Indivisible Line (6 page)

“Ready?” Cade McPherson grinned at him from the pilot seat of their rented DeHavilland bush plane.

“Sure am.” Greg propped himself up next to Cade. After pulling out the set of headphones hanging on the dash, he adjusted the earpiece before donning them.

Cade had planned this hunting trip and made all the necessary arrangements. This time, Greg had agreed to rough it, backpacking in the wilderness instead of employing the services of a guide, like they’d done in the past.

Flying and hunting had always been a passion the two friends shared. They had met when Greg’s father, Gregory Jr., brought Cade on to help Greg when business took him to out-of-town meetings and presentations. Cade had soon become his right-hand man.

“Let’s find out what Beaver has to offer this time.” Cade grinned before he powered up the plane. The engine whirred efficiently, and the lone propeller spun to life, spinning wildly while Cade turned his attention to the GPS. Keying their destination, he checked his watch and spoke to the man in a little shack that consisted of the control tower.

“Beaver, here we come.” Greg saluted.

A deckhand waved at them, signaling their ready position and clearing them for takeoff. What had made them decide to go on their own? That was an easy one. They’d joined many expeditions before. Hunting in the Adirondacks for bucks, they’d traveled to Calvert Hill in Illinois for their prized trophy, the white tail deer. They flew west to Tehama, California, to hunt for wild pigs and to West Yaak, Montana, to hunt for moose. But Alaska gave them more bang for their buck. From the rugged and remote areas to the variety of wildlife, Alaska offered one of the most ideal hunting conditions out there. The backdrop didn’t hurt, either. Greg couldn’t wait to get started.

Once airborne, he removed his earpiece and pulled binoculars from his backpack. This trip had been planned about three months earlier, and now that the wait was over, he began to imagine the hunting prospects. Wolves were in abundance in Beaver, and Greg had been salivating at the possibility of encountering one. He’d also been looking forward to the unbeatable rush and the play of the hunt.

After their departure from Fairbanks, it took them half an hour to get to Beaver, where they circled a planned area close to the sandbar of a river. Once their plane had been safely anchored, they set off on foot, hunting rifles in hand and their gear strapped to their backs.

This trip also doubled as an escape from the ugliness of his impending divorce. Greg sighed while they made their way through an opening in the vast wilderness awaiting them. Cassandra was a socialite he’d met a few years back. At first, it had seemed like a perfect union—a beautiful woman and a powerful businessman. He’d had no qualms marrying her, despite the negative feedback about her character. “Gold-digging bitch” was one of the mildest labels he’d heard applied to her.

Greg had shrugged it off. With her beguiling beauty, he had been taken in—hook, line, and sinker. He’d offered her the prettiest diamond money could buy, and they celebrated one of the biggest weddings in New York City history and honeymooned all over the world.

In a way, his money blinded her, and that had set them up for bigger troubles. As the old saying went, it hadn’t been long before “the honeymoon was over.” All of the predictions came true when Cassandra demanded more than he was willing to give her—she wanted a family. Even though he desired one as well, he couldn’t bear the thought of having children while in a failing marriage with a philandering wife.

Sure, he’d known all along, but he stuck it out long enough to see if things would change over time. When the last, little sliver of hope had been snuffed out, he’d filed for divorce, and the rest was history.

She’d be looking at half his net worth, which in plain lingo would make her a billionaire. With any luck, all that money would appease her and soon mark an end to their long, drawn-out court battle.

Two days into their trek and still coming up empty handed, Greg and Cade stopped at a clearing. It was a safe enough place to pitch their tent.
 

Looking back, Cade had been pressing more than usual for details about the divorce and Cassandra. Though Greg hadn’t found the questions odd at the time, he could now guess the motive behind the shooting—the bastard had been screwing his soon-to-be ex-wife. That had to be the reason. Nothing else fit. But why?

Greg’s head began to ache as pieces of information came flashing back. He’d often seen them talking, perhaps standing a bit closer together than was normal, but he’d shrugged it off. A man’s best friend and wife
could
develop a natural friendship—there was no need to make mountains out of molehills.

Would things be better for them if he were out of the picture altogether? That must be the case. Otherwise there was no need for Cade to go to such great lengths to get rid of him. Still, the bastard had been sloppy at best. Since the botched murder attempt, Greg had sworn to make sure to extend the same hell to his so-called friend. Simple as that.
 

