The Forever Dream

  Well, that was why she'd brought the rope and the grappling hook, wasn't it? She could secure the rope around her waist and use the grappling hook on the trees, working her way from one to another across that sloping verge until she was past the checkpoint and it was safe to crawl back up on the road.

  She'd been expecting it, but her heart still lurched when she came around the bend and saw the brilliant glow of the Coleman lanterns about fifty yards ahead. She instinctively shrank closer to the bluff while her gaze swiftly searched the scene ahead for an alternate route that wouldn't be as risky.

  Two steel posts anchored the chain barrier stretched across the road. And the two guards who patrolled it were lounging on the bluff side of the road playing cards, leaning against the padded seats of their overturned motorcycles. She could hear their voices in the clear mountain air, and it gave her a little shock. They sounded so close she might have been right next to them. At least their lanterns were on the bluff side of the road, and if their game was interesting enough, it might take their attention off any noise she might make as she crawled past them. It was difficult to tell from this distance, but she didn't think they were the same guards who had brought her back to the chateau yesterday. In fact, neither one was familiar to her, and she'd thought she'd run across every security guard on the place at one time or another in the past two weeks.

  Well, she couldn't stay here all night gawking at them. It was obvious the physical setup hadn't altered, and she was just going to have to keep to her original plan. She took the rope and grappling hook from her shoulder and checked the knot she'd tied in the steel loop of the hook to make sure it was tight, then dropped the grappling hook on the ground while she knotted the other end about her waist with equal care.

  There was a burst of laughter from the men playing cards, and it caused her to jump with surprise. She drew a deep breath and forced herself to relax. Easy. This was just a piece of cake, remember? She was going to have to be very cool and certain in the next few minutes, and unsteady nerves would not help her.

  She picked up the grappling hook and waited patiently until the clouds once more obscured the moon before dashing across the road and crouching on the edge of the verge for a moment. Then she slowly slid down onto the verge itself, carefully holding on to the trunk of the tree closest to the road. Oh, Lord, it was going to be worse than she'd thought. The earth slid out from under her, and she had to clutch desperately at the pine to keep from sliding with it. The ground seemed to be composed of nothing but loose dirt and shale—it was a wonder it even supported the scraggly pines that bordered the road. Still holding the trunk of the tree with one arm, she cautiously brought the grappling hook

  into play, reaching as far as she could and fastening it to the tree nearest her. Thank heaven the distance between most of the trees wasn't over two or three feet. It was a relatively simple matter to slip the hook around each slender trunk and then pull herself painstakingly hand over hand to the tree itself.

  Once she became accustomed to the tempo of the procedure, her progress was much more rapid, and if she hadn't needed to be stealthy, she'd have been able to cover the fifty yards or so in a relatively short time. As it was, it took her almost twenty minutes to draw even with the barricade. She paused for a minute to catch her breath and wipe her chafed hands on her jeans before taking a fresh grip on the rope. With only the width of the road separating her from the two guards, she could feel her breath constrict in her lungs and the muscles of her stomach knot with tension. She could practically hear them breathe, she thought nervously. One false move and they'd be sure to hear her and react with the efficient swiftness Betz's men always displayed.

  But there wasn't going to be a false move. All she needed to do was to continue as she'd started, and in a few minutes she'd be safe. With the utmost caution she negotiated the next two trees, and she was past the checkpoint! Only a few yards past it, but it was a victory nonetheless.

  Her swift surge of triumph was abruptly stemmed as she disengaged the hook and prepared to move on. The closest pine was over four yards away! The shock and dismay she felt almost caused her to let go of the tree she was clinging to. There was no possibility she'd be able to lean that far to slip the hook around the trunk. Damn it, just when she was almost home free. She bit her lips, anxiously trying to think of a way out. There was only one, and it was so risky that she hesitated to attempt

  it. She'd have to toss the hook and hope to encircle the base of the pine. In the darkness her chances of succeeding weren't all that great, and even if she did, the noise might give her away. Well, she really had no choice. She just wished that she'd paid more attention when Tyler had wanted to teach her the fine art of pitching horseshoes, that weekend at the farm.

