Force of the Falcon

Chapter Three

Brack dashed through the woods, battling the wind, well aware of the tiny child in his arms who had placed her trust in his hands. He couldn’t let her down.

But what if they were too late to save her mother? Did Katie have a father at home waiting for her? If so, why had the man let his wife go out into the approaching storm to search for the child alone? Where the hell was he now?

And who would take care of Katie if the woman didn’t make it?

His own memories of losing his father erupted from his past to haunt him. Even though his father hadn’t died when he’d been carted off to jail, Brack had felt as if he had. Once he had been incarcerated, his father had cut off all communication with his boys. As an adult, Brack realized that his father had done so to protect his sons, but at six, he hadn’t understood. Instead, he’d felt as if he’d been abandoned.

He cut through the patches of broken limbs and trees, grateful the falcon had led the way to Katie. Her body jerked with the cold, so he cradled her closer, using his own heat to keep her warm.

“We’re almost there, lamb chop,” he murmured.

She nodded against his chest, and his lungs tightened at her brave little face. Finally, he made it to the overhang where he’d left her mother. The woman was so still that panic squeezed the air from his lungs. She lay curled on her side, her knees hunched upward, her head buried in her arms. He quickly knelt and checked for a pulse again. Tension coiled in his muscles when he didn’t feel one, but he shifted his fingers slightly to the left. Yes, he found it. Her pulse was weak and thready, but she had one.

He eased Katie down beside her mother.

Katie tugged at the coat sleeve. “Mommy!” Katie cried. “Mommy, wake up!”

He tipped the little girl’s chin up so she’d look into his eyes. “Honey, I need for you to climb on my back and wrap your arms around my neck. I’ll carry you piggyback, then I can lift your mommy, too. Can you do that for me?”

She bobbed her head up and down, then bit down on her lip. “But what about Snowball?”

Hell, he could no more leave the kitten than he could the woman and child.

He tucked the kitten into the pocket of his coat. “There, now he’s safe and warm.”

Katie smiled at him then, so trusting, that he could have sworn a moonbeam bounced through the dark storm and lit her face like an angel.

He gestured to his back. “Now, hop aboard.” He crouched to the ground so she could wrap her arms around his neck. He grabbed her hands to secure them, and she tried to wrap her legs around his waist, but they dangled as if she didn’t have the strength. His throat convulsed, but he patted her hands. “Good girl.”

She pressed her face against his back away from the wind. He tucked Katie’s crutches below one arm pit, then scooped her mother into his arms and strode back toward Falcon Ridge.

SONYA STIRRED from the depths of unconsciousness and cold. She had to live, wake up, find Katie. Make sure her little girl was safe.

But she was so cold. So tired. Her limbs felt like dead weights and pain throbbed through her. Sleep offered a reprieve, and the darkness pulled her into its abyss. She gave in to it, but then she was trapped in a minefield where light had been obliterated by cave-like walls and where strange mythical creatures stalked the night.

Terror splintered through the fog, and she forced her eyes open. She had to escape the tunnel of darkness, find the light. Then she was being jostled, moved. Somewhere in the haze, Katie’s small voice soothed her.

Finally, she felt herself being lowered onto something soft. Warm. A blanket being tucked around her. Then another. And a fire nearby. The crackle of wood. The hiss of the flames. So cozy. She sank back into sleep, craving the peace it offered.

“Mommy, mommy, you gots to wakes up!”

Katie’s tiny, terrified voice shattered her rest. Sonya forced herself to blink through the fog of pain and cold, but the details of what had happened were fuzzy.

Where was Katie? She couldn’t see her, had lost her in the blizzard. No, that creature had attacked her, and she’d warned Katie to run.

A husky, deep voice followed. “The paramedics are on their way.” A brush of her hair, and she looked up to see a man’s face peering over her. Dark, scruffy hair. Black eyes. A wide-set jaw. He looked dangerous and unkempt, wild like the mystical animal creatures she’d been dreaming about.

Was he the bizarre creature that had attacked her in the woods?

No…he had saved her. And Katie was clinging to his back, her small hands clutching his neck in a choke hold as if she couldn’t let go.

The man…he’d found Katie for her… Brack Falcon…

“You’re at my place now, at Falcon Ridge,” he said in a deep voice. “The paramedics are on their way.”

