Your Wild Heart (7 page)

“I’ll give you a call later,” he promised.

Isabelle admired the way Wyatt’s jeans hugged his ass as he headed to the office. His T-shirt clung to his shoulders in a way that made her want to toss a glass of ice water on his chest so she could watch the drops run. All. The. Way. Down.

With visions of Wyatt’s naked form in her head, she took to the trails to see what she could find in the wilderness.

Standing at a crossroads in the walking trails, Isabelle debated which way to go. As she often did, she wondered how early explorers got anywhere in the world and then home again. At least she had GPS and a number of gadgets at her fingertips.

It wasn’t far to the tree line. From there, she wove her way through, taking her time and soaking in the sounds of nature. This was why she loved her job. She loved being in the middle of nowhere yet with so much around her.

She followed the trail of footprints and tufts of fur of what she believed to be a mature coyote for almost a mile before it led her farther off her path than she wanted to be. Just as she broke free of the tree line, she heard a gunshot. Curious why someone would be firing a weapon in a state park, she looked in the direction she believed it had come from. Now that the trees weren’t blocking her view, she realized she had veered close to one of the main roads.

At the curve, there were two men arguing and gesturing between the nearby truck and whatever lay on the ground at their feet. A second look revealed a large set of antlers.

Outraged, Isabelle called out, “What did you do?”

When the men turned in her direction, she noticed the rifle hanging from the taller man’s shoulder. She was so irritated by their thoughtlessness the fact they were armed didn’t slow her down at all.

She gestured at the carcass. “Do you know what you’ve done?”

The man carrying the gun looked from her to the other man and back to her.

“That’s a bull moose!” she declared. “And you shot it! How could you do that? I’m no expert, but I’m pretty sure that’s illegal in a state park.”

“Bob, I think we got us a busybody,” the taller of the two said.

“I think you’re right,” the other muttered.

Isabelle continued her rant. “What do you have to say for yourselves?”

“At least she’s pretty.”

“Yeah, but the pretty ones are usually more trouble,” the shorter man with the scruffy beard said.

“Trouble? It’s the two of you who are in trouble. I’m sure the park rangers will have something to say about your target practice.” She knelt next the moose and pressed her palm to its neck, then its chest but didn’t feel a heartbeat. Her stomach sank.

How people could be so heartless?

Without warning, she was jerked to her feet by the shorter and, now that she was close to him, smelly man. “What the hell!” She tried to jerk her arm free but couldn’t.

“You’re coming with us.”

She pulled against the short man’s grip on her arm. “No, I’m not.”

“Yes. You are.” He tightened his grip and pulled upward, throwing her off balance.

“You’re out of your mind if you think I’m going anywhere with the two of you,” she told them.

“If you argue, you’re just going to make him angry. Just get in the truck and nothing will happen to you. We’ll drop you off somewhere along the way, and you can pretend you never saw us. Right, Bob?”

The shorter man growled in response.

“I don’t think so.” Isabelle yanked her arm free and turned to run for the woods. Before she could get away, the man named Bob tripped her and then used his body to pin her to the ground. The smell of his alcohol-drenched breath next her face made her stomach turn.

“Listen here. This here is our moose, and we ain’t giving it up. We was just going to load it up in our truck and be gone, but now you’re here, messing things up, and I can’t let you do that. If you had minded your own business, no one would have ever noticed it missing. Now I got to figure out what to do with you.”

“Get off me, you buffoon, before you end up getting hurt,” she told him through clenched teeth. She struggled to remember which of them had the gun. What were her chances of flipping him off her and maybe even landing a punch or two without getting shot?

“I don’t see where you’re in any position to be telling me what to do,” Bob said.

“Come on, man, let’s get out of here. If we hurry, we can be out of here before anyone else comes. She don’t know us, and she can’t prove we did anything. If we let her go, maybe she’ll promise to not say anything to anyone.”

“Don’t be an idiot,” Bob snapped. “Of course she’s going to tell on us. You heard her. She said the rangers were going to come after us.”

“She didn’t mean it, did you, lady?” the taller man implored.

Isabelle wished she could see the man’s face so she knew whose hide he was more worried about, hers or his own. Something inside wouldn’t let her lie to them. She knew if she promised not to tell on them, they might let her go, but the utter wrongness of the shooting prevented her from agreeing with him.

