Page 35 of Property of Rattler

I don’t know what gave me away, but as I exit the bathroom, he’s waiting outside.

Narrowing my eyes, I tell him, “If you’re going to be using the shitter, I’d give it a moment if I were you.” I only peed, but hell, I’ll take my amusement anyway I can at the moment.

He ignores me and jerks his head back toward the cabin. “Inside.”

I hold my middle finger up to him. “Fuck you!” Then I turn and deliberately stride up the path that extends up the mountain behind us. When I hear his clomping footsteps behind me, I start to run. I’m wearing trainers, and he’s in motorcycle boots. I think I know who’s got the advantage. I also like running, and my training includes incline, so the steep gradient doesn’t bother me. Him? Well, I can hear the wheezing behind me.

Feeling I’ve been cooped up for weeks, I just let my feet find a rhythm. The air is thinner at this elevation, so I concentrate on steadying my breathing and finding a pace that I can settle into.

“Get your ass back here!” he calls with a decidedly out-of-breath shout.

Nah, I don’t think I will. I’m enjoying this, so I ignore him. I’m rising higher. The trees are getting thicker. I’m not even sure how long I’ve been running before it dawns on me I’m completely unprepared. I have no compass with me. If I get turned around, I could easily get lost. I also forgot to bring bear spray. I might not like Rattler, but I didn’t intend to run aimlessly from him, and realise I’ve gotten carried away. Now, coming back to my senses, a few moments of freedom are not worth potentially doing Malachi’s job for him, by, for example, falling into a ravine.

My pace slows.I have run in a straight line, haven’t I? Turning to look back, all I can see are the trees closing in around me. The path I’d followed has long since disappeared. Leaning forward with my hands on my thighs, I catch my breath.

“Fuck! Shit! Oh fuck!”

I stiffen. The distant shouts come accompanied by the sound of crashing. I realise fast Rattler’s not simply swearing in frustration at losing me. It sounds like he could actually be hurt.

Hopefully not seriously. He’s supposed to be my protection. Wouldn’t it be fucking stupid if, in order to get away from his restrictions, I’ve inadvertently managed to kill him?Way to go, Ames.I start to quicken my steps as the shouts come again, gradually getting louder.

“Ames! Get your ass back here!” he roars, proving he’s not dead yet. Or dying, if the strength of his voice is any indication.

For a second, I hesitate. Are his shouts just a ploy to get me to do what he wants? And even if he is hurt, with his attitude, it would serve him right to stew for a while. Out here it’s peaceful, in his company, nothing like.

“Ames! For fuck’s sake, I need your help!” There’s a pause, then, “Ames, please.” A moment of silence, then his pleas start again. “Ames? Please help me. I’m hurt.”

A wide grin spreads over my face. The big, brave, alpha man is admitting he needs assistance from a mere woman. Then I wipe the smile off my face.What would I do if he was badly injured?His club might swap out my bodyguard with someone else, but it might raise Malachi’s suspicions if my husband suddenly appeared without me in tow.

There’s nothing for it but to make my way back down, hoping this isn’t a trap. If it is, I’m worried he’ll lock me in the cabin and not let me out again. Going down the steep slope takes more care than the ascent. I eye the ground cautiously under my feet, making sure I’m avoiding the roots that seem determined to trip me and the sharp stones that want to cut my feet open. It’s then I realise he doesn’t even need to lock the door. Just hiding my shoes would make sure I stayed put.

“Ames!”

Is that pain in his voice I hear?I quicken my steps, then, having slipped but recovered with a virtuoso performance involving windmill arms, I slow and proceed more carefully.

“I’m coming,” I call out. “Where are you?”

“Thank fuck! Here. I’m here.”

I roll my eyes. That tells me nothing. “Keep shouting and I’ll find you.”

“Just get your ass here.”

“You really need my help? You better watch how you talk to me.”

“Fuckin’ bitch!”

Typical. But his voice at least gives me a bead on his location.

I’m back on the trail now, still in the trees, but at least they’re thinning. “Rattler? Talk to me.”

“I’m here.”

His voice suggests he’s close, but I can’t immediately see him. Narrowing my eyes to sharpen my focus, I look around. Nope. Nothing.

“Rattler?”

“Here! Down here.”