Chapter 2
Fire licked my eyes as the cloud of chemical deterrent hit the bear and floated toward my face.
I turned my head and kept spraying.
A gunshot sounded, making me jump as I dug through my backpack looking for my water bottles. Someone was saving me, even as my eyes, mouth, and nose were being singed to the point of never being able to use them again.
Rough hands grabbed beneath my arms, hauling me up from my spot.
“Don’t touch your face or your eyes. You’ll only make it worse. Keep them closed,” the unfamiliar male voice said.
I tried to open my mouth, and my throat felt swollen. No words were coming out, only weird sounds.
“I’ve got you.”
The deep timbre of my savior’s voice rolled over me as I struggled to break free. Savior or not, I wasn’t a fan of strange men manhandling me.
I was lifted off my feet. My stomach hit something rock hard as I struggled not to fall. I grabbed the back of his shirt as I flailed, only then hearing the faint sound from a walkie-talkie that wasn’t mine, that Peter had been found.
These shoulders were too broad to belong to Jimbo. Was it another rescuer?
The man carried me for what seemed like an eternity until I heard a door open and close. An air-conditioned breeze caressed my skin. He lowered me to my feet. I heard what sounded like a running shower.
I was lifted again, and this time, the man stood behind me holding me as water sprayed over my head and down my face.
“Flush your eyes for fifteen minutes. I need to get you out of these clothes to make sure we get it all off.”
The relief I felt overwhelmed me. I didn’t even care that the guy was removing my clothes. I didn’t care that I stood in my underwear under the showerhead. I blinked several times, trying to see. I gulped some of the water to ease the pain in my throat.
The heat from the man towering behind me disappeared.
“I’ll get you a towel, some clean clothes, and something for the swelling.”
The sound of a door clicking closed eased the tension in my shoulders.
The shower came more into focus. The dark tiles lining the walls were cold beneath my palms. The shower was like a waterfall. Expensive.
The door opened again, and the blur of a large man wearing soaked clothes walked in. He dropped the towel and things he’d promised onto the vanity.
He stood there, staring at me through the glass, creating goosebumps on my skin. I could feel his gaze on me one minute, and in the next, he was gone.
I turned off the water and climbed out. Grabbing towels he’d left I dried off and blinked several times until my entire vision returned. Opening the Tylenol bottle, I took one, hoping that it helped douse the fire still raging in my throat. I drank an entire bottle of water before even caring about the clothes.
The flannel shirt hit me at my knees. I lifted it and held it to my nose, inhaling not once but twice when the scent of air-dried sheets mingled with woods drifted to my nose. My nose still worked.
I pumped my fist.
I kept my bra and underwear on beneath, wishing my shorts hadn’t been exposed. I blinked at myself in the mirror. My oval face came into focus. My brown hair no longer hung in a ponytail but lay dripping down my shoulders. I looked like a soaked dog. Better wet than dead.
I opened the door and stepped out to find the hallway empty. The hardwood floors were cool beneath my aching feet. A jazz melody played somewhere in the house.
“Hello,” I called out as I eased through the rooms, only pausing to pick up a candlestick in passing. I held it tight in my grasp.
“In here.” There was that deep-timbered voice again.
I continued through the rustic house, passing the dark furnishings that lacked a woman’s decorative touch. Manly oversized furniture was strategically placed around a TV hanging in the center of the wall.
I stepped into the kitchen to find a man dressed in flannel, like a lumberjack, standing at the coffee pot. “How do you take your coffee?”
