The muted rumble of water increased in decibels as the rushing stream brought them to the next obstacle course. The riverbanks blurred past them.
As Sam yelled directions to the other two canoes, she reviewed the morning’s lessons. She could hear his voice barking out the directions. “Avoid the funnels. Aim for the vees.”
Water formed funnel shapes as it streamed around and over the rocks. Vee shapes marked the deeper troughs between outcroppings. Safer routes for small craft. They practiced steering, paddling in the current to keep the canoes straight.
It surprised her what a good teacher Sam was. She entrusted him with her life. She wouldn’t trust him or any other jock again with her heart, but he would guide them safely through these rapids.
Then there were the paddle strokes—the power paddle, the radical paddle, and what in the blue-eyed world was the other one? In spite of Sam’s patient demonstrating and their practices, she’d blanked that one.
To their left, the others struggled toward their own passages, mother and son in mid-stream, Ray and Carl near the far shore.
As she switched her paddle to the opposite side, she chanced a quick glance at them.
Frank and his mom reached the rapids first. Frank steered the canoe by pulling back in a J move.
Ah, a J, the third paddle stroke.
Once they made it through the vee they’d aimed for, Frank let out a whoop and pumped a fist.
Aim for the vees.
Annie tightened her cap and sunglasses strap. She gripped the hard plastic paddle. Just let me get through this day in one piece, and I’ll never again badmouth Mother Nature.
As Sam had directed, she dug the paddle blade into the churning river. Keep the top arm straight. Power with the body. Stroke, stroke, stroke. She mouthed the mantra in rhythm with the pulse pounding in her ears. “There! Ahead. At eleven o’clock. A vee.”
From behind her, he said, “I see it, princess. Heading for it. Keep powering that paddle. We’ll make it.”
An eddy caught the canoe. Shoved it too far to the left. The canoe careered broadside in the current. A boulder loomed ahead. Disaster beckoned.
Her heartbeat clattered. She pulled her paddle in toward the canoe. The boulder prowled closer—a troll hungry for boats.
“Harder! Don’t let the current turn us sideways!”
She pulled harder to the right. The canoe turned. Aimed with the current.
“Awesome radical move! Now dig in as hard as you can.”
Triumph leapt in her throat, but there was no time to celebrate. They had to make it through the vee.
Stroke. Stroke.
Harder. Faster.
Her arms and shoulders screamed. Rocks whisked past them. The water boiled around them. The canoe leaped ahead.
Half-hidden clusters of jagged rocks guarded the entrance to the vee. The opening looked too tight, the rocks too close.
She heard a scraping sound like chalk on a blackboard. Saw the rocks kiss the canoe’s side. She clenched her jaw and kept stroking.
“She can take it. Go, Annie, go,” Sam yelled.
She stroked. The canoe pulled ahead. Red paint glistened on the brazen rocks. The bottom of the vee appeared through the rippling water. The stones below looked poised to leap up and gouge the fiberglass skin.
Annie dug in.
“We made it!” She panted as if she’d just done ten miles on a treadmill.
“No break yet, princess,” Sam shouted over the roar of water. “There’s another one. Looks like a waterfall.”
A freaking waterfall?
A groan formed in her throat, but she didn’t have the breath to release it. She rolled her shoulders and prepared. Maybe he was wrong. Maybe he was teasing her.
It was a waterfall.
“A baby waterfall,” Sam called gleefully. “Little more than a foot. Maybe two.”
“Two feet? It looks more like an Olympic ski jump.” She jabbed at the churning froth, white as snow.
Paddling hard enough to whip cream propelled them forward. They zipped through a narrow vee to the watery slope’s edge.
The canoe tilted like skis poised to fly down the mountain. Her paddle was high and dry.
He sent them over and into the boiling water below with a soaker of a splash. “Yee-hah!”
Immediately the river widened and slowed with deeper water, offering them a respite. A pair of loons, their harlequin coats gleaming in the sun, coasted ahead of the canoes invading their paradise. One dived out of sight in search of a meal.
