Shattered Justice (5 page)

He hesitated, and she could almost hear the gears turning in his brain as he tried to come up with an argument that would win him first shot. But finally he surrendered, stepping aside with a heavy sigh and a gallant wave of his well-muscled arm.

“After you, my lady.”

My lady
. Oooo, she liked the sound of that. Even better, she liked the feel of that. Being Dan’s lady.

She tossed him a kiss, then took her stance. She drew a bead on the target, pulled back the notched arrow … then let the arrow fly.

Dan slipped an arm around her waist as they followed the projectile’s sure path, straight to the heart of the target they’d chosen: a thick piece of moss-covered bark leaning against a boulder.

“Perfect!”

Sarah grinned up at him. “The shot or the shooter?”

The evocative curve of those broad lips sent a shiver across her nerves. “Both.”

Their mutual love of field archery had been a happy discovery early on in their dating years, back in college. Some of their best times in the nearly seventeen years they’d been married had been times just like this, where they hiked, taking turns choosing a target, then seeing who could hit it with the most speed and accuracy. A competitor to the core, Sarah loved it when she shot better than Dan—which even he admitted was most of the time. She seemed to have an uncanny eye.

At the end of the first day they shot together, Dan gave her a lopsided grin as he helped her into his Jeep. “Remind me never to make you mad at me while you’re holding a bow.”

She leaned forward, slid her arms around his neck, and pressed a kiss to his lips. “Even if you did, it would be okay.”

His arms encircled her. “Oh, yeah?”

She nuzzled his neck. “Yeah. I’d make sure to miss all the vital organs.”

Sarah chuckled at the memory.

“What are you laughing at, Mrs. Justice?”

She glanced up at her husband. The wind ruffled his thick, brown hair. She’d tried so hard to get him to wear a hat when they were out in the wilderness, but to no avail. And for once, she was glad. Slinging the bow over her shoulder, she reached
up and tugged at his wind-tumbled hair. Even cut short, it was thick and soft, and she loved to comb her fingers through it.

“I’m not laughing
at
anything, Mr. Justice.” Her fingers caressed the back of his neck. “I’m laughing because you make me so happy.”

If he’d been a cat, he would have been purring. As it was, the low sound deep in his chest had more the rumble of a lion. Or a tiger. “Mmm. And you make me happy.”

Target shooting was forgotten as he tugged her close. Her eyes drifted shut, and the feel of him flooded her senses. When he finally released her, they both were breathless. Sarah took a step back, glanced at the target, then dropped her best imitation of a curtsy.

“Next shot is yours, Sir Justice.”

His grin was all male. “Indeed, wench. Step aside and watch a master at work.” Dan slid an arrow from the quiver at his belt and took his stance where Sarah had been.

He nocked the arrow and drew back, his smooth motions bearing testimony to his athletic grace. Standing there, bow and arrow at the ready, he reminded Sarah of the old Robin Hood movies. Except Dan was better built than the actor in those old movies.

Sarah smiled.
Much
better built.

At six foot four, Dan stood head and shoulders above most folks. Add those broad shoulders and the trim waist, that devil-may-care smile, those looks just rugged enough to save him from being pretty …

Oh, yeah. He was pretty well perfect.

At least Sarah thought so. And she wasn’t alone. She saw the way women watched him when he walked by. Just last week he’d stopped in to say hi at the high school office where she worked part-time. When she walked out to the parking lot with him, Sarah spotted female students and teachers alike watching her husband. And there was no missing the feminine appreciation in their features.

Sarah didn’t mind, though, because Dan was all hers and had been almost from the day they met.

The sound of an arrow striking home drew Sarah’s attention—Dan’s arrow struck just above and to the left of hers. She patted his arm, waggling her brows at him. “You’ll win the next one, Danny Boy.”

He nudged her away, his deep laughter as sweet as the summer breeze blowing on their faces. You couldn’t buy days like this. Not for a million dollars.

Sarah knew it and appreciated it. Deeply.

August and September were too often brutally hot. But July days, like today, had just enough breeze to cool the sun’s heat, which made it perfect for hiking.

As Dan reached down for his day pack and lifted it back onto his shoulder, Sarah started walking. “I think I’ll scout ahead and see if there’s a good spot to settle down for lunch.”

