Panic overwhelmed him, crippling his thoughts. He had to remain calm, nonthreatening, or the bear would never take her cub and move on. Every second seemed like an eon sliding by, every minute felt like a death knell.

The black bear paced along the edge of the cliff, making sure the threat to her cub didn't return. He backed away, putting distance between him and the cub. Out of the corner of his eye, a thick oak appeared. Could he get behind the tree before the female remembered him? He had to try.

Keeping his backward momentum even and quiet, he edged around the tree and fell against the trunk, his legs shaking, his heart blasting in his ears.

The cub bleated out a cry, and Britt froze, listening for the loping run of a pissed-off bear. When no crash of underbrush reached his ears, he peered out from his hiding place.

Mama bear's protective gaze zeroed in on him.

Shit!

Ducking behind the tree again, he waited. And waited. He waited until he couldn't stand it anymore. This time when he shot a look around the tree, the bluff's edge was clear.

He found them lumbering along the path he and Randi had taken earlier. Every few feet, mama bear would throw a glance behind her.

Keeping part of his attention on the retreating bears, he marched over to the edge of the bluff. The fog was even thicker below, though a two-foot-high band of visibility rode along the ground. Enough for him to pick out Randi's rucksack hung up on a granite outcropping.

He shrugged out of his backpack and retrieved a roll of bright yellow flagging tape. Tearing off several feet, he intended to tie the length around one of the nearby trees. A message to any rescuers should the worst happen.

But mama bear must have caught his scent or heard his frantic movements. Foam flecked from the sides of her mouth and her enormous claws dug into the forest floor, heading right for him.

Dropping the tape, Britt stabbed his arms into the backpack's straps and sent up a prayer before following Randi.

For the first fifty feet, Britt managed to control his descent by tapping into decades of hiking up and down the mountains of Western North Carolina. He even managed to nab Randi's rucksack on his way down the cliff. But soon, gravity fed his movements and he flew faster and faster and faster. So fast his boot slipped on some loose earth. After that, his descent turned ugly.

His body bounced off every hard-surfaced or sharp-edged object making its home on the mountainside. He slid, he tumbled, he rolled, he cursed. He cracked a rib, maybe two. Finally, he flip-flopped to a halt.

Not giving his body time to spotlight his injuries, he jolted upright and began his search for Randi. Whirling in a circle, he scanned the area in all directions. Not a single sign of her stubborn blond head.

Cupping his hands around his mouth, he bellowed, "Randi!"

Silence.

"Randi!"

The tingles tracked down his spine, cutting and scraping, one vertebra at a time. He yelled her name, again and again and again.

He found her wrapped around a thick tree.

Heart in his throat, he set two fingers on the side of her neck. Nothing. He repositioned his fingers. Nothing. He pressed his pads against the fine bones of one wrist. Thump, thump. Thump, thump. A weak pulse, but there.

"Randi, wake up." With a gentle yet firm hand, he peeled her away from the tree. "Sweetheart, open your eyes."

When he got no response, he tapped her cheek. "Randi." She remained unmoving. He smacked a little harder, cringing at the sight of red blossoming on her pale cheek. He hated causing her pain, but he hated the idea of her dying even more.

"Miranda Shepherd." He infused as much authority into his voice as possible while he searched for any signs of head trauma. When his fingers came across a lump behind her right ear, he cursed. "Wake your stubborn ass up. I don't have time to coddle you all damn day."

Her eyelids fluttered.

"That's it. Open your eyes." Britt scrambled for something to help her shake off the fog of her head injury. "If you don't wake up, I'll have to take over Blues, Brews, and Books. I've got a few modifications I'd like to make."

Her eyes opened, then shut again.

Britt brushed her hair away from her face. "My first official duty as CEO would be to get rid of the utensils. People can use their fingers."

A line formed between her brows.

"And then I'll bring in peanuts. Patrons can shuck them right onto the floor."

"Not in my bar," she croaked out. "Allergies."

Britt smiled, sending up a prayer of thanks. "Welcome back." She tried to sit up. "Not so fast. I need to figure out where you're hurt."

After a quick inspection, he found no protruding bones or deep gashes. But he did locate several scratches and a bruise forming on her right jaw. "Everything looks okay from the outside. Let's see what your body thinks about an upright position."

She sat up, with his assistance. A groan escaped her, and she clamped her hands around her head.

"You may have a concussion." He peered up, noticing the fog had lifted somewhat, but the distance to the bluff's edge was daunting even for able-bodied hikers. "I'm calling nine-one-one."

"No," she said. "Just give me a moment to adjust."

Now that the immediate danger to Randi had passed, Britt's body's aches and pains were making themselves known. He straightened to ease the sharp pain in his ribs.

"A concussion is nothing to mess with, Randi. You could have bleeding on the brain and not know it for several hours."