“Relax, team,” Sam called to the other two canoes. “We can have lunch and take it easy. Nothing for about a mile.”
A whole mile. Heaven. Annie rested her paddle on the gunwales and panted. Her racing heart slowed. Water surrounded her, but her throat felt as dry as newsprint. She guzzled from her water bottle.
The other two canoes, having taken the easier route through the rapids, edged toward the far riverbank and rafted together against a tangle of branches.
“Sam!” She spun on him. “Why didn’t we take that route? Why the waterfall?”
His grin was unrepentant and too sexy. “So you’d throw yourself in my arms?”
“Not likely.” She gave an indignant huff. “Mother Nature’s hard enough on me without your help.”
He beached the canoe on a flat rock and jumped out. “Stretch those muscles. You’ll feel better.” He stroked on his back and blew a water spout.
She didn’t need coaxing. She tore off her life jacket and shirt, then flopped into the stream. She swam around the canoe before returning to hang on.
Where was Sam? She searched the water. Nothing.
“Yow!”
She kicked and thrashed at whatever had her foot.
FOURTEEN
Sam popped up beside her, sleek as a seal, and grinning.
She slapped water at the jerk. “Very funny. Not.”
“Used to do that to my brother, except he got wedgies too. I can hold my breath longer than most.” The water was shallow enough for him to stand, but she had to tread. “You did great. Took us to third base in fine style.”
“We’re not home free?”
“You wish.” He planted a kiss on her mouth, at first a peck tasting of the fresh water, then firmer, molding his lips to hers and tasting of desire.
She didn’t want to feel the sizzle, but resistance floated away on the current. She kissed him back with enthusiasm. They were hidden from sight by the canoe, private for the moment.
She drank him in with the water dripping from his caramel-colored mustache. She grasped his shoulders and let him hold her up as the slick sensations of wet lips and wet bodies threatened to take her under. He tasted of humor, chocolate cookies, and masculine hunger. When he cupped her breast through her wet suit, she stifled a moan of need. Pulling away was more difficult than she wanted to acknowledge.
“Admit it” He grinned. “You enjoyed that.”
Baffled, she said, “The kiss?”
“That’s written all over you. And not just your face.”
At his sensuous tone and the direction of his heavy-lidded gaze, her nipples tightened. She narrowed her eyes at him. “What then?”
He swiped a dripping lock of hair from her cheek. “I mean navigating those rapids. You got as big a rush as I did. You enjoyed the hell out of the white water.”
She sputtered, ready to deny his assertion, but the lie stuck in her throat. She might not have enjoyed it the way Sam did, but she felt good. Powerful. Proud. Pumped.
“Smartass. I’ll admit nothing except relief.” She boosted herself up and into the canoe.
Stubborn woman, Sam told himself as he returned to his seat. After they opened their sandwiches, he was ready to take stock of their problem.
“You have something more to tell me,” he said around a mouthful of cheese sandwich.
Annie swallowed the bite she was chewing. “Not really. I tried to probe while we fixed breakfast. Guess I’m not much of a
detective. Nora shrugged off the setbacks, and Carl carped about everything, as usual. What about you?”
He recognized the delay tactic. “You heard Ray. He insisted he covered both coolers.”
“He probably did. Ray’s nothing if not precise.” She nibbled more of her sandwich.
Sam wanted to nibble her. Her sweet-tart scent tormented him. “I found out how the chipmunk was caught.”
Her eyes widened at that.
He explained about the spring snare in the woods. “Poor little critter liked Frank’s handouts. Made him easy prey.”
She gave a shuddery shake. “Except for you, who knows how to make such a thing?” Her eyes darkened to the same brooding expression he’d seen last night.
He had no answer for that, but he had more questions. “There’s something more to this. You know or suspect something you’re not telling me. Spill.”
“You’ll think I’m nuts. Paranoid.”
He waited.
