Daredevil's Run (The Taken Book 2) Read online

  She shook her head, shading her eyes, now, too. “Huh-uh. Appears to be a problem of some kind.”

  “Well,” said Cory, getting to his feet, “I don’t know about you, but I’m for finding out what.” He offered his wife a hand up, grinning slyly.

  Sam grinned back as she took it. “Hey—I’m not too proud to show my weaknesses.”

  “How could this happen?” Alex had one hand clamped to the top of her head, as if doing that might help keep a lid on her temper. So far it wasn’t working. “The equipment was checked—thoroughly. I double-checked it myself. You know I did. How could the damn thing not be holding air?”

  Down on one knee beside the slowly deflating oar boat, Tahoe tilted his head to give her an inscrutable look. “Looks to me like the valve’s damaged, boss.”

  “What?” Alex added a second hand to the one already attempting to keep the top of her head from flying off. “How?”

  Tahoe shrugged and rose to his feet, dusting off his hands. “Pretty much had to be deliberate. Must have happened last night, after the equipment check.”

  She opened her mouth, but all that emerged was a wordless squeak of incredulity. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Sabotage? Why? Who?

  As if she’d uttered the words out loud, Booker T said mildly, “At a guess, I’d say somebody doesn’t want us to make this run.”

  Her mouth clamped shut as she realized both men were staring at her. She stared back at them in utter silence for a long moment. Then, “Good Lord, Booker T, you can’t think I—”

  Booker T shrugged. “Honey, you’ve been throwing a hissy fit over this trip ever since you booked it.”

  She uttered another outraged squeak and looked at Tahoe, who was carefully not looking at either one of them. She closed her eyes for a quick three-count to get a grip on her temper, then said slowly and carefully, “Look. I was against it to begin with and I’m still not happy about it, but I’d never sabotage my own equipment just to get out of a run. Hell, I’d just cancel it, if it came to that. Booker T, you know me better than that.”

  “Yeah,” said Booker T, “I do know you.” He jerked his head toward the three people approaching. “I’m just not so sure they do. You know how this is gonna look to them.”

  Oh Lord, Alex thought. Matt. He’s going to think I did this. He knows what I think about making this run.

  “The other boat seems okay,” Tahoe offered. “And we’ve got the kayaks.”

  “Yeah…I guess. We’ll have to leave some of the gear behind, though. You guys—”

  “Is there a problem?” That was Cory. He’d reached them first, those inquisitive, see-everything eyes intent behind his glasses.

  Alex glanced at Tahoe, then Booker T. Carefully avoided looking at Matt, who was just now rolling up behind his brother, the going being a bit slow for his chair on the riverbank sand. She looked at Cory and Sam and offered them a bright gung ho smile. “Nothing we can’t deal with. Seems one of the boats doesn’t want to stay inflated.”

  “That can’t be good,” Sam muttered.

  Alex gave a chortle of laughter and tried not to think about the intent and curious stare Matt was giving her as he joined them. “Definitely not. Which is why we always bring backup. We have a couple of kayaks, just in case something like this happens. Sam, you think you can handle riding along with Tahoe?”

  “Sure. No problem.”

  No hesitation, no looking at her husband first. She had her chin up, fingers tucked in her back pockets, confident and ready for anything. Alex decided she liked this woman.

  “Okay, then. Gather up your gear, folks. Meet back here in ten minutes for your final safety briefing. We’ll be putting in in fifteen.”

  Cory and Sam nodded and headed back up to the campsite. Booker T gave a little salute and went off to see to the horse and mules. Tahoe was already unloading one of the two-man inflatable kayaks from the other oar boat. Which left Alex to face Matt, whose eyes were steady and full of questions, and who wasn’t showing any inclination to leave without answers.

  “You want to tell me what’s going on?” He asked it softly, for her ears only.

  She looked at him, then away, telling herself she didn’t need to tell him anything more than she would any other client.

  “Alex?”

  Maybe she didn’t need to tell him, but oh, how she wanted to. In the old days I would.