"I've been conked on the head a time or two without any lasting damage. The benefits of having a thick skull."

"Setting your thick skull aside, we're going to need some help climbing back up."

Her eyes flared, and she scanned his body. She smoothed her thumb over his chin and came away with blood on the pad. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine." He grasped her searching hands, afraid she'd connect with his sore ribs.

"How'd you get down here?"

"Same as you."

"Good Lord, are you insane?"

"No more than you."

"I, at least, had a motivating reason."

"So did I."

She stared at him, hard, as though trying to read the meaning behind his words. Britt wouldn't enlighten her. Neither of them were prepared for that kind of conversation.

Her color returned by slow degrees.

"How do you feel?"

"Like I rolled down a mountain." Her crooked grin faded when she took in his expression. "I'm okay." She slid her hand over his, where he clasped her fingers in a death grip. "Just a headache and a few bruises. My body takes on a lot more damage during my Pilates class." She patted his hand. "Help me up, please."

Britt grimaced when he leveraged himself to his feet.

"You're hurt," she accused. "Stand back, I'll do this on my own."

"It's nothing. A bruised rib, maybe." He held out his hand to her. "Nice and slow."

He helped her up, steadying her when she wobbled a bit. She took a few tentative steps, assessing her body, part by part.

Britt took advantage of her preoccupation and assessed his injuries. Everything seemed to have survived, except the left side of his rib cage. He hoped it was just a severe contusion, but he had his doubts.

"Let me see." Randi motioned for him to lift his shirt.

"It's nothing."

She raised a brow, waiting.

Britt didn't like to be fussed over. But he could see she wasn't going to let this go. He released a long aggrieved sigh before lifting his shirt.

"A bruise is forming, already." Her finger skimmed over the area, making him flinch. Not in pain, but from the sheer gentleness of her touch. "Did I hurt you?"

Britt shook his head. He couldn't stop looking at her. His chest hurt. His mind kept chanting, Thank God, thank God, thank God she's alive. He couldn't have borne any other outcome.

"Other than the bruise, I don't see anything alarming. How's your breathing?"

Her earnest expression shattered his silent prayers-and his irritation. Attentions he normally found annoying when performed by his mom or Evie seemed endearing coming from Randi. Britt tested out a few deep breaths and was relieved to only feel a slight twinge on the inhale.

"I'll survive."

"You're not just saying that, are you? I've heard broken ribs can puncture lungs."

"If you want complete honesty, I probably have a cracked rib, but I don't think it's broken."

"How can you be sure?

"Because it feels like the time Reid head-butted me."

"I don't know how your mother survived raising four rambunctious boys."

"Lots of spinach."

She gave him a wan smile, rubbing her temple. "Did you find the source of the blood?"

"No." Thank goodness he'd trusted his instincts and cut short his tracking. If only he'd listened to his gut sooner, he might have been able to save Randi from a two-hundred-foot tumble. "After we get you checked out at the hospital, I'm coming back to follow the trail. I don't care for the direction it's headed."

"What do you mean? Where's it going?"

"Right now, the trail is on a straight path to the wolves' den."

"Do you think one of the wolves has been injured?"

"It's one possibility."

"And another?"

"Could be a fresh kill one of the wolves is carrying back to the den."

She studied him a moment. "You don't believe the latter theory."

"I find it less likely. But given the fact I couldn't find a single print-animal or human-any scenario is possible at this point."

"Time for us to stop dithering. Let's find the best place to crawl to the top."

Britt eyed Randi. She had that woman-on-a-mission aura-thing going. "When we get out of this valley, I'm taking you straight to the hospital."

"Maybe later." She set her hands on her hips. "First, we need to figure out whose blood you found."

"Have you forgotten that I found you unconscious?"

"My memory is still intact." She glanced behind them, at the distant sound of flowing water. "How about we walk along the riverbed for a while to see if we come across a creek or seepage draining into the river. The terrain there might provide for better footholds."

"Your mind's set, isn't it?"

"Yep. We'll go to the doctor together-once we solve the blood mystery."

Something unlocked in Britt's chest. It was as if a pressure valve released, and decades of suppressed feelings coursed freely once again. Warmth that had nothing to do with the weather penetrated every fiber of his body.

Brushing the backs of his fingers over her jaw, he startled her from her battle planning. He kissed her. A slow, possessive kiss. Every raw, unfiltered emotion flowed from him to her. For the first time in his life, he didn't hold back. He left himself open, vulnerable.

Randi must have sensed the shift. When she drew back, her face revealed a blend of wonder and wariness. Who could blame her? Even under normal circumstances, people complained of not being able to figure him out. Toss in a volatile situation, toss in volatile emotions, and chaos ensues.

Grasping her hand in his, he said, "Come on. Let's see if we can find a way out of here."

"If?"

"Don't worry, I know survival tactics. Grubs don't taste as bad as they look on TV."