been my favorite. I don’t know if I ever want to come back.” She sobs lustily now.

Her words echo what I already know. “It’s okay,” I whisper, stroking her cheek. But my heart breaks at the imminence of our final goodbye. “Everything will be fine. I promise. I’m sorry I couldn’t get you to my cabin. You would’ve liked it there.”

She says, “Tell me about your cabin. Please.”

“It sits on fifty acres with two bedrooms and two bathrooms. I built it myself from logs I chopped and hewed with the help of some of my neighbors. Other mountain men, wounded warriors like me. We mostly keep to ourselves but come together to help one another.”

Should I tell her I bought the five hundred acres of forest we built our community on or that my own funds helped pay for the homes? It feels like irrelevant information.

Clearing my throat, I continue, “The interior could use some work. Mostly decorating. But it’s got strong hardwood floors, amber-stained log walls, and the bare bones for a cozy existence. The bedroom’s large and overlooks the forest with a California King and a big fireplace made with local rock quarried from the river.” Why do I sound like I’m trying to sell her on the place?

Ginger’s breathing relaxes and warms my chest as she nods off again. I touch my hand to her forehead, alarmed by the searing heat. I’ve got to get her out of here. But how? I pray for guidance, another miracle.

I could hike back to my cabin. Get my sat phone, contact my neighbors and local authorities. But how can I leave her alone with an aggressive mountain lion on the prowl? And Asher Scofield still on the loose? I could spring down the mountain to the first signs of civilization. But it poses the same gambles.

After dawn, golden sunlight pours through the waterfall, illuminating our shelter, and I hear my answer above the water’s rush. A vehicle engine, like a deep vibration through the soil. It sticks out above the ambient noises I’ve grown accustomed to in the cave.

The old service road Scofield used to get here curves towards the falls not far from here. I didn’t tell Ginger about this earlier because I didn’t want to scare her. I can’t be sure as I strain my ears, but the sound could very well come from a Jeep. Nobody uses this road except hunters in the fall. My guess is Ginger’s kidnapper has returned, hoping to find evidence of her whereabouts in the freshly fallen snow.