Too Close To The Fire/Too Hot To Handle (Montana Men 3) (5 page)

“I
have painkillers.”

“No.”

“What?”

“No
painkillers.”

“Bastard.”

“Probably
so, but I don’t want you to fall into a drug-induced sleep. I’ll have to wake
you every hour or so once you go to sleep naturally anyway. No painkillers.”

He
snatched the bottle from her hands, read the prescription label.
“Hydrocodone/Apap, five/five-hundred. Hmm, I’m certainly familiar with that
one.” He twisted open the lid and swallowed one dry.

“What
are you doing? You said no painkillers.”

“None
for you. Do you know what drugs can do to you? What are you doing with this
shit anyway? ”

“Menstrual
cramps.”

“Oh.
I’m not familiar with that kind of pain.”

“Hah-hah.
You can have something for pain, but I can’t?”

“Uh-huh.”
He threaded a needle and frowned. “Be still. This is going to hurt like hell.”

“So
do menstrual cramps.”

He
arched a brow. “You got ‘em now?”

“What?”

“You
know? The M thing?”

“No.
Not for a few days.”

He
coughed and looked totally embarrassed discussing her womanly functions. What
would he look like if he discovered the tampons in her bag? Maybe she’d put it
to the test. “You know, if you need some cotton balls, I have tampons you can
rip apart, make some nice little pads.”

He
looked at her as if she’d suddenly grown two heads and a forked tongue. “I’m
not tearing up tampons. You might need them to…er, plug a leak or something. ”

She
shifted from one foot to the other. “Why do
you
rate a pain pill, and I don’t?”

“Excuse
me?”

“You
know, a pain pill, why do you rate one, and I don’t?”

“I
don’t have a concussion.”

“You
have a big lump over your eye.”

“I
do? Huh.”

“You
might be concussed.”

“Hmm.”
He shrugged. “Too late now, done took it.”

“Ow!”

“Told
you it was gonna hurt. Keep still. Jeez, you’re antsy.”

“Let
me stab you over the eye with a needle and see how antsy you are!”

He
grinned. “You’ll get your turn.”

“What?”

“Yep.
I’m gonna need you to take a look at my shoulder and back.”

“When?”

“Later.
I want to get you taken care of first and settled, then I’ll take a look at the
supplies, see what we have on hand.”

“Then
what?”

“Then
I’m gonna pray we get rescued soon. You said you think you know where we are?”

“Yes.”

She
lowered her gaze, stared at her hands, and flinched every time he took a
stitch.

“Well,
where the fuck are we?”

She
lifted her head. “Australia? You don’t have to shout at me.”

“Don’t
move! Damn, woman, I know we’re in Australia. Where in the name of God are we
precisely in the land of wonder Down Under?”

“The
Kimberly. Yeah, we’re somewhere in the Kimberly, but I don’t think we’re where
we should be.”

“No
shit.”

“I’m not kidding.
We’re in a rainforest. I think maybe we should be in more of a desert region.”

“Why
do you think that?”

“Because
we were supposed to be flying west, and the rainforest is north. We had to be
way off course to be here.”

“So
we’re not in the Kimberly?”

“Oh,
we’re in it, just…just not in the right part of it. I think.”

“You
know a lot about the Kimberly?”

“Sure.”

He
locked his eyes with hers. “Jesus, am I gonna have to drag every single bit of
information out of you?”

“I’m
thinking. It’s sparsely populated and harsh…the last frontier.”

“Great.
We’re freakin’ pioneers.”

“It’s
big. I read somewhere vacationers need to plan well, some don’t, and they pay
the ultimate price.”

“Uh-huh.
We’re not on a fuckin’ safari.”

“It’s
big.”

“You
said that.”

“Vast.”

“Same
thing as big.”

“It’s
big. You have no concept of the size it is.”

“How
fuckin’ big can it be?”

“Over
four hundred thousand square kilometers.”

“How
much in miles? I don’t know one damn thing about kilometers.”

“Hmm.
Something like a hundred sixty-four thousand square miles, not an exact figure,
but close. I told you, it’s big.”

“So
is my dick! Jeez! Can you stop saying it’s big for one damn minute, and tell me
something I don’t know?”

“You
know the wolf you said I didn’t see?”

“Yeah?”

“You
were right. It isn’t a wolf.”

“I
knew that. So?”

“It’s
a dingo.” She winced as he stabbed the needle into her flesh again.

“Dingo?”

“Your
hands aren’t very steady.”

