Perfect Victim, The (24 page)

"Ouch!" She brought her only remaining mitten to her face, cursing when it came away red. Looking up, she spotted her earmuffs banging from a branch like a cheap Christmas tree ornament
.
The Jeep was no longer in sight and, to her dismay
,
the climb back up looked worse than the climb down. "Oh
,
this is just peachy
,
" she muttered.

Returning her attention to the ravine
,
she wondered how Randall had managed to get so far ahead of her so quickly. Simple
,
she thought
.
He does this all the time. Weekend warrior stuff. If he could do it, she certainly could
.

Feeling like a fool, she resumed her descent
.
Early on, there had been no doubt in her mind that she could make it to the ravine floor
.
It was just a little hill, after all
.
But faced with the rugged terrain and rocks the size of Volkswagens, her confidence withered. Her mittens no longer protected her hands and
,
somehow, she'd lost the bow keeping her hair
out of her face. He arms were beginning to ache and, to her utter horror, her grip seemed to be waning. She considered retreating, but couldn't bring herself to admit defeat—not that she thought she could climb back up. But, dammit, the last thing she wanted was to give Randall the chance to say I told you so.

After fifteen minutes of struggling with the rope, she settled into a rhythm, easing down a couple of feet at a time, sliding her left foot, then her right. Despite the fact that her arms were aching and her legs felt like overcooked spaghetti, she thought she could make it.

With just over thirty feet to go, she took her right hand off the rope to shove the hair out of her eyes. When she reached for the rope, she missed. Adrenaline skittered through her when she felt her other mitten slip off. The last thing she saw was her hiking boots as they went over her head. Then she was tumbling backward.

Tree branches clawed at her face and hair while the heavier trunks punched her in all the wrong places. Something hard and sharp cut into her shoulder as she flipped end over end. She heard branches breaking, heard herself cry out as they bit through her sweatshirt. Then her body went still as suddenly as it had cartwheeled out of control.

The first thing she became aware of was the wind humming through the pines above her, the sound of footsteps, and pain.

"Addison!" Randall's voice pounded into her brain.

She moaned.

"What the bloody hell are you doing?"

She opened her eyes. He crouched over her, his expression as furious as it was concerned. Damp, dark hair fell across his forehead. A grimace tightened his jaw. "Are you hurt?"

"My mitten slipped off," she said, mentally tallying her injuries. It was the rock in the shoulder that had really done her in. Jesus, that hurt. She lifted her hand to her face where the branch had cut her.

"Lie still, dammit."

"I feel like I hit a land mine."

"What the devil were you thinking?"

"I wasn't
.
" An involuntary groan escaped her as she shifted her weight
.
"Am I dead?"

"Don't give me any ideas." He leaned close to her, his hands pressing her down. "Hell, I might just leave your ass here for the coyotes."

"Stop talking about my ass
,
Talbot
.
You're going to tick me off again." She tried to move, wincing when her knee protested
.

"Hold still
.
"

"God, you're a bully. Even when I'm hurt, you can't be nice to me."

"Can you move your toes?"

She closed her eyes against the p
a
in, wiggled first her right and then her left toes
.
"Yeah.
"

"What about your fingers?"

"Check." Raising her hand, she looked at her once-perfect nails and groaned. "I broke three nails on just one hand. I don't even want to look at the other one."

"You're lucky you didn't break your neck," he growled.

"You didn't warn me that rappelling was so painful
.
"

"Any pain in your back?"

"No. Just my shoulder
.
The right one. Jesus, I hate rocks. I should have dodged the rocks. I guess I just wasn't quick enough
,
huh, Talbot?"

"
You have to be smarter than the rock
.
"

"K
i
ck a girl when she's down why don't you?"

One side of his mouth quirked. Sliding his hands beneath her shoulders
,
he eased her to a sitting position. "Dizzy?"

"No
.
My shoulder hurts."

"Lucky you had that sweatshirt on
.
"

"I don't feel very lucky."

"They always say God looks out for idiots and children."

"Stop yelli
ng
at me. I've been punished enough." She said the last word through her teeth as the pain in her shoulder clamped down on her like a vise. "Ouch. It hurts."

Without preamble, he lifted the sweatshirt up and over her shoulder. "Lean forward."

