her heels.
Shouts. Curses. Rapid-fire gunshots.
The security floodlights bathed the compound, bright as daytime. Any second she expected a bullet to plow into her back and end her life. Or Ryon’s. God, where was he?
Two men were closing in fast on her right, shouting, “Stop!”
No freaking way was she going to do that, so why did the bad guys always yell something so stupid? She saw them raise their rifles. A scream welled in her throat, but came out as a pitiful whimper. Her headlong flight, along with sheer terror, had sucked the air from her lungs. The back wall loomed near, but she wasn’t going to make it. They were going to kill her.
Daria braced herself, but no bullets ripped through her body. Swiveling her head as she ran, she saw Ryon coming across the lawn after her, half-limping, rifle trained on the two goons. Their bodies jerked, and fell. He stopped, spun, and sprayed more bullets toward the shattered office window.
Reaching the wall, Daria’s wolf had no trouble scaling it in about two seconds flat, and she flung herself over. Three steps, and she was plunged into total darkness. Chest heaving, she halted and tried to figure her next move. A thud and a crunch of leaves alerted her that someone had come over the wall. She swung around in terror.
“Daria?” Ryon called.
“All right,” he said, breathing hard. “Let me put on the night vision goggles and I’ll come to you. Are you hurt?”
“I—I’m not sure. Maybe my head, from the glass. Lost my clothes when I shifted and ran, too. What about you?”
A hesitation. “I’m fine. Okay, I see you.” He stepped up and grabbed her hand. “I’ve got on the goggles, and I’ll lead the way. You’re going to have to trust me to be our eyes, but I promise I won’t let anything happen to you. Hang on tight to the strap on my pack. If you accidentally lose your hold, yell and I’ll get you.”
“Wouldn’t it be better just to ditch our stuff now, shift, and run to meet the team in wolf form? We’re done with the op, and we’d make better time.”
“I’m sorry, but I can’t hold my shift, baby,” he rasped. “I’m too sick.”
“It’s okay,” she reassured him. “We’ll make it.”
“Here, put these on.” Rustling in the pack, he threw a spare set of clothes at her, and some shoes.
They were hers, and she realized he’d grabbed her pack as well as his, plus the weapons. Bless him. Ryon muttered an oath and moved around her, placing her left hand on his pack. She found the strap and locked it in a death grip, the SIG in her right hand.
Daria tugged on the strap. “Ready.”
Ryon starting walking fast, beating a path through the forest. She couldn’t see a damned thing, and had to console herself with the fact that he could see just fine. If they ran into August’s men or some other vile creature, Ryon would know.
Daria stumbled upon occasion but managed, for the most part. He was careful to move slowly and tell her when to step over a fallen tree or duck to avoid a branch in the face. Even so, having her movement restricted by hanging on to him proved a tedious way to hike. Before long, her arms and shoulders ached. Better than getting lost, however.
The tough trek helped focus her attention away from what she really longed to do—find a nice, soft bed and sleep for a year with her mate curled around her like a second skin.
Then she became aware of something. “Ryon, stop and listen.”
He did, and they stood, drinking in the usual nighttime symphony.
“They’re not following us. Damn.”
Dread pricked at her. “And that’s a
“My best guess is that August’s calling in his men who are already out there looking for us. If I were him, I’d have them form a dragnet around us. That’s why they aren’t giving chase. He’s not worried about catching us.”
Ryon let out a deep breath, which ended on a slight wheeze. He coughed a couple of times, then slumped sideways. When he didn’t fall, she reached out with her gun hand and came into contact with bark. He was leaning against a tree.
She frowned. “What happened back there between you and my uncle? Are you really all right?”
“I wanted to send him to the devil where he belongs, but his men were storming the house. I had to either let him go and run, or stay to finish him, and die.”
His voice was thick and strange, not like Ryon at all. She didn’t like it one bit.
“How’s the leg?” she pressed.
“Still holding me upright.”
Okay, but not for long. “Are we stopping here? You need to rest.”
“We’re not making camp tonight. Have to . . . keep moving.” Another cough, and a shudder.
Daria stuck the SIG in the waistband of her fatigues and reached for him. Her fingers found his neck, and skimmed up to his stubbled cheek. “You’re burning up!”
“No help for it.” He straightened, relaying his plan as though he wasn’t about to collapse. “Listen, we have to divert from our course in a major way, or they’re going to surround us.”
“How about turning just to the south?” she suggested.
Ryon nodded. “When we locate a suitable place for the helicopter to lift us out, I’ll tell Nick, and the guys will be on the way. Shouldn’t take them but a couple of hours to get to us.”
“Sounds like you’ve got us covered. It’s your show.”
Indeed, it had been, from the second he exploded into her life. Ryon, infuriating her, capturing her heart, then wringing it like an old dishrag. If he didn’t get help soon, she’d lose her mate. It was that horribly simple.
After a few hours, the forest began to lighten enough to see. He took off the goggles and she no longer had to hang on to him. When she was finally able to study Ryon from behind, even her limited view couldn’t hide his condition.
Sweat dripped off the ends of his blond hair, making it appear darker, and his T-shirt was soaked. She wasn’t so dry herself, but she didn’t have a sky-high fever. He walked stiffly, stumbling now and then, boots dragging as though every step caused agony. And he never once complained.
Around midmorning, the banks of the river appeared. Ryon, however, kept to the cover of the trees, pushing them hard and not stopping for a break until nearly noon. When he did, he slung his pack and rifle to the ground, backed against a tree, and slid to the ground without a word. He removed two bottles of water from his pack and offered one to her.
Daria took it gratefully, forcing herself not to gulp. Ryon drained his in a few swallows. Her stomach growled, and she fetched a couple of the stolen granola bars, holding one out to him. To her dismay, he shook his head and closed his eyes, tilting his head back.
She ate hers, worried about the lines of strain on his face. He had purple smudges under his eyes, and his cheeks were flushed. Finishing the snack, she wiped her palms and scooted next to him.
“Drop your pants, honey. Let’s have a look at the leg.”
With a heavy sigh, he worked them down to his calves and leaned back again, not even bothering to make a joke about her need for him to get naked. Her gaze dropped to his right thigh and she received a violent shock. A small, neat hole marred the flesh about three inches above the bandages.
“You’ve been shot!” she exclaimed. “Dammit, Ryon, why didn’t you say anything?”
“Because there’s nothing you can do. It hurts, but it’s not bleeding much, and I can walk.”
“Yes, I can do something, even if it’s not much. You’re going to take some aspirin, even if I have to shove them down your throat. Do you understand?” she insisted.
In his weakened state, he wouldn’t win this one, Daria told herself as she dug for them. Shaking out four pills, she handed them to him, along with her water. He scowled, and she returned it. As she predicted, he gave first.
