What? Glancing over his shoulder, Hawk gasped.
A fucking huge elk charged up the trail—right at him.
He threw himself back—not far enough.
Its giganto-shoulder slammed into him and knocked him toward the drop at the trail’s edge. He screamed in terror. “Nooo!”
Grabbing his shirt, the sarge swung him around and tossed him safely against the cliff wall.
Making weird grunting sounds, the elk mama lunged at Gabe like she wanted to stomp on him.
The kid dove away.
“Leave, dumbass!” The sarge threw a big rock at the beast’s huge nose.
The elk shook its head, then its ears went back again and—
Huddled against the rock wall, Hawk stared as a giant crack appeared right under the animal’s hooves. The trail was falling apart!
“Gabe, get back!” Hawk yelled.
Gabe tried, stumbled, and went down on one knee.
The elk leaped away from the collapsing path and ran after its baby.
Lunging forward, Mako caught Gabe’s collar and threw him farther down the trail, even as the ground disappeared right out from under the sarge’s boots. In a mass of falling rocks and dirt, Mako went over the edge.
“Nooo,” Hawk whispered.
“Mako!” Bull shouted. No answer. Bull started to follow, and more of the trail crumbled away.
“Stop,” Gabe yelled. “Just wait.
Bull paused.
“Hawk, you got rope, right?” Gabe called.
“Yeah.” Hawk dug in his pack and pulled out a bunch of coiled rope. Mako was gonna teach him to use it on the cliffs.
Gabe pointed to a tree off to one side. “Caz, tie it there.”
Cazador scrambled to the spot, caught the rope Hawk tossed him, wrapped it around the tree, and made a solid knot. Something else Mako had taught them.
Bull kicked the coil off the side of the slope and held it. He leaned out. “I think he fell all the way down to the stream.”
“Let’s get him. Bull, you take backup.” Gabe grabbed the rope and used it to slow himself down as he went over the edge.
Caz followed.
Hawk slung his pack on, took a step—and tripped as loose rocks rolled out from under his foot. Arm windmilling, he teetered.
Still gripping the rope, Bull grabbed Hawk’s shirt and kept him from going over.
Jesus. Hawk latched onto the rope with shaking hands. “Thanks.” The word came out in his ugly, rough voice.
“Sure.” Bull grinned.
With a steadying breath—and a tight grip on the line—Hawk headed down. It wasn’t a cliff like on the other side of the trail but was steep enough he’d have tumbled a dozen times if not for the rope.
Bull followed.
The sarge lay at the bottom of the slope, half in the rushing creek.
“Sarge?” Hawk’s hands clenched when he didn’t move. Gabe took one arm, Hawk the other, and they dragged him onto the flat bank out of the water.
He didn’t move.
Fear was colder than the icy water. “Is he d-dead?”
“Wait.” Kneeling, Caz put his head on Mako’s chest. “Heart is alive. Breathing. Him arm broked.”
Now what? Hawk looked at Gabe. So did Caz.
But Gabe had his arms wrapped around himself and was shaking. They all were. How were they supposed to deal with this? To help the sarge?
“Yo.” Bull bumped his shoulder against Gabe’s. “What now?”
Gabe blinked, then hauled in a breath and planted his feet like he was getting ready to fight. “O-okay. Um. Guess we’re staying here for a while.”
“He cold.” Caz held Mako’s big hand in both of his.
“Right.” Gabe motioned to their backpacks. “Dig out your emergency blankets. We’ll wrap—”
Deep huffing and growling sounds made them freeze. Hawk knew that sound from the river by the cabin. It was a bear.
Oh fuck. He was shaking so hard his knees started to give out.
The bear was farther down the stream. Looking right at them. It didn’t have a hump on the back, so it must be a black bear, not a brown…even though it was kinda brownish.
Mako had said to get real noisy for the black ones.
Hawk swallowed hard and glared at Gabe. “Be noisy.”
Gabe nodded and snapped at Bull and Caz. “Start yelling. Scare it off.”
Bending, Hawk snatched the giant gun from Mako’s holster.
The other boys were screaming and waving their arms.
Damn bear didn’t run. Why didn’t it run?
Hawk gripped the gun and pointed it at the bear. The pistol was really heavy.
“Wait.” Gabe leaned over and shoved the safety button thing—and stepped back.
Okay then. Gritting his teeth, Hawk pointed the gun toward the treetops, cuz hitting the bear would piss it off and it’d attack for sure.
He pulled the trigger.
Bam. The gun jumped up in his hands and hit him right in the forehead.
Ow. His face hurt, and his ears were ringing from the noise.
But the bear veered off and disappeared into the trees.
Gone.
The others cheered, then silence fell. Because…now what?
Caz had pulled his blanket out, and they worked to wrap the thin crinkly thing around the sarge.
Mako was so quiet, like he was dead, only he wasn’t, was he?
Tears stung Hawk’s eyes, and Caz was blinking hard, and Bull kept patting the sarge’s chest like he was a dog or something.
Gabe was frowning. “We’re gonna need a fire.”
“Yeah,” Hawk said.
The other two nodded. And looked at Gabe.
Then Mako groaned.
His eyes opened, blue eyes in a tan face that was all scratched and bloody. He started to move, grunted, and scowled at his arm. “What the fuck?”
Bull grinned. “The trail fell apart—and you fell too.”
“Smartass boy.” A corner of Mako’s mouth tilted up. He moved an arm and patted the silver blanket around him. His gaze hit Bull, then Gabe, Caz, and Hawk.
The sarge grinned. “Good job. You men got the makings of a fine team.”
Good job. Mako didn’t say those words often.
Hawk stood a little straighter. But…
A team?
Yeah, maybe. If the others hadn’t been here, he wouldn’t have figured out to use a rope to get down the cliff. Would’ve probably fallen. Couldn’t have pulled the sarge out of the creek by himself. Wouldn’t know to get Mako warm. Or have remembered the safety.
Without Hawk, there’d be no rope. And the bear might’ve attacked.
A team might be good.
Because they were stronger together.
Chapter One
Twenty-three years later
The way I see it, every time a man gets up in the morning, he starts his life over. Sure, the bills are there to pay, and the job is there to do, but you don’t have to stay in a pattern. You can always start over, saddle a fresh horse, and take another trail. ~ Louis L’Amour
In the tiny garden of the rehab facility, Kirsten Sandersen pulled in a breath of moist, cool air. Springtime in Alaska, and although damaged in body and spirit, she was free. Like the leaves on the plants around her, she was putting out tender, new growth.
Her bag was packed and sitting at the door. The discharge paperwork had been signed, and she’d come to her favorite hideaway to wait for a ride home. Well, not home.