Chapter 28 - Heartbound Hero

Flint waved goodbye to the family of five as they shucked their lifejackets in a pile and made their way back to the BBOC store. Another successful tour in the books, and his last for the day. Soon he’d be free to go find Goldie, see if he could take her out to dinner. He hadn’t been able to think of much of anything else since they’d parted ways last night. There were hours of daylight left, but Bryce and the other guides would handle the few customers that remained. Flint just had some paperwork to get through and then it was adios, BBOC.

He stowed the lifejackets and pulled the raft off the bus, strapping it to the wooden frame next to the launch so it would be ready for tomorrow’s runs. His muscles were warm in the afternoon sun after a day of being out on the water. Flint headed uphill towards the store, where his office was located, along with the enormous back room that housed their repair shop as well as an unofficial shifters’ meeting spot: the sparring gym. Maybe he’d get a workout in before the paperwork. A shower. Clear his head. But no sooner had the thought crossed his mind than Flint rejected it with a knowing grunt; he was just putting off the inevitable. Better if he did the paperwork first, then rewarded himself with a workout.

He hated being an adult sometimes. And now that he'd gone and gotten himself heartbound to Goldie, Flint didn't even have the promise of a career as a solo vampire hunter to look forward to. He bet the Mountain Man didn't have to do paperwork. Well, maybe inventory.

He’d figured it out first thing that morning, realizing what that green glow when he’d kissed her had meant. Heartbound was fate picking switch and shifter matches, and Flint wasn’t sure how it worked, but he’d seen it in Jameson and Cora. Once he got heartbound Jameson glowed the same grayish, sage green as Cora when she needed him, whereas Flint and Riot - the other two shifters bound to Breath Coven - only their eyes glowed. It was funny, Flint could even feel a difference between them. Or he thought he could. Goldie’s was so much sweeter and smoother and warmer, an entirely different shade and tone. But then, he was heartbound, and right at that moment, heartbound felt a lot like love.

A heady, scary love, that screamed of possible pain. He closed his eyes, imagined Goldie’s scent and her soft voice. It was worth it. Love like this was always worth it.

Maybe he was looking at a life in Five Hills, up at Resperanza with Goldie. That would be worth it for sure. It wasn’t a sure thing, she wasn’t committed. But Flint was, to her. If she left, chances were good he'd be trailing after her. No way was his woman ever hunting alone. Or with anyone but him. Now he just had to tell her. His heart thumped hard as he imagined her reaction.

He was halfway up the ramp to the door when Flint froze, the most unwelcome feeling of raw anxiety tensing every muscle in his body. (goldie needs you.)

It was exactly how he’d felt the night he met her, but amped up to eleven. Flint unstuck his feet and burst through the door of the BBOC. The family that he’d just toured and the few other customers looked up in alarm, instinctively shrinking back. That’s right, fuckers. Big angry dude with a nasty scar coming through. You wanna live, you’ll stay out of my way.

He shoved through the door to the sparring gym and headed straight for his office and his car keys inside. He didn’t even notice anyone else was there until Flint heard a muttered, “For fuck’s sake, another one?”

Aven reclined shirtless under a few hundred pounds on the bench press, shaking his head, his sharp eyes glancing in Flint’s direction.

Flint snarled back at the eagle. “Another what?” Knowing what he was going to hear. Secret was out. Some secret. Shit.

Aven let out a laugh. “Feeling antsy, brother? Take a look at yourself.”

Flint glanced in the mirror by the row of lockers. Shit. He was green. Not his skin, but his aura or whatever the fuck you’d call it. Everywhere around him glowed in that exact shade of shamrock that Goldie did, like he was surrounded in her light. It even spilled out of his eyes. Yep.

“Heartbound,” Aven declared, with a smug look. “You took my advice? Found her Resonant?”