  Her eyes straining in the darkness to gauge the distance, she balanced the hook in her hand as if it were a boomerang. Then, with a murmured prayer on her lips, she let the hook fly through the air. Had she made it?

  But suddenly it no longer mattered. If the loud clang as the hook hit the shale hadn't given her away, the minor rockslide that resulted certainly had.

  "Sweet Jesus! What the hell was that?" One of the guards jumped to his feet, grabbing for a lantern.

  There was nothing left to do but run for it. Her hands ripping frantically at the knot at her waist, she scrambled to her feet and lurched forward, trying desperately to regain the road.

  Strangely, she didn't hear the crash of the shot until after she felt the first burning pain rip through her. She knew an instant of wild regret, more poignant than anything she'd ever experienced. Then there was only stark terror as she pitched forward, rolling like a broken toy down the sloping incline and off the edge of the cliff into the darkness beyond.

  "Dr. Ryker, are you awake? It's essential that I speak to you." The knocking on his door was repeated with a persistence that belied the politeness of Betz's words.

  How the hell could he help but be awake? Jared sat up in bed and leaned over to the bedside table to switch on the lamp. He'd just dropped off when Betz had started that damned knocking, and being awakened didn't improve a disposition that was on the raw anyway. "Come in, Betz. It had better be damned essential."' Betz opened the door and approached cautiously. He was dressed in his usual dark Brooks Brothers suit. Did the man sleep in his suit, for God's sake? Jared wondered.

  "I think you know by now I'd never disturb you for anything that wasn't extremely important." There was a touch of indignation in that ponderous voice. "I believe your privacy has been guarded with the utmost care since you've been here."

  "Get on with it, Betz," Jared said wearily. "You're here now. Let's have it."

  "I'm afraid you may be quite upset, Dr. Ryker. There's been a slight difficulty regarding Miss Orlinov."

  The impatience and annoyance vanished as the anxiety that was always latent in him these days surfaced rapidly. "Slight difficulty?" His voice was carefully neutral, his gaze sharp as a laser. "And just what do you consider 'slight,' Betz?"

  "She's been shot." Then, as Jared inhaled sharply and his face turned white, he continued hurriedly. "It's only a flesh wound in the shoulder. Liston assures me there was no serious damage done."

  Jared threw back the covers and leaped out of bed, his every move charged with electricity. "Where is she?" His tone was clipped. He stepped into his pants. "And who the hell is Liston?"

  "He's a new man I brought back from Washington with me. I decided the chateau needed a change of personnel, as I detected evidence of softening in the attitudes of the other guards toward Miss Orlinov." He frowned. "He's really a very good man, you know. He didn't intend to hit her—it was only meant to be a warning shot. He was startled when she appeared so suddenly at the checkpoint."

  "The checkpoint? Is that where she is?" Jared thrust his feet into a pair of brown loafers. Why the hell hadn't he realized she'd try something like this? She'd been almost feverishly gay at dinner that evening, and that should have signaled him that she was hiding
something. He'd thought to give her a little time after last night so she could re-erect some of her defenses and feel more secure with him. Now she'd been hurt, and who knew how badly? A security guard wasn't qualified to make the judgment that a wound was superficial. My God, what if the bullet had severed an artery? She could bleed to death before he could even get there. What if there was nerve damage?

  Betz was nodding. "Liston radioed word to me from the checkpoint by mobile phone and I dispatched the van to bring her back to the chateau." He paused. "I told them to wait to transport her until you arrived on the scene, however. Since you have a medical degree, I thought you'd prefer to examine her before she was moved." His brow arched enquiringly. "I hope that was in order, Dr. Ryker?"

  Jared grabbed a shirt and jacket from the armoire. "I'll need the medical bag you'll find in the closet in the bathroom," he said crisply. "You have the jeep waiting?"

  Betz moved obediently toward the door of the master bath. "Yes, of course. I also sent someone to awaken McCord. His experience in the Peace Corps provided him with a certain amount of expertise in medicine that I thought might prove helpful. He'll be waiting for you in the courtyard." He stopped at the door. "This is all very regrettable, Dr. Ryker. It was an accident, you realize."