“Okay, meet up in fifteen at the most?”

She looked back at him over her shoulder, drinking in the sight of him, basking in the love shining in his face. “You got it, handsome.”

Nope. You couldn’t buy days like this for all the money in the world.

The woods around them were dense enough that Sarah was out of sight within minutes, but Dan didn’t mind. He preferred a more leisurely pace to Sarah’s bounding energy. Nor did he worry. Sarah could handle herself out here. She might be small—the top of her head barely reached his shoulder—but she was fit and strong. That was one of the things that first drew him to her. She wasn’t one of those fragile women who had to be sheltered and protected. No way. His wife was a tiny package of energy and spunk, and he loved that.

As was the agreement—loser retrieves arrows from the target—Dan went to pull their arrows free. Slipping them into his
quiver, he followed Sarah’s trail with a practiced eye. No path out here. Just wilderness. Pure and majestic.

He paused, lifting his face to the sun’s warmth. He enjoyed hiking almost as much as Sarah did. The rich, earthy fragrance of the Oregon forest filled his senses. He soaked in the towering evergreens all around, sunlight filtering down through dense needles.

“Okay, buddy. No snoozing on the trail.”

He chuckled and opened his eyes. His wife was just ahead of him, crouched atop a huge fallen tree. With her quiver of arrows on her belt, her bow slung across her slim shoulder, and her floppy hat set at an angle on her long chestnut hair, she looked like a modern-day Robinette Hood perched there. She sent him a mock glare from on high; he painted his features with equally mock penitence. “Sorry, boss. Not even catnaps, eh?”

“Not even
kitten
naps. You can’t afford to slack off. I’m ahead of you five to three on scoring targets.”

“Slave driver.”

“Count on it.”

Her severity lasted another second before laughter overtook it. She plopped down on the log, adjusting her quiver so it was out of the way, then swung those shapely legs back and forth as she pulled her water bottle free. She tipped her head back, taking a long drink; Dan drank in the sight before him.

His wife’s beauty was all natural. As natural as the woods around them. The summer sun had kissed her golden skin, making it glow in ways no makeup could. At thirty-four, her smooth features were free of wrinkles, save one or two that danced around her eyes, peeking out from the corners when she laughed. Dan loved those wrinkles. They were testimony to the fact that his wife was happy.

Especially today. Sarah loved being out here, in the forest, hiking and talking even as they tested each other’s mettle with a bow.

Which made sense. She belonged here. One look at her showed how at home she was in the woods. She was almost as much a part of the wilderness as the ancient trees reaching over them, creating a lush canopy; as the rich loam of dirt and pine needles beneath their feet.

Which was why Dan made sure they got away like this as often as possible.

The good news was that their town, Central Point, gave them plenty of places to get away from civilization. A small community on the outskirts of Medford, Central Point afforded Dan and his family the warmth of a small town combined with the convenience of a larger city nearby. And, with his sister Annie living right in Medford, he and Sarah seldom had to worry about finding someone to watch the kids for them. Annie adored the kids and loved spending time with them whenever she could.

The bad news was that with all their commitments—their jobs, the kids, the volunteer work Dan did with troubled kids in the area—finding a day to get away was far from easy. Then there was the fact that it got harder every year to get time off. With every county budget cut, the number of deputies shrank, which meant fewer men to handle an ever-growing area. And that meant longer, more frequent shifts.

When Sarah reminded him a few weeks ago of how long it had been since they’d had a day out together, he knew what he had to do. Just as he knew it was going to be a battle.

But it had been worth it.

“So, you ready for me to beat you again?”

Dan arched a brow at his wife’s teasing challenge, taking in her teasing smile, her glowing eyes.

Oh, yeah.
Definitely
worth it.

“That sure of yourself, are you?” He stood in front of her. Her smile deepened, and she rested her hands on his shoulders as he lifted her from the log, careful not to catch her quiver or bow on the bark, and set her on her feet in front of him. He
buried his face in her hair, breathing in the heady mix of fragrances—summer and forest and all woman.

“Are you trying to distract me?”