Addison obeyed without complaint, wincing only a little when the cold wind whispered over her bare back. Then she felt the warmth of his hand as he probed, and did her best to ignore the tingle of pleasure that followed. "It's getting a little breezy back there, Talbot. What's the prognosis?"

"Nice bra," he commented. "Front closure?"

Despite the pain, she smiled. "Let me know your size and I'll pick one up for you next time I'm at Victoria's Secret."

His laughter echoed through the trees. A rare, pleasant sound that made her stomach feel jittery. "Nothing's broken, but you're going to have one hell of a bruise."

"I'm going to have bruises over ninety percent of my body."

"It's such a shame to mar that lovely back of yours."

His mouth was so close to her ear she could feel the warmth of his breath. Trying to ignore the blood that had climbed into her face, she tugged the sweatshirt down. "I'm really glad I wore my good bra today, Talbot. Had I worn my sports bra you probably would have left me for the coyotes."

"I don't have anything against any form of lingerie, Ace." He rose and extended his hand to her. "But I've always been partial to pink lace."

"I can't see you in pink." Realizing she was still too shaky to rise of her own power, Addison accepted his hand, trying not to wince as he pulled her to her feet.

"That was an incredibly stupid thing to do." He glared down at her with an intensity that made her look away. "I'm going to have to make time for a manicure now. Think we can squeeze one into our schedule between shootouts this week?"

He didn't look amused. He was standing too close again, intimidating her with that nasty scowl and those dark, angry eyes. "I told you to stay in the damn truck. You could have gotten yourself killed."

Addison didn't want to think about death in a place where two people she loved dearly had perished. A powerful shiver went through her
.
“Think we could waive the lecture?"

He reached
out
and clamped his hand around her forearm, forcing her around to face him. "You're cut
.
" He raised his hand and touched her cheek
.
"I
'
ve got a first aid kit in the truck.”

"I don't think it's deep," she said, looking anywhere but into his eyes. She knew what resided in those murky depths. And it was much more than she wanted to deal with at the moment
.

Giving herself a mental shake, she turned her face
aw
a
y from his hand. As if sensing her need for space, Randall released her and stepped away.

"Did you find the car?" she asked.

He pointed to a mass of skeletal vines and saplings. “There,” he said with a grimace
.

Addison looked past him. Then she was moving, on legs that no longer felt pain
,
on feet that were beyond cold. The mangled Lincoln was sitting at a sharp angle against an outcropping of rock. The car bad once been silver, but ten months of mountain extremes had turned the crumpled metal to rust
.
As she drew nearer, she noticed
the windshield was completely gone,
perhaps in the crash, perhaps at the hands of the men who had come down the mountain to remove her parents' bodies.

Hesitantly
,
she peered through the windshield
.
The front seat was intact
.
The once plush leather was badly weathered and covered with dirt and moss. A bird had nested at some point on the dash, leaving a pile of dried grass and twigs atop the cracked vinyl
.

Addison reached out and ran her hand over a small area of silver paint that was still as flawless as the day her father had bought the car. For an instant, she felt close to them
.
The way she felt when she went to the cemetery
.
When she held her favorite picture of them against her h
e
art
.

A vivid burst of memory flashed through he
r
mind. Mom
and Dad at Christmas last year. They'd given her luggage, she remembered. A new espresso maker that matched her kitchen. That ugly-as-sin vase she now treasured. God, how she missed them.

"Addison."

The gentle utterance of her name startled her. She jerked her hand back as if the rusty metal surface had snapped at her. Randall stood next to her, looking at her much too intently.

Slowly, he turned her toward him and took both of her hands in his. "Christ, your hands are like ice. Where are your gloves?"

"I lost them. When I fell." Her voice was high and tight. Too many emotions crowding into her throat. She looked down at their hands. His were strong and warm and far too reassuring as they held hers. It wasn't something she wanted to get used to.

"Let's go, Ace. Your hands are nearly frostbitten."

Addison accepted his gloves without protest.

"Can you climb?"

The thought wasn't a pleasant one, but she couldn't bring herself to wimp out. Not after ignoring his warning to stay in the truck. "Unless someone installs a ski lift in the next five minutes, I don't think I have a choice."