  But how could she tell him about this? Sabotage? It was just too crazy. And Booker T was right. Matt would probably think she’d done it herself in some sort of desperate ploy to get out of making the run.

  She let out an exasperated breath. “Look, it’s just embarrassing, okay? How do you think I feel, having something happen on this, of all runs? I mean, you, of all people…and your brother…Jeez.”

  “Hey, I know the feeling.” He gave her his crooked smile and leaned into the job of turning his chair in the sand.

  She watched him, words clogging up her throat. He’d made a few yards progress before one broke free. “Wait—”

  He paused and looked at her over one shoulder. She took a step toward him, then another. He waited patiently, not saying anything.

  “Matt—” God, why is this so hard? “—hey, look, I’m sorry about…” She made a helpless gesture, then tucked her fingertips in her pockets to keep from doing it again. “You know—back there. With the mule.”

  He tilted his head. “Why?”

  “Why? Because—” There was a lump in her throat. She swallowed, but it wouldn’t go down. “I shouldn’t have stayed. I mean, I should have given you some privacy. I wasn’t thinking. And I’m sorry.” She let go the breath she’d been holding.

  He lifted one shoulder. “Hey, you were there in rehab. It is what it is, Alex. It’s been five years. I’ve learned to deal with it.” His look lingered, and there was no accusation in his eyes at all.

  So why did she feel so guilty? And why did the words he hadn’t said echo so loudly in her mind?

  Five years, Alex. And if you’d shared them with me, maybe you’d have learned to deal with it, too.

  He’d tried to explain to the shrink they’d sent him to, those first months after the accident, what it was about running the river. He thought the doc was probably hoping to help him find some equally enjoyable hobby to occupy him, something more suitable for a man with his physical limitations. Matt had tried to make him understand—there wasn’t anything else like it. Not even close. It wasn’t all about the adrenaline rush, either. He still got that, in other ways, like at the start of a race, in those frozen seconds waiting for the starter’s gun, when his focus narrowed down so he could hear his own heartbeat, feel the blood surging through his arteries. And then the shot…the explosion of energy through every cell in his body, even the ones he no longer felt. There was challenge there, too, him against the field, man against man.

  But man against the river. That was something else.

  Just him…him against a force so immense, so unimaginably powerful, he knew if he gave it one chance, made one mistake, one error in judgment, it could easily kill him. It tested a person, going up against the river. Tested his mental and physical strength and stamina, and yes, his courage, in ways nothing else he’d tried ever could. To go up against the river and all its might and unpredictability and win—that was something nothing and nobody could take away from him.

  The river had never bested him—not yet. He’d fallen off a mountain, most likely due to his own carelessness or stupidity, but he’d never lost a battle with the river.

  Him versus the river. One on one. And the river didn’t know or care whether his legs worked. There would be no special category for people like him, no different set of scoring rules, no allowances made for the fact that he was “disabled.” The river didn’t know mercy.

  God, how I’ve missed this!

  For the first time in five years, he felt whole.

  As the first set of rapids churned and thundered around him, Matt lifted his
paddle to the sky and let out a whoop of pure joy.

  Matt’s shout went through Alex like an electric current, a bolt of emotion that was both exhilaration and pain. It made her smile—she couldn’t help it. And brought tears to her eyes—she couldn’t help that, either.

  They’d made it through the first rapids. The first test, and he’d passed it with flying colors. The laughter that bubbled through her as they drifted into the quiet water below the rapids was partly relief, partly something she couldn’t even name. Gladness…joy…even a peculiar sort of pride?

  Exasperation, she thought, would be more like it. She should have known he wouldn’t stay put in the bottom of the boat. Of course he wouldn’t. Obviously, somebody paralyzed from the waist down couldn’t sit on the tube, the way passengers normally would. Passengers had to sit sideways to the bow and use their leg muscles to steady them while they turned to face forward and paddle, while the guide sat up on the back of the boat and steered with two oars and called commands. Physically challenged clients sat in the bottom of the boat. But not Matt. Oh, no. The minute they’d hit the first rapids, he’d pulled himself to the edge with his chest against the tube, braced himself with his elbows and begun paddling.

