The Lonely Heart (23 page)

Thompson spread a map out on the hood of his SUV and plotted out grids by the scattered glow of dozens of headlights.

“We can’t risk missing any sections,” he said. “And I want everyone in pairs. This weather is only going to get worse. So don’t take any unnecessary risks and pack it in if it gets dangerous. I want to find that boy, but not at the cost of lives, got it?”

A round of agreement met him, but Grady could tell, by the looks on some people’s faces, that it was a token agreement at best. His men and Isaiah, for sure, weren’t going to stop until they found Josh, risk be damned. Hell, Grady wasn’t either.

Thompson passed out radios, then flare guns when he ran out of those. “Lydia will be spearheading this operation, so check in with her frequently. Those without radios, use the flares if you find anything and someone with a radio will come find you. No more than an hour out, then head back in, regroup, warm up. We’re going to be smart about this.”

Lydia had shown up mere moments behind the Sheriff, a cadre of local women in tow.

They’d quickly taken over the kitchen in both the bunkhouse and the main house and were busily distributing thermoses of coffee, hot chocolate and tea. Any warm liquid that they could get their hands on was fair game. Heck, Grady thought he’d even seen one lady heating up the half-bottle of Jack he’d had in the cabinet. He kind of envied whatever lucky bastard got
that
thermos.

“Grady.”

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THE LONELY HEART K.M. Mahoney 148

Grady turned to find Thompson right behind. All around them, ATVs and snowmobiles were roaring to life and girths and hooves were being checked. A few of the pairs were already disappearing into the shadows at the edge of the lit yard.

Thompson’s face was solemn as he handed Grady a radio. “You stick with Isaiah. I don’t trust him to not go off half-cocked. I’d prefer to keep him out of this, but I know that’s not possible.”

Grady took the radio, clenching the device hard until the plastic edges dug into his hand, even through the thick fabric of his glove. “I’ll watch him,” he promised. “Just…we’re gonna find Josh, right? He’ll be okay?”

Dang. Grady’s voice sounded far too pleading for his liking, but for once he didn’t get a snapped comment from Thompson. In fact, the man looked downright sympathetic—an emotion Thompson had never once aimed Grady’s way in all the years they’d known each other.

“You really care for that kid, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” Grady said hoarsely. “He’s special. I don’t think any of us would make it, if we lost him.”

If something had happened to Josh, it would spell the end of the Branch faster than anything—at least the Branch as he knew it. His guys would be devastated. Grady doubted they would stay. And he
knew
Isaiah wouldn’t. Hell, even Grady didn’t know if he would be able to face this place day after day.

“We’ll find him,” Thompson said. “Now you two be careful.”

Grady nodded his agreement. Isaiah waited impatiently a few feet away, already seated on one of their snowmobiles. Grady joined him, swinging his leg over the seat behind his man.

“Take it easy,” he cautioned Isaiah. “We’ll find him, but not if you do something stupid.”

Isaiah nodded, but his eyes still held a wild look that Grady didn’t like. He sighed, knowing there was little he could do about it.

The snowmobile roared to life and they headed out with gathering speed into the driving snow. It took mere minutes to leave the warm lights of the ranch far behind as the snowstorm swallowed them up, leaving the two of them cocooned in a muffled, isolated world of white.

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* * * *

Josh shoved his hands deeper into his pockets, curling his fingers into the warmth of his gloves. Since the snow had started falling a bit ago, he actually felt warmer. Some of the biting wind had eased. It was still cold, though. Really cold.

Josh had been stupid and he knew it.

At first, he’d just been going to the barn. The horses were always happy to see him—

they always made him feel better. But then he got to thinking that Isaiah would want to talk, and that would be the first place his big brother would look. So he’d just…started walking. It had been a dumb thing to do, really dumb.

Josh chewed on his lip, looking at the dark shapes of trees that surrounded him. He was lost. Completely and utterly. He’d started out following a small riding trail. That had turned into a deer path, then the falling snow had made even that vanish. Now he was stuck in the woods and he
knew
he wasn’t far from the house. He just couldn’t
find
it.