She tried to nod but wasn’t sure she had actually moved her head. “Katie?” she croaked.

He brushed his thumb across her cheek. “She’s fine. I found her hiding in a cave nearby.” He swung her daughter from his back as if he’d been handling her all his life, and Sonya swallowed back tears. He was huge, had powerful muscles and the biggest, widest hands she’d ever seen on a man, but he gently cradled his arms under Katie’s weak legs and placed her beside Sonya as if Katie were a delicate china doll that might break if handled too roughly. Then he wrapped a thick blanket around Katie.

Katie’s father had never held her like that.

Fresh tears filled her eyes as Katie snuggled into her.

“Mommy, I was s-so scared,” Katie whispered. “I…thought you was gonna leabe me.” Her voice caught, and she buried her head into Sonya’s neck.

Pain shot through Sonya’s battered arm as she slid it below Katie’s back to hug her. “No, baby, Mommy would never, ever leave you.” She brushed Katie’s shoulder-length hair from her damp cheek, then rubbed small circles on Katie’s back to soothe her. “Do you hear me, sweetie? Mommy will always be here for you.”

But fatigue and blood loss had drained all the life from her, and she felt herself slipping back into the darkness again.

“Is there anyone I can call?” Brack asked, drawing her back to reality as if he, too, thought she might be fading off for good. “Your husband? Katie’s father?”

Sonya shook her head. “No, no husband…. No one.”

Worry flickered in the man’s black eyes. He was so serious, somber…maybe she wasn’t going to make it.

“Call Miss Margaret,” she choked out. “She babysits Katie while I work.”

He cuddled the blanket around Katie, wrapping them up together. “This Miss Margaret—how do I reach her?”

“The paramedics…friends of mine.” Her voice broke off, weak. “They’ll know.”

“No, Mommy.” Katie tugged at her face. “Don’t leabe me!”

“Not leaving…” Sonya whispered. “Just have to sleep.”

Katie tightened her arms around Sonya’s neck and squeezed so hard Sonya coughed for air, but she cradled her daughter tighter, unable to release her for fear she would slip away forever.

Then Katie would be all alone with no one to love her.

THE MINUTES DRAGGED by while Brack waited on the ambulance.

He didn’t like the fact that the woman had drifted into unconsciousness. No telling how much blood she had lost. What if the attack had damaged internal organs?

Twenty minutes passed. Still no ambulance.

He had to check her wounds. He coaxed her to roll over to her side, and he carefully cut away the remainder of her flannel gown, leaving the blanket secure around her legs. Then he leaned close to study her wounds. Sharp claw marks remained where something had ripped away the flesh on her hands and back. Dirt, dead skin, leaves, and mangled tissue were matted together in an ugly maze. The wounds were deep, but not to the bone, so hopefully her internal organs weren’t injured. But she needed stitches, antibiotics and pain-killers. And the area had to be cleaned.

He rushed to the bathroom, grabbed the first aid kit he kept on hand, then cleaned the worst of the dirt and debris from her back. She moaned and he winced, hating to hurt her but knowing it had to be done.

In all the years he and his brothers had been rescuing birds of prey, he had seen vicious attacks by animals. But he’d never seen anything so awful as the tender skin on the beautiful woman—desecrated, clawed at as if her attacker wanted to literally taste her blood.

If a bird had done this, it was supersized. Maybe injured. Or what if it was diseased? Was it possible that his beloved creatures had contracted some kind of strange illness that caused them to attack humans?

Finally, a siren squealed outside, and the paramedics punched the gargoyle doorbell, causing a resounding lion’s roar to moan throughout the house. Katie jerked her head up, startled.

He forced a small smile. “I’ve got a crazy doorbell, don’t I?”

She nodded, a tiny smile lifting the corner of her mouth as if they shared a secret. Then she dropped her head back down against her mother’s.

He hurried to let the rescue workers in and quickly explained what had happened. The woman’s name was Sonya Silverstein. Apparently she worked with them as a paramedic. She and Katie had just moved into the old farmhouse just a mile away from Falcon Ridge. He could see the rambling wooden structure from the top of the ridge.

Katie climbed into his lap while the paramedics checked Sonya’s vitals and started an IV, placed a temporary dressing on her wounds, moved her to a gurney and transported her to the ambulance.

