Slow Burn: A Colorado High Country Novel (10 page)

Eric’s head snapped around. “What did they say?”

“Distracted?” Belcourt asked, a knowing grin on his face.

Taylor ignored them both. “I heard them say that rain in the mountains near Leadville last night has pushed the flow higher than it’s been since the spring melt. Most of the boats going through Seidel’s have flipped today.”

Seidel’s Suckhole was the only true class IV rapid on this stretch of the river and a real challenge. So many boats flipped there that people crowded the cliffs above it just to watch and cheer as rafters tumbled into the frigid water.

“Good to know.”

By the time the women had returned and the men had hit the john—one at a time—Logan had rejoined them.

“We’ve got the best rapids of the day ahead of us,” he said. “Who’s ready to get back on the water?”

They carried the raft to the water’s edge and climbed aboard.

Eric turned to Victoria. “Here’s where it gets fun.”

“I can’t wait!”

The rapids came one after another now, Logan calling out the names and giving them instructions on how hard to row and when. Screaming Right Hand Turn. Canyon Doors. Pinball. Zoom Flume.

Behind him, Victoria screamed and laughed like a kid on an amusement park ride, her enjoyment putting a stupid grin on Eric’s face.

Heckle Jeckle. Big Drop. Seven Stairs. Widowmaker.

A wave sprayed over his side of the raft, soaking him to the skin, and probably Victoria, too. She gave a shriek, then laughed.

Raft Ripper. Graveyard. Last Chance.

“You still with us, city girl?” he called over his shoulder.

“It’s not over already, is it?”

“Okay, we’re coming up on Seidel’s Suckhole,” Logan called out to them, shouting to be heard above the water. “When I tell you to row, give it everything you’ve got. Row hard, and don’t stop until I tell you.”

They passed the Hecla Junction Access, where people on half-day trips were going ashore. A few minutes later, Eric saw Seidel’s Suckhole ahead.

“What are all those people doing up there?” Victoria asked.

Eric looked up, saw a big crowd on the cliffs. “They’re watching boats flip.”

The raft ahead of them gathered speed, shot through the rapid, then vanished, sucked beneath the water, only to reappear seconds later, its passengers popping up above the surface and bobbing like corks as they made their way toward the riverbank.

“Okay, row! Row hard!”

The boat flew through the water, hit the rapid, then caught air, sending them sailing to the suckhole.

“Row!”

For a moment, Eric thought they’d nailed it. Then the boat vanished from beneath them, the current sucking them all down into the river.

He managed to get a deep breath before he went under, the frigid temperature a shock to the system. He kicked for the surface, glanced around for the others. He saw Logan and Taylor. Belcourt had Winona. Lexi’s head popped up close to the boat.

His heart gave a hard thud.

Where was Victoria?

He did a quick three-sixty spin in the water, the fierce current carrying him downriver. Then a head popped above the surface about five yards upriver.

Victoria.

She took a deep breath, then laughed and pointed her feet downstream.

He fought the current, kicking hard to hold his position, and let the river carry her straight into his arms. Then he rolled onto his back and steered them to the safety of the sand. And there they lay, Victoria on top of him, panting for breath, the sunshine slowly bringing heat back into their limbs. It was only then that he realized the two of them had ended up on one side of the river, while everyone else was on the other.

“You okay, city girl?”

Victoria raised herself up, looked down at him, a brilliant smile on her beautiful face. “That was the most fun I’ve ever had.”

Then she bent down and kissed him.

Up on the cliffs, people cheered.

* * *

T
hey showered
in the rafting company’s locker rooms, excitement still humming through Vic’s veins as she shampooed her hair.

What an adrenaline rush this day had been.

From the moment they’d hit that first rapid, her fear had vanished. Even when the boat had disappeared from beneath her, she hadn’t been afraid—stunned by the cold water, yes, but not afraid. She’d kicked her way to the surface, aided by her floatation vest, to find Eric searching for her. Her heart had melted when she’d seen the worry on his face. Then the river had pushed her into his arms, and he’d held onto her until they reached the sand.

