High Country Rebel

Will a new love summon old enemies?

Battle-weary former Navy SEAL Talon Holt’s top priority is to defend his own. With a military dog to care for and his traumatized soul to mend, he hitchhikes from California to Jackson Hole, Wyoming, hoping for a fresh start and to be with his ailing mother. But he can’t outrun the ghosts of war—especially when a ferocious storm forces Talon to accept the help of paramedic Cat Edwin. The gorgeous rescuer wants to heal his wounds inside and out, but the fear in her arresting blue eyes calls to his instinct to protect.

Trust just doesn’t come easy to Cat, who, thanks to a troubled past and a violent ex, tries to keep Talon at arm’s length. Yet attraction draws them together despite the very real danger each of them brings to the other. Now Talon is driven to save Cat, even when it leads to a high-country showdown that could cost them love…and their lives.

Praise for

LINDSAY McKENNA

“McKenna skillfully shows that it’s all about the romance and not only the sex. After all, hard work, honesty and trust is what western romance is all about.”

—RT Book Reviews on The Wrangler

“McKenna’s latest is an intriguing tale…a unique twist

on the romance novel, and one that’s sure to please.”

—RT Book Reviews on Dangerous Prey

“Riveting.”

—RT Book Reviews on The Quest

“An absorbing debut for the Nocturne line.”

—RT Book Reviews on Unforgiven

“Gunfire, emotions, suspense, tension and sexuality abound in this fast-paced, absorbing novel.”

—Affaire de Coeur on Wild Woman

“Another masterpiece.”

—Affaire de Coeur on Enemy Mine

“Emotionally charged…riveting and deeply touching.”

—RT Book Reviews on Firstborn

“Ms. McKenna brings readers along for a fabulous odyssey in which complex characters experience the danger,

passion and beauty of the mystical jungle.”

—RT Book Reviews on Man of Passion

“Talented Lindsay McKenna delivers excitement and romance in equal measure.”

—RT Book Reviews on Protecting His Own

“Lindsay McKenna will have you flying with the

daring and deadly women pilots who risk their lives.…

Buckle in for the ride of your life.”

—Writers Unlimited on Heart of Stone

High Country Rebel

Lindsay McKenna

Dear Reader,

Former Navy SEAL Talon Holt knows all about loss. He lost both his father and stepfather and, later, his best friend. Now, his mother is sick and he is needed at home. Fresh from a veteran hospital and suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder, Talon finds his way home to Wyoming, his loyal dog, Zeke, by his side. Love is the last thing on Talon’s mind.

Cat Edwin, paramedic and firefighter, drives through a blizzard and discovers a man and dog near death. Little does she realize that her compassionate act will change her life. From the beginning, Cat is powerfully drawn to this rugged soldier, though she fights it. Her history with relationships is rocky at best, especially since her last boyfriend is now stalking her.

With a little help, Talon gets back on his feet to be the loving son his mother needs. What he doesn’t expect, however, is to find love for himself. The struggles of coming home could weaken a lesser man, but Talon calls on his years as a SEAL. He needs everything he’s learned to protect Cat from a lethal element in her past. When Cat is surrounded by danger, all Talon can think is that, once again, he will lose someone he loves. And that just can’t happen again.…

I hope you enjoy this story! To stay up with my latest books, run over to www.lindsaymckenna.com.

Lindsay McKenna

To the many men and women volunteers

of Operation Gratitude.

To Carolyn Blashek, whose vision has created this wonderful charity that supports our brave and courageous military men and women.

To Linda Landau, who works for this charity

and who I get to call a friend.

Please join me and many others

on December 7, 2013, in Van Nuys, California,

as we all celebrate the one millionth box being sent overseas to military personnel, who always treasure

a thoughtful gift from this charity.

For more information, visit

www.opgrat.wordpress.com/2013/02/26/save-the-date-one-million-care-packages-and-counting/

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

CHAPTER ONE

TALON HOLT KNEW he was going to die. It was just a question of time. He slogged through the foot of snow quickly piling up on Highway 191 to the Bar H outside of Jackson Hole, Wyoming. Zeke, his U.S. Navy SEAL combat assault dog, a Belgian Malinois, walked at his side, looking up, a worried expression on his black face.