“Check the little girl, too,” Brack said. Although she appeared to be okay, he didn’t know how long she’d been out in the snow or how weak her health was. “And Sonya said to call Miss Margaret.”

A big barrel-chested guy who introduced himself as Van Richards nodded, then reached for Katie. “We’ll call her on the way. Come on, peewee, you can ride in the truck with your mama.”

“But whats about Snowball?” Katie asked.

“Snowball will be happier staying at my house where it’s warm tonight,” Brack said in a low voice. “We can take him back to your house in the morning.”

She scrunched her mouth in thought, but seemed to accept his offer.

Van nudged her arm. “We need to go, Katie.”

Katie glanced up at Brack with those mesmerizing eyes, eyes full of terror. “Will you comes with us, Mister?”

“Brack,” he said softly.

Van shot him a skeptical look that bordered on distrust, as if he suspected that Brack might have attacked Sonya. “There’s not room.”

Katie wrinkled up her nose. “I can squish over.”

Brack silently cursed. All his life, he and his brothers had endured those condemning looks. They’d been dubbed murderer’s sons. And then there was their strange affinity for the wild.

It was the very reason he hated this town. He still wasn’t sure he’d stay.

To hell with these guys. He didn’t have to prove himself to them or anyone else in this godforsaken place. He’d done all he could tonight. He’d saved the woman and kid. Now he could walk away.

Katie tugged at his hand, her chin quivering. “Pwease, Mr. Bwack,” Katie pleaded.

Really, how could he refuse the poor little girl? He wanted to know more about the creature that had attacked the woman, anyway.

The younger guy, Joey Bates, climbed in the driver’s seat while Van settled Katie into the back.

“I’ll drive my SUV to the hospital and meet you there, sweetie, okay?”

She nodded, then pasted on a brave smile and huddled into the blanket beside her mother. Sonya was breathing steadily, but anxiety still tugged at Brack. He waved to Katie as the door shut behind them, then crawled into his Land Rover and cranked the engine. The wind beat at the windows, fresh snow swirling in a fog. More questions hammered through his head as he maneuvered the vehicle down the mountain toward town.

Didn’t Sonya have any family to call? Where was her husband?

If he was alive, if they were divorced, did he ever see Katie?

If so, why wouldn’t she have wanted him to call the man now? She’d need help with Katie while she healed.

They’re not your problem, he silently reminded himself. Don’t get involved.

But he had to find out exactly what had attacked Sonya. Was it one of his birds of prey or was it another kind of creature—a human one who not only killed animals but now had attacked an innocent woman?

BRACK PACED the hospital waiting room, sipping the stale, cold coffee from the vending machine as he waited on the doctors to check Katie and Sonya. A half hour later, one of the nurses finally appeared; he almost accosted her with questions, but at the last moment held himself in check.

“Sir, were you the man who found the Silverstein woman and child?”

He glanced at her name tag. Amy. She was youngish, maybe early thirties, blond hair, a kind smile. “Yes. Brack Falcon. How are they?”

“They’re both going to be fine. They treated Sonya’s injuries and have settled her into a room now. Her little girl is in there with her.” She paused, studying him, her eyes narrowed. “We’ve called the babysitter, Margaret Mallady,” she continued. “She said she’d be here as soon as possible to pick up Katie.”

“Good.” He could breathe now. Go home.

“Did you see the attack on Ms. Silverstein, Mr. Falcon?”

He shook his head. “No, I heard her screaming and found her on the ground.”

A frown creased her forehead. “What were they doing outside in the blizzard?”

“The little girl snuck out looking for her kitten.”

“That sounds like Katie.” The woman’s round cheeks ballooned out as she shook her head. “Poor Sonya. She’s had her hands full. She didn’t need this.”

He frowned, wanting to ask what she meant but warning himself not to.

Don’t get involved, and you won’t get hurt.

He was a loner. A man who needed no one. A man who didn’t want anyone needing him.

“Doctor Waverman called the sheriff,” Amy said. “To report the attacks.”

Sheriff Cohen. Dammit. He was the last person in town Brack wanted to see. He hated the man for railroading his father into jail twenty years ago. And he’d tried to run Rex out of town when he’d first arrived, and he’d interfered with their investigation.

“Oh, there he is now.” She rushed forward to greet the sheriff, then gestured toward Brack. Sheriff Cohen’s jowls shook as he gave Brack a once-over. His look said it all. Why had the Falcon boys returned to Falcon Ridge—to cause trouble?