No one attempted to kill Gregory Andrews III and lived to talk about it. His fists clenched at the thought how he’d been taken out like an animal, shot and left for dead. He’d get to the bottom of things. The first thing to worry about was getting out of this place, wherever it was, and getting home. Then he’d start planning payback.

The sound of moaning jolted Sarah awake. She bolted from the chair and rushed to check on her patient. His eyes were closed, although his mouth moved as though he were trying to speak. He made no audible noise except a faint groan, and his body shook.
 

Sarah’s instinct led her to place a comforting hand on his forehead. It was not a surprise that the skin was hot to the touch. The stranger jerked and let out another distressed sound. He appeared agitated, wincing with pain at the slightest movement.

“Don’t try to speak or move. You’re safe. Nod your head if you are cold.” Sarah kept her voice low, and she felt helpless while his face contorted once more.
 

He nodded once, with obvious effort.

Although she knew she’d regret doing so, Sarah rested her hand on his bare arm, light as a feather so as not to startle him. When his face registered nothing, she began rubbing his arm to help his blood circulate. When the friction between their skins built up, a tingling awareness rippled through her body. A sensitized burning on her palm sparked with every stroke of the hard muscles beneath his clammy skin. An inexplicable awareness of his male body and her response to their close proximity compounded her confusion.

After a few minutes, she had to pry her hand away. It was too much, and the fact that she enjoyed it scared her.

Oh, you know you want it. Stop hiding from yourself. Have a little fun,
the little uninvited and unwelcome voice said from deep within her.

Trying to ignore it, Sarah moved to take out a blanket. She had been taught to cool down post-surgical patients when fever was present. In this case, though, there was a risk of shock or becoming septic without the proper antibiotics and equipment, and that swayed her decision.

Taking a quick peek at the wound, she noted a few improvements. The stitches seemed to be holding up and the bleeding had abated, which was another good sign. After re-taping the bandage, she placed the blanket on him and tucked the edges around his body with care. That calmed the shivering a little.

Satisfied, she took his wrist and timed his respirations. Good, but not great.

Turning her mind to the next task, she leaned closer and whispered in his ear. “I will give you another shot of Demerol, which is all we have here for pain.” She could see that he was trying to follow the sound of her voice with his head, but he stopped with a wince. Sarah quickened her movements and administered the last of the vial she had on hand.

The shot took effect within minutes, and the man faded into another restless slumber. Sarah again checked his vital signs, recording his body temperature and the appearance of the surgical site, and jotted them down. Everything looked as well as could be expected. She hoped that the bullet removal and the transfusion were well within the golden hour. If so, he would have a better chance of survival.

Weary, she returned to the desk to complete the remaining progress report. Her stomach growled, but since she couldn’t leave him by himself, she concentrated on finishing her report.

A few minutes later, his teeth began chattering. Sarah watched him shiver underneath the layers of blankets. She was running out of options.

There were no other blankets left in the clinic, and his shaking began to turn into convulsive tremors. When he gave an agonized scream of pain, she thought,
Man, it never ends
. There was just one option left, and it was the one she had no right to do.
 

Everyone knew survival skill number one—body heat.

Not letting her doubts dissuade her, she climbed onto the little examination table, taking care to avoid his wound while she slid down next to him.
This should be easy.
Sarah expelled a deep breath and turned her body to face him, putting an arm across his chest and resting one leg around his. Simple enough, right?
 

It would have been, if the man’s bloodshot eyes hadn’t opened at her touch. Her body turned rigid at once, and she moved to lift her limbs off him.

Pink crept up her cheeks. Sarah lowered her eyes, afraid to look at him when their faces were almost touching. His eyes tilted in her direction.

“Do . . . it,” his hoarse tone begged.

Sarah hesitated, but her innate healing sense would not let her refuse to do the right thing. She lowered her limbs onto his body again and inched closer. His slight movement suggested he was trying to snuggle against her, but whatever pain he’d been grappling with prevented him from doing so.

“Don’t move. Just stay still if you can. You’ll feel warmer in no time.”

“Have you no respect for yourself, or even for me?”

The livid voice boomed across the room and tore away her cloud of lethargy. Sarah’s eyes shot open, and she blinked, feeling disoriented. It took a moment to focus, but then she found herself staring up at a man who glowered back down at her. Her father. She bolted to a sitting position and glanced across the room to the empty bed. With a gasp, she realized that she had been dreaming all along.
 

It had felt so real. She shivered at the memory.