Flint didn’t have time for chit-chat. He grabbed his keys on the run outside. His phone rang in his pocket. Hernando. And one missed call. Flint swiped at the screen, nervous. “Can’t talk now, ‘Nando. Shit’s going down.”

“That’s what I called to tell you, oso. Darby just ran out of here. Shiloh, too. They both got in a green Honda with Louisiana plates. That mean anything to you?”

Flint’s rumbling growl made Hernando give a humorless grunt. “I guess so. Darby didn’t clock out or tell anyone she was leaving, just ran. Thought I ought to give you a call.”

With muttered thanks Flint hung up the phone, catching another glimpse of his glowing form as he pulled his office door closed and came up against Aven, done with his workout and eyeing Flint closely. The eagle clacked his teeth. “Sounds like you could use a hand.”

Flint didn’t hesitate. “I need you up high. Green Civic, just left the Bear Claw.”

Aven nodded and headed for the back door of the gym, the side facing the river, dropping trou’ as he went so he could shift the second he was outside. Flint moved in the opposite direction, back through the store and out to the parking lot, where he folded himself into his SUV and jammed it into gear, kicking gravel as he headed for the main road. Fifty yards before he got there Aven appeared in eagle form on the big wooden BBOC sign and waited, flying north as Flint got closer. Shit, they’d already passed the BBOC in just the time since ‘Nando called? Goldie must be booking it.

Flint pulled into traffic, his eyes glancing skyward every dozen seconds to make sure he was still on the course Aven was setting. The eagle swooped low a couple hundred yards ahead of him, presumably keeping an eye on the car. Flint approached as quickly as he safely could, darting around other cars on the straightaways even though it was a no-pass zone for miles. Honking horns and middle fingers followed him down the road but Flint didn’t give half a shit; he had Goldie in his sights and was closing fast.

She was driving crazy, going too fast around the sharp switchbacks as they made their way up one side of a steep hill, her lightweight car bouncing over the ruts in the asphalt where icy runoff had split the surface. Flint watched a spray of gravel spin up around a curve, showering the tan sedan behind her, as Goldie accelerated far faster than was necessary.

Thoughts sprinted through his head as Flint tried to imagine what the hell Goldie could be thinking. None of it made any sense.

He was three cars back when it happened. The worst he could imagine. Almost. Flint had just crested the hill and started towards the first of a series of switchbacks so deep most cars took them at a crawl. Not Goldie. She was going so fast when she hit the turn Flint’s stomach dropped and a voice in his head screamed out a futile warning. Brakes, Goldie!

He heard the screech of tires as Goldie’s little green car slid sideways behind the trees and out of his view.

Over the side.

Flint slammed on his brakes with both feet, skidding to a stop in the middle of the road and ran. Just fucking ran. His chest ached. Please, Great Bear, God, whatever the fuck is really real, save Goldie. I need her.

He ran to the steeply sloping side of the hill where the road dropped off to nothing. The little green hatchback was hanging by a thread, wedged between two trees, the driver’s side dangling ass-first over the steep slope leading to the road below. Flint bellowed at whoever was in the car that stopped behind his. Someone with half a brain cell, he hoped. “Go stop traffic on the next switchback, get the road clear before this car comes down there and kills someone.” He didn’t stop to see if they did it.

Over the side he went, crashing through the thick brush. Two heads of blonde hair tumbled out of the passenger side door. Shiloh and Goldie. Flint felt his heart beat in his ears as he heard Goldie’s sweet voice groan underneath the sound of Shiloh’s pained grunts. The cat shifter lifted herself to kneeling, and Goldie along with her, before pushing to her feet and dragging them both further out. Flint could see Shiloh’s right arm was bent at a strange angle, her shoulder held tight and unnaturally close as she used the other arm to propel Goldie forward. The shifter’s face was pouring sweat, as well as a thin stream of blood from a gash on her forehead. The pain she felt was obvious in her clenched jaw, her complexion pasty and pale as milk.

