Page 51 of The Healer

WHO’S IN CONTROL?

Rhys’sfocusstrayedtoLona’s hands gripping the steering wheel, spinning out the ass of the rental as she took corners along the mountain path. She handled the SUV with a lover’s touch. Her lips pinched white, her breathing calm as she flexed her fingers, spun the steering wheel, caught it then changed gears. They were clipping it, traveling at a speed he found exhilarating, pumping adrenaline and lust through his veins. His bear rumbled in agreement.

“What’s the plan?” He looked away from the temptation of her.

“Jake said this happened last year. He had the tower reinforced during the summer. Let’s hope it survived.”

“If it didn’t?” Rhys frowned. What was the worst-case scenario? What would her approach be? By the calm pouring off her, he assumed she had dealt with such an event before.

“Then we let the team find them.” Her confidence didn’t inspire peace within him.

He was learning who she was and allowing someone else to risk their lives while she stood on the sidelines wasn’t in her nature. “The team?”

“Shifters on the force, and dogs for the humans, or so Jake claims. In hindsight, I should’ve asked for more details.” She peeked at Rhys. “This is my first time.”

He clenched his jaw, hoping to hide his surprise and fury. When he saw Dane, Rhys would… Do what? This wasn’t his pack or town. Still, he hated that they endangered her. His bear paced, testing the confines and bumping the sides with his shoulders.

“There aren’t shifters on the science crew, which means getting the injured to the hospital as soon as possible.” Her tension came through when she gripped and released the steering wheel. She leaned forward to peer at the churning clouds. “Rebel might struggle with the chopper, but we’ve got to rely on his skill tonight.”

“Is this a normal day for you?” What he wanted to ask her was how often did she endanger herself like this? His bear roared at the thought of her injured again. Rhys didn’t need his irascible partner to distract him.

Her self-deprecating laughter hinted at sadness or loneliness. He didn’t like the thought of either. “No, but I’ll be fine.” She slowed to a stop alongside other police vehicles.

Males and their dogs gathered around a small brazier which Rhys doubted cast off much heat. A few peered over the cliff’s edge. She jumped out to open the back and stomp on snow boots. He scowled. Her jacket was insufficient for this weather, but the tight grip she had on her jaw said she wouldn’t listen to reason.

“What’s the latest?” she asked no one in general, sliding on goggles and tapping a helmet in place.

Rhys released a sigh when she looped a scarf around her neck. Still, he’d rather her not be out in this weather.

“They found one, Doc. Leg’s busted something fierce.” A male faced her before glancing at the opposite side of the mountain.

Gusts of blinding snow obscured, for the most part, a fallen tower submerged under tons of fresh white powder. Dark figures worked around it.

“On it,” she said, hooking compact splints onto her backpack. Snapping the SUV’s hatch shut, she marched to the ledge and dropped the board on the hardpacked snow. After lacing the zones, she stepped onto the board, clipped her boots in, and tugged gloves onto her hands. Without warning, she launched herself off the edge.

“What the fuck,” Rhys roared, storming to the edge of the cliff. As one, the officers spun to gawk at him. “Did you just let her…?” He couldn’t believe she would do this despite watching her gear up. She was human, for fuck’s sake.

“Listen, Mr. Whitaker, Ilona’s a natural. Tested her skills myself,” the sheriff said, approaching him from behind to pat him on the shoulder, trying to calm him.

Rhys stared into the distance. Turbulent winds swept snow in all directions, obscuring most of the tower and the folks down below. He couldn’t see farther than twenty feet at a time unless the winds quietened for a moment. A sense of helplessness settled upon him. His bear’s fury gripped him. He wouldn’t lose a Devereaux, not if he could help it.

Tearing off his jacket, he tossed it into the back of her SUV. One by one, he threw his clothes inside, until naked, he let his bear take center stage. Pops, grinding bone, and grunts preceded a muzzle, thick fur, and massive paws. In an instant, he was too warm, his bear thrilled by the freezing temperatures.

Growling, he lumbered toward the males, hints of cat, wolf, and bear twitching his nose. His bear grunted as they dived out the way. A grizzly launching himself off the edge wasn’t a grand jeté. He tumbled and slid down the mountain until coming to rest near the bottom. Sprawled in a heap, he stumbled to all fours. With a shake of his head to clear the dizziness, he sniffed the air then ran in the direction of lavender and antiseptic.

Grumbling at her recklessness, he galloped to where she crouched alongside a man enshrouded in yellow smoke. Rhys sniffed—human blood. She showed no signs of injury and judging by her focus, everything was in control.

A man in a thin jacket spoke into his walkie-talkie, and a swaying rope descended. Snow whipped around them, but she wiped her goggles with gloved fingers and hooked the rope to the gurney. After two sharp tugs, it lifted the injured man.

“One down, Lionel, how many more?” she tried to ask above the howling wind.

“Four, but we haven’t found them yet, Doc.”

“It’s a lot of area to cover, and the wind isn’t helping. It won’t be long before they ground the chopper.” She knelt to dig a hole, shoving snow downhill. Minutes later, she spiked the outside of her cave with her snowboard—a red flashing torch cable-tied to its edge—and crawled into the hole.

Rhys moved closer, peering inside.

“Rhys.” She glared at him. “Do you never listen?”

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