  And, dammit, she had to admit she’d needed him. Normally there would be a lot more people manning the paddles. With only Cory to respond to her commands, the big oar boat would have been a lot harder to control.

  Now they sat in the quiet water with oars gently backpaddling, waiting for the kayak to make its run. It was standard procedure for the boats to go through rapids one at a time, so they could watch each other and be ready to assist in case of emergency. In this case the oar boat, carrying the emergency equipment, had been the first to go. Now they waited…and watched.

  Alex glanced at Cory, who was tense as wire. Of course he’d be worried about his wife. She gave him a reassuring smile. That Sam was a tough one. She’d do just fine.

  This is wild, thought Sam. Crazy wild. Pure insanity. But, oh Lord, it’s fun!

  Sam hadn’t time for much more thought than that; she was much too busy trying to stay alive. At some point it occurred to her that she was in a real life-and-death fight—not the first time she’d found herself in that situation, but this was different, somehow. Here, she was up against an adversary not driven by human intelligence. One that would kill without discrimination, mercy or remorse.

  Terrifying.

  Here were forces so powerful they could only be ridden, never mastered or controlled—something like riding a bucking bull, she imagined, only here getting bucked off was not an option!

  It was oddly tempting to surrender to the forces, just give in and let them take her where they would. But she couldn’t give in, she knew that.

  Have to keep my head…stay on top of it…

  She had no time to marvel at the skill of the guide, Tahoe. No time to worry or think about Cory…or Matt. Just focus on hanging on to the paddle, following Tahoe’s lead, and staying upright.

  Then, in an instant, they weren’t upright.

  She was in the water, icy-cold water. She was in the monster’s grip. In its mouth. Being chewed up, eaten alive. Every limb was being pulled in a different direction. Twisted and turned, like a rag doll in a washing machine. She had no idea which way was up. She swallowed water and her chest screamed. Her brain exploded in panic.

  Then—her head was free! She gasped in air, choked on it. She was bobbing like a bit of flotsam in the frothing, seething turbulence, and from somewhere a pinprick of reason broke through the chaotic darkness in her mind. Something Alex had told them during the safety briefings: If you fall in, get into tuck position! Like lying in a recliner—sit with feet up and pointed downstream! So you don’t get a foot caught in the rocks!

  There. She was still alive. Reason was returning. She was alive, floating down the river in the wake of the kayak, which she could see from time to time as it was flung skyward like a broken branch in a flash flood.

  But she didn’t see Tahoe. Oh God. Where is Tahoe?

  They all saw it happen, Alex and Cory maybe a split second before Matt did, since they were sitting up higher than he was on the sides of the boat. And Alex didn’t waste her time blowing the emergency alarm whistle, since they were the only boat there. She did yell, “Paddle!” Which they were already doing anyway.

  It was a drill he’d been through so many times before, sometimes in practice, often enough for the real thing—capsized boat, bodies in the river. It was gratifying, at least, how fast it all came back to him. Alex working like a demon to get the bag line ready, he and Cory digging at the water with all their strength. Trying not to think about or look for the people now at the mercy of the river’s hydraulics…just pulling, pulling to get the boat into position to snatch them out of the maelstrom before it carried them on by, out of reach.

  Hang in there, Sam!

  He couldn’t imagine what Cory must be going through. Couldn’t let himself think about that.

  Then he heard Alex yell, “There she is!” And felt the boat rock as she heaved the bag line across the current.

  He gripped his paddle, held steady against the current and watched Sam shoot toward them, riding the water feet first, just as she’d been taught. Good girl, he thought, and his chest was bursting with adrenaline, exhilaration and relief.

  “Grab the rope!” Cory had abandoned his paddle and was leaning over the side, calling instructions and encouragement to his wife.

  Matt saw Sam nod and begin to paddle toward the line. Her head was wet and sleek as a seal’s, but her face was calm…intent. No panic there.

