Cheryl Wolverton

Storm Clouds


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David cast a wary glance at her as she rummaged about, bumping him, distracting him…Her eyes suddenly gleamed. She’d found his rifle under the seat. “Hey!” he cried, his utter shock at being shot at suddenly replaced by the fear of this crazy woman getting hold of his gun. “I don’t think you should use that.”

      Sweat broke out on the back of his neck. How had he gotten himself into this situation? He’d been out doing his rounds for the National Park Reserve and then this woman had fallen out of a car. In all of his years and all of his jobs he’d never had something like this happen.

      Now he was being chased across the reserve and the woman he’d rescued—or who had hijacked him, he still wasn’t sure which—was getting ready to shoot at the people behind them, the people who were trying to kill her…no them, he corrected, since he was in the car with this lady. On top of it all, he was having to use every bit of his skill to keep from overturning them as he cut out across the land.

      “I know what I’m doing,” she warned him as she turned in her seat and braced herself, one knee wedged in the seat as she fought for steadiness and shouldered the rifle.

      He suddenly realized the woman wasn’t from here. She had a different accent. He tried to place it and groaned when he realized she was one of those loony Americans. Yeah, she probably did know how to use it. They all had guns over there.

      They hit a nasty bump and the woman’s arm bounced. The rifle went flying.

      She let off with a loud shout, very unladylike. “Idiots!”

      He winced. “Er, be that as it may, lady, I’d hold on.”

      She looked at him. “Don’t tell me my word choice bothers you? We’re about to be killed.”

      He shrugged. He’d done plenty of drinking and name-calling in his life as a teenager, but now…not now. That wasn’t what he’d been wincing over, however. It was the fact that he’d almost lost the woman out the door. Forcing his heart back down out of his throat, he croaked out, “Hold on,” and cut sharply to the right.

      “We’ve got to get rid of them!” the woman ordered working to twist back around.

      The lady was good at keeping her balance as fresh bullets whizzed by them. He said a prayer that God would protect them.

      That’s when an idea came to him. “I think I know a place we can lose them,” he called out.

      “I’m open to suggestions,” she shot back.

      He nodded, not understanding what she meant, since he was the one driving. “We’re coming up on these canyons.” He nodded to where the terrain was rising up on each side of them. “I know a path through…”

      “They’ll follow,” she argued.

      He glanced at her and thought that for someone in trouble, she was pretty argumentative. She had turned and was putting her seat belt on.

      “Trust me,” he said.

      She glared at him. “I don’t trust anyone.”

      He wasn’t sure how to take that. He concentrated on the curves instead of the woman. The shooting had stopped for the time being since the other car couldn’t get a clear shot. “When we get around this next corner I need you to hold on,” he called out.

      She nodded and braced herself.

      He took a deep breath and prayed he didn’t kill them both.

      A sharp U-turn and he took a path opposite to the way he’d been going and continued, right to the edge of the road—and then over.

      The woman screamed.

      He couldn’t help but let out a shout as adrenaline rushed through his body.

      They crashed down over the side, rattling him from his feet to his teeth. He slammed on the brake and the woman slid forward.

      With quick agility, David shoved the gear into Reverse and backed up until he was inside one of the numerous caves in the area. He kept going until they were back beyond anyone’s ability to see inside to where they were.

      Above them, they heard the car racing past.

      He held his breath, waiting, but didn’t hear them returning. He could only hope they’d bought it.

      Turning toward the woman, he started to say something, pausing when he suddenly realized she was awfully calm considering what he’d just done. His curiosity turned to alarm when he realized the woman was lying back against the seat, still and quiet. “Lady?” He reached over and touched her cheek.

      It was wet. And she didn’t respond to his touch.

      Cold fear shot through him as he realized the passenger was injured.

      He opened the glove compartment and found his flashlight. Flipping it on, he saw instantly she’d hit her head. Blood trickled from just below her hairline.

      He released his seat belt and turned to grab the first aid kit he kept in the Jeep. It was too easy for things to happen out there so he always kept a kit with him. Fishing through it, he found what he wanted.

      Heartened when the woman next to him groaned and moved, he asked, “Can you hear me?” He pulled out some gauze and bandages.

      She groaned again.

      He reached up to push her long dark hair back behind her ear so he could examine the wound more closely.

      She grabbed his hand and nearly broke his fingers.

      He jerked back and she pulled him forward.

      Immediately he leaned into the fight and pinned her. “Calm down, my little wombat,” he whispered.

      It must have been his voice or maybe she was finally regaining consciousness completely because she stiffened and then relaxed, releasing him. “Sorry,” she muttered and in the dim light, he saw her wince.

      “Be still. Let me bandage that head.”

      It was cool in the cave and he felt the woman shiver. He reached behind her seat and grabbed the jacket he’d worn earlier. “Here, sweetheart, wear this.”

      “I’m no one’s sweetheart,” she objected.

      He smiled slightly. “Still feisty.” Tearing open the gauze, he pulled it out of the package and then placed it over the small laceration. Taking the second one out of the package, he started wiping up the blood from her face. “I don’t think this is as bad as it looks.”

      “You’re not the one with the pounding head.” Her deep voice echoed, a bit put off at the moment. He would be too, he reminded himself, if he’d just been hurt as she had.

      As he wiped her face, high cheekbones revealed themselves on a long angular face. She was quite beautiful. And those deep-brown eyes…

      “Done yet?” she grouched at him.

      Pulled back to the business at hand, he tossed the bloody gauze and grabbed the roll of first aid tape. Firmly taping the fresh gauze over her wound, he paused to reach out and pull her hair from behind her ear.

      Her gaze shot to his as if he’d done something of which she didn’t approve.

      He admitted it was a very intimate gesture, but he’d had to touch the soft hair once again.

      Sitting back, he studied the woman carefully, working to break the intimacy of his gesture. “I’m David Lemming. And you are?”

      “Hurting from head to toe,” she answered. “Got any painkillers in that box?”

      He lifted a brow at the way she’d avoided answering then reached in and pulled out some medication, which he handed to her. She didn’t blink, but slipped it into her mouth and swallowed without water.

      He swallowed, his own throat dry. He felt a bit like choking as he watched her.

      She glanced