Rising Heat (17 page)

Surprisingly, I yearned to talk to my mom. My dad. They couldn’t help, and I wouldn’t tell them about the danger I was in, but I just wanted to hear their voices. So much for being independent and trying to act like I could take care of myself.

I was so tired. Every bone in my body ached. My muscles felt like I had just run a marathon, stiff with lactic acid and the remnants of adrenaline and fear. All I wanted to do was get off this damned bike and… and what? Feel safe? Would I ever feel safe again? I had a feeling that my life had taken a turn. One of those turns you never expected but suddenly loomed ahead of you. Changed things permanently.

In a fit of pique, I wished I’d never met Ash Bascom. But in the next instant, I felt glad I had. My emotions were all over the place. That’s what you got for being swayed by a pretty face, I told myself. But my anger was mostly on the surface. When I thought about it, I realized I wasn’t exactly mad at Ash as a person. Instead, I more furious with the present circumstances in which I found myself. I needed to know more about why this was happening. The minute we got to where we were going, I would demand a full and detailed explanation from him. He owed me that much.

At what felt like forever later, he pulled off onto yet another road, this one dirt. At a crawl, he navigated the deeply rutted road as we wound our way upward toward a knoll. Lit by the full moon, the mountains rose all around us. Then, as if he had snapped his fingers or someone had swept a magic wand in front of my eyes, a cabin appeared at the end of the road. Not an old shack, or even a log cabin that must’ve been built over a century or so ago. A real log cabin. A
house.

It looked relatively new, although the design could have come straight out of the pages of a history book on the frontier. It wasn’t massive, but it wasn’t a one-room deal either. It had two stories or at least two stories on one end. No landscaping, but who needed landscaping when you were surrounded by this kind of natural beauty? I peered into the darkness, trying to see better as he slowly pulled the bike along the side of the house, out of sight of the road. He turned off the bike and lowered the kickstand.

“We’ll stay here,” he said, pulling the bandana down off his face.

I slowly unbuckled the strap of my helmet and climbed off the bike, nearly tipping over. He reached out to steady me. Though I let him, I stiffened. “I’m mad at you.”

He lifted an eyebrow. “I don’t blame you. But let’s get inside, shall we?”

I watched him search for something on the ground, then pick up a rock. No, a fake rock. “Where are we? Whose place is this?”

He pulled out a key. “It belongs to my parents.”

*

I sat on the edge of a dark brown cushion covered in a smooth though slightly fuzzy fabric, not leather or naugahyde, but maybe something in between. I took careful sips from a mug of coffee Ash had made. He was in the kitchen now, preparing something for us to eat. I wasn’t really hungry but knew that I needed something to keep my spirits and strength up. I still couldn’t get over it. This was his parent’s place?

This was no ordinary cabin. It was old-fashioned, at least in construction, even down to the faux wooden pegs holding the logs in place. A river stone fireplace. Hardwood floors with smaller wooden pegs holding the floorboards down, not nails. The living area was well appointed, but comfortable in its tasteful Southwest décor. Large comfortable armchairs and a beautifully handcrafted coffee-table filled the room. A bay window just to the left of the sofa would offer a gorgeous view in the morning. Just beyond the foyer, another doorway opened into the small kitchen that would have made any chef jealous. Down the short hallway was a bathroom and the master suite.

Upstairs, the second floor only encompassed one side of the log cabin but had another two good-sized bedrooms, each with gorgeous views. A full bath with a step-down Jacuzzi tub and one of those fancy showerheads in a separate, glass-enclosed shower stall. A gorgeous marble countertop and raised sink basins.

After Ash gave me a quick tour of the cabin, I’d looked at him in amazement. “You were telling me the truth when you told me you don’t deal drugs?”

He smiled, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “I’m not involved in anything illegal.”

“Then how do you—?”

“I’ll tell you after dinner, okay? I promise. Let’s both grab a coffee while I whip something up.”

I wanted to argue. Wanted to demand he answer my many questions, but noticed how tired he looked. When he pushed his hair back from his forehead, I remembered his injury.

“Let me check that,” I said, reaching for his arm. “Does it hurt?”

“Like the devil pissed fire on it.”

That made me smile. “Let’s go into the bathroom. You got any first-aid supplies in here?”

