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“All clear here.”
If they hadn't found the damn phone, Thane would have been all for getting the fuck off the damn ridge. They hadn't found her car, they hadn't stumbled across any evidence of Connie being up here at all. Where the hell had the fool woman taken herself off to?
He crouched to tuck the radio back into the rucksack, his flashlight bobbing. He heard a distant buzz and glanced up to search the skies for Atticus's drone. It took him a minute to spot the flashing lights hovering over one of the distant flashlights before it continued on its journey. Ground and air coverage, he thought. She was going to have her ass spanked by every Dom in the club if she wasn't up here.
Hell, she'd be getting a spanking anyway for causing this amount of worry.
He caught a glint further up the track and frowned. Slinging the rucksack onto his shoulder, he hobbled twenty feet to a bottle laid on its side in a divot. The light had caught the edge of the glass. He bent and picked it up. It was almost full, he noted. Old Forester Bourbon Whiskey. The label was fresh, no signs of weathering. At a guess, Connie had tripped, fallen maybe, and lost one of her alcoholic crutches.
“Okay, sugar. I've got a starting point. Which way did you go?” Thane set the bottle on the edge of the track as a marker, then studied his surroundings. The hill to his left was bordering on hostile territory, the incline far steeper than anyone should try climbing. He turned his attention to the decline on his right. Not quite as steep, a lot of big boulders and a few lone trees. His gut tugged him that way.
He moved slowly, unwilling to risk slipping and breaking something, taking time away from the search. Honestly, he'd prefer to be sneaking around a dark alley rather than coyote-infested wilderness, but he was a man experienced with adapting to new challenges. The ground beneath his boots turned looser, almost like sand.
Perfect for sending someone tumbling down the hill.
“Connie!” he yelled, swinging the flashlight. All he could see were shadows and the plume of his breath as the air dropped colder. “Goddamn it, woman!”
He found what looked to be an animal path and started following it. It ran along the hillside rather than down, leading him to beneath the overhang of the ridge. There were footprints in the soft earth, just gentle imprints, but enough to give him hope. The striding was uneven, and there were a few skid marks here and there where careless feet had slipped.
A few feet ahead of him, on its side against the base of a rock, was an empty bottle of Canadian Mist Whisky. Oh, she liked that one. Not a drop wasted, he thought, limping over to pick it up. His stomach dropped when he saw the blood smeared on the glass. “Connie! Connie!”
His voice boomed off the rocks, echoing crazily. Thane winced against the noise, listening for a reply. He thought he heard a feminine laugh bounce back at him, but the wind took it before he could pinpoint a location. Goddamn her.
Before he went any further, he radioed in to the others, giving them the marker location and directions. Jasper was the closest, already working his way around the bottom of the ridge from the other side. This time, he hooked the radio into the waistband of his jeans for easy access, and continued to trace the partial footprints around the base of the ridge. Solid rock on his left opened up into a low, deep cavern as he rounded the corner, and as he swept his flashlight over the interior, relief kissed his heart.
Connie squinted and lifted her hand against the glare. “Turn the lights off, asshole,” she slurred. “Drinkin' here.”
As if to prove she was indeed drinking here, she lifted an almost full bottle of Canadian Mist and chugged, gasping around the mouth of the bottle between swallows.
Unable to speak for a moment, Thane directed the beam over her. Her pants were torn at the knees, and streaked with dirt. Her hands were bloody, and there were streaks of it on her face where she'd swiped at tears, by his guess. But she looked otherwise unharmed. “You are in so much trouble, sugar. You have no idea what's about to come down on you.”
She made a pffftsound and chugged again. “Go 'way. Leave me 'lone.”
First things first. Tugging the radio free, he called in his find. He swore he heard whoops of delight from his fellow searchers, but not all of them were coming over the line. He got confirmation from Jasper that he was only a few minutes away, and Thane updated his location as accurately as he could. A few moments later, the drone peeled away, heading back to wherever it had been launched from.
“Okay then, that's the reinforcements on their way. Let's take a look at your hands, sugar.” Thane slipped the rucksack off his shoulder and dragged it into the cavern behind him, crouching low so he didn't smack his head on the low rock ceiling.
Connie eyed him warily as he approached, curling her hand tighter around the bottle in her possession while her other hand reached out to pull a tattered brown paper bag closer. She guarded her alcohol with all the passion of an Alsatian defending its bone. “You should go now. Don't want you here.”
“Unfortunately, Connie, what you want isn't at the top of the list at the moment.” Thane dropped to his knees beside her, but his attempt to pluck the whisky from her grasp was eluded.
“What I want never is,” she fired back, using the bottle to bash his fingers when he tried to touch her. “It's all about everyone else, as usual.” She blew a raspberry and drank, using her sleeve to wipe away a dribble running down her chin. “I want t’be alone now.”
Thane was quick enough to grab the paper bag. A quick look told him she'd come prepared for more than just a night's binge-drinking. Excluding the bourbon he'd found by the track, the empty Canadian Mist on the rock, and the half-empty one in her hand, she'd brought along another four bottles. Different brands, as though she couldn't decide what she liked. He set it out of her reach. “Your hands are bleeding. Did you fall?”
“What d’you care?”
Thane slapped his hands gently on her cheeks, capturing her face and keeping it turned toward him. “You've scared the shit out of a lot of people tonight, Connie. People who love you. Four of them are risking their lives above our heads, searching this godforsaken wilderness because they thought you were in danger.” Christ, her eyes were like crushed velvet when she was intoxicated. Sad and so, so soft. “We’ll take you home and—”
“No!” Connie's scream was sharp enough to cut glass into shreds. She wrenched away from him, launched the half-empty bottle drunkenly, then performed what might have been a tuck and roll under any other circumstances. Tonight, however, it was more of a tuck and faceplant that left her curvy ass in the air.
“Thane? Thane!” Jasper's voice grew closer. “Everyone okay?”
“Yeah, I think so,” Thane shouted back. Bracing himself for a wildcat to attack him, he used the flashlight to poke Connie's hip, wary of flying feet. The gentle nudge rocked her, but there was no response otherwise. “She's smashed, Jasper. We’ll have to carry her out.”
Light flooded the cavern as Thane carefully rolled Connie onto her side. He skimmed his fingers over her cheek, feeling the chill of her skin. The alcohol was keeping her warm enough on the inside—it was the outside she'd left open to the elements.
“Here, let me take a look.” Jasper hurried over, hunched down low. He mimicked Thane's position on the opposite side of the unconscious woman, and immediately got to work checking her pulse, and flashing his light in her eyes. “Was that her screaming? Was she lucid?”
