snow made Vic’s stomach tighten.
Of course, it might be fun to be a cougar with big teeth and claws and run into the Ice Queen or Cleavage. Hooyah, she’d give a whole new meaning to nasty feral. Now if bitch one and two were the only ones she might attack, she’d do that trawsfur thing in a heartbeat.
But apparently a feral didn’t choose its victims. No one could hate Helen, yet Fergus had tried to kill her.
Hell, the kid was probably already hurt. She imagined Jamie’s face at finding the note and cringed inside.
Dammit, she wasn’t going to think about them. Her throat tightened as if a garrote drew tight around it. The sex had been…wondrous, but what she really missed was how the men touched her so often. So lovingly. The way Calum would run a finger down her cheek, or Alec tuck an arm around her waist and pull her close. As if she belonged beside them. She swallowed hard and blinked back tears, then bent her head and concentrated on the trail. Footstep after footstep.
On reaching the summit, she stopped to catch her breath. Fat puffs of snow had started falling, and the dark clouds warned of more to come. As her eyes rested on the forested slopes and the white-covered peaks, quiet wrapped around her.
Once she’d stopped crying and listened to the silence, she’d started to feel the strength that existed deep within the wilderness-and her connection to it. Like going into a firefight, and knowing your teammates had your back.
She shook her head. As she’d walked, miserable and trying not to cry, she’d felt it, pulling her in. Somehow this place was…was like a part of her. Like she’d found a piece that had been missing.
But she’d also acquired something else. Closing her eyes, she could see in the dark of her mind, that fucking door. It glowed now around the edges, like light seeped through from some other place. Five years ago, she’d gotten stranded in the desert. Drank the last of her water. By the time she’d reached the military outpost her entire body had craved fluids, and then a soldier had held out a canteen.
She wanted to open that door even more than she’d wanted that canteen.
Tears blurred the trail in front of her as she started down the other side. Toward a life she no longer wanted.
The brothers and Jamie had returned a few days ago…without his little barmaid. Still residing in Calum’s guest room, Thorson opened his book and tried to concentrate on Dumas’s Three Musketeers, but D’Artagnan wasn’t holding his attention. He returned to fuming.
Vicki had not only turned down his grandson’s gift, she hadn’t stopped to see him. Damn the girl, she was supposed to have come back-she was his family now. He’d finally figured out what Lachlan had wanted. The boy hadn’t had a chance to mature to wisdom, but his perception of people had been unrivaled. Knowing he was dying, he’d sent Thorson a substitute grandchild.
Thorson smiled a little. Being Lachlan, he probably hadn’t even considered that Thorson might go feral upon his death. No, he’d just wanted his grandfather to have someone to love. He closed the book with a thump and rose from the soft chair, scowling as pain lanced into his shoulder. Pulling the curtain back, he looked out. Snow hissed against the window and formed drifts in Calum’s garden.
Had he lost another child before he’d even known she was his?
A knock pulled his attention away. “Enter.”
Calum appeared in the door, his expression angry. “I-”
“First, tell me. Is she still up there?”
Calum knew exactly who he meant, and the lines in his face deepened. “Her car remains at her house.”
Was she lost in the mountains? Dying alone?
“Joe, she filled her backpack with everything she’d need to survive.” Calum scrubbed his face and admitted, “I’m worried too. If she doesn’t show up by tonight, I’ll call out the clan to look for her.”
“Thank you, Cosantir. Now, what’s happened to anger you?”
“Alec called. Angie found Irma Neilson’s dog injured in the park. Pretty dehydrated as if it had been there a while-and Irma’s missing.”
“She’d never leave that fat sausage,” Thorson muttered.
“Exactly.”
“You think she got taken? Kidnapped?” Thorson scowled.
“Possibly. Just in case, people are searching the forest around the park. But…” Calum’s face tightened. “Alec has a list of recent rentals from one realtor and is trying to reach the other. The deputy is taking part of the list, but I’m going to check the ones outside town.”
Thorson frowned. With the power of Herne ramping up his senses, the Cosantir could probably tell-smell-if Mrs. Neilson was in a house. But still… “The old woman is human, Calum.”
“She lives in my territory.”
And he protected anyone in his territory, clan or not. Herne hadn’t chosen wrong when he made Calum McGregor the Cosantir for the North Cascades. Thorson bent his head in acknowledgment…and respect. “How can I help, Cosantir?”
“I’d like to leave Jamie with you.”
Jamie peeked around Calum, her face puckered with worry, and Thorson pulled his features into a smile. “I’d be delighted to have company, especially if she’ll play chess with me.”
“I’d rather play poker.”
Calum straightened. “Gambling? With Jamie?”
“The stakes are M and M’s,” Thorson said, knowing his tail was surely caught in a trap on this one.
But when Jamie boasted, “I beat him last time,” and laughed out loud, Calum’s expression changed. Lightened. The child had been a solemn ghost since returning from Elder Village. None of them had realized how much she’d come to care for Vicki…how she’d craved a female’s attention.
“A card shark, indeed.” Calum shook his head with a small smile. “In that case, try not to win all of Joe’s candy. He might cry.”
Jamie snickered and trotted into the room, kneeling to get the cards from the nightstand. Thorson sighed. At one time, her head would have come level with the top.
As though Calum heard his thoughts, he said, “Call me if there’s any signs she is starting-well, if you need me for anything.”
