Wild (10 page)

“I have to take a piss,” he said finally.

“Go ahead.”

“What about you?”

“I’m okay.”

He descended a few rungs and stood on the safety guard with his back to her. Unzipping with one hand, he directed his aim and relieved himself quickly. It felt a little disconcerting, like peeing off the side of a mountain. Zuma was napping in the shade below. Not a care in the world. When he was finished, he tucked in and fumbled with his zipper.

Instead of staying on the lower rungs, he moved up to Helena’s level and braced himself on the safety guard next to her. Invading her space was awkward, but he was tired of cranking his neck to look at her. “I’m going to climb to the top again.”

“Why?”

“So I can yell for Trent and Louis. I’ll bang on the metal with my keys, too. They should be able to hear me.”

She glanced up the ladder, mouth trembling. Her lips were dry and pale pink. Delicate, unlike the rest of her. He felt a powerful urge to moisten them. “There might be another aftershock.”

“Not as strong.”

“You don’t know that.”

Her concern for his welfare surprised him. As much as he’d like to stay close to her and cater to her needs, he had to do something. It was getting late. When the sun went down, the temperature would drop. They couldn’t sleep on the pole. “I have to try.”

“Okay,” she said, sighing. “Go ahead.”

He was glad she didn’t insist on accompanying him. She’d dealt with her phobia pretty well so far, but he could tell she was scared. It would be easier to climb without her, and he didn’t like seeing her suffer.

Speaking of suffering…he felt a burning sensation beneath his zipper, as if someone had poured chili powder down his pants.

“Fuck,” he said, realizing what it was.

“What’s wrong?”

“I must have had pepper spray on my hands.”

She frowned for a second, not following him. Then she glanced down at his crotch and started laughing. “Oh, no.”

He shifted his weight on the safety guard, gritting his teeth. Although he was protective of his male parts, the minor irritation wasn’t going to kill him. It was almost worth it to see her smile again. She wasn’t a joyless person, clearly, but she didn’t share this side of herself often. Her laughter was a rare gift. Intimate and revealing, sexier than a flash of skin. She didn’t do this with everyone.

He’d always had a bit of a humor fetish. The only thing he enjoyed more than making a woman laugh was making her come.

And Helena wasn’t just any woman. She was special. Different. Difficult. She had a stunner of a smile. He could tell a lot by a woman’s smile, or so he imagined. Helena’s suggested that she wasn’t quite so reserved in bed. Her blue eyes sparkled with intelligence. In his experience, smart women were more creative partners.

Damn. He couldn’t believe she’d misinterpreted his attempt to ask her out. No wonder she’d hated him all these years. Not that he’d ever had a chance with her, but still. It felt good to clear the air between them.

Her smile faltered, probably because he was ogling her. He couldn’t help it. She was beautiful, and flustered, and thinking about his penis. He was thinking
with
his penis. It felt hot and heavy and in need of soothing. She moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue, and the nervous gesture almost blew the top of his head off. Jesus. He tore his gaze from her mouth, trying not to imagine those pretty lips stretched around him.

She has a boyfriend.

You have more important things to worry about. Chloe. Emma. Survival.

The second reminder cooled his libido much more than the first. He didn’t give a damn about Helena’s boyfriend at the moment, maybe because his dick was half-hard. Maybe because they were in a life-or-death situation, and it seemed like the two of them against the world. Maybe because he’d always wanted her. He
did
care about his sister and his niece, however. He cared about getting the hell off this pole.

She moved to one side of the ladder to make room for him to climb. Brushing by her was uncomfortable for them both. He didn’t want to rub up on an unwilling woman. Her gaze flitted over the front of his pants as he ascended. Although he wasn’t noticeably aroused, she flushed and looked away.

If he didn’t know better, he’d think she was attracted to him.

He discarded that notion as wish fulfillment. He had no illusions about Mount Saint Helena. A smile wasn’t an invitation. She’d glanced at his crotch because she felt sorry for him, not because she wanted to jump on his dick.

Get it together, Josh.

When he reached the top of the pole, his discomfort faded into the background and all of his inappropriate thoughts fled. The fires had spread through the downtown area. Coronado Bay looked like a war zone.