She tilted her head back to rinse the shampoo away, smiling to herself, the memory of their kiss sending a thrill through her. She wasn’t sure what had come over her. Maybe it was just the adrenaline. Maybe it had been the sight of him lying there, out of breath and sexy as hell. Or maybe it had been his concern for her.

No man had ever put himself on the line for her before.

She finished her shower, wrapped a towel around herself, and stepped out to make room for someone else. She dried off, rubbed lotion into her skin, and slipped into a white cotton tank top and a pair of hunter green hiking shorts she’d added to Eric’s skimpy pile. Had he really expected her to bring so little?

Dressed like this, she felt so very Colorado. Here, women dressed like they were on their way to the gym—yoga pants or shorts, T-shirts, no makeup.

She found Lexi bent over in front of the mirrors, drying her hair. “I saw that kiss.”

Vic couldn’t help but smile. “I think a lot of people did.”

The crowd on the cliff had actually cheered.

She pulled a comb out of her makeup bag and began to work through her tangles, Lexi’s silence speaking volumes. “Let me guess. You’re going to warn me that Eric is a bit of a playboy and tell me I shouldn’t get my hopes up.”

Lexi stood, flipping her red hair back. “Just be careful, okay? You’re my best friend, and he’s Austin’s best friend. I don’t want to see either of you get hurt.”

And just like that, reality drove Vic’s smile away.

V
ic listened
from the backseat while Austin and Eric ribbed each other, their banter helping her to drive away the sense of gloom left by Lexi’s warning.

“Think they’ve got a gas station in St. Elmo?” Austin asked.

“Dude, it’s a ghost town,” came Eric’s reply. “We’d better gas up now. Once I lose cell service, we’ll be going off a map. We don’t want to get lost and run out of fuel up there.”

“Good idea,” Lexi said.

“Get lost?” Austin asked. “Since when do I get lost?”

Lexi laughed, shaking her head. “Are you serious?”

“Let’s see …” Eric seemed to consider the question. “There was that time you got us lost on Grand Mesa. That was fun.”

“That wasn’t my fault. Someone had turned the sign around.”

Eric went on. “What about the first time we climbed Mount Bierstadt together? You were like, ‘Follow me. This is the way.’ We ended up on the summit of Mount Spaulding instead.”

Chaska laughed. “Wow, buddy. Really? You climbed the wrong mountain?”

His reaction made Vic laugh. “How did you do that?”

Austin met Vic’s gaze in the rearview mirror. “It’s easier than you think.”

But Eric wasn’t finished. “How about the
second
time we went to climb Mount Bierstadt and ended up on the summit of Mount Evans? That was fun.”

Lexi was into it now. “There was also the time you took me to that bridal store in Denver. We drove in circles for twenty minutes trying to find the place because you’d taken a wrong turn.”

Austin chuckled. “Okay, okay! I’ll get gas. But I never get lost in
my
mountains.”

“Okay, that’s true,” Eric said. “I’ll give you that much.”

Austin pulled over at a gas station on the edge of town. Everyone else seemed to be leaving, too, the pumps crowded with vehicles.

Vic decided to take advantage of the chance to buy a few things—water, lip balm, more sunscreen. “Does anyone want anything?”

“I’ll come with you,” Lexi said.

They climbed out of the SUV and walked through the late afternoon heat toward the convenience store. Inside, they found a long line at the cash register.

Vic tossed the things she wanted into a basket and went to stand with Lexi in line.

Lexi’s basket was full—graham crackers, chocolate bars, marshmallows, water, mosquito repellant. “I got stuff to make s’mores. We can’t camp without s’mores.”

“Camp without s’mores? No way.” Vic loved s’mores. “I haven’t had those since I was a kid. I feel like I’m at summer camp.”

“I hope you’re having a good—”

“You’re that chick from the website, right?” A man’s voice cut Lexi off. “Hey, I’m talking to you.”

Oh, God.

Panic sent Vic’s heart racing, her worst fear coming to life.

“Ignore him,” Lexi said, loud enough that he heard.

“I’m not talking to you, little red, though you’re fine, too. I’m talking to your friend there.” The man leaned down and lowered his voice. “You’ve got the sweetest tits, and one fine ass. How much?”