He
flashed a look, then jabbed the needle in her flesh and drew the edges of the
torn flesh together. “Dingo?” he repeated, ignoring her comment about his
unsteady hands.

“Yeah.
You know, wild dog…or, yeah, wild dog is a pretty good description. Uh, you
aren’t taking great big stitches, are you?”

“Nah.
You have a nice, neat row of tiny black stitches. Maybe there won’t be such a
bad scar, after all.”

“Good,
I’d really hate to look like Frankenstein’s bride. I wouldn’t look good with
those lightning streaks of white in my hair.”

“You’re
rambling. How do you know what you think you saw is a dingo?”

“Well,
uh…it has very large sharp teeth…it’s big and it’s…right behind you.”

Chapter Five

You
will never win if you never begin.

~Helen
Rowland

North Western Australia

The Kimberly

February 7, Saturday.

“You
aren’t funny, Dianna. I’m not falling for a trick that old. I’m not looking
behind me only to find nothing there.”

Dianna
blinked. “Why do you never take me seriously? I’m telling you, there’s a vicious
dingo behind you with large ears, sort of yellowish-tan fur and a long, bushy
tail. It’s wild. You know how I can tell its wild?”

“How?”
Taylor was totally absorbed in putting the last few stitches in the gash over
her eye and barely listening to her ramblings.

“It
looks hungry.”

“Oh,
Grandma, what sharp teeth you have!”

“This
is no time to find your sense of humor, Taylor Spencer! It has those too,
large, sharp canines, I told you that already.”

“Huh.
You wouldn’t know a dingo from a dingbat, which I’m beginning to think you
are.”

“You’re
such a horse turd.”

“Horse
turd?” He snickered.

“Yeah.
You’re just a big pile of brain-dead horse shit.”

He
paused with the needle in mid-air.
“Brain-dead
horse shit? What is it with you and your fixation with manure?”

“I
don’t have a fixation with shit. You know what?”

“I’m
sure I don’t wanna know.” He sighed and applied the needle. She bit her lip.
She acted tough, but he knew damn well he was hurting her with each jab of the
needle.

“I
hope the dingo bites you on the ass and gives you lockjaw!”

“That’s
called tetanus, sweetheart, and you’re out of luck. I’ve had my shots.”

“Bully
for you! You should trust me. I’m all you have out here in this…” She waved her
hand. “Little green forest.”

“I
trusted you to fly the plane, look where that got me, stuck here in this
little
green forest with you.”

“Are
we back to that?”

“Maybe
I don’t believe you because you have that monthly thing that gives you cramps.
It obviously impairs your judgment.”

“Taylor?”

“Hmm?”
He stabbed her flesh with the needle, looped the thread and made a tiny knot.

“It’s
coming closer. It looks kind of sick. Its mouth is all wet and drooling.”

“Sick,
huh?”

“Well,
yeah. It’s curling its upper lip and slobbering like mad. Maybe it’s rabid.”

“Jesus,
Dianna. I’m almost finished sewing the wound. If you don’t shut up, I’m going
to stitch your lips together, too.”

Dianna
tore away from him, snatched up her bag, and rummaged through the contents like
a wild woman.

“Don’t
jerk away like that,” Taylor shouted, visibly shaken that he might have injured
her in some way. “I could have rammed the needle in your eye or in your face.
What the fuck are you doing?” He watched her prowl through her purse.

“I’m
looking for my gun.”

“Your
gun?
Sweetheart, you don’t have a gun.”

He
froze when she whipped around with a Glock, a nice hefty one gripped between
her hands and leveled at him like a freakin’ professional.

“Whoa!”
He backed up a step and threw up
his hands in surrender. “Okay. If you didn’t want me to stitch your wounds, you
should have said something.”

“You’re
an idiot, Taylor Spencer. See, I
have
a
gun.”

“I
was wrong. Yes, you do have a gun.
Shit!
Put the thing down before you hurt somebody.
Me.”

“Move.”
She motioned for him to step to one side. “And make it fast.”

He
wasn’t fool enough not to. He obeyed her and took a step to his left, moving
out of her line of fire. She lowered the gun a notch and squeezed the trigger.
Taylor felt the heat of the bullet whiz past his right cheek like a streak of
lightning, heard a dull thud, and flinched at the sound of a sharp
yelp.

