Page 6 of Biker's Babygirl

“Ha, think again,” another voice calls out. It was light-hearted and easy. “Found ‘em. Maybe you need glasses, Shep.”

This is it.I bite down on my bottom lip to keep from making a sound. Even as I do it, I wonder why I bother. Any minute, they’ll be on me. They’ll drag me out of this hole, and I’ll be lucky if they kill me on the spot.Lucky. Because if they take me to Lucas, I’ll wish I was dead a thousand times over before he actually kills me.

I have to admit, as unsurprised as I am that they found me, I didn’t expect them to sound so matter-of-fact… so downright jovial.

They’re not like me,I remind myself.Anyone that works for Lucas is either dead inside, or less than human.

Still, I don’t feel any better as I wait.

“What are we going to do when we find ‘er?”

I freeze, but my heart is pounding so hard in my ears, I worry I won’t hear the answer.

“Shoot her, I reckon.”

I slap my hand to my mouth and bite down on my own palm to keep from crying out.

“Or throw her in the pen and wait until he comes. Then he can decide how to handle her himself.”

Oh, god, oh god, oh, god!Lucas is coming.Here. Of course he is. Ever since I’ve known him, he’s preferred to take care of personal vendettas himself. And him and me… it’s so much more personal than the normal stuff he took care of. Which means he’ll make it hurt a hundred times worse.

My stomach churns until I know I’m going to be sick. There’s nothing I can do to stop it. I can feel beads of sweat on my forehead, even though it’s barely above freezing out here. Doesn’t matter. Nothing does, but the fact that any minute these unnamed goons will pull me out, and then… then…

I clench my hands as tightly to my mouth as I possibly can, but in the end, a reflex is a reflex. I remove them just in time to hurl chunks all over the moss and leaves and pray the men above me—whoever they are—are deaf as well as blind.

Duke

Shep is in a good mood, even Elvis is sporting half a smile. But these kinds of missions always put me on edge. There’s nothing worse than an unpredictable wild animal. Not to mention, where there’s one, there’s usually a whole pack nearby.And while there are three of us with loaded rifles, I want to get the coyote—or coyotes, if it comes to that—to the wild rescue, if there’s any way.

“Could you be quieter?” I hiss at Elvis, to my left. “It’s bad enough they’re sensitive to human scent, but if you keep breaking every branch in the damn forest…” Being on high alert gives me a tendency to swear.

Elvis looks surprised, and even Shep sends me a confused stare.

“I didn’t hear anything.”

Huh. I turn my head and strain my ears. I could swear I heard something, but both men are giving me blank looks.

Listening again and hearing nothing this time, I shrug and motion for them to continue their search. I turn back to the prints. It rained a bit last night, making the clay-like texture of the earth turn to mud. The only advantage being that it’s like an Etch-A-Sketch for anything that sets foot—or paw—on it.

As quietly as I can, I follow the tracks until they stop at the edge of a cliff. Just below is a shimmering lake, but I have no reason to believe that the coyote jumped in. No, more likely she doubled back and walked on the grass for her return journey. Coyotes are devilishly smart creatures.

Joanna doesn’t need to worry. Even if we can’t find this one, she knows well enough to stay inside, and she’s got a rifle of her own. Worst that would happen is the little devil would get bold and take a couple chickens. Still…

The hairs on the back of my neck stand up, and I get a gut feeling that something is off. I always trust my gut. The thing is, I don’t smell or see a coyote.

I glance at Shep and Elvis, a little further off, but they don’t seem alarmed, either. My brother served, too, though he took his two tours in the Marine Corp. And Elvis? Well, according to his resume, he was a cop for eight years before resigningfor personal reasons. He went to security after that, but he has a strong background in medicine and a Harley, and when he took her in for some upgrades, the mechanic, desperate for something to talk about, started talking about me and my “Wilderness Warriors” which is what people have taken to calling us. It’s a joke, but kinda true. We go where the problem is, because plenty of people in need can’t travel to a hospital, and accidents happen in parts of the country where a bike is a hell of a lot faster than an ambulance.

It’s an eclectic team we’ve built, and I trust their instincts as much as my own. So if they’re not alarmed, then maybe I shouldn’t be either.

There it is again. I turn my head, focusing on being as still as possible. The sound is so soft, it’s hardly a sound at all, and yet, I hear it. As slow as humanly possible while still being in motion, I move toward the noise, straining my ears all the while.It’s there… right? Maybe not a coyote, but something.

I don’t even have to signal to Shep and Elvis—when I glance behind me, they’ve turned their attention in my direction and have started moving forward noiselessly to provide backup. I stop at the edge of what at first glance, looks like a poorly dug hole.

No animal would be happy with that shoddy job. None except human.

But even with that determination made, I don’t feel any less on edge. Ever so carefully, I crouch and peer into the opening. It takes a moment for my eyes to adjust, but as soon as they do I realize there is something—someone—lying partially underneath a pile of moss and leaves. My heart stills in my chest and my breath catches.

My eyes scan the body—whoever it is, they are small. Tiny. I’m thinking a preteen, maybe. And the short hair, flat chest…male.Dead? My eyes slowly scan back and forth, looking for any sign of life.

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