On a sigh, she stuffed the last of her sandwich back in her day bag and wiped her mouth. She folded the paper towel she’d used as a napkin as she seemed to plan her words. “The Hunter. I can’t get my mind off the Hunter. I keep wondering if he followed me somehow, if he’s out there.” She waved a hand at the forest. “If he’s the one tormenting us, like the hornets, but one sting at a time.”
He crunched a big bite from his apple. The Hunter—or anybody—following them seemed as likely as a bus lumbering through the forest. “Why pull these dumb pranks? Just to spook us? Tell me about this Hunter. You think he’s after you because you wrote about him?”
“It may be just the opposite.” She trailed a finger in the stream. “He telephoned me three times. The last was just before this trip.”
Sam nearly lifted off his seat. “Telephoned you? At home? Where were the cops? Does Justin know about this?”
She put up her hands in defense. “Easy, big fella. Yes, Justin even tried a phone tap, but the Hunter moved too fast. The police wanted to stash me in a safe house, but I refused.”
If she was his sister, he sure as hell wouldn’t let her go haring off unprotected. But if the Hunter was in the city, maybe Justin figured this wilderness was the safest place. Nothing short of tying her up could have stopped her. “Could you recognize his voice?”
“He talked in a muffled, sort of mechanical whisper. I doubt I’d know his normal voice. The police techs might be able to do something with the recordings though.”
“So what did he say to you? What did he want?”
“Mostly he wanted me to get his story straight. He seemed proud that I was writing about him in such detail.” She leaned toward him, her elbows on her knees. “See, I think he may be upset that I’ve left town, that I’m no longer covering him.”
“Why the hell should he care who writes about his dirty deeds as long as someone does it?”
She shrugged. “It’s just a feeling. He seemed to think I understood him. I wish I did.”
He blew out a breath. “Him following this expedition makes no sense. We’d have spotted a plane or another boat. How could he get here ahead of us? Other than rescue helicopters, Boomer’s the only pilot who flies to Gomagash Wilderness, and he’d have told me if he brought anyone else.”
Her lips curved in a shaky smile. “Thanks. That’s sort of what I thought too. It puts us right back where we were.”
“That one of us is the saboteur.” He didn’t like that answer, but it beat having a killer tracking them.
Her complexion paled beneath her golden tan. “Or one of us is the Hunter.”
It took him only a flash to get over the shock of her statement. “You mean your buddy the Hunter could be Ray or Carl?” He scratched at his scarred fingers. “No way. Both those men signed up from out of state. They flew in Monday at the earliest.” His head shot up. “Unless you think—”
“It’s you?” His heart froze before her lips formed a tremulous smile. “Sam, I suspect you of many things, but being a murderer? No. Besides, you haven’t been back in the state until recently.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence.” He slipped over the side. “I need another dip and then we’ll head downriver.” To the others, he called, “Okay, folks, get ready to move out. We’ve got one more at bat—one more set of rapids to make home plate.”
“You are so corny, Sam Kincaid.” Laughing, Annie joined him in the stream.
He splashed around the canoe, letting the clear water refresh him. He heaved himself into the bow.
“Hey, that’s my seat.” Annie flipped water at him.
“Not this time.” The woman could use more challenge to take her mind off the Hunter. He pushed her paddle toward the stern and retrieved his longer one. “It’s your turn to steer.”
She sputtered and fumed, but, in the end, she had no choice without a crane to lift him from his seat. With bad grace, she plied the paddle to steer them downstream.
“You know what to do.” He mentally crossed his fingers as he moved a duffel bag to rebalance the canoe.
“Hey, Annie,” Frank called. “Want me to show you the J-stroke?”
“Thanks,” she said. “I watched you earlier. You can coach me if I mess up.”
Sam settled his Sox cap once again. “The kid’s doing all right.”
“He is, yes,” was her terse reply.
Sam grinned. She might snap at him, but she was unfailingly patient with the kid.
In the third canoe, Carl and Ray had switched positions, with Ray now taking the steering seat. With his rubicund features twisted into a glower, Carl looked like he thought Sam had placed the rapids there to aggravate him personally.
