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Talon lay there gasping for air, feeling the bubbles of liquid in his lungs. Death stalked him. He closed his eyes, cheek pressed into the snow, feeling nothing because his flesh was numb. Something snapped deep within. Something so primal, so visceral, that all he could do was lie there, helpless. Just as he’d hung helplessly, strung up, his wrists tied with ropes over an overhead beam, toes barely touching the dirt floor. He was forced to watch Hayden being tortured. Oh, God...
Talon wanted death to take him. He was so very, very sorry he wouldn’t be able to help his mother. She was a survivor. Grief and sadness wound through him like a cold, icy river flooding him. He was so dehydrated he couldn’t even cry.
His SEAL team friends would find out sooner or later that he’d died of hypothermia on an unnamed highway somewhere in Wyoming during a freak blizzard. What a screwed-up ending.
Talon closed his eyes.
Well, it looked like the blizzard was going to kill him. It felt good to just rest. To lie on his side, the snow all around him.
Zeke whined and paced around him, licking his face, trying to get him up. A hoarse sound scraped out of his throat. It was as close to a sob as he would get under these circumstances. Talon wasn’t afraid to die.
Zeke lay down next to him, his moist, hot breath across his face. In Afghanistan, in the cold mountains, Zeke was like a warm, living blanket to Talon. He would lie at his side, their bodies glued to each other, keeping one another warm through those icy, frigid nights. He couldn’t let Zeke stay out here. The dog would die in the blizzard, too.
And that was what forced Talon to try to get up. To move. Gasping, his breath noisy and ragged, he struggled to move his numb legs. They were weighted down, hard to move. For a moment, the fever receded and Talon’s head cleared. His black lashes froze to his cheeks and he couldn’t force open his eyes. Somehow, he managed to pull his hand up, scrub his face and force the lashes to break free. Blinking rapidly, Talon got them open. Up! He had to get up! Zeke couldn’t freeze out here. Talon couldn’t let that happen.
Just as Talon got to his feet, wobbling and staggering around, he saw headlights come out of the thick veil of snow. Blinking unsurely, he thought he was seeing things—hallucinations due to his high fever.
Zeke whined, placing his strong body against Talon’s leg to help him remain upright.
Talon gasped for air, like a fish thrown out of the water. He jammed his hands down on his knees, head down, trying to stay upright as the big, black SUV appeared like an apparition out of the blinding blizzard. It stopped in front of him.
A car door opened and slammed shut.
Jesus, he had to be imagining this! No one in their right mind was out in a blizzard like this. Wyoming people knew to stay home to stay safe. Was this how death happened?
Zeke barked a warning.
There really was someone walking toward him! Zeke was in combat assault dog mode. Anyone making a move toward Talon was seen as the enemy. Zeke’s growl rumbled warningly, and the hackles of fur stood up on his neck.
“Allow,” Talon rasped to Zeke. The command to the dog meant not to attack, but allow that person to touch or be around him. Instantly, Zeke stopped growling and watched the person who was heavily bundled up in a coat.
Talon forced himself to stand. He was so dizzy he had to step back so that he wouldn’t fall over. He tried to focus his eyes on the person coming around the SUV. Whoever it was, he or she wore a down black jacket, white knit cap, a thick muffler around their neck, hands positioned beneath their armpits.
And then the apparition spoke.
“Hey, climb in. No one should be out in this blizzard.”
A woman’s voice. Husky. Filled with concern. She eyed him worriedly, her blue eyes warm. The snowflakes were landing on strands of her black hair peeking out from beneath her white knit cap.
“Hey?” she called. “Are you all right?”
Her hand came to rest around his upper arm, steadying him. Jesus, she’s real! His mind shorted out. He couldn’t talk. He knew he looked like what he was: a homeless military vet. He hadn’t bathed in ten days. His hair was long by military standards. He hadn’t shaved in God knew how long.
She saw the dog, suddenly becoming wary.
“Won’t hurt you,” Talon forced out, his voice rough and barely intelligible.