Josh took a few steps in one direction. Stopped. Looked around. He tried to remember all those survival tips Joseph had drilled into him. He was supposed to stay in one place but it was so cold. Josh didn’t want to stop moving.

A dark smudge on the horizon caught his attention. It didn’t look like a tree. It looked bigger. And square.

It was as good a goal as any, so Josh began slogging through the snow in that direction.

At least there was one good thing about his situation—worrying about freezing to death was pushing all others issues aside for a while.

A branch smacked Josh in the face, snow spraying over his head and working its way under his hood. He shivered and shook, the instant chill seeping into his skin. He tripped on some unseen danger under a drift and dropped to his knees, ripping his hands from his pockets to catch his balance. He stayed like that for several minutes, breathing raggedly. He was starting to sweat from exertion. He thought that wasn’t a good thing. At least, he seemed to recall a warning against overheating during a snowstorm. Probably one of those survival shows on the Discovery Channel. He maybe should have paid better attention, but he was more of a cartoon type.

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Josh finally summoned the energy to push upright. Several large trees sheltered him, providing a bit of protection and blocking some of the wind and swirling snow.

And then he saw it. Just ahead, looming dark and cold and oh so welcoming. One of the line cabins.

Josh grabbed one of the trees, using it to steady himself as he took a few more steps forward. Then a few more.

Having a visible goal seemed to give him a burst of energy. He pushed through the drifts, some of them nearly waist-high. It seemed to take hours, but he was finally fumbling with the latch on the tiny cabin. He had to throw his whole body against the frozen wood, using his weight to shove it open. Rusted hinges squealed as the door gave way after several nerve-racking attempts.

Josh stumbled inside, shaking and whimpering. He shoved the door closed again, cutting the wind off abruptly. The sudden silence wasn’t comforting, though. In fact, it was really rather eerie.

Josh just stood there, leaning against the door, trembling and panting. The inside of the cabin was dark, with only the barest hint of light seeping through the dusty windows. But it was enough to illuminate the small wood stove.

And the pile of wood next to it.

Josh weaved his way across the few feet and dropped to his knees in front of the cast iron stove. He had to pull his gloves off in order to pry the door open, frozen fingers clumsy on the catch.

Josh was going to give a big hug to whoever had used the cabin last. They’d left the stove primed and ready for use.

Now he just had to find some matches.

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The headlight on the snowmobile illuminated the path in front of them. The beam of light was dotted with the steady fall of snow. The wind whipped the snow into a frenzy and piled it up in heaps along fences and trees. That same wind cut through Grady’s coat with terrifying ease. His chest, pressed up closely against Isaiah’s back, was warm enough, as were the arms he had wrapped around Isaiah’s bulky coat. His back, though, was freezing.

He was half tempted to ask Isaiah to stop for a minute so he could turn around. Warm up the other side.

He bit his tongue, knowing that Isaiah wouldn’t appreciate any attempt at levity at the moment. And it was for damn sure that he wouldn’t stop. Not for Grady. Not for anything.

Except maybe for that tree.

The vehicle’s treads slid in the snow, picking up speed even though Isaiah was desperately squeezing the brakes. Grady hung on and resisted the urge to close his eyes as they skidded sideways in a spray of snow.

The snowmobile came to rest nearly touching the fallen tree in their path. The engine cut out with shocking suddenness, leaving an eerie silence in its wake. Grady leaned his forehead against Isaiah’s back, heart pounding in his throat.

“Damn,” he breathed. “That was much too close.”

Isaiah didn’t reply.

“Isaiah?” Grady lifted his head. His lover—former lover—sat stiffly, gloved hands still wrapped around the handlebars. “Isaiah?”

When Grady called Isaiah’s name a third time with no response, he swung one leg over the seat. His feet hit the ground, boots sinking deeply into the snow. Dang. There must be nearly six inches on the ground already. At this rate, they would have a foot of snow within the next hour. If it kept coming…

Grady firmly shoved Josh’s smiling face from his mind. He couldn’t think about that, not right then.