Goldie wasn’t helping. She pulled at Shiloh’s hold, one hand on her forehead and the angry bump forming there as the other grabbed at tree branches and brush to hold herself back. Her voice had the determined tone of someone who had no idea how close they’d come to dying. “No! I’ve got to get Darby! She’s still in the car!”

Flint’s gaze shifted back to the car and spotted a flash of magenta in the backseat. Not moving. Shit. He met Shiloh’s half-delirious gaze, noted her tight grip on her charge’s arm. “Hang tight, Lio.” Then he turned to Goldie. “I’ve got Darby. Stay back.”

He slid the last few feet, the angle of the ground so steep he had to brace himself on a tree to keep from falling on his ass and running into the car. One glance inside showed that Darby was unconscious, probably because she was also untethered by a safety belt. Stupid. Flint supposed he’d be more angry if he hadn’t been bailing Bryce’s ass out for the last quarter-century. He couldn’t fuck it up, or Goldie might never forgive him. Or herself.

With one slow, studied move, Flint opened the back door wide, careful not to shift its weight. “Darby. Can you hear me?” No response. She was out cold, sprawled across the backseat, one leg bent close to her body and the other ankle easily within his reach. How the fuck…? He couldn’t add his own weight to the vehicle without risking it tumbling to the road below, but without any leverage how could he safely get her out? And where the fuck was Aven?

Crouching low to keep his balance strong, Flint grabbed onto the tree holding his weight and reached the other towards Darby’s legs. He pulled her bent leg gingerly, hoping he wasn’t doing any more damage, until her ankles lined up side by side and he could wrap his big hand around both, get a firm grip. He forced himself to take a deep breath. Once Darby was in motion he had to be ready to keep a tight grip, to keep her unconscious body with him, even if the car started to move out from under her, tried to take her with it. He wasn’t letting go of the most important person in Goldie’s life, not even to save his own. If Darby went over the edge, Flint was going with her. And he really didn’t want shit to go down that way.

The first pull went fine. Flint was able to move Darby a decent amount, until she was fully horizontal on the backseat, her legs halfway out the door, and the car didn’t do more than creak in its shaky hold. The next pull would shift her weight drastically.

Sweat beaded on his forehead, dripping into his eyes, and Flint twisted his head to wipe it on his shirt sleeve. He caught Goldie’s eye as he did, saw the bald worry there, the fear over her sister’s life, the desperation to know Darby was safe. Flint’s gut clenched. He had to give her that.

He heaved Darby’s legs up and out of the doorway with one hand, holding her by the ankles like a baby, his other hand still locked onto the small tree nearby. The car shifted and sank half a foot further down the hill. Goldie screamed. Shiloh talked her down.

Flint’s muscles strained with the effort as he held tight to Darby’s limp form and lifted, raising to his full height and pulling straight up until her head was free, until his deltoids screamed with the angle and the weight just as the hatchback gave up the ghost and slid over the edge, screams erupting from the road below as it tumbled through the trees. An unholy metallic crunch exploded on the street below. Flint prayed no one was hurt down there.

Arms shaking with his efforts, Flint started to lower Darby gently to the ground just as a woman with straight, black hair and harsh bangs half-slid down the hill to them, shouting, “I’m a nurse!” Flint let her take over Darby’s care, himself only concerned with getting to Goldie.

But she was already heading right for him, landing in Flint’s arms and gripping tight to his shirt with both hands. Just before his eyes closed in primal satisfaction he saw Shiloh slip off into the underbrush, her ruined arm held close to her side. She’d be back in two minutes at a hundred percent, if she could just get clear of humans and shift herself back to health. Flint could hear sirens screaming from up the hill. Getting louder.

Goldie’s slight form shook in Flint’s arms, her voice cracking against his chest. “Flint...” She couldn’t say anymore. Flint held her close, rocking her body with his, until with a shaky breath Goldie straightened and looked around his arm to Darby’s unnaturally-still body lying on the ground behind him.