What if Chloe hadn’t made it across the bridge?

Regret hit him like a ton of bricks. He should have insisted on helping her buy a new car. She drove an old rust bucket out of stubbornness. Maybe he should have refused to let Chloe and Emma move in with him, too. Their mother hadn’t approved of the arrangement. She’d said Chloe was in a fragile state. She’d wanted to keep Emma close.

Josh had taken his sister’s side. Chloe needed to get away from Lyle and escape the bad memories. Their mother meant well, but she didn’t see Chloe as an adult who could take care of herself and her child. To be fair, Chloe had been a wild teenager, emotionally unstable. Josh blamed Lyle for her struggles. His sister was much happier without that loser dragging her down. She’d been doing a great job with Emma, too.

It wasn’t a perfect situation. They argued, like most siblings. Emma had temper tantrums. Sometimes Josh missed the peace and quiet of his old bachelor pad. Just last night, he’d yelled at Emma for tearing up one of his favorite comic books. Chloe had intervened, picking up the crying toddler and carrying her away. She’d said a few choice words to Josh over her shoulder, which pissed him off.

He’d gone to bed angry and woken up early to go surfing. If something had happened to them…

Fuck.

Pressure built behind his eyes again, but he pushed the feeling aside. He had a job to do. When he trusted his voice, he started yelling for Trent and Louis at the top of his lungs. Then he banged his keys against the pole, making a loud clang. He couldn’t see the reptile house from this vantage point, but he hoped they were there, and able to hear him.

All he got for his efforts was a sore throat. There was no returning shout, no response on the radio. After about ten minutes, Josh put away his keys and checked his cell phone. No new messages there, either.

He climbed back down the ladder, defeated. Instead of continuing past Helena, he stayed on the rungs above her. Yelling had made him thirsty. His mouth was dry, his tongue thick. He felt like he’d taken a hard slam against the sandbar and had gotten hit upside the head with his surfboard.

But he hadn’t lost hope. He didn’t believe that Chloe and Emma were dead. He didn’t feel it in his heart. Greg, on the other hand, was another story. Josh was almost certain the lion keeper was gone.

“No luck?” Helena said.

“No luck.”

Josh stared at Zuma with resentment. The big cat hadn’t moved from her comfortable spot in the shade. Her ears flickered every so often, as if to ward off insects. “How long can lions go without water?”

“Four or five days, at least.”

He hung his head in dejection.

“What did you see up there?”

“More fires.”

“Getting closer?”

The flames appeared to be spreading, but not towards the park. “No.”

“How’s your…”

“It’s fine,” he said gruffly. He was surly and uncomfortable, his nerves on edge. Didn’t she know that talking about his cock could stimulate it? His bad boy didn’t need any more encouragement.

He wasn’t usually this obsessed with sex. Sure, he thought about it. He thought about it as often as most guys did, if not more. But he was twenty-nine, not nineteen, and he knew how to control himself. Maybe his current preoccupation was his mind’s attempt to shift focus from death to life, from pain to pleasure. He doubted he’d react the same way to another woman. He’d always been hot for Helena.

After a long stretch of silence, she spoke. “Why are you afraid of deep water?”

“I don’t know.”

“You didn’t almost drown as a kid?”

“No. I had some close calls. Once I hit my head against the reef in Santa Cruz. Crawled onto the beach and passed out.”

“How old were you?”

“Fourteen.”

“Did that trigger your phobia?”

“I doubt it. I went surfing again two days later. I didn’t have any trouble in the water until I got recruited for SWCC.”

“SWCC?”

“Special warfare combatant-craft crewman. It’s a division of the navy.”

“Like SEALs?”

“Not that elite, but close.”

“What happened?”

“I tapped out three times during the scuba training. I’m not sure if it was the gear or the depth or both, but I felt suffocated.”

“Did that disqualify you?”

“No,” he said, clearing his throat. “I might have been able to advance. The bigger problem was that I also failed underwater rescue.”

“What’s that?”

“Another training exercise. It’s one of the most challenging requirements. You have to rescue another crewman from the bottom of a pool. His job is to fight and struggle, much like drowning victims do in real life.”