  "It may be more regrettable than you know." Jared's

  voice was icy, but there was sheer savagery in his granite-hard face. "Because if she's really badly hurt, I'm going to throw your 'good' man, Liston, off this son of a bitch of a mountain. I just may do it anyway. And then I'll start on you, Betz." He turned and left the bedroom, striding through the corridors and down the stairs.

  Kevin was waiting by the jeep in the courtyard, as Betz had promised. His jeans and checked flannel shirt had obviously been thrown on hurriedly, and he was shrugging on a sheepskin jacket. His red hair was rumpled, and he was frowning with concern. "Lord, I'm sorry, Jared. This never should have happened.''

  "You're right, it never should have happened," Jared said grimly as he swung up into the passenger seat. "As you said, nervous men can be dangerous." He drew a deep, calming breath. He mustn't give in to this rage that was tearing through him. He'd need all the cool steadiness he could muster when he saw how badly she was hurt.

  Kevin climbed into the back seat. "No one wanted to see her injured, Jared."

  "She could have been killed." Jared's voice was ragged in spite of his effort at control. "For all I know, she may be critically hurt, and all because of some maniac with a spastic trigger finger. Don't talk to me about accidents, Kevin."

  Betz came hurrying out the courtyard door, carefully placed the brown cowhide medical bag he was carrying in the back beside Kevin, and slid into the drivers seat. "Sorry to have kept you waiting. I took the precaution of asking Dr. Jeffers to fly in immediately in case he was needed."

  Jared tensed. "You told me it was only a flesh wound."

  "I'm sure it is," Betz said quickly as he started the

  engine and put the jeep in gear. "It's just a precaution, Dr. Ryker."

  "It'd better be, Betz," Jared said softly, his tone as menacing as a cocked pistol. "If I were you, I'd be praying very hard that it is."

  The security man shrugged. "I understand your concern. You needn't emphasize it by threatening me. Liston is a very reliable operator, as I told you. If he says the wound is minor, then I'm certain Miss Orlinov isn't in danger." He reversed the jeep with precision and drove out the arched gate of the courtyard. "In a few minutes you'll be able to judge for yourself."

  The checkpoint was teeming with activity and lights when they rounded the curve. Not only were there several men milling around the area, carrying lanterns that cast a glow over the entire scene, but the dark green van itself was parked diagonally across the road, its headlights glaring.

  Betz halted the jeep directly before the van and was immediately approached by a tall young man in a leather jacket who burst hurriedly into speech. "It wasn't our fault, Mr. Betz. She hopped up out of the trees and surprised us. We didn't even know who she was. All we saw was a shadow."

  "And do you always shoot at shadows?" Jared bit

  out.

  The man moistened his lips nervously as his gaze took in Jared's taut face and blazing eyes. "Not always, sir. But in this case we were told to shoot first and ask questions later, because your safety was paramount. We were only following orders, Dr. Ryker."

  "Where is she?" He had to make sure that Tania was all right before he gave himself the pleasure of taking the man apart limb from limb.

  The man answered quickly. "We've put her in the back of the van. I've rigged up a bandage for her shoulder, and the bleeding has stopped. She's unconscious now, but she fainted only when I was applying the bandage." He turned. "I'll take you to her."

  "Let's go," Jared said crisply. He got out of the jeep and strode rapidly toward the back of the van. "Bring my bag, Kevin."

  "Right." Kevin's hand closed on the handle of the cowhide medical bag, and he shot a glance at Betz. "If I were you, I'd get that particular man as far away from the chateau as I could send him. I don't think he's going to be safe within a thousand miles of Ryker."

  "I'd already deduced that," Betz said. "Dr. Ryker doesn't appear to be at all reasonable when it comes to Miss Orlinov." He shook his head morosely. "Pity. Liston is a very valuable man."

  When Kevin reached the back of the van, one glance told him that Betz's very valuable man was extremely close to being permanently mutilated. He'd never seen anything resembling Ryker's savage rage as he looked down at the supine figure of Tania Orlinov on the bare metal floor of the van. "My God, her clothes are torn to shreds. What the hell have you done to her? You lying bastard, if I find out you've raped her, I'll chop you into little pieces." He dropped to his knees beside Tania. "Where did she get all of these bruises?"