“Good to know. I’m Cat Edwin. Come on, I need to get you inside my SUV.”
Her hand became firmer on his arm as he tried to take a step toward it. Everything whirled and he halted, shutting his eyes. “Pneumonia,” he muttered.
“Yeah, I hear it. You need medical attention pronto.” Cat slid her arm around his waist and pulled his one arm across her shoulder. “I’ll help you into my SUV. What’s your name?” He looked awfully familiar, but she couldn’t place him. Right now, she didn’t have time to figure out why.
Cat slowly guided him toward the passenger side of her SUV. The man could barely keep his feet beneath him, his knees continuing to collapse beneath him.
“Talon,” he managed, his feet barely working. In the next breath, he rasped, “Holt.”
Cat gasped. Now she knew who he was. Sandy Holt’s son! “Okay, Talon Holt, hang on.” Cat reached for the handle and pulled open the door. “Let’s get you inside. You’re wet and freezing.”
He hesitated. “My dog...”
“He’s coming along, too,” she reassured him.
Talon grunted and worked to climb into the SUV. He had a helluva time getting into the seat and she practically shoved him into the SUV. Zeke jumped into the front, sitting on the floorboards between his legs, facing him.
The door slammed shut. He could feel heat in the SUV. It felt wonderful. Talon lay back, closing his eyes, gasping for air, his lungs hurting with each wheezing breath.
Cat climbed in and shut the door. “I’m going to the Bar H. It’s about a mile up the road. The roads are closed beyond that. I’ll get you to the ranch and try to help you there.”
He had to be dreaming. Talon couldn’t answer, too weak to speak. He felt Zeke’s warm, wet tongue licking his hand. Just as she put the SUV into motion, his last memory was of Cat Edwin’s face. She was attractive, slightly curled strands of black hair across her broad brow. He liked her large, readable blue eyes. Talon had seen every emotion in them. Her face was oval with wide cheekbones. Her nose was clean with slightly flared nostrils. He especially liked that wide, soft mouth of hers. If Talon had been healthy, he sure as hell would have wanted to know her a lot better. And with that last thought, he sank into unconsciousness.
CHAPTER TWO
CAT FELT A sense of urgency. As a fire department paramedic, she took one look at an unconscious Talon Holt and knew he was in serious shape. The snow was dumping in buckets and she could barely see ten feet in front of her SUV as she drove slowly through the foot-and-a-half snow on the highway. If it weren’t for the snow poles placed every tenth of a mile, she might literally drive off the road and slide down the rocky slope and into the churning Snake River below. Not what she wanted to do.
Blindly, she reached out for the fire department radio she had installed in her SUV. She needed to call the Bar H and let them know she was coming in with a sick passenger.
“Hey, anyone awake at the Bar H? This is Cat. Over.” Her heart was pounding a little harder in her chest. The man, who lay slumped, his head tipped back, touched her for some reason. Cat had taken care of hundreds of sick and dying people over the years. What was it about this man that moved her emotionally? Cat had no answer. His beard was scraggly, his hair longish, dirty and unkempt. And that dog of his, Zeke. The animal’s large, intelligent brown eyes never left his master’s wan face. She swore the dog looked as worried as she felt.
“Cat? Don’t tell me you’re out in this godforsaken blizzard?”
A smile twitched at her lips. “Hey, Miss Gus. I figured you’d be up by now.” Gus was eighty-five years old and the matriarch of the Bar H.
Gus snorted. “I was just cooking breakfast for Val and Griff. I didn’t think you’d come in this morning with this blizzard.”
“Yeah,” Cat said with a chuckle, “but I really wanted to learn to can fruit and veggies with you and Val today.”
“What a sucker for punishment you are, my dear,” Gus cackled.
“Listen, I just picked up a man on this highway a few minutes ago,” Cat told her. “He’s in rough shape. I’m bringing him to you, Miss Gus. He needs to be in the E.R. but there’s no way I can make it ten miles back to town in this blizzard. Can you get Griff to meet me out front? The guy is unconscious and has a bad case of pneumonia.”
