Mountain Man Daddy Page 2

  As Mike picked up his ax to start another pile, he glanced at the old checkered dog bed that Rocky’d had since he was a cub. It was too small, and Rocky’s body always hung off of it, but when Mike had bought a bigger version, Rocky refused to use it. The bed was empty then, as was the doghouse Mike had built for him.

  Rocky had been hibernating in the doghouse up until a few weeks ago, although hibernating wasn’t quite the right word. He slept for days, sometimes weeks through winter, but he woke on warmer days and poked his head out to explore a little, or maybe it was to check on Mike. He chuckled at the thought. The bear was probably just making sure he hadn’t left him.

  Rocky didn’t need Mike for food. He found his own sustenance. The only thing he got from Mike was companionship. Mike shook his head. Some scientist somewhere would have a heyday trying to figure them out if they knew. When he had chopped enough for ten more armloads, he took another break and looked down the mountain, attempting to spot Rocky. Something glinted from the valley. Mike grabbed the small pair of binoculars he always kept in his jacket pocket to keep an eye on his mountain.

  He found the road first, and his eyes followed it, thinking maybe it was a stopped car, but instead he found the mangled guard rail. Shit.

  He scanned the area in a grid pattern until the glint caught his eye again. A vehicle—even more twisted and misshapen than the guardrail. He also noted Rocky was there, pacing like a guardian, and that told him two things. The vehicle wasn’t empty, and the wildcat was near.

  * * *

  “What’ve you got, Rocky?”

  A gruff voice pulled her from the darkness this time, but her eyes remained closed as she hovered on the edge of wakefulness. It could go either way, she thought and then gave one huff-like laugh. The moisture from her breath seemed to freeze on her lips.

  Rocky? Honestly, she felt like she’d had one too many rounds with the Italian Stallion. Another humorless grunt followed as she thought of the moose.

  “Rocky and Bullwinkle,” she murmured but before she could focus on which was the moose and which the squirrel, she slipped away again.

  “If you’ve got time for old rerun television shows, you’ve got time for more chores.”

  “But it’s funny, Grandmother. I like the way the moose talks.” The TV clicked off, and the rail-thin woman handed Avery a heavy bucket with water and a soapy sponge. She didn’t dare sigh or huff like she wanted to, but stood instead and asked where she was meant to scrub. This was why she kept her library books hidden beneath a loose floorboard in her closet. If she had time to read, she had time for more chores.

  “Basement,” she said tersely and left Avery to carry the bucket down the steep staircase. Tonight, she’d read Anne of Green Gables again, if her hands weren’t too sore from scouring the cement floors.

  The wet, hot stench of decay blasted her face, and the snuffling groan of something monstrous woke her.

  Had the men that killed Alex caught up with her? Had they caged her with an animal?

  Avery gulped in frigid air as something wet touched her face and she turned away with a croak. It snuffled hotly then, and she tried to twist further away. Her mind cleared a bit further, and she became aware of the heady smell of earth and damp animal fur. What the hell was that?

  “Pull it together, Avery,” she mumbled to herself and opened her eyes. The crushed Jeep dash wrenched her back to reality.

  Living on the run.

  The mountain trail.

  The climbing speed.

  The moose.

  It all hit her at once, again.

  No! She struggled against the mangled Jeep and her seatbelt, tears leaking from her eyes at the anguish it caused. She knew she had to escape. Although she’d been in and out of consciousness, she knew she’d been trapped in the Jeep at least one night and time was the only advantage she had. They wouldn’t be far behind, not when one of the men looking for her was a cop. She roared like an animal and wrenched her leg out from where it was jammed between the console and dash. She felt the tearing of jeans and flesh but ignored it. She could never stop running.

  “Stay still.” A gruff voice spoke, flaring panic within her and she struggled more. “Dammit, you could have a spinal injury!” The voice sounded impatient and bad-tempered.

  Avery turned her face swiftly toward the voice and a stab of pain shot through her head so severe she gagged.

  “Jesus! Easy now. You’ve been in an accident.”