He entered the bathroom and sat down on the toilet, slowly shrugging out of his jacket. “I think there’s a first-aid kit under the sink. At least there used to be.”

I opened the cupboard and found a small box, the kind that most people had in their cars. I placed it on the bathroom counter and opened it. It was adequately stocked with some gauze pads, alcohol wipes, a pair of sterile disposable gloves, a few 4x4s, and some antibiotic ointment.

“I suppose this will do unless it’s serious. I didn’t have a lot of time to check it closely at the mall. I swear, Ash, if there’s a bullet still in there, you’d better go to a hospital and get it taken care of.”

The sight of blood didn’t bother me. It never had. Besides, if I was going to be a veterinarian, I couldn’t let it bother me anyway. I would be taking care of wounded animals all the time. I glanced at Ash’s arm. Blood covered it, but none of it looked fresh.

“It’s not bleeding anymore,” I said. “That’s a good thing. I can’t tell yet if it’s just a grazing injury, or if the bullet went clean through. I’ll have to clean it up to find out.”

“Do what you need to do. I’m sorry you have to deal—”

“Just shut up and quit apologizing every five minutes, will you? There’s nothing we can do about it now.” He nodded, and I continued with my ministrations. “I need to wash the dried blood away so I can see what we’re dealing with here.” Wetting a washcloth, I warned, “It’s going to hurt like the dickens.”

He grinned.

“What?” I asked, still annoyed.

“Like the
dickens?”

I scowled down at him. “Just shut up, Ash.”

None too gently, I pressed the folded washcloth on the wound and held it there, letting it soften the blood. He winced and sucked in a breath but otherwise didn’t move. I held the cloth there for a minute or so, trying not to ogle his biceps and the thick vein that ran over the top of the bulge. But seriously, I couldn’t help but again be impressed by his musculature. Even relaxed, the bulge of his biceps was noticeable.

Removing the cloth, I got my first good look at the gash. That was it, a deep graze. No entry or exit wounds.

I cleaned it out as best I could with the alcohol swabs. To his credit, Ash put up with the ministrations without objections. Finally, I squeezed some of the antibiotic ointment over the wound and covered it with a couple of the 4x4s, taping it up well.

“Should keep that covered for a day or two to make sure it doesn’t get infected, but then you can start leaving the bandage off for a little while so it can get some air and heal properly. You’re going to have a scar.”

“I don’t care about scars.”

I suppose a guy like Ash wouldn’t. He thanked me for my help, then stood and left the bathroom, heading down the hallway toward the kitchen area. I cleaned up the mess I’d made, rinsed out the washcloth, and hung it over the edge of the sink to dry. I was trying to be patient. I wanted answers and wanted them now, but I was also smart enough to realize that I would have to time it right. Besides, I wasn’t going anywhere, thanks to Ash. I didn’t even have enough money on me to call for a taxi if I could think of a new location that would be safe.

I chafed at my impatience but accepted the cup of coffee he offered to me and didn’t fight him when he asked for my phone. I reached into my front jeans pocket and pulled out my good old-fashioned flip-top phone. Nothing fancy. No iPhone or smart phone. I liked my stupid phone just fine. I didn’t have any interest in browsing the Internet, posting images on Instagram, updating Twitter, or telling everybody what I was doing on Facebook. I didn’t have anyone to share those details with anyway. Even if I did, I wasn’t into all that social media crap. You wouldn’t find me walking around with my head buried in my phone. You wouldn’t find me announcing to the world where I was every minute. No sirree. I used my phone for only two things. Actually speaking to human beings, or, when necessary, sending a text message.

He smirked at my phone as he flipped it open and shoved the battery back into its little compartment. His big thumps looked funny on the small keypad.

“Bones? Things are fucked. Can you meet me tomorrow morning at the Deer Lodge Motel just outside of Golden? Around ten o’clock?”

Bones?
Who the hell was named Bones? Was it a reference to Dr. McCoy from the original Star Trek series or a more recent reference to the television show with that guy, David Boreanaz.

Did that also mean we weren’t going to hide out here? Tomorrow morning, we would head back east, closer to Denver. Why? Wouldn’t that increase our risk of being seen?

“Keeping it short. Have a bit of a problem with the boys. Okay, thanks. Sounds good. See you then.”