“See?” Bob crowed. “She can’t promise. Go get the rope from behind my seat.”

“Oh, man. Just let her go. We’re already in a heap of trouble. I can’t go back to jail. My old lady said she’d leave me if I did.”

“Go get the dammed rope like I told you.”

His fading footsteps and the squeak of a metal door hinge told Isabelle the other man had done as he had been told.

“Now, cut me off a section. I’m going to tie her hands.”

Isabelle renewed her efforts to buck Bob off, but he was heavier than she expected. There was no way in hell she was letting them tie her up.

“I don’t feel right about this,” non-Bob muttered.

“Shut up and do as I tell you,” Bob ordered.

Bob adjusted his weight then jerked her hand farther behind her back, making Isabelle gasp with pain. She bucked and twisted and struggled against his hold, trying to break free. She managed to get one hand free, but the blow to the side of her head made her ears ring and dots dance in front of her eyes.

“Aw, man, now why’d you have to go and do that?” non-Bob whined.

“That had better be your blood and not hers,” a gravelly voice said from somewhere nearby.

Wyatt.

Bob twisted around but pressed his knee in the center of her back.

“Goddammit. I knew we was going to get busted,” the tall man mumbled.

“You better stay right where you’re at, or I’ll cut her,” Bob said.

Isabell stopped struggling when something sharp pressed against her cheek and ear.

“I suggest you put that knife away before I take it away from you. And I promise, you won’t like what I do with it after that,” Wyatt said with deadly calm.

“Now, Hotah, me and Bob was just leaving. We weren’t going to hurt her or nothing. Just leave her somewhere that might take her a while to walk from.”

Hotah? Did he mean Wyatt?

“You mean dump her in the middle of nowhere with no means of survival. Is that what you were thinking?”

Isabelle hadn’t heard Wyatt take a step, but his voice sounded closer, and the tension in Bob’s body had increased.

“Well, maybe a little like—” the taller man began.

“Will you shut up, Dalton?” Bob ordered. “Now I’m serious, Ranger. Back off and we’ll ease on out of here, and you can take care of the lady, and we’ll all pretend like this never happened.”

“I don’t think so,” Wyatt murmured.

Isabelle’s emotions were a jumbled mess. Part of her was terrified. Another pissed as hell the stinky guy had her pinned to the ground. Yet another part was oddly turned on by the command that rang in Wyatt’s voice.

“Looks to me like you’re out numbered and”—the pressure of the knife against her neck lifted, and Bob’s knee twisted on her spine—“I’ve got the knife
and
the gun. What you got, Ranger?”

“Me,” Wyatt growled.

Suddenly, Bob was knocked aside, off her. The crack of fist against flesh made her scramble to her feet to help Wyatt. She found him straddling Bob, his fist raised, and then he landed yet another punch. Based on the blood seeping from Bob’s nose and the limpness of his arms, another wouldn’t be necessary.

The tall man took a step toward Wyatt and Bob, but froze when Wyatt snarled at him.

The hair on Isabelle’s neck stood on end, and her pussy clenched.
Holy cow!
What was it about Wyatt today? She had never had such an urge to rip someone’s clothes off. Perhaps she had developed a thing for brawny men who came to her rescue.

“Wyatt? Can we get out of here?” Her voice was shakier than she intended.

His attention switched to her. His wild-eyed gaze held her enthralled, and, for a moment, she could have sworn his nose had grown and his eyes had darkened. She shook her head, and when she refocused, he looked normal.

Only much angrier.

He climbed off of Bob and wiped his knuckles on his jeans. “Dalton, you’ve got about two seconds to apologize to Isabelle for scaring her. Then you’re going to help me toss your friend here”—he gestured to Bob’s unconscious form—“into the bed of your truck. After that, we’re going to head to the park office. Understood?”

Dalton’s shoulders slumped in defeat. “Understood.” He looked at Isabelle. “My apologies, miss. Bob don’t usually mean no harm. I’m sure when he comes around, he’ll be sorry, too.”

Somehow she doubted that.

Wyatt frowned at Dalton then shook his head. “Help me toss him into the truck.”

