Extraits

Jericho took position at her head, lifting her gently and positioning her so that she lay across his lap and rested her head on his chest. He smoothed her hair from her face as Hunter knelt on the floor in front of the couch.

“Cry out all you want, honey,” Jericho murmured against her head. “This is going to hurt like a bitch.”

Hunter tensed as his fingers moved nimbly over her arm. Jericho turned away, unable to bear the sight of the arm being set. His grip tightened around Kaya as he prepared himself for her screams.

But she didn’t make a sound. She coiled like a nervous rattlesnake, so tight that he could feel every quiver of her muscles. She buried her face in his chest, and when Hunter forced the bone back into place, her hot tears soaked into Jericho’s shirt.

It was worse than any cry she might have made.

He kissed the top of her head, helpless to do anything but wait until Hunter was through binding the arm.

“She’s back,” Jericho said from his position by the window. Behind him Hunter got up and came to look out at the snow-covered ground.

A storm had blown all day, dumping a foot of snow on the high country cabin Jericho and Hunter shared between assignments. Now, just as dusk was falling, the wind had died down, leaving a pristine layer of heavy, wet snow. Thankfully they’d stocked up on supplies because they weren’t getting down the mountain unless they were up for a long walk in snowshoes.

“She’s hurt,” Hunter murmured over his cup of coffee.

Jericho nodded as he watched the mountain lion limp through the snow. Every once in a while, she fell heavily, encumbered by the high drifts. Then she’d struggle up and continue her slow trek toward the cabin.

It had been several months since they’d seen the mountain lion Hunter viewed as a pet. Not since the end of summer when they’d stumbled wearily into their cabin, washed out from another assignment.

The cat had been there, watching from a distance, as though she’d waited on them. But as always, after a day she’d disappeared back into the mountains.

Hunter set his cup down on the small end table by the couch and walked to the door.

“She won’t come in,” Jericho said. “She never does.”

She’d stand outside watching them, her nose quivering delicately as she inhaled their scent as though trying to decipher whether or not they could be trusted. They often left food for her just outside the front door. Though they never saw her eat it, it was always gone. Whether she ate it or another scavenger did, he couldn’t say, but he liked to think the cougar received their gift.

Hunter opened the door, and Jericho frowned as a blast of cold air shoved its way inside the warm interior. But Jericho kept his gaze trained out the window to where the cat pulled up as she scented Hunter.

Her ears flattened against her head, and she raised her nose, her nostrils flaring. Then, to Jericho’s surprise, she started forward again. Her limp became more pronounced as she waded from the heavier snow banks onto the freshly shoveled stone walkway leading up to the cabin.

Patiently, Hunter waited inside the open door as the cougar drew closer.

“Hunter, I’m not sure this is such a good idea,” Jericho began.

“She’s hurting,” Hunter said quietly, pain evident in his own voice.