Defeat the Darkness (24 page)

The darkness nipped at the edges of his mind again, and this time there was no stopping it. If he was going to die again, at least his mind was in a better place. His last thought was that he'd really like to live long enough to make love to Tate Justice again.

The thirty-minute deadline had come and gone over an hour ago, and Tate still couldn't relax enough to go to sleep. What was wrong with her? If Hunter wanted to stay gone all night long, it was none of her business. He was a grown man and could take care of himself.

But something kept drawing her back to the window, to check one last time to see if he'd made it home safely. His truck was parked right where it belonged, but it had been there the whole time. Where had he gone on foot?

He was down on the trail again. He had to be. The idiot, hadn't she warned him how dangerous it was once
the sun set? But big macho man that he was, he thought he was immune to a simple trip and fall that could knock him senseless or break his neck. What he chose to do, stupid or not, wasn't her problem, she reminded herself for the millionth time.

Which, of course, was why she'd put her jeans and shirt back on before heading out the back door, a flashlight in her hand and her cell phone in her pocket. She'd march down to the beach to find out one way or the other if her renter had lost what few marbles God gave men to play with. Once she had Hunter in her sights, she planned on ripping into him but good. He was long overdue for a lecture on common sense and courtesy.

That is, if he was all right when she found him. If he wasn't, she'd deal with his injuries and
then
lecture him on common sense. Either way, she was going to get it through his thick skull that he shouldn't take unnecessary risks. She understood that it was hard for him to be inside once the sun went down. But he could find a safer place to outpace his demons than a rough trail that wound through the woods and down a steep bluff.

She stopped when she got to the porch. Maybe she should check his apartment first in case he'd slipped past her vigil. It wasn't as if she'd been watching for him every minute. She sprinted across the grass and up the steps. As she raised her hand to rap on the door, she was reminded of the last time she'd appeared at his door unexpectedly.

And look where that had gotten her—on her back in his bed. Well, that wasn't going to happen tonight. She was here on a rescue mission, and that was all. But the
images of that afternoon left her breasts feeling heavy and a heated ache between her legs.

Ignoring her body's hunger for his, she pounded on the door again. When there was no sign of life inside the apartment, she tried the knob and found it unlocked. Feeling guilty for invading Hunter's privacy, she ventured inside.

“Hunter? Are you here?”

She flipped the switch next to the door and blinked at the glaring brightness. From where she stood, she could see that both the bathroom and the living room were empty. That left one more place to check. The memories of the last time she'd crossed the threshold of his bedroom had her hesitating to push the door open, but finally she did.

The bed was rumpled, as if he'd made a halfhearted effort to make it, but it was definitely unoccupied. Feeling an odd mixture of disappointment and relief, she backed out into the living room. Okay, she'd eliminated one possibility. That left the beach.

She turned off the light on her way outside and pulled the door closed. Rather than immediately heading down the steps, she waited for her eyes to readjust to the darkness. From where she stood, she could see most of her backyard, as well as the road that ran along the front of her property. She thought she heard the low rumble of a powerful engine in the distance.

She leaned forward, as if those couple of inches would help her hear better. Yes, there was definitely some kind of vehicle at the far end of the road, but it was too distant for her to make out any details. Was that
same truck back? There was no way to know for sure, but the mere possibility ramped up the sense of urgency she'd been battling all night.

Hunter was in trouble, though how she knew that she had no idea. She just did. Within seconds she pounded down the steps and took off for the woods. She had to find him. Inside the tree line she slowed down, knowing she wouldn't be any good to him if she didn't keep her head.

She kept her light focused on the ground just ahead of her feet, determined not to make the same mistakes she made last time. Even if Hunter was lurking in those same shadows, that would be all right. At least she'd know he was okay, and they could finish what they'd started up against that big tree. But no, she soon passed the spot where Hunter had grabbed her that first time, and there was still no sign of him.

