ducked its head and slinked up onto the edge of the jacket,

flopped down against his side, and rested its chin on

Duncan’s thigh with a doggy sigh. And just like that, with

only a brace of trout and a warm body to lean on, Duncan

realized he and the pup had just formed a bond that God

himself wouldn’t be able to break.

And when he found himself wondering what he’d done to

deserve this, this time he decided it must have been one

hel of a good deed.

Duncan felt his foothold giving way and made a desperate

lunge for the other side of the gaping hole he was trying to

cross, but only managed to slam into the ledge with enough

force to bounce him into nothing but heated air rising up

from only God knew how far below. His muttered curse

ended in a grunt of surprise when he landed a hel of a lot

sooner than he’d expected, the sharp pain jerking him

awake with another shouted curse.

The pup pushed off his side with a startled yelp, making

Duncan protectively grab his ribs as he opened his eyes

and immediately closed them against the bright sunshine

pouring into the clearing. Shaking and sweating and

breathing heavily, he replayed the terror of his dream—

which felt so real that every muscle in his body started

screaming at just the thought of moving.

Christ, he hurt. He slowly cracked open his eyes again

and looked around until he saw the pup standing a few feet

away, staring at him in concern. He slowly reached out a

hand only to turn it back toward himself when he realized it

was covered with bloody scrapes. And then he noticed it

also happened to be sticking out of his shirtsleeve; the only

problem was he couldn’t remember getting dressed last

night.

The pup came slinking over with its tail wagging hard

enough to move its entire rear end and flopped down to

rest its head on his bel y—only to jump away again when

Duncan bolted upright at the realization the sun was at least

two hours high in the sky.

“Damn, I’m late,” he groaned more than growled,

wrapping his arms around his protesting ribs. “I have an

entire crew in place to start hauling gravel today,” he told

the pup, forcing his voice to soften. He sighed and rubbed

his hands over his face. “It’s okay, though, Dalton knows

what—” He stopped in midrub and ran his fingers over the

length of stubble covering his jaw. “Son of a bitch!” he

snarled, dropping his hands away to look down at himself.

His pants and shirt were filthy and definitely looked like he’d

been living in them for at least four or five days, and his new

boots looked like he’d nearly worn off the treads, the

uppers scuffed and cut in places and stained with mud.

He flopped backward with a groan and closed his eyes

as he recal ed the dream he’d actual y lived through,

apparently. He remembered hiking up and down and

across the mountain with the pup like a man possessed,

searching for something he hoped he’d recognize when he

found it; making camp every evening wherever they

happened to be, and eating whatever he could hunt or

catch.

Duncan’s breath hitched when he remembered finding

the cave three-quarters of the way up the mountain facing

the fiord, and how he’d fol owed the pup when it had run

inside as if it had been there before. It had been tight going

for the first ten yards before the cave had opened large

enough that he could stand, and the first thing Duncan had

noticed was that the air had been unusual y warm. The

second thing being that the wal s were glowing, emitting

enough light for him to see the tunnel continued at a

downward incline farther into the heart of the mountain.

He’d also noticed that the snoring had been more

pronounced.

He’d let the pup lead him deeper into the cave, and

estimated they were a good quarter mile inside the

mountain when the floor had simply stopped. Duncan had

tried to look down what appeared to be a chasm, but hadn’t

been able to tel how deep it was because its wal s weren’t

glowing. However, there had been a noticeably hot column

of air whooshing out of it and then suddenly sucking back

in, sort of like … breathing. He could see the glowing tunnel

continued on past the thirty-foot-wide chasm and opted for

the route he could see—assuming he could get past the

hole. Hence the fal that had awakened him from his dream

that had really happened.

He remembered how lying at the bottom looking up had

al owed him to see the hole was about twenty feet deep. He

had then tried to figure out if any bones were broken that

would force him to lie there until he rotted, or if he was

going to be able to escape a hole he suspected had been

carved out of sheer contrariness.

Although he didn’t know how someone with less broad

shoulders and smal er hands would have helped him out of

this particular predicament, he supposed Peg could have

at least thrown him a rope if he’d brought her along—

whereas the pup had only stared over the edge and

whined, dropping an occasional bit of drool on him. Thanks

to his never-say-die DNA, it had taken him nearly half a day

by his estimation to find the combination of foot- and

handholds to climb out, and most of the night to limp back

to his original campsite at the pool.

Duncan scratched the thick stubble on his jaw as he

stared up at the crystal ine blue sky dotted with puffy white

clouds shaped like whales. If he believed the length of his

beard, he’d been on his mountain at least five days. “So is

there a reason the sky’s not fil ed with search helicopters?”

he growled. “I’ve been missing for five goddamned days.

Or are ye al forgetting that I sign your paychecks?”

Hel , Peg could have at least been worried enough to

send someone looking for him. And what was up with Alec

and Robbie? He’d told them he intended to explore his

mountain Sunday night. Granted, Robbie had gone home to

his wife and own little heathens Sunday morning and wasn’t

due back until Tuesday, but this was goddamned Friday,

so where in hel was everyone?

Duncan used his righteous indignation to propel himself

upright again, then set his elbows on his bent knees to hold

his head in his hands. He was going to have to stop

growling at people, he supposed, so they wouldn’t al be

celebrating the fact the boss had gone AWOL.

“Peg could at least be missing me,” he repeated out loud

this time, rol ing onto his hands and knees. He slowly stood

up, then had to grab a nearby tree to keep from fal ing flat

on his face before he final y felt steady enough to limp to the

pool and gingerly sit down. He wrapped an arm around the

pup when it came over and had to lean away when it tried

to lick his face.

“Hey, you’re fattening up,” he said, running his fingers

over its ribs. “Apparently I’ve managed to put some flesh

back on your bones this week.” He hugged the dog to him.

“You’d ral y the troops if I went missing, wouldn’t you,

because we’re buddies now.” He snorted. “And I feed you.”

He nudged the dog away and rol ed onto his side to dunk

his head in the water, then rubbed his face with his hands.

Slowly beginning to feel human again and real y not wanting

to rot here, Duncan stood up and looked around. “I guess

we walk down to the shoreline and hope the scientists are

more interested in studying the fiord than the main body of