  Huge paws hit the side of the car, rocking both it and her gut. Her eyes widened and she screamed just as the black bear, with a tan-colored muzzle, chuffed hot rancid breath on her face. A big arm came around the bear’s neck and knocked him off.

  “Back off, Rocky,” the man said in a half-growl, half-speak sort of language. A bearded face came into her sightline just as the blackness started creeping back—handsome, rugged, and cantankerous. “Where does it hurt?”

  “B-bear?” Her voice was fear-filled, but she wasn’t sure about which she felt more fearful, the bear or the craggy, wild man who seemed unfazed by it.

  She blinked at the bright blue eyes fanned by creases, and the black winter toque pulled low on his lightly lined forehead. His blond hair fell over his shoulders as he leaned in, but before she could fully assess him, he faded into the shrinking hole of inky black.

  * * *

  Mike felt a rush of panic at the blood and twisted metal before him. The woman inside was battered, but his biggest concern wasn’t the scabbing gash on her forehead, it was the surreal amount of fresh blood all over her lap that still pumped by the second. He couldn’t see the rest of her, but the thigh wound was life or death. Beneath the crushed dash, she could be even more gravely injured.

  “Hey, girl, wake up!” He didn’t risk shaking her, but knew it was best to keep her conscious. “Girl!” He took the scarf from around his neck and pushed it hard against her thigh where a little bubble of blood formed every few seconds.

  Since the outside door handle had been sheared off, he pulled the lever on the inside. He’d had some critical roadside care training in his early years as a cop, but with an arterial wound, his skills wouldn’t be enough. He had neither a cell nor a home phone. He didn’t even have a vehicle with him. He had a motorcycle, an ATV, and a snowmobile, but they were all at the cabin.

  He pressed his lips together and surveyed the situation inside the Jeep. The airbag had deployed, and the front column and steering wheel had been pushed in toward her chest, but he saw no further open wounds. She moaned when he reached across her and clicked her seatbelt. Thank God, she’d been wearing one. She fell forward a little and gave a long pathetic moan. His heart ached for her.

  “Head lacerations bleed a lot, but it’s not too deep, and it’s scabbing,” he mumbled to himself in a barely audible voice. “Relax.” His voice sounded curt and uncivilized. It was the most he’d spoken in a long time. He didn’t talk much anymore, except to Rocky, and that was more in grunts than anything, but bears didn’t understand words, even tame bears that had grown up among humans. Occasionally he spoke to Annie, but that was often in grunts, too.

  “Honey, I’m going to help you. You’re going to be okay,” he added, hoping to soften his earlier, gruffer words.

  The girl’s head lolled toward him, and her eyes blinked open. They were hazel, a unique combo of green and light brown. He’d never seen eyes quite this color before, but the pain and expectation they held were familiar. They cut right through him, stopping the air from entering his lungs. He shook off the cold chill that slithered inside his gut and he sucked in air with determination. Mike brushed her hair carefully off her face.

  “What’s your name, sweetheart?” he questioned, cupping her small, battered face in his large hand. He looked at her pupils for signs of brain injury, but once again he didn’t know what he was looking for.

  “Let me die,” she croaked in response. Mike growled, feeling a blip of annoyance at her for giving up and shook his head.


  “Not happening, young lady.” She clutched his hand suddenly as it left her face. Fear practically pulsed off her like heat from a blast furnace. He had no choice. He had to move her. Pulling her out would likely cause more bleeding, but leaving her meant she’d die for sure. There wasn’t help nearby. Hell, there was nothing nearby. Then there was the wildcat he’d been tracking for the last week. It was a miracle the girl hadn’t been found, especially with the amount of blood she’d lost and the fact that the cat had cubs.

  “No, please. I’m as good as dead anyway. Leave me.”

  “Hush up. No one’s dying.” His voice held an edge of impatience. He didn’t care what he had to do to make that happen, but she would listen, and she would survive.

