Shirlee McCoy - Lone Defender

“Come on, Grady, keep moving.” Jonas’s words penetrated her pain-induced fog, and she realized she’d stopped, was hugging the wall like she planned to stay there all night. Cold rain, throbbing heat, her body shaking with fatigue or fever or both, and all she could do was cling to her position and pray her cramped fingers didn’t let loose, her trembling legs didn’t give out.

“Climb!” Jonas shouted as if that would give her the impetus to move.

What he didn’t seem to understand was that she wanted to move. She really did. But her body refused to cooperate. Her fingers dug deep into small niches, her feet pressed hard onto a tiny ledge of rock, and she could not move.

Could.

Not.

The rope slapped her hip as Jonas eased sideways and up. She didn’t need to watch to know what he was doing. Moving into position to pass her.

No. Not pass.

He wouldn’t leave her clinging to the mesa.

She hadn’t known him long, but she knew that. Sensed it the same way she’d sensed trouble when she’d arrived in Cave Creek and started asking questions about the deadbeat dad she’d been tracking. Something had been brewing in the little town, and she should have turned tail and run. Instead, she’d dug in her heels, kept on asking, kept on pushing.

Someone had pushed back.

Who?

It was a question she’d been asking for the better part of a week. If she ever got out of the desert, she’d find the answer.

For now she needed to focus on surviving.

Focus on climbing.

Focus.

But her thoughts were as clumsy as her movements and scattered as easily as dry leaves on a windy day.

“Move it, Grady, because I’m not in the mood to toss you over my shoulder and carry you up to the cave.” Jonas perched inches away, his eyes gleaming in the darkness.

“As if you could,” she responded, the words slurred and thick, her teeth chattering on each one.

Not good.

She was losing it. She knew it. Jonas knew it. She could see it in his eyes, could sense it in the urgency of his words.

“I’ll do what I have to do.”

He would.

Of course, he would.

And they’d both die because of her.

Not the way she wanted to go. Not the end she’d imagined for her life, that was for sure. She’d much rather die an old lady, sitting in an easy chair reading a good book. Preferably after eating a very large and satisfying meal.

She scowled, reaching up, her muscles screaming in protest. Just a little farther. She could do that.

Please, God. Please, help me do it.

Jonas moved past her, the rope pulling tight on Skylar’s waist. Seconds later, he called out from above.

“The rope is secure. Just another foot, and I can grab you and pull you into the cave.” His words penetrated the thick haze that had wrapped itself around Skylar’s brain. Another foot might as well have been a hundred, but she kept moving anyway, letting momentum carry her.

A hand wrapped around one wrist, grabbed the other as she reached again. Hard hands. Firm and warm. She had a split second to think those things, and then she was off the wall, lying on hard ground, staring up at blackness. No rain pouring down her face. No cold breeze biting through her borrowed jacket. No endlessly tall mesa to climb.

Nothing but darkness, and she slid into it, her eyes closing.

“Good job, Grady.” The rough words echoed off the cave walls, and Skylar wanted to respond, but she had nothing left. No words. No energy.

A soft cloth wiped rain from her face, gentle hands tucked a Mylar blanket around her shivering body, a palm pressed to her forehead. “You’re feverish.”

Feverish?

Of course she was.

She had to be if she was letting someone take care of her.

The thought gave her enough energy to open her eyes, push onto her elbows. “I’m fine.”

“You will be. Here.” Jonas handed her two tablets and a bottle of water.

“What is it?”

“Something for the fever.”

“I’m not much for taking medicine. I’ll let the fever burn itself out.” She thrust the medicine back, but he folded her fingers over the pills.

“It’s a couple aspirin, Grady. It won’t kill you, and it might make the night a little more comfortable.”

She nodded, fumbling to open the water bottle. Aspirin she could do. It was other things she had to avoid. Hardcore painkillers had taken her mother twenty years ago, had almost taken Skylar seventeen years after that. She’d been a hair’s breath from addiction in the months after she’d been shot and nearly killed in the line of duty. If not for Kane Dougherty, she might have chosen the path of least resistance, gone the way of her forefathers.

She owed him big for what he’d done.

Then again, he owed her big for sending her to Cave Creek and into a boatload of trouble.

She’d tell him as much once she made it back to civilization.

She yanked at the bottle top, scowling when it still refused to open. It was a water bottle, for goodness’ sake. Not a combination lock. All she needed to do was twist, but her fingers were still clumsy from cold and exertion, and no matter how much she tried, she couldn’t manage the simple task.

“Let me.” Jonas eased the bottle from her hand, opened it, then returned it, his fingers brushing her knuckles, the contact spreading warmth through her chilled skin. She wanted to lean close, let his heat seep into her icy body. Instead, she took a swig from the bottle to help swallow the aspirin, pulled the Mylar blanket close, trying to stave off the tremors that racked her body.

“Thanks.”

“Maybe you should save the thanks for after I get you to the airport and on the plane back to New York.”

“That might take a while, seeing as how I have a score to settle and I’m not leaving town until I do it.” She took another sip of water, pulled the gun from her waistband and set it on the ground. She had firepower, and she wasn’t alone. She’d managed to free-climb the mesa without falling to her death.

Things were definitely looking up.

“It might not take as long as you think. I have express orders to get you out of the desert and onto the next plane back to New York.”

“Funny, you don’t seem like the kind of guy who takes orders.”

“Depends on who is doing the ordering. When it’s a good friend who’s concerned about his employee, I’m willing to go along with the plan.”

“Unfortunately, I’m not.” She set the water bottle on the ground, tried to see Jonas’s face through the darkness. She had the sense of harnessed energy and restrained strength, of corded muscle and irritation. He’d come to her aid, and he expected her to want to be rescued.

And she did.

From the wilderness. From her six-day nightmare, but not from her obligation to follow up on the case she’d been investigating. Certainly not from her obligation to find the person who’d tried to kill her.

Was still trying to kill her.

“You may not have a choice, Grady. You’re done in. Sticking around town, searching for answers when you’re sick and exhausted could get you killed.”

“Not if I’m careful.”

“Were you being careful when someone knocked you out and drove you out into the desert?”

“How about we have this argument after we’re back in civilization?”

“Avoiding the question doesn’t change the answer.”

“And asking it doesn’t change my mind. I’m sticking around until I figure out who wants me dead and why.”

“Kane said you were stubborn.”

“I see that as one of my better qualities.”

“Good to know.” He chuckled, the sound rusty and dry.

“You should also know that after we get out of here, I’m planning on doing things my way. No trip to New York. No hiding away while someone else solves my problems.”