Wild Like Us (Like Us 8)

I can’t take my eyes off her, and as a bodyguard, that is bad. Really fucking bad. And I’m about to lean down and kiss her.

But Akara glances up at the sky. “Hey, we’re going to have to jog back to make it to camp before sundown.” His severity kicks my ass into gear. “I don’t want us to be on the trail in the dark.”

I drop my arm off Sulli and eagle-eye the path.

She nods.

“Banks, you go out front,” Akara orders.

Usually I don’t question a superior. At least not to their face. I’ve learned to shut my mouth, even when I think they’re wrong. But I point out, “I’m slower than you and her. Shouldn’t you two be out front and I’ll take the rear?”

“That’s why you should set the pace.”

I nod, realizing he wants us to stick together. So I just go on ahead. The trail is riddled with fallen logs and tall grass.

Sulli is on my ass in an instant. I glance over my shoulder as I jog.

“This is nice,” she says, barely breaking a sweat. “Leisurely and scenic. I fucking like it.”

I laugh. “Good because I’m not busting my ass by going any faster.”

“Yeah, don’t do that. I like your ass how it is, Banks.”

Blood pumps harder.

I wish I could spin around and just take her face in my hands. Kissing the hell out of Sulli is on my brain when I know I should be more alert.

“Watch for snakes,” Akara calls to us.

Facing forward, I run as fast as I can. Having the longest legs of the three of us means nothing when I’m two-hundred-plus pounds of muscle. I’m not slow, but I lack the speed that Sulli could clock.

Wind whips around us, and my shoes crunch fallen leaves and rocks. Akara and Sulli crack a few jokes for a couple minutes before they go quiet. Just letting nature sink in.

Even with the wind, the air feels still. Strangely calm.

The thump of our feet on the dirt is a familiar noise that brings a sense of comfort. I’ve run miles upon miles in the military, a rucksack strapped to my back. I’ve run after Sulli in Italy.

Now I’m running in front of her in Yellowstone.

I stay in the moment.

I’m right here. My vigilant gaze sweeps every meter ahead. The trail widens, woods on the left, and the endless view of sky on the right. It shouldn’t—and I don’t know why—but Skylar pops into my head.

His face.

The one I remember.

He was fifteen. He’ll always be fifteen to me, even though he was my older brother, and that fact settles heavy on my chest for a split-second.

Suddenly, a bloodcurdling sound rips through the air. Violent, like a cross between a screech and a growl. The second sound comes quicker, faster than I can even turn around.

It’s a loud thump.

I turn to look at Sulli’s six.

At Akara’s six.

No.

I race back to him.

Akara has hit the ground.

And a cougar is braced on his back.

21

AKARA KITSUWON

I’m going to die here.

Two-hundred pounds of animal assailed me from behind. The impact is worse than a kick in the ring. My face eats dirt. I struggle to breathe with a mouthful of earth. Claws dig painfully into my flesh. I grit down and elbow the animal.

Barely able to distinguish what it is.

Cougar, I think.

I elbow again. My pulse in my ears, I can barely even hear. Nails rip at me, and I know it’s going to aim for my neck.

My jugular.

I’m going to die here. The sheer dread pushes my fight-or-flight instinct—I ram my elbow harder, not letting the cougar at my windpipe.

I’ve been camping enough times with the Meadows family to hear Ryke and Daisy in my head.

Stand tall and big and loud.

I’m already on the ground.

Don’t let it have access to your neck.

I’m trying.

Never run away or turn your back.

It’s on my damn back!

Adrenaline pumps in my ears and I can’t get to my gun that’s on a belly-band at my waist. My knife is closer. Clipped chest-high on my backpack strap, I reach for the hilt. Exposing my neck for a single second.

“KITS!” Sulli’s deafening screams fill my ears.

“GET OFF HIM!” Banks yells even louder, and the cougar falters, distracted, for a millisecond. Enough time for me to unclip my knife, and I stab the cat’s torso.

He lets out a wailing hiss and eases up on me. I roll out to the side, just as Sulli swings her backpack at the cougar’s head. Once, twice, and then her backpack slips out of her fingers.

I struggle to stand, then freeze in a crouch as the cougar locks eyes with me.

“Don’t move,” Banks tells me, holding out a hand.

We’re all perilously still. None of our eyes shift off the animal.

“He’s going to pounce on him,” Sulli warns Banks. While the cougar stalks me, Sulli tosses rocks and stones at him. “GO THE FUCK AWAY!”