As she went farther along the path, she began sweeping the flashlight in a broad arc, looking for a sign that someone had recently passed through. So far, nothing, but rather than finding it reassuring, her pulse was doing a salsa.

As her light made a return sweep, it caught the edge of something that looked out of place. She slowed down and repeated the same arc, this time slower. There, on the left. Keeping the flashlight focused on the scrap of red poking out from under a bush, she hurried forward.

It was a backpack, but there was nothing that identified it as Hunter's. One of the straps had been sliced in half, and there was a long gash along one side, the kind made by a sharp blade. Her stomach cramped tight
with fear. Now was the time for panic. Focusing on the ground, she looked around for any other evidence. She muttered a heartfelt curse when she spotted a familiar-looking black tube and bent down to pick it up.

Although it was missing its ivory handle, she knew she was looking at Hunter's cane. How had the wolf's head broken off without damaging the wood? More questions and damn few answers.

She studied the ground, spotting a few tracks that looked fresh, but they told her nothing. Having gleaned what little she could from the ground, she studied the bushes and undergrowth around the area. Several limbs were bent and a few were broken off entirely, as if there'd been a fight.

Should she start calling Hunter's name? No, only as a last resort. Whoever had attacked him—if that's even what had happened—could still be lurking in the area. She was taking enough of a risk just using her flashlight.

As if to underscore the need for caution, she heard what sounded like a moan. She froze. Closing her eyes, she concentrated on trying to distinguish that same soft noise from the normal murmurings of the night.

There it was again. Cautiously, she approached the edge of the trail where it dropped off sharply. One of the low bushes was torn out by the roots, and another one showed definite signs of having been squashed flat. If Hunter had veered off the path there, it hadn't been of his own volition, that was certain.

She had to find out for sure. If he was down there, he could be badly hurt—or worse. The going quickly got dicey, leaving her no option but to tuck her flashlight in
the waistband of her jeans to free up both hands. Grabbing onto saplings and low branches, she made her way down the first ten feet before stopping again. Leaning against the stout trunk of a cedar tree, she pulled out the flashlight to take another look around.

Oh, dear God! Even with the dim light and dark shadows, she knew that was no downed tree she was looking at. It took all the willpower she could muster not to go tearing down the hillside to reach Hunter. If she was going to be of any help to him, she had to approach cautiously.

He stirred slightly and moaned. He was obviously hurt, but definitely alive.

“Take it easy, Hunter. I'm coming,” she called out softly, pitching her voice so that it would reach him but not echo through the woods.

Instead of calming him, her words had him thrashing around and muttering about swords and killers and guns. Was he experiencing another flashback, or trying to warn her? It didn't matter; she wouldn't abandon him. Once she knew how badly hurt he was, she would call for help.

She sat down and scooted down the hill on the seat of her pants, exchanging a bit of dignity for safety. When she reached Hunter's side, she shifted her position to kneel beside him. He'd lapsed back into a silence more worrisome than his earlier agitation.

“Hunter, I'm here. Are you okay?”

He clearly wasn't. Time to call in the cavalry. But when she flipped open her phone, she groaned. No reception. She'd have to administer rudimentary first aid,
and then climb back up to where she might be able to call out.

Holding the flashlight in one hand, she started at his head and worked her way down his powerful body, checking for injuries. She ignored the scrapes he'd collected on his slide down the hill, knowing they'd be painful but not life threatening. The deep gash on his arm was a different matter.

She pulled off her flannel shirt to use as a bandage. The fabric proved to be too strong to rip into strips with just her hands. Hunter seemed the type to carry a pocketknife, but before she could search his pockets, she saw what he had clasped in his other hand. Was that a blade of some kind? She reached across his chest to yank it from his hand.

She recognized the wolf's head immediately and was surprised at how long the actual blade was when she finally worked it out from under Hunter. What was he doing with a sword? Even as she started cutting into the flannel, she put two and two together. The black tube was the sheath for the sword, allowing Hunter to carry a lethal weapon in plain sight. The question was why he felt the need, but she'd have to wait until later to demand an answer.