“Who on earth would be out in this weather?” Gus demanded.
Cat cast a quick glance over at the man. She could smell him. “He told me his name. Talon Holt.”
“Lordy!” Miss Gus exploded. “Talon Holt? He’s Sandy Holt’s son!”
“One in the same.” Cat gulped and felt a lump form in her throat. “That’s right. I knew there was something familiar about him.”
“Sandy said her son, who was a U.S. Navy SEAL, was wounded a year ago. She told me he was coming home, but didn’t say when. Said he was coming with a dog. Is there a dog with him?”
“Yes,” Cat said, driving carefully, feeling the SUV begin to slide a little. She eased off the gas. There was no way to hurry in this stuff. “I remember Sandy saying he was wounded.”
“Yes. He got wounded a year ago on a black ops mission and Sandy said he was getting a medical discharge sometime soon. Didn’t say when. Sandy told me the name of the dog but I can’t recall it.”
“Zeke?”
“Yes! That’s it! Aside from the pneumonia, how bad off is Talon?”
“Really bad,” Cat murmured, frowning. “Listen, we should use your bedroom downstairs. Can you get it ready for him? He’s soaking wet, freezing and he’s breathing pretty badly. I’ve got to get him someplace warm and dry. Griff’s going to have to help me. I can’t carry him into your house by myself.”
“Griff’s out in the barn. I’ll give him a call to come in. Val and I will get my bedroom ready. About how long before you arrive?”
She grimaced. “I’m barely going ten miles an hour. Probably another twenty minutes if I don’t slide off the mountain.”
“We’ll be waiting for you, Cat. Be careful getting here. There’s a sheet of black ice on that pavement.”
“Great, thanks. Out.” Cat felt her emotions unraveling as she gripped the steering wheel, focusing on the slippery road. All around her were evergreens cloaked in heavy white snow. A black, wet, rocky cliff soared a thousand feet above the highway. On her right a skimpy guardrail was supposed to prevent a car from sliding into a hundred-foot rocky abyss below.
Focus on the road. Get him shelter.
Cat didn’t want to feel anything about this man, this vet, but she did. Talon Holt was pale and unconscious, but she could see the toughness in his face, the kindness in the shape of his chiseled mouth. And yes, he did look a little like his mother.
She white-knuckled it as the SUV slid a little toward the guardrail. Cat didn’t easily panic. As a firefighter, she’d seen just about everything in her twenty-seven years.
She glanced quickly toward Talon, who was frowning, regaining consciousness. Cat could hear his raw, shallow breaths. She turned again to the snow-covered highway. “Talon?” she asked. “Are you awake? Can you hear me?”
Talon heard her husky voice. Weakly, he raised his hand and forced his eyes open. Every breath he took was a labored effort, as if he had an elephant on his chest. He heard Zeke whine, felt his pink tongue laving his hand.
“It’s okay, Zeke,” he rasped, opening his eyes. He’d never been so damned weak. Not even when he’d been wounded in the field had he felt like this.
“Talon?”
The woman’s voice again. He barely turned his head in the direction of the sound. “Yeah?”
“How are you doing?” Cat demanded, guiding the SUV around the last curved corner that would lead to the Bar H.
“I’m not dead, yet,” he rasped.
A good sign, Cat thought. As sick as he was, Talon was being a smart-ass. “I’m taking you to the Bar H. Miss Gus remembers you. I can’t get you to the hospital where you belong. I’m a paramedic. Miss Gus is going to let you stay in her bedroom and I’ll do what I can to help you. Okay?” Cat gave him a quick glance. His eyes were red rimmed, the gray color glowing with fever, his black pupils large. His face bathed in sweat.
“Miss Gus?” His mind wobbled.
“Yes. She remembers you. You’re Sandy Holt’s son?”
