Page 106 of Beat of Love
Nobody knew him. Nobody asked questions. It was exactly what he needed. He lingered longer than usual, watching the shadows stretch across the asphalt, before finally swinging back onto the bike and heading out just before sunset.
About ten miles from Bulwark, he took the corner, his knee almost touching the road. Instead of feeling exhilarated, a smudge of trepidation crept in.
Slow down, my love,a voice whispered, the English accent unmistakable.Slow down. Now!
Coming out of the corner, he reduced speed and glanced heavenward. Millions of glittering stars filled the dark sky.
Charlie?
Eyes on the road.
A shiver worked its way down his spine, sharp and involuntary. And not from the cold. He’d often heard his wife’s voice during his dreams, but this was the first time whileawake. He looked ahead, the ribbon of asphalt disappearing in the darkness beyond the headlight.
Slower.
Goosebumps broke across his flesh, spreading over his shoulders, arms, thighs. “Next you’ll be seeing her ghost,” he muttered.
Another corner loomed, and he slowed further. A quick glimpse showed his speed hovering above thirty-five. He steered into the corner and—
“Fuck!” Swerving, he barely missed the crumpled mass lying in his path. He fought to keep the heavy machine from tipping over, made a wide turn, and slowly backtracked, making use of the headlamp to light the scene.
It was an animal. A mule deer.
The deer moved, giving a weak bleat, its chest rising and falling with rapid pants. He cut the engine, kicked out the side stand, and climbed off, placing his helmet on the seat.
And jerked at the eerie growls from across the road.
A trio of eyes gleamed in the dark.
His blood chilled. Coyote.
He fuckinghatedcoyote.
Rafferty rushed across the blacktop waving his arms. “Get gone, you fucking devil creatures,” he roared. They turned tail, emitting high-pitched yip-yawls as they scattered into the dark. “Cowardly fuckers,” he swore, moving back to the deer. First thing — get the animal off the road. They’d both be roadkill if a truck passed by. “Okay, here’s the thing, darlin’. I need to move you, and it’s gonna hurt like the dickens, so please forgive me. Yeah?”
Hunching down, he maneuvered a gloved hand under its neck, the other under its rear end. The deer grunted. “I know, I know. It hurts.” Hoping his tenuous grip held, he straightened, pulling it close to his body as he walked to the guardrail. He lay the animal down on a patch of grass and stood, removing his gloves while moving back to his bike. The faint smell of copper told a grim tale. He unlatched the saddlebag and grabbed hold of the flashlight. A glance at the blacktop showed a shimmering stain where the deer had collapsed. He unzipped his jacket, removed his cellphone, and dialed the sheriff’s department, quickly explaining the problem and his position before walking back to the poor creature.
She — a quick look showed the deer was a female — hadn’t moved, and the flashlight revealed the gaping wounds on her neck and side. And a torn ear.
Fucking coyotes.
He smoothed a hand over the doe’s back. Her eyelid lifted. “Help is on the way, girl.” She closed her eyes and exhaled.
No! Had she died?
He held a hand to her nose and watched her ribs. She was breathing. Shivering. He placed the flashlight down, shrugged out of his leather jacket, and gently covered her body.
The cold evening immediately sliced through the thin cotton, chilling him. He got to his feet, looking around. Lights from the town glimmered down below. Far down below.
He was near the top of the escarpment, and if he hadn’t slowed down …
Well, suffice to say it was alongway down, and the guardrail was there for a reason.
Looking up, he whispered, “Guess you’re still looking after my sorry ass. Thank you, babe.”
Like a fool, he waited, listened.
Charlie didn’t reply.