“Back off, jerk!” Vic whirled on him, found herself facing six feet of leering asshole—plus a friend.

“Who is she?” the friend asked, his gaze moving over her.

“She’s that chick from online I showed you—the call girl.”

“I am
not
a call girl.” She whispered the words, sure that people had overheard him and were now watching.

Lexi took Vic’s arm. “Come on. We can buy this stuff somewhere else.”

Vic followed Lexi toward the door, the two of them setting their shopping baskets down on the end of the counter as they passed.

“I’m so sorry, Lexi.”

Lexi pushed open the door. “It’s not your fault.”

Vic hadn’t taken two steps outside when a hand closed painfully around her arm and held her fast.

“Now, come on. Don’t be like that. I know who you are. I got fifty bucks for you if you’ll do both of us. Is your friend a hooker, too?”

She jerked her arm free. “Don’t touch me!”

Behind her, three vehicle doors opened. Vic glanced over her shoulder and saw Eric, Austin, and Chaska heading her way, rage on their faces.

“Back off, asshole!” Eric reached her first and put himself between her and the jerk. “Go get in the car, Victoria.”

“Yeah, that’s your name. Victoria Wood—or something like that.”

Vic’s stomach dropped to the ground.

“Forget him.” Lexi caught her arm through Vic’s and led her to Austin’s SUV, where Britta stood by the open door. But Vic couldn’t get herself to climb inside, fear for her friends rooting her to the spot.

The jerk sneered. “Who are you—her pimp?”

Oh, God, no!

This could
not
be happening.

Eric took a step forward, got right in the man’s face, his hands clenched into fists. “Taylor, you’d better arrest this piece of shit before I kill him.”

The man’s gaze shifted to Austin. “You’re a cop?”

“Man, let’s just get out of here,” said the jerk’s friend. “He’s probably got a gun.”

“I’m an off-duty law-enforcement officer. Your buddy obviously has more brains than you do,” Austin said. “Third-degree assault for grabbing her like that. Soliciting for prostitution. You’d better listen to your friend and run.”

The jerk raised his hands in surrender and took a step backward. “Hey, I got no problem with you guys. I just want—”

Eric took another step forward, crowding the man. “You talk to
any
woman like that, and you’ve got a problem with me.”

“With all of us,” Chaska said.

The man’s friend stared at Chaska. “What are you? Some kind of Indian?”

“Wow, you really
did
get all the brains. Yeah, I’m some kind of Indian—the kind who’s going to rip your balls off and hang them over my front door if you don’t beat it.”

The two men turned tail and hurried away.

* * *

E
ric turned
to find Victoria standing next to the SUV’s open rear door, her gaze fixed on him, her eyes wide, her face pale. He walked over to her and drew her into his arms. She was shaking like a leaf.

Son of a bitch!

“I’m so sorry,” she said.

“It’s not your fault. You have no reason to be sorry.”

He’d had his window down and had heard what the fucker had said to her, calling her a hooker, offering her money for sex. The asshole had said he knew her, even called her by her name—sort of.

What the hell?

He drew a breath, fought to rein in his anger. He was used to helping people, not wanting to punch the shit out of them. “Lexi, do you mind taking the front seat? I want to sit next to Victoria—if it’s okay with her.”

Victoria nodded.

“Yeah. Sure.” Lexi climbed out and got into the front seat.

Eric watched as the two men who’d harassed Victoria jumped into a rust red pickup truck. He didn’t want them doubling back with a firearm. When everyone else was settled, he climbed into the seat beside Victoria and buckled his seatbelt. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

“Hold on.” Taylor was writing something on a piece of paper. “I want to get their plate number and see which way they go so we know whether we’ve got a chance of running into them again down the road.”

“Good idea.” Eric reached over, took Victoria’s hand. “Did he hurt you?”

She shook her head, but Eric could see the red blotches on her arm where the bastard had grabbed her. They would become bruises.

Damn it.

Victoria looked over at him. “I’m really sorry.”

He massaged his hand over the red marks. “You didn’t do anything.”

