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So why is he showing Frankie how to use the bow? On a hunting trip, she would be a hinder, not a help. Besides, Denver would never let her go.
Or would he?
The back of my neck prickles.
Is that why he allowed Kody to take the punishment? He’s so goddamn calculating, always ten steps ahead. I have no doubt he contemplated the hunting trip and every other possible ramification before he sent that blade through Kody’s hand.
Shoving off the doorframe, I stride toward their cozy little huddle around the crossbow.
Kody doesn’t touch her. His arms hang stiffly at his sides. But he wants to erase the gap. He wants to mount her, climb into her, and rut until he’s boneless. He knows he can’t, and I see that internal battle in every hard flex of his bearing. I feel it.
Frankie’s an anomaly. She’s not afraid of us. Not like the others. Some part of her sees something redeemable in my brothers and me. Maybe that’s how she copes. By fooling herself into believing she’s not alone in this. That she has allies here.
Sometimes, when her guard is down, she looks at us with an inexplicable glow on her face, blinding us with her light and courage and beauty like a living expression of…
What’s the word for it?
Kindness.
She’s a warm, slippery, unfamiliar sensation, and we all want it for ourselves.
I like to think my mother showed me kindness. Kody may have experienced something similar with his mother, too.
Before Hoss.
Another lifetime. Too long ago to remember.
We have no use for it here. Kindness will soften a man, and soft men don’t survive the Arctic.
“You’re wasting your time.” I pause behind Frankie and lightly breathe into the space beneath her delicate ear, delighting in the way she trembles with the crossbow trained on the target.
Standing at her other side, Kody catches my eye above her head.
Something dark and cloudy rotates across his face, and for the first time in forever, I can’t read him. What is he thinking?
With a yelp, Frankie lets a bolt fly, hitting the ground several feet in front of the tin cans.
Not bad.
Not great, either.
“I leave in a couple of days.” Kody flexes his wounded hand and winces.
“And…” I already know where this is going. “You can’t go alone.”
His jaw hardens. The prospect of needing help unsettles him so badly he can’t even admit it aloud.
“That’s what this is?” Frankie lowers the weapon and turns, her green eyes bulging with equal parts excitement and horror. “I’m practicing because you need me to go with you?”
“No.” I search Kody’s brooding expression, waiting for him to back me up.
“Denver knew it would come to this,” he says flatly.
Frankie jumps into her usual litany of questions, lips flapping and arms gesturing.
I don’t hear any of it over the gallop of my heart. “It’s starting.”
He nods and turns his scowl toward the cabin.
“What?” Her voice rises. “What’s starting?”
“We can convince Wolf to go with you,” I say to him.
His mouth forms a thin line, and his head gives a firm shake.
He’s right. Contrary to his namesake, Wolf doesn’t hunt. He’ll empty the snares and process the meat. But he won’t hike into the hills and leave behind his markers, flamboyant clothes, running water, and sauna time.
“Then it’s her or me.” I take in Frankie’s confused expression and all her missed arrows across the yard.
“Me.” She rolls her lips, and her eyes dart between us, trying to sort out what we’re not saying. “I’ll go with you, Kody.”
When did she start calling him that? I try to catch his gaze, but he refuses to look at me.
Fucking hell, how deep has he slipped? Has he reached the point of no return? I thought Wolf would be the weak link that sent us spiraling. Was I wrong?
The way Kody regards her, tracking her like a goddamn guard dog…
No.
This can’t be happening.
“I’m going.” I swipe the crossbow from her grip.
“We’ll both go.” She tries to snatch it back.
I hold it out of reach overhead and find Kody’s gaze.
If the three of us go, the situation can be controlled. I can keep her away from Denver and Wolf, and Kody can keep her away from me.
One-on-one is where we fail. None of us can be alone with her.
And she cannot be left alone with Denver.
I see my thoughts reflected in Kody’s eyes. We’re on the same page.
Lowering the crossbow, I hand it back to her. “Keep practicing.”
Neither she nor I will ever track game at Kody’s level. I doubt she can shoot a dead animal from seven yards away. But if she learns to cock the bow, it’ll save Kody a significant amount of pain in his injured hand.
It’s our best option.
I retrieve my rifle—the weapon I’m most comfortable using—and join them for a couple of hours of target practice.
