He clicked a flashlight on. It shot through the space between them, the single beam precise as a bat signal, offering up next to no information on their surroundings.
“Shine it on you…please. The light.”
He hesitated before complying.
She grimaced when he chose the worst possible angle—from straight below. “Geez, man.”
“What?” His shadowed brows dipped, carving him into a horror movie nightmare.
“You look like a demented yeti. Give me that.”
He handed her the light and remained still through her long, slow scrutiny, which only confirmed that the guy didn’t need spooky effects to look like something straight out of a sleepover ghost story. His beard was maybe five inches long, bushy, and blended with the dark brown hair curling over the nape of his neck, showing no signs of grooming—ever. What she could see of his mouth was a thin line, grim, without the slightest potential for softness. Above it was a long, hard nose, possibly straight at some point but clearly battered by whatever life had sent his way.
Bear fights, her rattled brain threw out as an idea, complete with images of this massive, thick brute of a man engaging in shirtless, bare-knuckled combat against a grizzly, like some vintage Russian circus act. Hand-to-hand. Or would that be hand-to-claw?
For reasons she could not fathom, her eyes went to the curve of his neck again. As if that spot held some secret she needed to unwrap.
She’d just lifted her hand—to touch him, maybe—when something moved against her side, making her jump and pulling her from whatever head-trauma-induced reverie had taken hold.
“Hell.” With a hand flattened to her chest, she blinked at the wolf dog. “I’m delirious,” she whispered, shoving her alarm, along with her messed-up imagination, far, far back. She examined the man again and let her eyes work their way down, over his thick, worn, fur-lined parka, then immediately back to the dark area below the beard. “You’re bleeding.”
“It’s fine,” he replied, covering his neck with one gloved hand.
“Did I do that?” She strained to look at her knife lying in the corner of the cave and pointed the flashlight at its shiny crimson tip. She had. She had nearly cut out his throat. “Oh no. I’m sorry. I didn’t want to—”
He put up a hand. “’s fine.”
She didn’t even remember sliding the small blade from her boot. Couldn’t figure out what had awakened her in the first place. And now she’d injured him—the only man who might have some clue as to what was going on around here.
“Hey.” He scooted closer, putting them face to face, Leo up on her knees—another position she didn’t recall getting into—and him seated in front of her, legs spread wide. “Hey, Leo. Leo.”
Calm down. Calm the hell down.
She never did this. Didn’t lose it, ever. Not for years, at least. Decades. Not since Mom died.
“I’m fine, Leo. Throat doesn’t hurt.”
“You’re bleeding.Shit.” She put her gloved palms to her eyeballs and pressed. “It was dark. I was hurting. I was blind and…” She couldn’t catch a breath, couldn’t get her nerves to settle. Had to get outside. Had to—
“Leo.” One big hand grabbed ahold of her bicep and everything stopped spinning.
She stared at his hand, remembering. “Your arm.” Her eyes flew to meet his, which sparkled in the ghost light.
“What?”
“Your arm. You had your arm on me. Around me. I thought you were…” She didn’t finish. Didn’t have to, judging from the way his expression hardened.
He opened his mouth, shut it, and then spoke. “Won’t do it again.” Unexpectedly, the lines around his eyes deepened with what might have been humor. “Unless you ask me to.”
***
The memory lapse worried him, along with the other symptoms. He couldn’t do anything about a concussion out here. There wasn’t a hospital or clinic or even a doctor for hundreds of miles. He could get her to Schink’s Station, but that trip took him days on his own. And who knew what would be waiting for them there? With snow on the ground, plus a storm, towing an injured person, he had no idea. Add to that the team of killers after them.
Might never make it.
Had to.
He knew these people—or the ones who’d hired them—and he knew exactly what their game was. They’d take over the entire town of Schink’s Station and use its citizens as bait. He had to get back there before they started killing people. Under normal circumstances, the town’s citizens could take care of themselves, but these attackers were relentless.