He
jumped. His jaw gaped. Taylor clenched his fists at his sides.
“Shit!
Fuck! Shit! Are you crazy? What
the
hell
are you doing?” He spun
around and stared at the animal twitching on the ground a few feet behind him.
It looked like a dog, not all that big, medium-sized, but she was right, it had
large, sharp teeth and foam around its mouth.
“Whau!”

Dianna
flopped onto her ass and sighed. “It was going for an attack. The thing had
already crouched to leap. I didn’t have time to argue with you.” She blinked.
“I’m glad I hit the right one, ‘cause I was seeing two of them.”

 
“Fuck me!” Taylor gaped at her. “You’re
completely insane. You nearly killed me! I felt the bullet zip by my face. You
could have shot me, you gun totin’ harpy! I swear you have it in for me, just
because I kissed you and said your tits are small as acorns!”

“I
didn’t come anywhere close to hitting you. I don’t remember any of your kisses.
They must not have been very impressive. You’ve never said my breasts were the
size of acorns, but if you do, I’m warning you, I know how to shoot rather
well. If I’d wanted to hit you, believe me, I could.”

He
squinted at her. “You remember my kisses, all right. Hell, you practically fell
into my arms and begged me to kiss you. I curl your socks, all right.”

“Bullsnark!
You dragged me into your arms!”

“Bullsnark?
What the hell kind of word is that?”

“My
kind!”

“I
don’t recall dragging you into my arms. It didn’t happen that way. What the
hell are you doing with a gun?”

“It
did happen that way. And it goes with the badge.”

“What
badge?”

She
dug in her bag and laid a gold badge in his hand.
“This
badge.”

He
gawked at it. “New York City Detective? Where’d you get this, out of a
Cracker Jack’s
box?”

“It’s
the real deal, Spencer. I’m a cop.” She dragged it out of his hand and tossed
the shield back in the bag. “I even come with a pair of handcuffs. Wanna get
kinky sometime?”

He
snorted. “You’re joking.”

“About
which part, getting kinky or being a cop?”

“Being
a cop. You can’t be a cop.”

“I
can. I am. What? You don’t think I have the brains to be a detective?”

“I
know
you don’t have the brains.”

“Careful,
Spencer, I might not have the brains to aim the gun properly next time.”

His
mouth worked. “Well, hell. No one at the ranch ever said anything about you
being a cop.”

“That’s
because no one knows, except Duel, and he’d never betray me.”

“Wait
a minute, if you’re a cop, why did you get so upset, sick, and scared when you
found Jillian’s body? You must be used to seeing things like that.”

“I’m
hardly used to stumbling over a body in the Star’s stables, wallowing in the
victim’s blood or seeing someone I know skinned and mutilated. Do you think you
could finish sewing me up now, minus the lip job?”

“Yeah.”
Taylor took the gun from her hands and jammed it in the waistband of his jeans
at the small of his back. “Let me finish this last stitch, then I’ll get rid of
the body. It’ll draw flies, and who knows what else.”

“Sure.
Just don’t go too far. I really don’t feel well.”

Taylor
eyed her a moment. She looked pale and shocky. He snipped the thread and put
the needle back inside the sewing kit. “Come on.” He held out his hand to her.

“What?”
She looked suspicious.

“Get
on the sleeping bag and relax. Rest a bit. I’ll wake you in about thirty
minutes.”

“I’ll
get blood on it.”

“Then
we’ll wash the damn thing.”

She
flashed him a feeble grin. “There are crocs in the water. If we’re lucky enough
to even find water.”

“All
of it?”

“Rule
of thumb in the Land of Oz, if there’s water, you can bet your ass, there’s
crocs. Just because you don’t see them doesn’t mean they aren’t there in the
water waiting to make you their next meal.”

“How
do you know this trivia crap?”

“I
used to spend summer vacations here with Uncle Rufus and Aunt Marion when I was
a child. I picked up a few things along the way. Besides, running around with
my cousins here, it was survival of the fittest or eat shit and die.”

Taylor
laughed. “I’ll be right back.” He stilled. “Uh…
don’t
move.”

She
snorted. “Yeah, right, you already said that little trick doesn’t work. You’re
right, it doesn’t.”

“I
swear, Dianna. Don’t move. There’s a spider on you.”

She
froze. “What
kind?”
Her voice rose in
a squeak.

“How
should I know? It sort of looks like a black widow, it’s a little different.”

She
froze. “Redback.”

“Yeah.
It has a red back.”

“No,
I mean it’s a Redback. It’s related to the black widow. Its bite is poisonous.
Where is it?”

“I
don’t know.”