As he gripped the leather leash, Talon gasped for air. They were at five thousand feet in the middle of a late-May blizzard, no less. He could barely see the Snake River hundreds of feet below and to his right. On his right was a rocky, craggy mountain rising 6,200 feet, hidden by the blizzard.

He wiped his mouth, head down, the wind howling and gusting, beating against his wet, cold body. Miles earlier, it had rained. He and Zeke were drenched as they slogged alongside the muddy berm of the highway.

Talon had been born in this area so he knew he was in trouble. Few cars or trucks were on the road because of the unexpected blizzard.

What made his problem worse: the PTSD symptoms acquired during his tenure as a Navy SEAL. Talon couldn’t just hop on a plane, ride in a bus or be inside any enclosed area if a panic attack hit him. When medically and honorably discharged from the SEALs, he had to walk from Coronado on the West Coast back home to Jackson Hole. He knew the journey would get dicey.

Lucky for him now, he wore his Navy camo coat and he had gloves. He took the wool blanket out of his sixty-five-pound rucksack and wrapped it around Zeke. The Belgian Malinois, who was often mistaken for a German shepherd, was not prepared for a blizzard, either. Zeke was short-haired and needed the protection. Talon tried his best to keep his loyal dog dry and warm.

He was so close to getting home. God, hadn’t he suffered enough? Done enough for his country? Ever since the Taliban had captured him and Hayden, his SEAL partner, his life had disintegrated before him. They had been jumped by the enemy and Zeke had escaped and taken off. The dog had run thirty miles over rough, mountainous terrain to Camp Bravo, a forward operating base in Afghanistan.

He wouldn’t be alive today if Zeke hadn’t done what he did. After regaining consciousness in the hospital at Bagram Air Base near Kabul, he learned that Zeke had barked furiously, getting the SEALs’ attention at Bravo. Zeke had led a six-man SEAL team back to where he and Hayden had been captured and were being tortured. During the firefight, Zeke had taken a bullet in the shoulder, nearly died himself.

Talon tried to shake off the memory of the torture. His gut churned with cramps from not eating for three days. He had to get home. He had to make it to the Bar H.

But would he survive? With every short, shallow breath that tore out of his mouth, Talon wheezed. His lungs were filling up with fluid, and he desperately needed antibiotics and pure oxygen. He cursed his bad luck. In his soggy mind, the fever making him hallucinate, Talon figured he had about a mile to go.

He was either going to die of pneumonia out in this storm or he was going to die of hypothermia. How ironic was that? He’d survived gunshot wounds and torture only to freeze to death out in this damn blizzard? If Talon hadn’t been so exhausted, he’d be pissed.

The sky was a dark, gunmetal gray. He knew it was probably around seven in the morning, but it looked like early dawn due to the heavy, dark clouds carrying the brunt of the blizzard. Talon stumbled over his own feet and fell hard on the berm. He threw out his hands, releasing the leash. Zeke stopped, wagging his long brushy tail, whining and licking the side of his face as Talon struggled to sit up. The world whirled around him and Talon cursed softly, tightly shutting his eyes. Come on! Dammit, if he could survive BUD/S training to become a SEAL, he sure as hell could get through this!

Gasping, grunting, he used every last bit of his strength and pushed himself unsteadily to his feet.

He leaned over, placing his gloved hand on Zeke’s strong back, which had carried so many loads for him over in Afghanistan for three years. He groped for and found the leash. Talon awkwardly patted his dog’s head, saw the worry in Zeke’s large brown eyes. Zeke deserved a helluva lot better than being out in this deathly blizzard.

Talon winced, lowering his head against the stinging bits of ice and snow striking his face. Hayden’s screams of pain haunted him in his nightmares. He’d never get his friend’s cries out of his head. And it drained Talon’s will to live. Add to that his mother’s battle with cancer.

Talon doggedly pushed forward. He felt Zeke’s comforting weight against his knee. The dog was shepherding him along. Zeke was a bona fide hero. He had been awarded a Purple Heart and a Silver Star by the Navy for his heroic efforts to save his and Hayden’s lives. Only, Hayden hadn’t survived. Shit.

