Wind River Wrangler (Wind River Valley #1)(95)

It as only when Shiloh saw three sheriff’s deputy cruisers come racing up the muddy road, their flashers and sirens on, that she realized she was safe. Roan opened the passenger side of the truck and gently lifted her into the warm cab.

Shiloh stared in shock at his unreadable, wet face. He wore his black baseball cap, his face gleaming from rain, his eyes hard and narrowed. He was soaked, too. How did he know she was in trouble? Her mind was going into shock. She was safe. God, she was safe! And Leath had been killed by that grizzly bear! Roan was with her, talking to her, but she couldn’t hear him. Everything felt disjointed. Closing her eyes, Shiloh sank against the seat feeling Roan’s hands around her hands. She was safe. Leath was either dead or badly injured. Shiloh hoped he was dead. How symbolic that the monster be killed by a wild animal. He’d taken so many wild animals’ lives, made their heads trophies to remind him daily of his kills. She wiped her mouth with the back of her shaking hand.

Her hearing wasn’t working. Even the police sirens seemed far, far away. She winced when a bolt of lightning danced across the sky, followed quickly by vibrating thunder. Her chest was heaving with exertion. The cold, wet clothing was seeping into her body, making her shake uncontrollably. Shiloh didn’t feel she was any longer in control of her physical movements. Beyond exhaustion, her calves screaming with knots of unrelenting, cramping pain, she whimpered, trying to move her hand down her wet Levi’s leg.

“Are you hurt, Shiloh?”

Roan’s deep, low voice sank into her. She heard the anxiety in his tone. She opened her eyes, leaning over, pointing to her lower legs. It was impossible to talk, her brain was unable to put two coherent words together to make sense. All Shiloh could do was weakly collapse against the seat, her head tipping back on the top of the seat, eyes closed. She felt Roan pulling up her pant leg, rolling up the wet, stubborn material. And then, she felt his large, warm, wet hands find that horrible cramp. The moment he touched it, she cried out, jerking upright, her hand on his.

“No!” she sobbed. “It hurts!” and she looked deep into his dark gray eyes.

“Trust me, Shiloh. I’ll ease the pain. Lean back?”

His voice soothed and calmed her as nothing else ever would. She barely nodded, weakness stealing even more into her limbs. There were sheriff’s deputies moving past Roan’s pickup and scrambling up the hill where they’d just come from. One deputy remained behind, his rifle drawn, guarding them at the truck. The rain was lightening up, and there was no more wind. Shiloh could barely hear anyone speaking, but the voices were slowly turning up in volume. Had she been hit by lightning? Was that why her hearing was screwed? Shiloh didn’t know and groaned softly as Roan’s warm, long fingers slowly massaged the knot out of her right calf. The pain went away and she breathed raggedly, finally starting to relax a little. Roan rolled up her other pant leg, found the other knot, and did the same thing.

Closing her eyes, all Shiloh wanted was to be warm and safe. Roan was with her. Leath wasn’t going to kill her. Oh, God, she’d come so close to dying! So close.

Warm tears burned in her closed eyes. They trickled down her muddy cheeks. She felt Roan’s roughened thumbs removing them. A sob tore from her. Reaching out, opening her eyes, Shiloh threw herself into his strong arms. Just Roan’s hands drawing her against him, the incredible warmth radiating from his powerful male body, made Shiloh cry even harder. Roan tucked her head against his shoulder and jaw, holding her gently, whispering words she couldn’t hear, his breath moist and warm against her cold, wet flesh.

All Shiloh wanted right now was Roan. To be held. To feel safe. To be flooded with the fierce love he held for her. Never had she felt so protected as right now, in this man’s arms. Roan had come for her. He couldn’t have known she was in danger, yet he had. How? As she nuzzled into the wet nylon of the jacket he wore, Shiloh’s mind began to shut down, the shock taking her, erasing all thoughts, everything. Except Roan’s lean, hard body against hers. Holding her. Just holding her . . .





Chapter Twenty-Three


Moonlight sifted silently through the gossamer curtains into the bedroom. Shiloh was content to lie in Roan’s arms, his body against hers. It was near dawn and she’d awakened, feeling his arms automatically tighten around her as they slept in his cabin. She felt Roan stir, realizing she’d accidentally awakened him. Three weeks had passed since Anton Leath’s body, what was left of it, was carried off Pine Grove and to the medical examiner at the Lincoln County morgue. Shiloh had not watched, burying her head against Roan’s chest, clinging to him, still not believing that it was really over. Finally. Once and for all.

“You okay?” Roan asked thickly, raising his head, his eyes half-open, studying her in the silence.

“Yes . . . Sorry, I just woke up out of the blue. I didn’t mean to wake you up, too.” She heard him grunt and then he propped himself up on one elbow. A few strands of dark brown hair fell over his broad brow. She reached up with her fingers, pushing them back into place, smiling into his drowsy features. “I should get up and let you sleep.” She’d been waking up most nights with nightmares of the chase. With her almost dying.

“No way,” Roan growled. He eased Shiloh on her back, studying her darkened eyes, and realized she’d had another flashback. At least, with time, they were less potent and intense. Sliding his fingers across her jaw, he leaned over, capturing her mouth, feeling her open like a lush, warm blossom beneath him. Her world had been torn apart three weeks ago. Roan knew what it was like to get wounded and almost die. He knew the trek that Shiloh was undertaking to work through her own near-death experience.