  “Grab hold—hang on, Sammi June, darlin’—we’ve got you, babe!”

  Then she got hold of the line, and Alex and Cory were hauling her in…pulling her into the boat.

  Matt had seen a lot of people pulled out of the river, both customers and guides. The guides usually came in whooping and laughing—a little bit embarrassed, maybe. The customers—well, they’d be gasping, choking and on the verge of tears, if not outright hysterics. Not this lady.

  Sam toppled into the boat like a landed marlin and instantly sat up, shook her hair out of her face and grinned at her husband. Matt figured his brother’s heart had to be about jumping out of his chest right now, and what he’d be wanting to do more than anything in this world was grab his woman and hold on to her and thank the Lord for giving her back to him. But all he did was grin back at her and murmur, “Show-off.”

  All that took only a moment. Then Sam raked more water out of her eyes and gasped for breath, and managed some words. “Tahoe—I couldn’t see—is he—”

  Alex didn’t answer. She was staring intently up-river, watching the foaming, swirling current. Watching the kayak come shooting out of the white water and sail toward them—empty. She threw Matt a look as she let the kayak drift past them. A look full of anger…helplessness…desperation…futility.

  He knew how she felt. Because he knew what could happen when a boat overturned, how many different ways there were for a man to die. Even someone as experienced and strong as a Class V river guide. He gave Alex the same look and their eyes held for what seemed a long time. Held on until someone’s hoarse cry—Sam’s or Cory’s; it was hard to tell in that moment—galvanized them both.

  Alex spun back to the rapids and a moment later echoed the cry. Matt heaved himself up and braced himself with the strength of his arms so he could see what everyone else had seen already. It took him seconds to find it—the spot of dark in the sea of white. Tahoe’s head, barely keeping above the water, sometimes dipping under.

  Matt yelled, “He’s lost his vest!” at the same moment Alex started shouting commands—commands mixed with some passionate swearing.

  “He’s not buoyant, may not be conscious, might not be able to grab the rope! Get those paddles in the water, dammit! Now!”

  Matt knew what had happened, and he was sure Alex did, too. Tahoe’s life vest had evidently gotten caught on something
underwater. Anybody with less experience, less presence of mind than the guide, would have been dead, but somehow the man had managed to keep his head, extricate himself from the vest and get his head above water. Problem was, without the buoyancy of the life vest, he was at the mercy of the river’s hydraulics—the action of the water. No way to keep himself from being bashed and battered against the rocks.

  Alex was right. He might be barely conscious, unable to grab hold of the line.

  Matt knew what needed to be done and didn’t stop to ask permission. He knew he was the only one who could do it. Grabbing hold of the boat’s fat slippery tube, he hauled himself up and over the side, and slid headfirst into the river.

  Chapter 5

  Matt heard the shouts as he went over the side, and ignored them.

  Surfacing, he yelled, “Throw me the line!” He shut out of his mind the vision of his brother’s face peering down at him, pale with shock and fear, and focused on Alex’s furious one instead. “Dammit, Alex, give it to me—now!”

  Then the bag was arcing through the air above him, and he reached up and snagged the line and got it around his chest and snugged up tight. He got a bead on the head he could just see drifting toward him, riding the current at what seemed an impossible speed, and struck out swimming crosscurrent to intercept. Swimming harder than he’d ever done in his life, knowing if he missed the rendezvous…

  Missing the rendezvous wasn’t an option.

  Then he had the man in his arms.

  “Hold on, buddy—I’ve got you.” Did he say it out loud, or only in his mind?

  He felt Tahoe’s broad body, slippery and cold in its wet suit, turned him and hugged him tight to his own chest. He felt the pull of the rope fighting hard against the pull of the river, and let others fight that battle while he concentrated on keeping the river guide’s head above water. He could hear yells of encouragement above the rush and roar of the river, coming closer and closer, and then hands were reaching for him, reaching down to grab hold of Tahoe’s arms.