Last Kiss Goodnight - By Gena Showalter Page 0,102

comfortable enough to do whatever she needed to do. Plus, a good number of trees would form a circle around her, shielding her from any prying eyes.

He dismantled the spit, put out the fire and scattered the rocks. He hid the evidence of their stay as best he could, and by the time he finished, Vika had returned.

“Are you sore?” he asked.

“Surprisingly, not too badly.”

Good. “We’re going to keep a brutal pace today. I checked our coordinates, and if we hurry, we can make it to the cabin a little after nightfall.”

“I’m ready,” she said, and she sounded as if she truly was.

He linked their fingers—something he was fond of doing. He liked knowing she was nearby. Liked knowing she trusted him enough to remain by his side.

They trudged forward, silent for the first hour.

“I have something to tell you,” she said, “but you’re not going to like it.”

“You can tell me anything.”

“Well . . . you see, there isn’t a key to the cuffs. Jecis destroyed the only one, which kind of explains why I was never able to find it.”

Kind of explained?

“I’m sorry!” she added.

No key, he thought, dazed by the realization, even though he should have guessed a long time ago. Jecis was just cruel enough, just smug enough, to do such a thing, uncaring about the lives he was ruining. Actually, happy about the lives he was ruining.

And Vika was waiting for a response from him. She expected him to rant and rave, most likely.

“Don’t worry about it,” he finally replied, and turned left, maneuvering around a small pond of ice. After a while, the drugs in the cuffs would run out. They would no longer be able to affect him. But . . . he still wanted them off. Never wanted anyone to have this kind of power over him again. Never wanted to be located by a few clicks of a computer.

He’d hoped to search for the key when he went back to rescue the otherworlders, but now, that would be unnecessary—one less thing to do. And really, this was probably for the best. Now he could remove the bands the moment he had Vika tucked safely away and knew Michael was on his way.

Michael, who should have found him by now.

But Solo still refused to believe his friends were dead. In their line of work, you had to see the body to believe. And even then it was iffy.

John was wily. Blue was a charmer. They were both survivors. No one could keep them down for long. And Solo, well, he was the fixer. He’d always been the problem solver and he would solve this.

Together, they had saved this world from many, many terrible people. Drug suppliers, human slavers, murderers, and those thinking to put together an army and rise up to power. The boys were due for a rescue of their own. And they would reap it, he assured himself. He would make sure of it.

For the next six hours, he was careful to avoid the areas with heavy wolf and bear tracks. And he did well, until a pack of wolves stepped to the edge of the cliff above him. He wanted to curse, but really, there was nothing he could have done. There’d been no tracks to avoid—because the animals had clearly been hunting him.

Bright yellow gazes scanned the daylight, diligently searching for the tasty treat that had been scented. Solo stopped and tossed a narrow glance at Vika, a demand for silence. She nodded to show she understood. He lifted her off her feet and carried her to the nearest boulder. He might outweigh her by more than a hundred and fifty pounds, but still his steps were lighter.

He set the bag at her feet and placed a swift kiss on her lips. Her eyes were wide, glazed with fear and fatigue, but she remained upright as he moved away from her. He was prouder of her with every second that passed.

A low, menacing growl split the air, followed by another.

The wolves had spotted him. Now they jumped, landing behind him in quick succession. He heard the thump of their paws, and could calculate the location of each.

Solo spun around, palming the rifle and squeezing off a shot. There was no loud bang, only a mild pop, the makeshift silencer doing its job. One creature stilled, his leg now sporting an open wound, while the others leapt at him. Rage engulfed him. Rage that these animals had placed his