Grady rounded the vehicle and put one hand over Isaiah’s. “Darlin’? You okay?”

Isaiah’s head hung low, his breathing ragged. “I’m such an idiot,” he mumbled.

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“It’s okay. I know you’re scared. I am, too. But you can’t think about that now. We’ll find him.”

“That’s not what I meant!” Isaiah’s head shot up.

Grady’s grip tightened on his fingers when he got a good look at Isaiah’s anguished expression.

“I nearly got us both killed!”

Grady’s eyes nearly crossed in confusion. “It’s dark. And we’re blasting through a forest during a snowstorm. It happens.”

“I was going too fast and being reckless and you damn well know it!”

Grady bit his lip. There wasn’t much he could say to that. Isaiah was right. He’d been going at dangerous speeds, considering the conditions. Grady hadn’t figured a warning would do much good, so he’d kept his mouth shut.

“Isaiah—”

“I almost got
you
killed.” Isaiah finally prised his fingers loose, shaking off Grady’s touch to cup his face with icy cloth. “I can’t lose you, too.”

“Okay, that’s enough,” Grady snapped, shoving Isaiah’s hands away. He hated the mere thought that Isaiah was giving in to despair. Where the heck was his Isaiah’s famed stubbornness now? “You haven’t lost anyone, not Josh and most certainly not me. So get a grip, start this sucker up, and let’s get back to searching.”

“I—”

“Not now.” Grady’s words came out in a deep growl he hadn’t even known he was capable of. He climbed back on and dug his fingers into Isaiah’s sides.

“Drive,” he ordered.

Isaiah hesitated for a minute, but just when Grady was getting ready to yell at him again, he moved. The engine broke the stillness of the snowy forest with the force of a chainsaw through virgin timber. Grady leaned his weight back as Isaiah turned the vehicle and they headed out again.

Their allotted hour came and went twice while they drove steadily, cutting a meticulous swathe through the snow. Bushes were now buried, tree trunks coated with ice. Several times they’d been forced to detour around drifts that were simply too large to plough through.

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THE LONELY HEART K.M. Mahoney 153

white. He could only imagine that it was ten times worse for Isaiah, who was driving straight into the wind far too often.

Grady leant forward, pressing his cracked lips next to Isaiah’s hood. They were going to have to head in, or risk ending up frozen together on this damned vehicle until spring.

Grady stiffened. “You see that?” he demanded.

Isaiah immediately slowed. “See what?”

Grady squinted to his left, eyes fixed on the sky visible above the skeletal treetops.

“There!” He grabbed Isaiah’s shoulder, yanking him around. “Flare!”

“Oh, thank God.” Isaiah cranked the snowmobile around and aimed it at the nearest tree line. A few minutes later they burst free of the forest and onto the narrow dirt track that led from the ranch up to one of the line cabins. Isaiah opened the throttle up as much as possible in the direction of home and they tore along the packed snow. Grady just hung on.

Each breath was a struggle. The flare meant they had found Josh, but was he all right?

Injured? Alive?

The last one caused far too much pain. Grady leaned his weight forward, urging the roaring vehicle between his legs to go faster, safety be damned.

He had never been so glad to see the lights of the ranch flicker over that last hill.

Revving engines, horses whinnying, men and women shouting, it all blended into a cacophony that defeated the strange silence the snowstorm was working so hard to maintain.

They flew over the last hill, careening down the final stretch of driveway and into a madhouse of activity.

Isaiah leapt from the vehicle without turning it off. He was already halfway to the house by the time the kill switch activated.

Grady was right on his heels, unwrapping layers as he went, heedless of the cold still biting through him. They pounded up the front steps.

The living room was packed with people. Anybody else wanting in would have to hang their heads through a window. And there, sitting in the middle of the chaos, neatly swathed hood to boots in a thick red blanket, was Josh. Grady had to stop—clinging to the doorframe as his knees gave way. He gasped for breath, relief so strong he could taste it.