Page 5 of Faron (The Golden Team #8)

Faron

W e made it as far as the dry creek bed before Chuck dropped like a stone, blood soaking through his shirt, pooling around his hip.

I dropped beside him, hands already working.

I patched him fast—tight, rough stitches, pressure dressings made from the shredded hem of my shirt. His pulse was slow, but it was there.

I laid him in the shade, tried to make him comfortable. Split the last water bottle three ways—one swig each. Joel leaned back against a rock, eyes glazed, mumbling something about his sister’s enchiladas and homemade root beer.

Chuck cracked a joke every time I told him to shut up and breathe. I muttered prayers under my breath in Cherokee, the same ones my father used to whisper when storms hit our cabin in the night.

I didn’t think they’d work. But it felt wrong not to say them.

Then I heard it—footsteps. Soft. Cautious. Too careful to be a soldier. Too light to be a threat.

I grabbed my knife and turned.

And there she was.

Blue Davis.

Her braid hung down her back, dark and smooth. Dust clung to her clothes like she’d been walking through the desert for days. She wore a battered rucksack over one shoulder and moved like she belonged to the earth itself. Calm. Sharp. Fierce.

At her heel—my mutt Bear.

Alive.

Bandaged paw. Tail wagging. Ears alert.

My throat closed. I stared, not trusting what I saw. I remembered the shot. Remembered Bear falling, limp and lifeless. I’d carried him until I couldn’t. I knew he was gone; I’d felt it.

And yet there he stood—tongue lolling, smug as hell.

Blue stood at the edge of the creek, hands on her hips, looking at us like we were the strangest thing she’d seen all week.

“Lose something?” she asked, her voice low, amused, tired.

My jaw opened. Nothing came out.

“That’s my dog,” I finally managed. “I thought he was dead.”

She tilted her head. “Yeah, he almost was. We found him lying in the dirt, barely breathing. Took some work to keep him alive.”

I blinked. “He’s still my dog.”

“Not tonight, Cherokee. Tonight, he’s mine. And so are you idiots if you keep bleeding all over my canyon trail.”

She glanced at Chuck, then Joel, then back at me.

“I’ve got water and a cave that doesn’t ask questions. Are you coming?”

I nodded before I could think.

We followed her up the slope, Bear trotting beside her like he’d never left. The mountain swallowed us in shadow, cool and quiet.

“Why are you here?” I asked.

She didn’t slow. “I found some teenagers lost in the canyons. Helped them find their way back. Planned to leave after. But now... I think I’m being hunted.”

“You need to go. Fast.”

“I will. I’ve got a few things to finish first.”

Chuck wheezed behind me. “You should have married her, Lightfoot. Didn’t you have a thing for medic Captain Blue Davis?”

I elbowed him in the ribs—gently. Joel grunted as he limped behind. Bear wagged his tail like he knew something we didn’t.

I didn’t know it then. Not really. But I’d just walked back into the life of the only woman who’d ever scare the hell out of me—

—and make me want her anyway.