“Yeah, I am,” he managed. Barely able to lift his fingers, he grazed Zeke’s wet, damp head. “Look,” he choked out, struggling to breathe, “you need to know about Zeke, here. He’s a combat assault dog. He’ll bite anyone who gets near me. You need to give the command ‘allow’ to Zeke. Then he’ll consider them as a friend instead of an enemy. I can’t have him biting Miss Gus or anyone else....”
Cat nodded. “Okay, I can do that for you. You just rest, Mr. Holt. You’re in good hands.”
Talon heard the sudden emotion in her voice. “What’s your name again?”
“Cat. Cat Edwin.”
Nice name. Cat. Yeah, with those slightly tilted blue eyes of hers, she looked like a cat. Maybe more a lithe, strong, lean beautiful cougar. Closing his eyes, Talon felt the darkness pulling him down again. “I...” And he lost consciousness.
Cat licked her lower lip, worried. The man’s skin had a gray tint now. It meant he wasn’t getting enough oxygen. A very bad sign. God, Sandy Holt couldn’t lose her son, not when she was fighting for her own life. Cat’s heart pounded anxiously.
She could see the entrance to the Bar H through the thickly falling snow. Wind gusts were pushing the snow sideways. Blizzards took no prisoners.
As Cat drove down the long, graveled driveway now covered with a foot and a half of snow, she saw the enormous main two-story log house appear out of the white stuff. Griff McPherson, now owner of the Bar H, stood in the driveway next to the house. Standing around six foot one, he was bundled up in a sheepskin coat, red knit muffler around his neck, cowboy hat and jeans. He had dark hair and green eyes. Val McPherson, his wife, stood on the porch, the screen door open, a worried look on her face.
Cat pulled up as close as she could. She climbed out, calling, “Griff, don’t open that door!”
Griff halted halfway around her SUV, a puzzled look on his face. “Why?”
Cat hurried through the snow and came up to him. “Talon has a combat assault dog with him. I have to open the door myself or he’ll attack you.”
Grimacing, Griff’s brow rose. “How do we get Talon out of there, then?”
Cat clumped through the snow and struggled over to the passenger-side door. “Come and stand over here, behind me. I’ll open the door and give the dog a command. It’s supposed to make Zeke think you’re a friend instead of an enemy.”
Griff nodded. “Okay,” he said, worried.
Cat opened the door. Zeke immediately growled, his gaze fastened on Griff. “Zeke, allow,” she told the dog in a firm voice. To her relief, she saw the Belgian Malinois relax. She turned to Griff. “I’m getting the dog out of here first so we can pull Talon out.”
“Will Zeke attack Val?” he demanded.
Cat scowled. She noticed a leash trailing off Zeke’s collar. “Probably. Hang on, I’m going to grab his leash and keep him with me so he can’t go anywhere.”
Griff nodded and walked around the SUV, calling to his wife, telling her to stay in the kitchen with Miss Gus because the dog would bite. His wife nodded, closed the porch door and disappeared inside.
“Okay,” he said, “bring the dog out.”
Cat was hoping like hell the military-trained dog wouldn’t chew off her arm as she reached for the leash. Zeke thumped his tail, looking at her with a happy expression, pink tongue lolling outside of his black muzzle.
So far so good. Cat tugged on the leash and Zeke lifted his front legs, leaped over Talon’s thigh and landed in a snowbank.
“Good boy,” she murmured, patting Zeke’s head. Wrapping the leash around her fist several times, Cat pulled the dog aside so Griff could get in there to help Talon.
“Your turn,” she told Griff, moving back from the opened door.
Griff moved in and hauled Talon out. He grunted as he took the man’s full weight. Cat quickly got involved, heaving one of Talon’s long arms across her shoulders. Between them, they dragged him up the porch stairs and into the house.
The warmth of the woodstove hit Cat. Zeke obediently walked at her side, his head swiveling toward the kitchen as they passed it.
And then Cat saw Miss Gus, her silver hair like a halo around her head. The woman was at the kitchen sink. Val stood next to her in a protective gesture, partially in front of her, a concerned look on her oval face.
“The bedroom’s ready,” Miss Gus hollered.
