So, asshole, why is your heart beating like a bongo drum while you risk a broken neck racing down this mountain to make sure she’s still in one piece?The devil on his other shoulder apparently had no answer for that one.
MacGyver barely had time to pull up at the edge of a rocky overhang. The ground disappeared abruptly. A sheer drop of ten feet or so became dirt, shale and underbrush, where the huge boulder met the hillside. The steep slope continued another fifty to sixty feet until the terrain began to level out. Near the bottom, Kellie lay on her back, her torso pressed against a tree trunk, her bound hands thrown over her head.
His gut ached as though he’d been sucker punched one too many times. He leaped from the crest of the boulder, hitting the shale-covered slope on the heels of both feet, and slid the rest of the way down on the seat of his pants.
Kellie lay motionless. Her shirt flapped open, exposing bare skin the color of chalk. Even the red of her lips faded to obscurity. As he focused solely on her still form, the entire forest seemed to go silent. Squirrels stopped their chatter. Birds interrupted their songs. Even the wind, swirling through the branches above his head, paused.
MacGyver laid his hand at the upper edge of her bra, adjusting his breaths to match her faint ones as her chest rose in a shallow inhale.She’s alive, and her heart is beating strong and steady.He dropped his chin and sent up a silentthank youas he struggled to contain the emotions that rocked him.
“Kellie? Hey, Champ, let me see those gorgeous green eyes.” He alternated between rubbing her arms and wrists and smoothing his hand over her face, while coming down from the panic-high that had nearly undone him. MacGyver frowned, inspecting the bruise forming on her right cheek and the split lip that hadn’t been there before. A blast of anger toward the man who’d hurt her clenched a muscle in his jaw.Too bad he’s dead. A blade to the heart was too merciful.
Kneeling over her, he brushed dirt, twigs and cheatgrass from her hair with his fingers. Not that snarls and knots in her wavy strands were anywhere near the worst of her injuries. The inch-long cut on her throat had bled a lot, but the placement and depth could only have been for intimidation. The bastard had wanted her afraid for her life.
In repose, her features, free from the guilt and remorse she normally wore, radiated an aura of innocence that teased him with the story of who she’d been before Iraq. She would never totally return to that person who’d existed previous to the incident that’d injured Blake’s brother. MacGyver should know.
He ran his hands over her legs and arms, checking for breaks or cuts. Satisfied there were none, he dug for his pocket knife and cut the ropes that bound her wrists. Kellie moaned as he brought her arms down to her sides, reminding him of the night he took her to his hotel room—her curled into a ball on his bed, passed out cold. The moans and whimpers escaping as she slept had cemented his need to rescue her. He smiled at the recollection, although who had rescued who the most was open to interpretation.
Releasing a sigh, he tapped her cheek gently. “Open your eyes, Kellie. You’re safe. It’s me—MacGyver. I’m right here, darlin’. I’m not going anywhere without you.” Amazingly, he’d almost addedeverto the end of that sentence. Like forever was something he knew anything about. Neither could he identify the emotions whirling in his chest, all of them centering on the woman beside him. A sharp pain cut him in half every time the idea of not being close to her crossed his mind.
She stirred, shielding her face from the sun while she observed him without a hint of surprise. She might still have been unconscious, except for her intense regard that caressed his face as surely as if she’d touched him. The brilliant green of her eyes eased the pain in his chest—and suddenlyforeverdidn’t seem like nearly enough.
Chapter Twenty
“Hey, Champ. Are you hurt?” MacGyver grinned down at her, his presence by her side sorightin a world that had gone so wrong.
She studied every inch of his familiar, confident, caring face, then reached to touch the laceration on the left side, near his temple. Her fingers skimmed the nasty gash, a frown starting until he caught her hand and pressed it to his lips.
“Talk to me, baby. Can you move your legs?” The words rasped from his throat, sounding stern, contradicting the relief in his expression.
And he called me baby.
Kellie opened her mouth, licked her bottom lip and formed a word, but no sound made it past the constriction in her throat. She tried again and managed a whisper. “Did you get him?”
MacGyver pushed his baseball cap up a notch, letting her see more of his eyes. “It’s okay. You’re safe. He won’t ever hurt you again. We’re going to get you fixed up as soon as Blake gets here with the first aid kit.”
A million questions crowded into her brain, but she didn’t have the energy for all of them. “How did you find me?”
MacGyver leaned closer, and the tension in his face clearly said he’d gone to hell and back since she’d last seen him. “Actually, Blake located you on the infrared in the helo.”
Kellie’s gaze slid away from MacGyver’s. She’d been wrong about Blake. MacGyver had every right to call her on not listening to Blake’s side of the story—not giving him a chance to explain. If not for him coming to their rescue with a helicopter, the ambush Tony’s men had planned might have worked. She and Pop would no doubt be at the mercy of Tony right now. MacGyver and the others…most likely dead. Regardless of what Blake thought ofher, he’d been loyal to his friend.
MacGyver, condoning Blake’s reaction to her role in his brother’s injury, had hurt her only because she’d allowed herself to fall for him, and his opinion had cut her to the core. That was on her. Maybe Blake and MacGyver were right. Maybe defending an Iraqi citizen, resulting in the paralysis of an Army soldier, made her a traitor to her brothers and sisters in uniform. She didn’t know anymore.
He squeezed her hand and smiled when she turned back. Sympathy and regret radiated from him. “Kellie, I’m sorry, but—”
A whistle interrupted him, and he jerked his attention toward the rock face looming above them. Kellie followed his line of sight. Blake waved from the top and then started down, walking along a deer trail worn into the hillside to the right of the boulder.
MacGyver stood. “We’ll talk later, okay?”
Listening to what he had to say was probably the right thing to do, but she didn’t want to know what he was sorry about. Given the circumstances, it couldn’t be good. “Sure. Later.” Time alone was what she really needed—time to figure out her own feelings, especially now that she’d started to doubt the validity of her actions. She sat up straight and shifted to lean against the tree. As best she could, she arranged the edges of her torn shirt to cover her bare skin.
MacGyver shrugged out of his jacket and held it toward her. “Wear this.”
Kellie leaned forward and MacGyver draped it over her shoulders, bringing the ends together in front of her. His hands fisted in the lapel, he held her, moved closer and pressed his warm lips to her forehead. It was such a sweet act of kindness and caring—just not the one she wanted. Kellie closed her eyes against the threat of tears. She wouldn’t cry over something that was never meant to be.
A moment later, Blake thrust a first aid kit toward MacGyver. “Well, what’s the prognosis? Will she make it?”
Kellie raised her chin, glad for an opportunity to focus on Blake. “Hey. I’m right here, Sorenson. If you want to know something about me,ask me.” Later, she’d catch him alone and apologize for misjudging him. For now, she gave him her best go-ahead-I-dare-you look.