Josh couldn’t explain the panic he’d experienced during those sessions. His brain had stopped worked and his muscles had seized up. He hadn’t remembered any of the strategies he’d learned from his instructors. He’d choked.

“So it’s not just depths you have an issue with, it’s being held down by a person or smothered by equipment.”

“Deep water is the common denominator.”

“Were there any women in the class?”

“No. The program isn’t open to women.”

“Hmm.”

She didn’t ask any more questions, and he was too parched to continue. The temperature had dropped over the past hour. They’d be shivering soon.

He was trying to find a more comfortable position on the safety guard when the earth started rumbling again. This aftershock was less powerful than the others, but the tremors damned near knocked him off balance. Underneath him, Helena gripped the ladder rungs until her knuckles went white.

Zuma lifted her head and roared. Tau answered her.

Chills traveled up his spine. He didn’t believe in evil animals or sinister behavior, but it seemed as if the lions had claimed the entire park as their territory. Zuma knew who her enemies were, and she was willing to oust them.

“Helena and Josh, come in.”

It was Trent! Josh had never been happier to hear another human voice. He glanced down at Helena, a smile breaking across his face.

Her eyes were alight with the same magic. She lifted the radio to her lips. “Trent?”

“You’re still here,” Trent said. “Thank God.”

Josh picked up his radio. “What the fuck happened to you guys? We’ve been trying to call you all day.”

“My radio was dead, and Louis’s ended up in the flamingo pond. It’s a long story.”

“We need your help,” Helena said. “We’re stuck on tram pole number four with Zuma underneath us.”

“What do you want us to do?” Trent asked.

“Do you know how to shoot a rifle?”

There was a moment of silence. “Louis says he can figure it out.”

Helena exchanged a worried glance with Josh. It wasn’t the answer she wanted to hear, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. “Grab one of the rifles from the gun cabinet and drive over here in a maintenance vehicle. Park behind the truck, but stay inside the vehicle. Fire a warning shot in the air. I think that will scare her off.”

Josh approved of her plan. Attempting to dart Zuma under these conditions would be very dangerous. It was getting late. They were all tired. Josh didn’t trust Louis to hit the side of a barn, let alone a swift, deadly predator.

Trent responded with an affirmative and they located the weapons cabinet. Josh had to talk Louis through loading the rifle and releasing the safety mechanism. Trent had never even held a gun before, so he wasn’t much help. Josh hoped Louis wouldn’t blow his own foot off.

When they heard the sound of the approaching vehicle, Zuma lifted her head to investigate. The engine cut out. Seconds later, a warning shot echoed throughout the park. The lioness jumped up and tore through the trees.

Josh pumped his fist in the air. Victory.

Helena spoke into the radio. “Did you see her come out?”

“No,” Trent said.

“You think she went to the enclosure?” Josh asked Helena.

“I hope so.”

“We should go for it.”

Helena raced down the ladder and picked up the tranquilizer gun. He dropped down beside her, grabbing the rifle. “Stay behind me.”

They crept the short distance from the base of the pole to the fence line that separated the foliage from the road. Trent and Louis were parked behind the truck. Josh didn’t see Zuma, so he vaulted the fence swiftly. Helena followed him. Her pale eyes glinted in the fading light, like a fierce nocturnal creature.

He wrenched open the door to the truck and shoved her inside. She scrambled across the seat in a hurry. Heart hammering in his chest, he climbed in after her and slammed the door shut. She placed the tranquilizer gun on the dash. He engaged the safety on the rifle and set it aside. Then his arms were around her, and her breasts were smashed against his chest, and her ragged breaths fanned his neck.

They were alive. Everything was alive, his senses heightened and his pulse racing. Blood rushed in his ears. His response wasn’t sexual, exactly, but he liked the way she felt against him. He liked the way they fit together.

Their embrace was half relief, half triumph.

She broke the contact first, wiping the tears from her eyes. There was a bottle of water in the cup holder between them. She wrenched the cap off and drank in thirsty gulps, spilling down her chin. When she thrust the bottle at him, he drained it and wanted more. He wanted to kiss her now, to revel in her wet lips. He wanted a deeper connection, a harder touch. Groping, panting, life-affirming pleasure.