Sam eyed the waterline of the men’s canoe. “Yo, Carl, you two might want to redistribute the cargo. You’ve changed the balance. You could tip or have trouble steering.”
A few minutes later all three were paddling downstream toward the last set of rapids. “Here we go. I hear the white water ahead.”
“You order this up just for me, Sam?”
“I live to torment you, princess.” He could think of other, more pleasurable ways to torment her. The water should have cooled him better than this.
He and Annie led the way to the bubbling, churning shallows. “There it is. Dead ahead.”
“I wish you wouldn’t use that term, dead.” Every word sounded as if it was forced from between her teeth.
“You’re steering us right for the vee. Here we go!” He dug his paddle in and powered them to it.
Right through the middle.
“Like a champ,” he yelled as they coasted to a sand bar. “Better to wait there for the others. Make sure everyone comes through.”
“Sam, we did it. We did it!” Annie whooped. She lifted her paddle in triumph.
“No, sweetheart, you did it.” Sam turned the canoe around to face upstream. It wouldn’t hurt to monitor the other canoes’ progress through the rapids. This set of rapids was shallower, with more rocks scattered below the surface.
Having taken longer to start up, the others were strung out farther upstream.
Annie’s curves were outlined by her swimsuit and wet shirt. Her pink cap dripped like her hair, and she glowed with pride in her success. She looked so soft and touchable his whole lower body clenched. “Remind me later to give you that signing bonus.”
Her shoulders sagged. “No, Sam, no more kisses.”
“No harm no foul. What’s wrong with a little fooling around? We’re adults, unattached. At least, I am.” He raised an eyebrow in question.
“There’s no one. But I’m not in the market for a vacation fling. Especially not with a major jock.”
“What’ve you got against jocks? Some jerk broke your heart? Is that why you left New York?” From her widened eyes, he saw he’d hit the mark.
“I was engaged. All right? And yes, he broke my heart. I don’t mean to lump all professional athletes together, but I’m not ready to trust any man, and certainly not an arrogant, macho jock.”
She gave him a small smile that didn’t take the edge off her words.
“Some damn Yankee hurt you, so you avoid relationships altogether. Closing yourself off won’t make you safe, won’t make you happy either.”
“I didn’t say forever. But it’s how I feel now.” She removed her hat and wrung it out. Pulling her otter-sleek hair back, she twisted it into a stretchy pink thing. “This whole nature thing is tough for me. I have to focus on that and on my notes on the Hunter. Maybe I can figure him out. For Emma’s sake. I need no distractions.”
“At least, I’m a distraction.” That story had her so boxed in she couldn’t see anything else. He’d been like that after his hand accident. “Tell me more about your friend.”
“It’s a long story.”
“We have time. No sign of our compadres yet.”
She stared at a swirl of water, then smoothed the cap brim to hide her eyes. “Emma made top grades at Colby, but studying wasn’t her life. She was outgoing, gregarious, and ready for any adventure. Sky diving, kayaking, rock climbing—if it was an outdoor sport, she was up for it. I didn’t participate, but she loved to tell me about her escapades. When I moved back to Maine, she and her mom helped me deal with the... transition.”
“Transition from New York? From the damn Yankee?”
She nodded. “Emma gave me a shoulder to cry on. She listened without complaint when I yelled and screeched about him. Then she’d make me laugh and order me to get back into life. I miss her terribly.” She dabbed her eyes with a corner of her shirt.
Sam tried to imagine his reaction if that monster had gutted someone he knew and cared about, someone in his family. Anger. Fear. Helplessness. At least, a reporter could do something like investigate and prod the cops.
Wishing he could gather her into his arms, he waited while she collected herself.
“The police found her body in April,” she continued. “I guess I already told you that.”
He considered the date. “Early spring. That was before anyone knew about the Hunter.”
“The state cops suspected, Justin included, but by withholding information from the public, they were keeping their conclusions from the killer. And they didn’t want the public to panic.”
Primal Obsession Page 10