He pressed a small kiss to her neck as he scanned the area around them. It was his turn to choose a target. “Mmm. Depends. Is it working?”

Sarah chuckled. “Maybe …”

There! Just down the path. A perfect target.

Sarah wrapped her arms around his waist then lifted her face to his. He leaned close, watching her eyes drift shut. His lips hovered over hers for a heartbeat, then he jumped away, sliding his bow off his shoulder and getting ready to move. “Okay, loser, next target is
mine
! Old tree stump, fifty feet ahead, dead center or no points.
”

“You are
such
a sneak!” Sarah’s laughing response brought a grin to his face. She slid her bow free. “You’re gonna pay for that one, bud.”

Even as she spoke, she surveyed the area around them, spotting the target within seconds. With a whoop, they raced down the path, Sarah dodging in front of Dan.

Dan yelped and stumbled, barely avoiding a tumble to the ground. He came up with a playful growl, which faded to dismay when he saw his fleet-footed wife already in the firing stance, nocking an arrow.

He drew a few feet closer as she lifted the bow, and he opened his mouth to holler, hoping to distract her, knowing even as he did so it was useless. Nothing distracted that woman when she was focused. He looked at the decaying stump—and frowned.

What was that? He peered more closely, and alarm shot through him.

Bees. Buzzing around the top of the stump. “Sarah, wait!”

Too late. She pulled the string back with practiced ease and let the arrow fly.

“Sarah! Run!”

His warning split the air just as two things happened: Sarah’s arrow struck, straight and true, dead center on the target; and she turned to toss him a gloating, “Hah!”

Which meant her back was turned to the stump.

Which meant she didn’t see the cloud of angry yellow insects roil up out of their assaulted shelter.

Yellow. Yellow bees. No, not bees … yellow jackets!

Dan’s alarm changed to near panic. “Sarah!”

The tone in his voice made her turn and look behind her. In the seconds it took understanding to dawn, the wasps had locked on their own target: Sarah.

Dropping her bow, she sprinted toward Dan, the insects in hot pursuit. When Sarah reached him, he grabbed his wife’s hand, and they tore through the woods.

Dan heard Sarah cry out, felt the wasps hitting him and stinging, heard them buzzing at his face, but he didn’t stop. He just brushed madly at his attackers with his free hand as he ran.

“Pull your shirt over your face!”

He didn’t look to see if Sarah complied. He couldn’t. He had to stay focused on the woods in front of them, on getting them as far away from the hive as fast as possible.

How far or how long they ran, Dan couldn’t say. All he knew was that the number of wasps swarming around him lessened, until finally there weren’t any.

Gasping for air, his lungs burning, he drew Sarah to a halt, pulling her into his arms. “Oh, man! Un … believable!”

Sarah didn’t respond. When Dan saw she’d pulled her shirt up over her face, relief swept him. Though he could see welts forming on her hands and arms, if she got the shirt over her face, maybe that was the worst of it.

“Sarah? How bad are you stung, honey?”

Again, no response. She just stood there, fingers clutching his shirt as she dragged in air.

Listening to the wheezing sound of her breathing, dread
clawed through Dan’s chest. “Sarah?” He pulled his wife’s shirt away from her face and his heart seized.

Her face was pasty white, except for six or seven bright red welts on her forehead and cheeks. Her eyes were wide, and Dan saw something in them he’d never seen before.

Panic.

“Can’t …” She gasped, as though sucking air through mud. “Can’t breathe …”

Before he could reply, she sagged against him, her hands going limp.

“Sarah!”

Dan lowered his wheezing wife to the ground, kneeling beside her. “Oh, Jesus,
please
!”

His training kicked in, and his critical mind registered the facts: His wife had been stung at least fifteen or twenty times. But most adults could survive as many as two hundred stings unless …

Unless she was allergic.

A memory flashed through Dan’s mind. Two summers ago, eight-year-old Shannon had been stung by a wasp. It hurt the poor kid something fierce, and she cried and cried until Sarah finally got her calmed down. As Dan and Sarah settled at the kitchen table, rejuvenating cups of coffee before them, Dan sighed.

“Man, nothing hurts quite like a bee sting.”

Sara sipped her coffee. “So I’ve heard.”