  He dug his right arm behind her back and his left under her knees and pulled. The scream that tore from her was like a knife to his heart. Jesus, she has some lungs on her, he thought, brushing away the horrific memories they yanked to the surface of his mind. He’d seen too much when he was an RCMP officer, particularly once he’d become a staff sergeant and started hunting killers.

  “I’m getting you help.” He pulled her against his abdomen, noticing the gash pumping again. “Put your arm around my neck,” he ordered. Her face fell against his chest, and she weakly clutched the collar of his shirt.

  “Dammit, little girl, do as you’re told!” She blinked at his demanding tone but made an effort to put her arm weakly around his neck.

  “Good. Now you stay awake, you hear? No more sleeping.” He had to keep her conscious. He paused, propping his foot on the tire and sat her on his knee while leaning her against the Jeep so he could release her. He reached between their bodies and pulled his belt loose. The scarf was soaked, so he took his winter toque off his head and placed it over the wound on her thigh. Then he looped the belt around her leg and slid it up over the toque. He pulled the belt snug, causing her to call out.

  “Hold this with your other arm.” He released the belt long enough to grab her hand and place it where he wanted it. “Pull this tight.” She didn’t seem to move at all, so he swore. If she didn’t do it, she’d die.

  “Little girl, you will pull this belt tight right now.” There was a firm authority to his voice, and her eyes swung to his. Whatever she was looking for in his stare, she found it, because she finally yanked the belt. He let out a breath of relief as he used his hunting knife to poke a new hole in the leather and secure the belt tightly in place. The bleeding at least slowed enough to give them some more time.

  “Good girl.” Her lips turned up slightly before she drooped, all her strength gone. He scooped her back up before she could slump off his knee.

  Despite his strength, carrying her was no easy feat, because the distance was great, the walk steep and the wind bitingly cold. Though he loved his shack on the side of the mountain, with its fantastic views and privacy, today he wished it was closer to town. He puffed out a breath, looking up at the cabin still a distance away. He also wished it was closer to the bottom as well.

  He looked down at the bloodstained woman in his arms. Her lips were pretty and full, and she had a cute rounded chin. He wondered what she looked like healthy. Her soft corkscrew curls were white blonde. She was on the short side, with a small upper body but rounded hips. She probably had a family that adored her, a boyfriend ready to propose, a life she was torn from—a life she deserved to live fully.

  Her eyes slid closed.

  “Dammit!” He sped up. “Come on, beautiful, open those eyes for me.”

  His back ached by the time he set her down on his sofa, but he ignored it.

  “I’m getting you to someone who can help. Stay awake.” He kept her warm by throwing another log on the fire and covering her in a thick blanket before he left to hook the small trailer up to his ATV. Mike lined it with blankets and cushions to keep her as still and buffered from the rough terrain as possible.

  The bear eyed him, looking concerned as Mike jogged up the porch to get the girl. He told himself the bear was just a wild animal, and the looks he saw were in his head, but he didn’t completely believe it. He’d saved Rocky from a slow death of starvation and blood loss when he came upon him as a small injured cub with his mortally wounded mother. Rocky had been following him ever since Mike had nursed him back to health. And no matter how hard he tried to release him into the wild after that, he came back. After a while, Mike not only accepted the bear but enjoyed the companionship Rocky provided.

  “Don’t worry. I’ll be back,” Mike said to the bear. Rocky snorted and lumbered off.

  The girl cried out briefly when Mike transferred her to the cart but didn’t seem to have the energy to hold her eyes on his for longer than a few seconds. He tucked more blankets around her to keep her warm.

  “You hang on, honey. I’ll get you medical help as fast as I can.” Her eyes burst open, looking owlish, and fear flooded them, but she couldn’t speak. His gut lurched. He shook his head when she tried to sit up. “Lie back.” She blinked at his stern command, but didn’t stop struggling.

  “No hospital!” Her words came out clear but distressed, making him pause. He knew real fear and this girl had it. “Please, they’ll find me.”

  Mike refrained from asking who since it would only steal time they didn’t have.