Cohen shifted, then jerked his pants up with his stubby thumbs and stalked toward Brack. “So, you’re the other Falcon?”

Brack nodded. “Sheriff.”

“You found the Silverstein woman?”

“Yes.”

His bushy eyebrows climbed his forehead. “Mind telling me what you were doing out in the woods?”

“You know my family rescues injured birds. Lately there have been several attacks on the animals. I heard a loud screeching sound, and was out checking on them.”

“You were searching for wounded birds?” Suspicion laced the sheriff’s gruff voice.

“Yes. Then I heard a scream and found the woman on the ground. She’d been attacked. But she told me to look for her little girl.” He forced a steely calm to his voice although the memory of having to leave the woman alone haunted him. “I found Katie hiding in a cave, then carried them both to my house and phoned the paramedics.” He finished matter-of-factly, glaring at the sheriff, willing him to defy his statement.

“You know what attacked the woman?” Cohen asked.

Brack shook his head. “I didn’t see the actual attack.”

A doctor appeared through a set of double doors, then introduced himself to Brack and the sheriff. “Is Ms. Silverstein awake yet?” Sheriff Cohen asked. “I’d like to get her statement.”

Dr. Waverman shook his head. “She’s pretty heavily sedated, but we can go in for just a moment. Her daughter is with her.”

“Tell me about her injuries,” Sheriff Cohen ordered.

Dr. Waverman winced, then described the claw marks on Sonya’s back and hands. “I’ve never seen anything quite like it. The marks look like talons but some of them are so large…”

“Damn birds,” Sheriff Cohen said. “This is you and your brothers’ fault,” he snapped. “We never had trouble with birds attacking people before, not till you moved back and started providing a refuge for them. Are you breeding some special kind that feeds on humans?”

Brack’s blood ran cold at the man’s accusations. “That’s ridiculous. If the birds are attacking people, they must be sick.”

“Then they need to be destroyed,” Sheriff Cohen said.

Brack’s jaw tightened, his control teetering on the edge. What kind of ignorant moron was Cohen? “What they need is medical treatment.”

“Gentlemen, why don’t we see what Sonya has to say before we do anything rash,” Dr. Waverman suggested.

Brack and the sheriff exchanged silent, menacing looks, but followed quietly. The scent of antiseptic and medicines pervaded the halls; the beep of hospital machinery and rattling of medicine carts and gurneys added a layer of charged tension.

Brack’s gut clenched when he stepped inside. Sonya lay against the stark white sheets, her dark curly hair spread across the pillow, her face pale in sleep. Long dark lashes curled against ivory skin dotted with the faintest row of freckles. Her lips were a natural ruby color, her chin slightly pointed, her face heart-shaped. He hadn’t gotten a good look at her before, but she was stunning, like a real-life Sleeping Beauty. The childish story taunted him—if he kissed her, would she wake up and be healed?

Ridiculous.

His gaze landed on her bandaged hands and anger churned through him. A primitive surge of protective instincts swelled in his chest, as well.

The sheriff walked over and stared at Katie with a scowl. She looked impossibly small and fragile huddled in the chair beside her mother’s hospital bed. Someone, probably the nurse, had helped her into fresh dry pajamas and socks, and had thought to give her a pad of paper and some crayons. She was drawing intently, her pug nose scrunched in concentration.

“Katie, did you see the animal that attacked your mother?” Sheriff Cohen asked.

So much for tact.

Katie slowly tipped her face upward, but she cowered into the chair away from the hulking sheriff.

Brack strode forward and knelt beside her chair. She automatically reached for his hand, and he slid it around her trembling shoulder. “It’s all right, honey. We just need to know what happened to your mommy.”

“It was one of those hawks, wasn’t it?” Cohen asked. “They’ve been attacking each other, and tonight they attacked your mother, isn’t that right?”

Katie’s lower lip quivered. “I d-don’t k-know what it was.”

“What do you mean, honey?” Brack asked softly.

“It wooked wike a giant bird,” she whispered, “but it w-was a monster.”

Brack gritted his teeth, then glanced at the picture she’d drawn. Although it was crude, a four-year-old’s handiwork, the definite shape of a winged creature filled the page. Maybe a large eagle or hawk. Black and brown, with long, sharp talons.