Wrong Way Home - Taken (Criminal Delights 1)

The beeping was once again a slow sequence—a warning rather than the sign of doom, but Colin no longer cared the moment he saw a sliver of ginger fur across the stream, but it disappeared from sight before he managed to focus on where Missi was.

He wiped water off the goggles and eventually pulled them off, calling out for the cat, and then he saw the bright color of her coat again. Between the bulging roots of an old tree all too close to the water pouring beyond its usual borders, he saw her raise her head. But she wasn’t the only thing that moved, and in that moment Colin knew that the worst had already happened. Missi must have given birth and wouldn’t leave her young, even though the stormy water was putting them all at risk.

Colin’s logic lost the battle against the emotional part of his brain, and he put the metal whistle in his mouth, blowing into it time and time again.

He could run another time. Tonight, Missi and her litter needed saving, and he wouldn’t just selfishly leave them. Even if he didn’t trust himself into the rapid stream of water, there was someone who might know what to do.

Dropping the whistle from his lips, he put his hands into a tube and screamed for Taron at the top of his lungs.

Missi kept calling out for help, just a couple of big steps away, and once again he approached the river, staring at the foam and the debris carried by its waves. Branches, leaves, even some trash flowed between him and the cats, but as the ancient tree that offered Missi and her young shelter bent toward the water, pushed by a harsh gust of wind, Colin screamed out and put his foot into the icy current.

Before he could make the decision to go on and try to brave the river despite his blood freezing, a whistle tore through the air, preceding the thunder that came right after.

So Colin blew the whistle again, laughing in relief when the wind carried an answer from up close. Taron didn’t really need to whistle, he wasn’t the one being searched for, but Colin imagined he wanted to assure Colin that help was on the way.

He never took his eyes off Missi, and the endless minutes of waiting passed all too slowly, but soon enough, Colin heard heavy footsteps, and the mountain of a man emerged from the wall of rain. Colin ran uphill, wanting to meet Taron halfway, but when trees above bent, as if the hand of a giant pushed them toward the ground, the blast of air tossed Colin into the mud. The cold that had previously soaked into his jeans was back with a vengeance, and with his hood knocked off, the torrent turned his hair into a soaking wet mop, but he scrambled to his feet, seeking Taron again as the light around them dimmed, as if it had been artificial all along.

Taron signed as soon as he was close enough, and pulled Colin into a surprising, if wet, hug. He wasn’t expecting betrayal, backstabbing, or threats. All he cared about was if Colin was all right, and that fact was so touching that for a moment Colin felt bad about wanting to leave without saying goodbye.

He would flee. But not now.

When the thunder struck next, he shuddered against Taron’s strong body, but the noise also reminded him why he was here in the first place. “She’s there. I tried to get in, but the river’s just too rapid,” he shouted, pointing toward the tree that would inevitably have the ground washed out from under its roots. Within hours, it would drop into the river, becoming a coffin for Missi and the kittens.

Taron’s attention turned to the water, and this time when Missi meowed, it seemed like she was talking to him in particular. He raised his arms, as if he wanted to say ‘what have you done’, but then started rapidly unzipping his jacket.

Colin stared at him, shaking from the cold. “Do you have rope or something? What can I do?” he asked, swallowing some of the rain.

Taron pointed to a fallen tree and together, they managed to move it closer to the water. It would provide something to grab onto, but without anything to secure it on, at least this end, Colin was fighting the stomach cramps that accompanied stress.

Still, he did as instructed and helped Taron push until the trunk was lodged by an underwater rock and reached close enough to the other shore for a cat to jump on. It was only when Taron kicked off his boots that Colin understood the madman was actually about to cross the river.

“No. You can’t do that,” he said, grabbing Taron’s wrist. He searched the woods for something, anything they could use, but even when lightning turned the world bright again for a few moments, he saw nothing that could have worked.