Lexi turned to look back at Victoria. “It’s okay, Vic. No one blames you. It’s good you guys came along, because I was about to kick that creep in the shins.”

The rust red pickup truck pulled out of the parking lot, turned onto the highway, and sped away toward the junction with Highway 24.

Hell.

That’s the same direction they were headed.

As he started the engine, Taylor met Eric’s gaze in the rearview mirror, his unspoken message clear.

Keep your eyes open.

* * *

T
hey made
a quick trip to a nearby grocery store. Victoria stayed in the car, while Austin and Lexi went inside to pick up the things Victoria and Lexi had wanted to buy at the gas station. Then they set out for the campground, finding their way without getting lost or running into the bastards in the pickup again.

The site sat high above St. Elmo in a grove of old aspens, giving them an amazing view of Mt. Princeton and Mt. Antero. A little creek ran down a gully to the west, while the Arkansas River Valley stretched out to the east. A cool breeze blew in from the north, carrying the scent of distant rain.

While the women shaped beef into patties and Belcourt gathered wood for a fire, Eric and Taylor pitched four two-man tents—one for Lexi and Austin, one for Britta and Victoria, one for Winona, and one for Eric. Belcourt planned to hike off into the trees and sleep under the stars without a tent.

Eric pounded the last spike into the ground with a rubber mallet, his gaze moving to Victoria, who was slicing a tomato. “How did I end up by myself?”

“Moretti stayed home.”

Oh, yeah. “Poor Moretti.”

Eric didn’t blame him. He couldn’t imagine that he would feel much like rafting after a call like that. What a damned tragedy it had been.

“Are you going to be okay alone, or do you need a teddy bear?” Taylor grinned at his own stupid joke.

“You think you’re funny, don’t you?”

Soon, burgers were cooking over the fire, the scent of sizzling beef making Eric’s mouth water. The job of grill master went to Winona, who had more experience cooking over a wood fire than the rest of them combined. It was a skill—one of many—she’d learned from her grandmother growing up on the reservation.

Victoria sat with the rest of them, following along with the conversation, laughing when everyone else laughed, but it didn’t take a degree in psychology to see that she was deeply upset by what had happened this afternoon. He could see it in the way her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes—and the way her gaze searched the periphery of their camp, as if making sure no one else was there.

Her reaction was more extreme than he’d expect from a woman who’d been randomly harassed by a stranger in a convenience store. Something that son of a bitch had said to her today had shaken her to her core.

Shit.

That fucker had believed he’d known who she was. He’d been so certain that he’d offered her money for sex on the spot. But there was no way Victoria had ever been a call girl. Yeah, she could be assertive and flirty, and she’d probably had sex with her share of guys. But a woman who didn’t want him to see her panties wasn’t the kind of woman who’d display and sell her body online.

They ate dinner at the picnic table and then gathered around the fire to make s’mores, the sweet scent of roasting marshmallows making the camping trip complete.

“You know,” Taylor said, piercing another marshmallow with the end of his stick, “St. Elmo is supposedly haunted.”

While they devoured every last marshmallow and bit of chocolate, he told them a story about poor Annabelle Stark, who was raised by her strict parents in St. Elmo during its rough and rowdy days as a mining town. They refused to let her meet men and wouldn’t let her attend any of the town’s social functions. Annabelle remained unmarried. Then the bust times hit, and the population dwindled. Annabelle’s parents died, leaving her alone in a hotel that rarely had guests.

“They say the loneliness eventually drove her mad. She died in the hotel where she’d lived all of her life, a prisoner of her parents’ fears. They say she’s still there, watching over the town. More than one sheriff’s deputy has reported seeing a woman looking out of the upstairs window in the ruins of that hotel, but when they go to check, they find the place empty and the stairs to the second floor gone.”

For a moment, no one spoke, the night silent apart from the crackling of the fire and the whisper of wind in the pines.

Eric saw Victoria shiver, whether from the story or from the chilly night air, he couldn’t be sure. He got to his feet, grabbed a blanket from his tent, then walked over to where she sat on a log and wrapped it around her shoulders.