Ash looked at me, disconnected the call, closed the phone and handed it back. “You might want to take the battery out again, Sim card too.”

I did as he suggested, placing the pieces of the phone down on the coffee table. “What’s going on, Ash?”

“I’m trying to figure that out. First, let’s get a little something in our stomachs, okay? Then we can sit down, and I’ll try to answer your questions.”

“Sure, I’m happy to wait,” I said, my voice dripping sarcasm and plopped down on the couch.

He wisely said nothing, just turned toward the kitchen, and soon the clatter of pans came from that direction. I pulled my knees under my chin, scowling at the custom-built wall. They’d used real logs, for crying out loud.

The sound of the can opener made my stomach rumble. In a matter of minutes, a wonderful scent drifted my way. While my stomach told me I was hungry, my brain was telling me not to eat. I was afraid if I did, I’d probably just throw it up because my nerves were shattered. I had to hold my coffee cup with two hands just to keep the coffee from sloshing over the side.

Only a few days ago, I’d been wishing for more excitement in my life. Ha. Be careful what you wished for was a wise saying as it turned out. I’d wanted adventure — got it. I’d wanted daring — got that too. Just wasn’t planning on it involving high speed chases with bullets coming within inches of me.

A few minutes later, Ash emerged from the kitchen, bearing two shallow wooden bowls. Steam wafted from the surface of what looked to be canned beef stew. I saw chunks of potato and carrot. A few pieces of beef. My stomach growled loudly as Ash placed one of the bowls down on the log coffee table in front of me. He plucked a spoon from his pocket and set it down beside the bowl before taking a seat on one of the armchairs across from me. Smart move. Maybe he figured I would throw my bowl of steaming stew at him. Maybe I should.

He dug his spoon into his stew and without even blowing on it, put it in his mouth. I was a little more cautious, testing the temperature before practically inhaling the bite. It tasted good. “Dinty Moore?”

He grinned and nodded. “It’ll suffice.”

I didn’t tell him I was used to eating out of a can. Actually, I liked this kind of stew. It was flavorful and stuck to your ribs. Like he said, nothing fancy. Nothing in my life was fancy, and I liked that just fine.

As we ate, me mostly picking at my stew and him practically shoveling his in, I cast surreptitious glances around the living area. Saw nothing personal. No photographs. No stereo system or television. No collection of CDs or DVDs. Not even any books.

Sterile. I guess that was the point of getting away from it all, but what the heck would somebody do up here? Go hiking all day? Go to bed at sundown and get up at dawn. Ugh.

After a few more bites, I decided I couldn’t eat anymore or risk another round of nausea caused by nerves. I was too agitated to eat. He glanced at my bowl as I set it down on the coffee table, then up at me. I didn’t say anything while he finished his stew and placed his empty bowl on the coffee table. I had to look away when he stretched, his shirt pulled over that muscular chest. I had to look away when he leaned back in his seat, his legs lazily falling open, his crotch pointed directly at me.

“I can’t imagine you have much of an appetite. I’m sorry I got you—”

I held up a hand. “Just tell me what’s going on.”

Ash

W
hat’s going on? Where should I start? But I owed her an explanation, if nothing else. I gestured upward. “This cabin belongs to my family. I’ve only been up here a couple of times, when I was a kid. I haven’t been here in probably fifteen years, maybe more.”

She glanced around. “Why not?”

“Family troubles. Family troubles that came to a head just before I got out of high school.” I could tell that she wanted to ask a question, but I lifted my hand and stopped her. “Let’s just say that since I was a teenager, my family didn’t go on… family vacations anymore.”

She stared wordlessly at me, and I realized I had to do better. I frowned, not really wanting to get into it all, but we were stuck here, at least for the night. I felt comfortable in the fact that no one knew about this place, not even Bones. I also knew that I couldn’t even suggest that she go upstairs and sleep. She was wired. Her foot jiggled on the floor, bouncing her knee. Her hand movements were jerky. She was a bundle of nerves. I was still coming down from the adrenaline rush myself, but I was trying to plan out my next move.

“Would you consider going to San Diego to visit with your parents for a while?” It was a long shot, and I knew it. I also knew what she thought about it before she even opened her mouth. The dark scowl that transformed her features was fascinating to watch, but she looked like she was about to blow a gasket. Her scowl turned darker.