Lone Defender. Shirlee McCoy

hands away when she tried to stop him.

      “Says the man who hasn’t been wandering around in the desert for six days,” she muttered, but she was already reaching for the first handhold, already feeling her way around the lower edge of the wall, pulling up along the slippery rock, her muscles tight with effort, her face set.

      A birdcall sounded through the storm, as out of place as a lion’s roar in the city. Whoever followed had found their trail. It wouldn’t be long before the hunter spotted the prey.

       Hurry.

      That’s what he wanted to say, what he wanted to shout as he followed Skylar’s slow ascent. Ten feet. Thirty. Fifty. Jonas could almost taste their victory, almost feel the relief that would come when he pulled himself over the ledge and into the cave.

      Another birdcall and another.

      Skylar slipped, her soft scream carrying above the storm. Jonas wedged his hand into a crevice, preparing to support her weight if she continued to fall. She slid another foot, then caught herself just above Jonas’s position. He scrambled up beside her, pressing his free hand to her back, holding her steady as she caught her breath.

      “I told you this was a bad idea,” she mumbled, but there was no going back, and she knew it.

      “We’re almost there.”

      “This isn’t a car ride through the country, Jonas. Almost may as well be a million miles away.”

      “A million mile journey begins—”

      “With a single step. Right. How about we not get philosophical while we’re hanging from the face of a cliff?”

      “How about—”

      “We keep moving?” She reached up, her fingers clawing at slick rock as she searched for a hold, found it, pulled herself onward with trembling arms. Below, a light jumped and swayed, the beam touching the base of the mesa before moving away.

      Hurry, hurry, hurry.

      The word chanted through Jonas’s mind, but he didn’t dare say it. Didn’t dare push Skylar out of the slow, steady progress she was making. Almost done in, that’s how she’d looked. There was a very fine line between that and done. Skylar had no choice but to move slowly, and Jonas had no choice but to follow. God willing, they’d make it. If not, at least they’d die trying.

      The thought was cold comfort as Jonas moved into place beneath Skylar and started climbing again.

      THREE

      The rope loosened on Skylar’s waist, and she knew Jonas was on the move. He seemed to easily navigate the same path she struggled with. No fear. No hesitation. If not for Skylar, he’d already be at the top of the mesa and moving away from the danger that stalked them. Instead, he stayed beneath her, matching her plodding pace. The weight of that, the responsibility of it, drove her on.

      Rain poured from the sky, turning rough rock into slick ice. Too slick. One more missed handhold, one more slipped foot, and she’d go down, carrying Jonas with her.

      Two bodies lying on the soaked desert floor.

      She shuddered, reaching for the next handhold. She should have stayed on the ground. Should have insisted he go on without her, but he’d been right to think she wasn’t a quitter. She’d never quit anything in her life, and she couldn’t quit this. No matter how much her burning muscles might want her to.

      “Come on, Grady, keep moving.” Jonas’s words penetrated her pain-induced fog, and she realized she’d stopped, was hugging the wall like she planned to stay there all night. Cold rain, throbbing heat, her body shaking with fatigue or fever or both, and all she could do was cling to her position and pray her cramped fingers didn’t let loose, her trembling legs didn’t give out.

      “Climb!” Jonas shouted as if that would give her the impetus to move.

      What he didn’t seem to understand was that she wanted to move. She really did. But her body refused to cooperate. Her fingers dug deep into small niches, her feet pressed hard onto a tiny ledge of rock, and she could not move.

      Could.

      Not.

      The rope slapped her hip as Jonas eased sideways and up. She didn’t need to watch to know what he was doing. Moving into position to pass her.

      No. Not pass.

      He wouldn’t leave her clinging to the mesa.

      She hadn’t known him long, but she knew that. Sensed it the same way she’d sensed trouble when she’d arrived in Cave Creek and started asking questions about the deadbeat dad she’d been tracking. Something had been brewing in the little town, and she should have turned tail and run. Instead, she’d dug in her heels, kept on asking, kept on pushing.

      Someone had pushed back.

      Who?

      It was a question she’d been asking for the better part of a week. If she ever got out of the desert, she’d find the answer.

      For now she needed to focus on surviving.

      Focus on climbing.

       Focus.

      But her thoughts were as clumsy as her movements and scattered as easily as dry leaves on a windy day.

      “Move it, Grady, because I’m not in the mood to toss you over my shoulder and carry you up to the cave.” Jonas perched inches away, his eyes gleaming in the darkness.

      “As if you could,” she responded, the words slurred and thick, her teeth chattering on each one.

      Not good.

      She was losing it. She knew it. Jonas knew it. She could see it in his eyes, could sense it in the urgency of his words.

      “I’ll do what I have to do.”

      He would.

      Of course, he would.

      And they’d both die because of her.

      Not the way she wanted to go. Not the end she’d imagined for her life, that was for sure. She’d much rather die an old lady, sitting in an easy chair reading a good book. Preferably after eating a very large and satisfying meal.

      She scowled, reaching up, her muscles screaming in protest. Just a little farther. She could do that.

       Please, God. Please, help me do it.

      Jonas moved past her, the rope pulling tight on Skylar’s waist. Seconds later, he called out from above.

      “The rope is secure. Just another foot, and I can grab you and pull you into the cave.” His words penetrated the thick haze that had wrapped itself around Skylar’s brain. Another foot might as well have been a hundred, but she kept moving anyway, letting momentum carry her.

      A hand wrapped around one wrist, grabbed the other as she reached again. Hard hands. Firm and warm. She had a split second to think those things, and then she was off the wall, lying on hard ground, staring up at blackness. No rain pouring down her face. No cold breeze biting through her borrowed jacket. No endlessly tall mesa to climb.

      Nothing but darkness, and she slid into it, her eyes closing.

      “Good job, Grady.” The rough words echoed off the cave walls, and Skylar wanted to respond, but she had nothing left. No words. No energy.

      A soft cloth wiped rain from her face, gentle hands tucked a Mylar blanket around her shivering body, a palm pressed to her forehead. “You’re feverish.”

      Feverish?

      Of course she was.

      She had to be if she was letting someone take care of her.

      The thought gave her enough energy to open her eyes, push onto her elbows. “I’m fine.”

      “You