“I'm sorry if this hurts, but I've got to stop the bleeding,” she explained as she wrapped his arm, although he gave no sign of hearing her. The cloth was already soaked through by the time she tied the knot, so she wrapped one of the shirtsleeves around his arm, hoping to slow the bleeding until the medics could get to him.

“I'm going to check the rest of you for injuries,
Hunter. You look pretty banged up, but I think most of it is from falling down this hillside.”

She kept up a one-sided conversation as she searched for other injuries. His other arm seemed sound, and his legs were both straight, with no obvious breaks or open wounds. Then she pulled up his dark T-shirt, realizing for the first time that all the blood wasn't from the cut on his arm. She'd never seen a bullet hole up close before, but she was looking at one now.

“This is going to hurt, but I'll be as gentle as I can.”

She braced herself for the worst and rolled Hunter toward her to check for an exit wound. Was it a good thing that she found one? How the heck was she supposed to know something like that? They sure didn't cover that topic in the first-aid course she'd taken. But a bleeding wound was a bleeding wound, regardless of the cause. She hacked up some more of her shirt to make a couple of thick pads. Now, to hold them in place. The question was how. His belt might work. She unbuckled it and yanked with all her strength to pull it free from the loops in his jeans.

That was the easy part. It was much harder to work it under him and cinch it down over the makeshift bandage. There wasn't any more to be done until she got some help, although she hated to leave him alone even that long. Would his cell phone work when hers hadn't? It was worth a shot.

“I'm going to try your phone, because my cheap service doesn't do well down here.”

She patted down his pockets, hoping he hadn't lost the phone or broken it in the fall. Luck was with them.
The reception wasn't great, but she should be able to get a call through to 911.

“Hang in there, Hunter. I know it feels like we're out in the middle of nowhere, but the fire department and the aid car will be here in no time.”

And the police as well, but she didn't say so. She hoped Hunter had a good explanation about how he'd come to get shot and stabbed, not to mention why his own sword was covered in blood. At least the inquisition couldn't start until he was stabilized and conscious.

“Okay, I'm dialing. Help's on the way.”

“Don't call.” Hunter's voice was rough and weak; there was no mistaking the steel behind his demand.

Good, he was awake, but he still needed help. “Sorry, but I can't get you back up the hill by myself. I have to call for help.”

Before she could enter the second number, Hunter's hand clamped down on her wrist hard enough to bruise. The sudden motion startled her into dropping the phone. As she scrambled to pick it up, she tried to tug her arm free of his grasp.

“Hunter, let go of me.” Her voice cracked with fear. “Even if I could get you up on your feet, you're bleeding too badly to make it back to the house.”

“I'll be fine. No calls. No police.” His eyes burned with intensity, giving his words the strength his voice lacked.

She shivered. “You're scaring me, Hunter.”

“Sorry.”

He closed his eyes and waited for the world to quit spinning. She was right; they needed help, just not the local authorities. The question was, who? His list of possibilities
was short. Then there was the problem of getting Tate to go along with his choice. Hoping it would help convince her that he wasn't crazy, he released her arm. Good. She stayed next to him rather than bolting for cover.

“D.J. is seven on my speed dial. Call him.” He drew a ragged breath, the pain from his arm and his side making it hard to concentrate.

“What good's he going to do? Especially if he's any distance away?” Despite the doubt in her voice, she was already flipping the phone open.

“Tell him what happened. He'll know what to do.”

She nodded as she waited for D.J. to pick up on the other end. Bright woman that she was, she put the call on the speaker phone so Hunter could hear and be heard.

“Yo, Hunter. What's up?” The Paladin sounded like his usual carefree self.

Hunter felt Tate brace herself. “D.J., this is Tate. Hunter's been shot and stabbed. He needs help but won't let me call nine-one-one. I'm going to anyway.”