The past was overlaying the present. The fever had him in its grip and Talon wasn’t sure if he was in a Wyoming blizzard or back in a snowstorm in the Hindu Kush Mountains of Afghanistan. And when the fever rolled out like a tide in his head, Talon would realize he was in Wyoming, trying to reach the Bar H. Trying to get close enough to home to ask for help, to let his mother know he was near.

Since his mother had contracted breast cancer, Talon had sent most of his paycheck to her because she couldn’t afford the horrendous, mounting medical bills. He’d wanted to help her as much as he could. As a result, when he got wounded and discharged, he had no bank account except for five hundred dollars in a savings account to get him home to Jackson Hole. And that money was mostly gone as he walked across half of the United States to reach Wyoming.

Jesus, the fever was messing with his head. Talon’s breath was ragged and fast. Dizziness struck him in waves. His lungs were drowning in fluid and he couldn’t get the oxygen he needed. No oxygen, no strength. Only brute determination kept him going.

A blast of frigid air struck Talon. He slipped, lost his footing and went down. Hard. His head slammed into the snow and the berm below it. Darkness took him briefly.

He felt his dog’s tongue licking his bearded cheek. As he fumbled, tried to rise, the last of his strength ebbed. He was going to freeze to death out here.

Talon lay there gasping for air, feeling the bubbles of liquid in his lungs. Death stalked him. He closed his eyes, cheek pressed into the snow, feeling nothing because his flesh was numb. Something snapped deep within. Something so primal, so visceral, that all he could do was lie there, helpless. Just as he’d hung helplessly, strung up, his wrists tied with ropes over an overhead beam, toes barely touching the dirt floor. He was forced to watch Hayden being tortured. Oh, God...

Talon wanted death to take him. He was so very, very sorry he wouldn’t be able to help his mother. She was a survivor. Grief and sadness wound through him like a cold, icy river flooding him. He was so dehydrated he couldn’t even cry.

His SEAL team friends would find out sooner or later that he’d died of hypothermia on an unnamed highway somewhere in Wyoming during a freak blizzard. What a screwed-up ending.

Talon closed his eyes.

Well, it looked like the blizzard was going to kill him. It felt good to just rest. To lie on his side, the snow all around him.

Zeke whined and paced around him, licking his face, trying to get him up. A hoarse sound scraped out of his throat. It was as close to a sob as he would get under these circumstances. Talon wasn’t afraid to die.

Zeke lay down next to him, his moist, hot breath across his face. In Afghanistan, in the cold mountains, Zeke was like a warm, living blanket to Talon. He would lie at his side, their bodies glued to each other, keeping one another warm through those icy, frigid nights. He couldn’t let Zeke stay out here. The dog would die in the blizzard, too.

And that was what forced Talon to try to get up. To move. Gasping, his breath noisy and ragged, he struggled to move his numb legs. They were weighted down, hard to move. For a moment, the fever receded and Talon’s head cleared. His black lashes froze to his cheeks and he couldn’t force open his eyes. Somehow, he managed to pull his hand up, scrub his face and force the lashes to break free. Blinking rapidly, Talon got them open. Up! He had to get up! Zeke couldn’t freeze out here. Talon couldn’t let that happen.

Just as Talon got to his feet, wobbling and staggering around, he saw headlights come out of the thick veil of snow. Blinking unsurely, he thought he was seeing things—hallucinations due to his high fever.

Zeke whined, placing his strong body against Talon’s leg to help him remain upright.

Talon gasped for air, like a fish thrown out of the water. He jammed his hands down on his knees, head down, trying to stay upright as the big, black SUV appeared like an apparition out of the blinding blizzard. It stopped in front of him.

A car door opened and slammed shut.

Jesus, he had to be imagining this! No one in their right mind was out in a blizzard like this. Wyoming people knew to stay home to stay safe. Was this how death happened?

Zeke barked a warning.

There really was someone walking toward him! Zeke was in combat assault dog mode. Anyone making a move toward Talon was seen as the enemy. Zeke’s growl rumbled warningly, and the hackles of fur stood up on his neck.

“Allow,” Talon rasped to Zeke. The command to the dog meant not to attack, but allow that person to touch or be around him. Instantly, Zeke stopped growling and watched the person who was heavily bundled up in a coat.

