Nat peers up at me warily. “Yes.”
“Stay here and donotmove. I need my ruck, then we’ll go. I’ll get us off the island.”
Her hands shake as she accepts the Glock, but she grits her teeth and they steady.
“Hurry.”
The five minutesit takes me to double time it back to my campsite feel like forever. I don’t like leaving her, but what choice did I have? She’s convinced we don’t have much time, and I’m slow enough as it is with a cracked rib and bum leg.
Once we’re in the air, we’ll be safe. At least from the shooter and any friends he might have brought with him. But I’ll have tofly close to the water. The Coast Guard station in Anacortes will be monitoring radar. If they see me without a flight plan, they could shoot me down.
I don’t bother with the tent, cooler, or lantern, but roll up the sleeping bag and clip it to the bottom of the ruck. It’ll be cold in the air, and Nat’s lost too much blood.
The trip back up the hill is agony. Nothing can prepare you for the pain of a broken rib. How every shallow inhale sends an electric shock through your torso.
Steps from the deck, a spasm of pain steals my breath, and I go down. Hard. Another crunch comes from my rib. Not good. Nat isn’t the only one in trouble here. But I force myself up, dragging the ruck behind me.
It’s completely silent when I enter. Something’s wrong. She’s not where I left her. The house still smells like her though. Flowers and citrus amid the harshness of blood. No other scents.
Something hits the floor down the hall.
“Nat!” I drop the ruck and rush toward the sound. A large duffel bag lies on its side, and she’s panting, her hand braced on the wall next to the closet. “I told you not to move.”
“I don’t take orders from you,” she huffs and, with considerable effort, manages to straighten.
“Until we’re in the air, you do. You have a car?” I heft the duffel over my shoulder and almost lose my balance. “Shit. If I find a set of dumbbells in here, we’re going to have words later.”
“You evenlookinside that bag, and we’ll have words now.” She pushes past me, her steps uneven. “I might need you right now, Doc, but the minute we land in Seattle, I’m gone. And you need to forget you ever met me.”
I don’t bother telling her there’s no fucking way I’m forgetting herorletting her disappear. Not with how pale she is. With the sweat dotting her brow. With her obvious battle skills. She’s got a history, and I hope she’ll share it with me.
The short path to the garage feels like I’m walking through quicksand. I refused to let her carry the bags, and my strength is fading. Fast.
She doesn’t have a car, but her ATV has a full tank of gas. I try to slow my breathing as Nat helps strap the bags to the back of the vehicle. That last fall didn’t do me any favors. Nat, at least, doesn’t appear to be getting any worse.
“Can you hold on to me?” I ask as the ATV sputters to life. “Be honest. How bad off are you?” Cupping her cheek, I make a show of checking her pupils, but I just needed to touch her. To know she’s still with me.
She meets my gaze for a long moment. I’ve only seen that look in her eyes once before. When Gladys fell. She’s scared.
“I can hold on. But floor it.”
As if I wouldn’t.
She settles herself behind me and wraps an arm around my waist. Pain stabs deep from under my arm all the way to my sternum. I can’t take a full breath. The garage door rises too slowly. Nat keeps the Glock clutched tightly in her free hand.
“Clear,” she says. “Go.” I accelerate onto what passes for a road around here and get the vehicle up to speed. Nat’s warm weight at my back is reassuring, even as it gets harder and harder to breathe with her arm around me.
We round the final bend. The marina stretches out below us, peaceful and still. Half the berths are empty. In a few days, boats will be tethered to one another six deep. Summer weekends see every campground, cabin, and vacation rental occupied. But for now, there’s nothing stopping us from getting the hell off the island.
Easing the ATV to a stop as close to the dock as I can get, I wait for her to slide off the vehicle. I miss her body heat, but I need to be able to take a deep breath. Except, I can’t. It’slike someone wrapped ropes around my torso. They’re getting tighter and tighter with every passing minute.
Fuck me. The broken rib. The fall. The slight wheeze only I can hear. I could be in real trouble. Air in my chest cavity is collapsing my lung. A pneumothorax can turn fatal fast. It’s only a forty-five-minute flight back to Seattle. Will I make it? God, I hope so.
The Cessna bobs gently on the water. I dig the keys out of my ruck and toss them to Nat. “Get in. Stow the bags. I’ll…take care of the moorings.”
She nods. In the lights dotting the dock, blood glistens along her hip. A rivulet trails down her temple. Head wounds bleed like a son of a bitch, and she has a dozen of them.
My wheezing is getting louder. I can feel my heartbeat in my ears. The thick ropes securing the plane to the dock weigh twice as much as they should.