Together, the two of them lifted Bob, but Wyatt tossed the still-unconscious man into the metal bed of the truck without a hint of gentleness.

Wyatt pointed to Dalton. “You’re ridding up front with me.”

“What about me?” Isabelle demanded.
Unbelievable!
He hadn’t said anything to her or asked if she was okay.

He tossed her a set of keys. “Follow us in my truck.”

“Yes, sir,” she grumbled.

On the drive to the park office, she called Wyatt several choice names. By the time she parked and got out, she had only released a fraction of her frustration but had come to the conclusion she wanted nothing more to do with the insensitive macho man even though he had an annoying habit of showing up in time to play the hero.

Wyatt led Dalton into the office with little more than a glance in her direction.

She rolled her eyes and followed them in.

When Isabelle entered, Sharon, the office manager she’d met earlier in the week rushed over and clasped her by the shoulders. “Are you all right?”

“I, uh….” She glanced at Wyatt. “Yeah. A little bruised, but otherwise, I’m fine.”

Sharon pulled her into a hug. “Oh, you poor thing. That had to be terrifying.” She released Isabelle from the crushing embrace but didn’t let go of her. “Wyatt called us and told us what happened.” She drew her toward an office at the rear of the building. “You come on back here while Wyatt deals with those two hoodlums.”

“I wasn’t planning on staying. I think I should go to my camp.”

Sharon steered her into the office and pointed to the sofa against the wall. “No, no, no. You’ve had a bit of a shock. You need to sit right there and collect yourself.” She patted Isabelle on the shoulder and didn’t give her a chance to respond. “Besides, Wyatt may need you to answer some questions.” Without stopping for a breath, Sharon continued, “Can I bring you anything? Water? Or a soda?” She didn’t let Isabelle answer before adding, “I’ll get you an ice pack for your cheek.” Sharon started to leave but stopped to say, “If you want to clean up, you’re welcome to use the bathroom down the hall.”

“Thank you.” Isabelle managed to get a word in. “I should at least wash my hands and face.”

“Well, you go right ahead. I’ll bring you a bottle of water. We may have some canned fruit in the cabinet if you’d like.”

“No, thank you. The water is all I need.” Isabelle crinkled her nose and touched her cheek. It throbbed in time with her heartbeat. “Besides, I don’t think I could eat anything right now.”

Sharon nodded and made noises of sympathy. “Ah. I didn’t think of that. Well, take your time. Wyatt may be a while.”

Before Sharon finished her sentence, Wyatt appeared in the doorway. “Come on.”

“Can your questions wait until I’ve washed up?” Isabelle groused.

“You can clean up in a bit. Let’s go.”

Isabelle looked at Sharon. She appeared confused by Wyatt’s behavior but then smiled in Isabelle’s direction. “Perhaps it would be best to get the questions out of the way while the answers are fresh in your mind.”

Isabelle took a deep breath and resigned herself to putting up with Wyatt’s questions and his bossy attitude. However, when she followed him to the front office, he didn’t stop and, instead, held the door open for her to precede him.

“Where are we—”

“Just get in the truck.”

“But—”

“Get in the truck, Isabelle. Now.”

Despite the urge to tell him to kiss her entire ass, something warned her this was not the time to argue.

Without saying a word, she climbed into the passenger side and buckled her seatbelt.

Wyatt got in, started the ignition, and pulled out of the parking area without so much as a glance in her direction.

Finally, she had to ask, “Where are we going?”

“My place.”

“Why?”

He didn’t answer, just drove in silence.

Perhaps he needed to pick up something he’d left behind that morning and didn’t want her getting in the way at the office. That was plausible.

After a few miles, they turned off the paved road. The turn would be easy to miss if you didn’t know to look for it. When the trees opened into a clearing, she saw a simple yet contemporary ranch house. All of the wood siding lent a rustic feel to a modern structure, creating a unique combination.

Wyatt still said nothing as he parked and got out of the truck. Isabelle shook her head and followed him into the house. The living room had one wall of windows facing a small courtyard at the rear of the house. The leather couch and chair were set at perfect angles to the wall of books that also held a large TV. The entire area was much cleaner than she expected for bachelor quarters.