Talon forced himself to stand. He was so dizzy he had to step back so that he wouldn’t fall over. He tried to focus his eyes on the person coming around the SUV. Whoever it was, he or she wore a down black jacket, white knit cap, a thick muffler around their neck, hands positioned beneath their armpits.

And then the apparition spoke.

“Hey, climb in. No one should be out in this blizzard.”

A woman’s voice. Husky. Filled with concern. She eyed him worriedly, her blue eyes warm. The snowflakes were landing on strands of her black hair peeking out from beneath her white knit cap.

“Hey?” she called. “Are you all right?”

Her hand came to rest around his upper arm, steadying him. Jesus, she’s real! His mind shorted out. He couldn’t talk. He knew he looked like what he was: a homeless military vet. He hadn’t bathed in ten days. His hair was long by military standards. He hadn’t shaved in God knew how long.

She saw the dog, suddenly becoming wary.

“Won’t hurt you,” Talon forced out, his voice rough and barely intelligible.

“Good to know. I’m Cat Edwin. Come on, I need to get you inside my SUV.”

Her hand became firmer on his arm as he tried to take a step toward it. Everything whirled and he halted, shutting his eyes. “Pneumonia,” he muttered.

“Yeah, I hear it. You need medical attention pronto.” Cat slid her arm around his waist and pulled his one arm across her shoulder. “I’ll help you into my SUV. What’s your name?” He looked awfully familiar, but she couldn’t place him. Right now, she didn’t have time to figure out why.

Cat slowly guided him toward the passenger side of her SUV. The man could barely keep his feet beneath him, his knees continuing to collapse beneath him.

“Talon,” he managed, his feet barely working. In the next breath, he rasped, “Holt.”

Cat gasped. Now she knew who he was. Sandy Holt’s son! “Okay, Talon Holt, hang on.” Cat reached for the handle and pulled open the door. “Let’s get you inside. You’re wet and freezing.”

He hesitated. “My dog...”

“He’s coming along, too,” she reassured him.

Talon grunted and worked to climb into the SUV. He had a helluva time getting into the seat and she practically shoved him into the SUV. Zeke jumped into the front, sitting on the floorboards between his legs, facing him.

The door slammed shut. He could feel heat in the SUV. It felt wonderful. Talon lay back, closing his eyes, gasping for air, his lungs hurting with each wheezing breath.

Cat climbed in and shut the door. “I’m going to the Bar H. It’s about a mile up the road. The roads are closed beyond that. I’ll get you to the ranch and try to help you there.”

He had to be dreaming. Talon couldn’t answer, too weak to speak. He felt Zeke’s warm, wet tongue licking his hand. Just as she put the SUV into motion, his last memory was of Cat Edwin’s face. She was attractive, slightly curled strands of black hair across her broad brow. He liked her large, readable blue eyes. Talon had seen every emotion in them. Her face was oval with wide cheekbones. Her nose was clean with slightly flared nostrils. He especially liked that wide, soft mouth of hers. If Talon had been healthy, he sure as hell would have wanted to know her a lot better. And with that last thought, he sank into unconsciousness.

CHAPTER TWO

CAT FELT A sense of urgency. As a fire department paramedic, she took one look at an unconscious Talon Holt and knew he was in serious shape. The snow was dumping in buckets and she could barely see ten feet in front of her SUV as she drove slowly through the foot-and-a-half snow on the highway. If it weren’t for the snow poles placed every tenth of a mile, she might literally drive off the road and slide down the rocky slope and into the churning Snake River below. Not what she wanted to do.

Blindly, she reached out for the fire department radio she had installed in her SUV. She needed to call the Bar H and let them know she was coming in with a sick passenger.

“Hey, anyone awake at the Bar H? This is Cat. Over.” Her heart was pounding a little harder in her chest. The man, who lay slumped, his head tipped back, touched her for some reason. Cat had taken care of hundreds of sick and dying people over the years. What was it about this man that moved her emotionally? Cat had no answer. His beard was scraggly, his hair longish, dirty and unkempt. And that dog of his, Zeke. The animal’s large, intelligent brown eyes never left his master’s wan face. She swore the dog looked as worried as she felt.

