Page 3 of Mountain Man Daddy

The wet, hot stench of decay blasted her face, and the snuffling groan of something monstrous woke her.

Had the men that killed Alex caught up with her? Had they caged her with an animal?

Avery gulped in frigid air as something wet touched her face and she turned away with a croak. It snuffled hotly then, and she tried to twist further away. Her mind cleared a bit further, and she became aware of the heady smell of earth and damp animal fur. What the hell was that?

“Pull it together, Avery,” she mumbled to herself and opened her eyes. The crushed Jeep dash wrenched her back to reality.

Living on the run.

The mountain trail.

The climbing speed.

The moose.

It all hit her at once, again.

No!She struggled against the mangled Jeep and her seatbelt, tears leaking from her eyes at the anguish it caused. She knew she had to escape. Although she’d been in and out of consciousness, she knew she’d been trapped in the Jeep at least one night and time was the only advantage she had. They wouldn’t be far behind, not when one of the men looking for her was a cop. She roared like an animal and wrenched her leg out from where it was jammed between the console and dash. She felt the tearing of jeans and flesh but ignored it. She could never stop running.

“Stay still.” A gruff voice spoke, flaring panic within her and she struggled more. “Dammit, you could have a spinal injury!” The voice sounded impatient and bad-tempered.

Avery turned her face swiftly toward the voice and a stab of pain shot through her head so severe she gagged.

“Jesus! Easy now. You’ve been in an accident.”

Huge paws hit the side of the car, rocking both it and her gut. Her eyes widened and she screamed just as the black bear, with a tan-colored muzzle, chuffed hot rancid breath on her face. A big arm came around the bear’s neck and knocked him off.

“Back off, Rocky,” the man said in a half-growl, half-speak sort of language. A bearded face came into her sightline just as the blackness started creeping back—handsome, rugged, and cantankerous. “Where does it hurt?”

“B-bear?” Her voice was fear-filled, but she wasn’t sure about which she felt more fearful, the bear or the craggy, wild man who seemed unfazed by it.

She blinked at the bright blue eyes fanned by creases, and the black winter toque pulled low on his lightly lined forehead. His blond hair fell over his shoulders as he leaned in, but before she could fully assess him, he faded into the shrinking hole of inky black.

* * *

Mike felt a rush of panic at the blood and twisted metal before him. The woman inside was battered, but his biggest concern wasn’t the scabbing gash on her forehead, it was the surreal amount of fresh blood all over her lap that still pumped by the second. He couldn’t see the rest of her, but the thigh wound was life or death. Beneath the crushed dash, she could be even more gravely injured.

“Hey, girl, wake up!” He didn’t risk shaking her, but knew it was best to keep her conscious. “Girl!” He took the scarf from around his neck and pushed it hard against her thigh where a little bubble of blood formed every few seconds.

Since the outside door handle had been sheared off, he pulled the lever on the inside. He’d had some critical roadside care training in his early years as a cop, but with an arterial wound, his skills wouldn’t be enough. He had neither a cell nor a home phone. He didn’t even have a vehicle with him. He had a motorcycle, an ATV, and a snowmobile, but they were all at the cabin.

He pressed his lips together and surveyed the situation inside the Jeep. The airbag had deployed, and the front column and steering wheel had been pushed in toward her chest, but he saw no further open wounds. She moaned when he reached across her and clicked her seatbelt. Thank God, she’d been wearing one. She fell forward a little and gave a long pathetic moan. His heart ached for her.

“Head lacerations bleed a lot, but it’s not too deep, and it’s scabbing,” he mumbled to himself in a barely audible voice. “Relax.” His voice sounded curt and uncivilized. It was the most he’d spoken in a long time. He didn’t talk much anymore, except to Rocky, and that was more in grunts than anything, but bears didn’t understand words, even tame bears that had grown up among humans. Occasionally he spoke to Annie, but that was often in grunts, too.

“Honey, I’m going to help you. You’re going to be okay,” he added, hoping to soften his earlier, gruffer words.

The girl’s head lolled toward him, and her eyes blinked open. They were hazel, a unique combo of green and light brown. He’d never seen eyes quite this color before, but the pain and expectation they held were familiar. They cut right through him, stopping the air from entering his lungs. He shook off the cold chill that slithered inside his gut and he sucked in air with determination. Mike brushed her hair carefully off her face.

“What’s your name, sweetheart?” he questioned, cupping her small, battered face in his large hand. He looked at her pupils for signs of brain injury, but once again he didn’t know what he was looking for.

“Let me die,” she croaked in response. Mike growled, feeling a blip of annoyance at her for giving up and shook his head.

“Not happening, young lady.” She clutched his hand suddenly as it left her face. Fear practically pulsed off her like heat from a blast furnace. He had no choice. He had to move her. Pulling her out would likely cause more bleeding, but leaving her meant she’d die for sure. There wasn’t help nearby. Hell, there was nothing nearby. Then there was the wildcat he’d been tracking for the last week. It was a miracle the girl hadn’t been found, especially with the amount of blood she’d lost and the fact that the cat had cubs.

“No, please. I’m as good as dead anyway. Leave me.”

“Hush up. No one’s dying.” His voice held an edge of impatience. He didn’t care what he had to do to make that happen, but she would listen, and she would survive.

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