  “I’ve got you, and I’m taking you someplace safe. Now do as you’re told, sweetheart.” She relaxed, and slumped back against the pillows. He threw his long leg over the seat of the four-wheeler and started the engine. There was no way she was going to die. No fucking way. The path to Annie’s was a three-mile trek through a wooded trail that he tried to take with both speed and caution. He pulled into the drive of a blue clapboard-sided farmhouse.

  He started hollering for Annie, as he scooped the girl into his arms. He tucked her against his chest and jogged toward the porch. The girl was completely dead weight now, and he hoped he wasn’t too late. “Annie!”

  “Christ almighty, Yukon. What’s the damn ruckus about?” His only human friend came out of the house in pajamas, her long gray hair swinging loosely past her trim waist. She swore as soon as she saw he carried a girl, and quickly spun back through the door.

  “Take her to the back.”

  The clinic exam room at the back of Annie’s was still fully equipped, even though her backwoods-doctor husband had been dead for several years. The exam table still even had a sheet over it.

  “Put her on the table,” Annie ordered as she clicked on the exam lamp. She washed her hands in the little sink and pulled on rubber gloves as Mike situated the woman on the table.

  “The biggest concern is the wound on her right thigh. Looks like it nicked an artery and she’s lost quite a bit of blood.”

  Annie shoved him back and started working.

  “Get back, Yukon. I got it from here.”

  He didn’t get back though, but merely moved to her other side, out of Annie’s way. The girl was pale and breathing shallowly now. He thought she was completely unconscious until she grabbed his arm fiercely, probably using every ounce of remaining strength she had. Her eyes pierced right through him as they pleaded and her mouth opened to form inaudible words. He read her pretty, but cracked, blood-crusted lips.

  Please don’t leave me.

  “I’m staying,” he said, and he did it with such determination, Annie only nodded. He watched her work, placing an IV, oxygen mask, and some leads to monitor her. As Mike looked at the monitor beeping to life, fear gripped him. He didn’t know the girl, but he damn well wasn’t leaving her to die alone. He took her small hand in his, bent his head and prayed—something he hadn’t done in years.

  * * *

  “Why, Alex. Why?” Her voice cracked with emotion as the man she’d once loved more than anything stood in front of her holding the foreclosure papers she’d shoved at him. His face wasn’t cold or angry, just indifferent. He stood back and waved her into his apartment. How the hell could he afford an apartment? He’d bled her dry, so who was paying for
it? She pushed the ridiculous jealousy down deep. Maybe he had a new woman to con.

  “Because it’s who I am, mouse,” he said, using the nickname he had for her. He plowed a hand through the familiar dark swoop of his hair. After all the years of lies and betrayals, the swoop no longer appealed.

  “Don’t call me that!” It came out angry but fizzled fast. “Who are you?” she mumbled in disbelief. “Who the hell are you?” She started to breathe too quickly, and her chest felt tight. “You’re a…” She couldn’t finish her sentence, and he sighed impatiently.

  “A con artist. A hustler. I tricked you, Avery. You were a goddamned easy target, too.” He chuckled darkly. “Maybe this will be a lesson for you.” She thought there was regret in the sound, but she couldn’t be sure—she couldn’t trust herself anymore, could she? “Jesus, mouse, don’t fall for the smooth ones.” He shook his head and added, “We’re all bad news.”

  “I was going to say asshole,” she stated dryly but hurt took over again. “The house? The cars? My t-trust!” She felt all-encompassing anguish at the smirk playing on his mouth.

  “Trust or trust fund?” He huffed humorlessly. “Breaking your trust was a fucking gift.” His dark brown eyes hardened on hers, and he picked a glass filled with amber liquid off the coffee table and emptied it. “Maybe you won’t be so damned naive next time around. And as far as the trust fund, Av. It’s not like there isn’t more coming. In a fuckin’ year, you’ll be living high and mighty again. The bank knows that when you turn thirty, you’ll be getting over five million. You can save the house. But honestly, why would you want to?” He looked around, crossing his tanned arms over his chest. “Our house will only haunt you with memories.”