Page 92 of Tracking Wolfe

My heart squeezed, hand tightening around him involuntarily. “Baby⁠—”

“If I saved myself, you made it possible.” His eyes met mine. “I couldn’t have done it without you, Trace. You know? I need you.”

The soft words washed over me. I knew what it meant for him to say that, given how worried he’d been about seeming less than capable.

I opened my mouth to confess just how much I needed him, too, when the shadows moved on the trail ahead of us and I heard a shout.

“Trace Bishop! That you?”

Wolfe jerked in surprise and accidentally set his bad foot down, wincing when pain flared up. I cursed and leaned into him, lifting his bad leg up from under his knee with my free hand.

“Yeah! Up here,” I called.

Clay’s headlamp bounced toward us, and when I finally saw the familiar bearded grin beneath it, I let out a breath of relief.

“Hey, thanks for coming,” I said, offering him a smile instead of a handshake.

“Figured you might need some extra hands when your text mentioned the bad ankle. This our subject?” He gave Wolfe a little wave and introduced himself before pulling a couple of microfiber towels from his backpack. “Dry off as best you can while I pop some hot packs for your pockets. Suspected ankle sprain and some exposure to the unfriendly elements. Anything else?”

Wolfe hesitated and darted a glance at me. “Uh. Not really? A little headache, and I’m thirsty.”

“No problem,” Clay said. “I also have acetaminophen for pain and extra water bottles.”

Wolfe took a deep breath and seemed to come to a decision. “Would it be dangerous to take the medicine if I was… drugged?”

The temperature on the mountain went up by several degrees as the resentment that had been kindling inside me burst into a towering rage. “He fucking— Baby, why didn’t you tell me?”

Wolfe clutched the back of my jacket tight in one hand. His other hand clamped over mine where I held his hip. He was, I realized, grounding me in place, in case I decided to run off and commit a quick execution.

Which explained why he hadn’t mentioned this before now.

I inhaled sharply through my nose and tried to keep it together. Wolfe had fucking crawled to get to me. I could control myself for his sake.

For now.

“I think he drugged the water bottle he gave me at lunch,” Wolfe explained to Clay, his voice hoarse but controlled. “I don’t know what drug it was. He said it would make me loopy, but he was talking like he still expected me to be able to make it down the trail under my own power. And he seemed pretty shocked when it hit me as hard as it did. I, ah… passed out shortly after. Maybe early afternoon? Next thing I knew, I was waking up tied to a tree, and it was almost dusk⁠—”

I couldn’t help the feral growl that escaped my throat.

How fucking dare Jake Mason? He’d drugged Wolfe, imprisoned him, and left him to the elements for hours?

If Wolfe was even one-tenth less strong than he was⁠—

Clay’s eyes met mine like he understood exactly what I was feeling. But when he spoke, it was to Wolfe, and his voice was serious and kind. “Acetaminophen will probably be fine. But we have a bus at the bottom of the hill. Let’s have the EMTs check you out and take any samples we need, and they can let you know what’s safe, okay?”

Wolfe nodded. In the meantime, I pulled out my own water bottle and handed it to him. He took it without hesitation and took several deep gulps.

Clay slung his pack back over his shoulder and stepped closer. Wolfe immediately stepped back and nearly tripped over my boot. Thankfully, my arm was already around him, so I was able to keep him from hitting the dirt.

“Sorry,” Wolfe apologized immediately. “Maybe I’m still a little loopy.”

Clay held up his hands. “No, I should’ve warned you before I moved. I was going to offer to take a spell with the assisted walking to give Trace a break.”

“No,” I said quickly. “That’s okay. I have him.”

The idea of another man touching him right now sat as uncomfortably for me as it seemed to for Wolfe.

“But you can take one of our packs?” I suggested.