  Liston had gone pale and showed surprising discomposure for the cool operator of Betz's description. Maybe it was not so surprising, Kevin thought as he watched Ryker parting the torn remnants of Tania's sweater to reveal a lurid bruise encircling her midriff and red welts and scratches along her rib cage. Ryker was more dangerously intimidating at that moment than any man he'd ever known.

  "We didn't touch her," Liston protested desperately.

  He swallowed hard and then proceeded more calmly. "Those are rope burns. When she was shot, she rolled down the incline and over the edge of the cliff. She'd been using a grappling hook on the trees, to inch her way past the checkpoint, and the rope was still knotted about her waist when she rolled over the edge of the cliff. The rope kept her from falling to the valley below, but naturally the jerk bruised her quite a bit." He tried to smile. "Donalson and I tried to be as careful as we could when we pulled her back to the verge, but there wasn't any way we could prevent her from getting a little scraped. She was lucky as hell to come out of it as well as she did."

  Lucky. Jared felt the muscles of his stomach tighten at the vivid picture Liston's terse words evoked. Tania dangling hundreds of feet in the air from a slender rope and two trigger-happy idiots the only hope she had of survival. It made him sick even to think about it. Lord, yes, she'd been lucky.

  "You say she was still conscious when you were bandaging her wound?" Jared asked thickly. He hoped not. It must have been sheer hell for her if she'd been totally aware during that nightmarish experience.

  Liston nodded eagerly. "She was conscious the entire time until we were trying to get her jacket off. She was even able to help a little while we were hauling her up the cliff." He knelt beside Ryker and pushed aside the torn sweater to reveal a crude bandage fashioned of brown plaid flannel, obviously torn from a shirt. "See, the bleeding's stopped entirely. The bullet just grazed her shoulder, clean as a whistle."

  "Get your hands off her!" Liston jumped as if he'd been flicked with a whip and backed hurriedly away. Jared drew a deep breath and tried to submerge the anger that had suddenly exploded. "Just get out of here, Liston. Now!"

  The guard didn't h
ave to be told twice, and Kevin had to step aside hastily in order to avoid being trampled as the man jumped out of the van. Ryker didn't give him a second glance, his gaze fixed intently on Tania's shoulder.

  "Clean as a whistle," he repeated disgustedly. "She'll be lucky if she doesn't get blood poisoning from this damned makeshift bandage. Get in here with that bag, Kevin."

  She was so little. He hadn't realized until this moment just how tiny, how delicate, she really was. She was lying there like a broken bird, her lashes casting dark shadows on her pinched cheeks, and the rich olive of her skin was pale and sallow.

  "She's awfully still." Kevin's voice in his ear was anxious. He'd opened the bag and extracted a pair of surgical scissors that he passed to Jared. "If the wound isn't that serious, why hasn't she regained consciousness?"

  "Loss of blood and shock, probably," Jared said grimly, carefully cutting away the flannel bandage. "I hope to hell that's all. God knows that's bad enough." His hands were remarkably steady, he noticed absently. It was a wonder, when he was shaking so inside. He hadn't felt as helpless as this since the night Lita died. But he wasn't helpless now. He had knowledge and experience on his side. He had to remember that. He hadn't been able to help Lita then, but he could help Tania now.

  He soon discovered Liston was right. Though the wound looked ugly and inflamed, the bullet had just grazed the fleshy part of the shoulder. He breathed a sigh of relief as he quickly removed the bandage and reached for an antiseptic. He carefully cleaned the wound before rebandaging it with sterile gauze and taping it firmly.

  "That's all I can do for her now. I'll give her a shot to ease the pain, and antibiotic and tetanus injections. After that it's up to Betz's doctor to do his stuff."

  Betz himself spoke from just outside the open door of the van. "You seem to have done everything that's required." His brown eyes were speculative. "Perhaps we won't have to have Dr. Jeffers treat her after all. Senator Corbett usually finds him very cooperative, but he might balk at treating a gunshot wound without reporting it."