“Cat? Don’t tell me you’re out in this godforsaken blizzard?”

A smile twitched at her lips. “Hey, Miss Gus. I figured you’d be up by now.” Gus was eighty-five years old and the matriarch of the Bar H.

Gus snorted. “I was just cooking breakfast for Val and Griff. I didn’t think you’d come in this morning with this blizzard.”

“Yeah,” Cat said with a chuckle, “but I really wanted to learn to can fruit and veggies with you and Val today.”

“What a sucker for punishment you are, my dear,” Gus cackled.

“Listen, I just picked up a man on this highway a few minutes ago,” Cat told her. “He’s in rough shape. I’m bringing him to you, Miss Gus. He needs to be in the E.R. but there’s no way I can make it ten miles back to town in this blizzard. Can you get Griff to meet me out front? The guy is unconscious and has a bad case of pneumonia.”

“Who on earth would be out in this weather?” Gus demanded.

Cat cast a quick glance over at the man. She could smell him. “He told me his name. Talon Holt.”

“Lordy!” Miss Gus exploded. “Talon Holt? He’s Sandy Holt’s son!”

“One in the same.” Cat gulped and felt a lump form in her throat. “That’s right. I knew there was something familiar about him.”

“Sandy said her son, who was a U.S. Navy SEAL, was wounded a year ago. She told me he was coming home, but didn’t say when. Said he was coming with a dog. Is there a dog with him?”

“Yes,” Cat said, driving carefully, feeling the SUV begin to slide a little. She eased off the gas. There was no way to hurry in this stuff. “I remember Sandy saying he was wounded.”

“Yes. He got wounded a year ago on a black ops mission and Sandy said he was getting a medical discharge sometime soon. Didn’t say when. Sandy told me the name of the dog but I can’t recall it.”

“Zeke?”

“Yes! That’s it! Aside from the pneumonia, how bad off is Talon?”

“Really bad,” Cat murmured, frowning. “Listen, we should use your bedroom downstairs. Can you get it ready for him? He’s soaking wet, freezing and he’s breathing pretty badly. I’ve got to get him someplace warm and dry. Griff’s going to have to help me. I can’t carry him into your house by myself.”

“Griff’s out in the barn. I’ll give him a call to come in. Val and I will get my bedroom ready. About how long before you arrive?”

She grimaced. “I’m barely going ten miles an hour. Probably another twenty minutes if I don’t slide off the mountain.”

“We’ll be waiting for you, Cat. Be careful getting here. There’s a sheet of black ice on that pavement.”

“Great, thanks. Out.” Cat felt her emotions unraveling as she gripped the steering wheel, focusing on the slippery road. All around her were evergreens cloaked in heavy white snow. A black, wet, rocky cliff soared a thousand feet above the highway. On her right a skimpy guardrail was supposed to prevent a car from sliding into a hundred-foot rocky abyss below.

Focus on the road. Get him shelter.

Cat didn’t want to feel anything about this man, this vet, but she did. Talon Holt was pale and unconscious, but she could see the toughness in his face, the kindness in the shape of his chiseled mouth. And yes, he did look a little like his mother.

She white-knuckled it as the SUV slid a little toward the guardrail. Cat didn’t easily panic. As a firefighter, she’d seen just about everything in her twenty-seven years.

She glanced quickly toward Talon, who was frowning, regaining consciousness. Cat could hear his raw, shallow breaths. She turned again to the snow-covered highway. “Talon?” she asked. “Are you awake? Can you hear me?”

Talon heard her husky voice. Weakly, he raised his hand and forced his eyes open. Every breath he took was a labored effort, as if he had an elephant on his chest. He heard Zeke whine, felt his pink tongue laving his hand.

“It’s okay, Zeke,” he rasped, opening his eyes. He’d never been so damned weak. Not even when he’d been wounded in the field had he felt like this.

“Talon?”

The woman’s voice again. He barely turned his head in the direction of the sound. “Yeah?”

“How are you doing?” Cat demanded, guiding the SUV around the last curved corner that would lead to the Bar H.

“I’m not dead, yet,” he rasped.