Her
eyes widened. “What do you mean, you don’t know?”

“I
mean, I can’t see it anymore.”

“Well
find it!”

“Ah,
there it is.”

“Where?
Where the hell is it? I’m freaking out
here!”

“Don’t
move, Dianna. It’s on your shoulder, headed straight to your…throat.”

Dianna
groaned. “Do you have to make it sound like a freakin’ bloodsucker or something?”

“I
said don’t move. I’m not kidding. It’s right at your jugular. If it bites you
there…well, I figure you know what will happen.”

She
glared. “I’m not going away that easy. Either kill it or–or capture it, but get
it off me!”

Dianna
sat perfectly still and watched the Redback spider traipse across her partially
exposed breasts in slow, awkward, delicate-legged steps.
Oh, God. Please don’t let it drop inside my bra.

Her
palms felt hot and sweaty. On the verge of hyperventilating, she tried to pace
her breathing by taking slow, deep breaths and just as slowly exhaling.

“Do
something. Can’t you get it off me?”

“You
said it’s poisonous,” Taylor replied. “I don’t want to cause it to bite you.
Keep still.” He picked up a skinny twig. “Don’t move, sweetheart. Don’t breathe
so fast.”

“Easy
for you to say, you don’t have an ugly-ass, long-legged black spider crawling
on your breasts.”

“I
don’t have breasts. Neither do you. Stop breathing so hard or it’s going to
fall inside your thingamajig.”

“What?
My what?”

Taylor
held the twig across her breasts in the spider’s path. “That thing.”

“You
mean my bra?” Dianna tried to cut her gaze to see what he was doing.

“Bra?
Is that what you call it? I thought it was some kind of training thing for
titless females.”

“Training?”
Dianna fumed. “You’re such an asshole, Spencer.”

“Stop
wiggling! God, you are the antsiest female.”

The
arachnid made good use of the twig and walked onto it as if it knew exactly
what they wanted it to do. As soon as it was off her, Taylor tossed the stick
away. “There now, that wasn’t so bad.”

Dianna
eased off the sleeping roll, limped toward Taylor, and flung herself in his
arms. He automatically closed his arms around her waist. “It’s okay. You’re
okay.”

“I
hate
bugs! I hate spiders! I hate
snakes! I hate the freakin’ rainforest! I wanna go home.”

He
gave her a gentle squeeze, couldn’t resist pulling her closer. “You’re a woman.
You’re supposed to dislike those things, but I agree with every word you said.”

She
leaned back. “You do?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Give
me back my gun. I swear to God if another spider gets on me, I’ll shoot it.”

“Uh-uh.”
Taylor laughed, his eyes crinkling with amusement. “We need the bullets, baby.
You can’t waste them on something as stupid as a spider. Calm down. It’s gone.”

She
was still in his arms, her arms around his neck. Hell, he wasn’t complaining.
She felt utterly delicious. Her breasts were flattened against his chest. It
dawned on him she was pressed tight against the blisters, and damn, they hurt.
He thrust her away and glanced at the ugly red area where several of the
blisters had ruptured. The skin underneath looked raw and stung like hell.
“Shit. Look what you did.”

Her
green eyes widened with dismay. “I’m so sorry. I forgot. I have a tube of
ointment in my bag.”

“Forget
it. Just stay away from me. God, you’re a walking catastrophe!”

Dianna
bit her lip. “I said I was sorry. What are we going to do? What if…what if
things get in bed with us? Bite us? We’re in a lot trouble.”

“Oh,
you just now recognized that little fact?”

“What
if one of us gets killed?”

“Dianna.”

“I’m
serious. What if a poisonous snake gets in bed with us and bites one of us or
both of us?”

“Stop
it, Dianna! That isn’t going to happen. Don’t create problems that aren’t
there. What are the odds of a snake getting in bed with us? Probably not all
that great. You need to rest and stop borrowing trouble.”

“I am not getting
back on that bedroll. It could have hundreds of spiders on it by now, or–or any
kind of creepy-legged thing that’s mean-tempered. You put it under a tree. What
if something falls off the tree and bites us?”

“Jesus.
I’ll move it away from the fucking tree. Right now, I need to check our
supplies. We need to build a shelter before night falls. It’s going to rain.”

“Now?
It’s going to rain now? What are you, the local weather forecaster?”

“For
Christ’s sake, Dianna, calm down. I can’t think when you’re hysterical.”

“I
am not hysterical. I’m scared!”