by Cindi Myers
She nodded and closed her eyes, struggling to catch her breath.
He scanned the ground around them and spotted a dead pine tree, uprooted in some past storm. The roots stretched into the air above the hole where they had once been planted. “Over here,” he said, and led her to the hole. It was large enough to accommodate two people. He helped Leah down into the depression, then dragged a tangle of branches and vines over it. After scattering leaves to hide their footsteps, he slipped into the hole behind her and tugged the last branch into place.
“Do you really think they won’t see us?” she asked.
“We’ll see them first.” He grasped the Glock and peered out of their makeshift shelter. If Braeswood or one of his men did try to attack them here, Travis would have the first chance to get off a good shot.
Minutes passed, their breathing growing more regular and even. Then the unmistakable sound of footsteps on the forest floor grew louder. Leah clutched at him, but said nothing. Seconds later, Eddie Roland appeared, followed closely by Braeswood. Both men were armed—Braeswood with his pistol, while Eddie had traded his handgun for a semiautomatic rifle. The two men moved deliberately, studying the ground around them.
“I know they came this way,” Braeswood said. “I saw their tracks.”
“It’s hard to follow anything in this heavy underbrush,” Roland said. “We need a dog. They can track anything.”
“We don’t have a dog, idiot,” Braeswood said. “They can’t have gotten far. The only place Leah ever walked was on a treadmill.”
At the mention of her name, she pressed her face more firmly against Travis’s chest. Her silken hair tickled his chin, the sensation at once foreign and achingly familiar. In the silence while the two men above them searched, he became aware of her heartbeat, strong and rapid against his own.
After a while, he couldn’t hear their two pursuers anymore. “I think they’ve moved on,” he whispered.
“We should wait in case they come back,” she said.
“We will.” He settled more comfortably into the bottom of the hole, though he kept his eyes trained on the opening above them, and his ears attuned for any sound of approach. “Try to get some rest,” he said softly. “I’ll keep watch.”
“I’ll watch with you,” she said, but within moments he felt the tension drain from her body and her breathing grow more even. The physical and emotional stress of the last few hours had taken their toll.
Determined to stay awake, he turned his mind to analyzing the day’s events. He had arrived at the log home where Braeswood and his team were hiding with a clear idea of his mission. His job was to capture and arrest a group of terrorists. One of those terrorists happened to be his ex-fiancée, but that didn’t make her less guilty of the horrible crimes the group was responsible for.
Now, after a few hours with Leah, he was less sure of the latter. Seeing how afraid she was of Braeswood, and how cruelly he treated her, Travis was beginning to doubt she had gone with the man willingly. He had believed she left him because she had fallen in love with someone else—what else could “changed my mind” have meant? Later, when he had learned she was living with Braeswood, he was shocked and angered that the woman he had loved and trusted had left him for a murderer.
But he had sensed no love between Leah and the terrorist leader when he saw them together now, only fear. Braeswood had clearly been intent on killing her once he used her to lure in Travis.
So why had she left Travis for a man who only seemed to want to harm her? Before this ordeal was over, he intended to know the answer to that question.
An hour or more had passed when she stirred awake. She sat up, blinking. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep,” she said, pushing her hair out of her eyes.
“It made sense for you to rest while you had the chance.” He checked the view through the narrow opening. Long shadows stretched across the ground, telling him the sun would be setting soon. “Are you ready to head out again?” he asked.
“I guess so. I’m so thirsty.” She rubbed her stomach. “And hungry, too.”
“We’re going to do something about that,” he said.
“What?”
“We have to go back to the area where we had the fire, near the creek.”
Fear tightened her features. “If Duane retraces his path, he’ll find us.”
“We have to take that chance.” He stood and pushed aside branches to widen the opening to their shelter, then pulled her to her feet.
“Why?” she asked.
“They didn’t have Buck or his pack with them when they moved past, so they must have left him there. He had at least one water bottle in that pack, and probably food and other supplies. And he probably has a phone we can use to call for help.”
Her expression grew more animated at this news. “I hadn’t thought of that. Then yes, we should definitely go back.” She started to haul herself out of the hole, but he pulled her back.
“Let me go first.”
“Why? So they can shoot you in the head first? At least you can cover me. Don’t count on me for the same.”
“I can pull you up to the ground,” he said.
“You can boost me up from here.”
“Are you always this stubborn?”
She smiled. “Always.”
Something broke inside him at that remark, some last restraint against his emotions. Not thinking, he pulled her close and looked into her eyes. “I’ve missed you,” he said, his voice rough with emotion.
“I’ve missed you, too.” She brushed her hand along his cheek, then leaned in to bring her lips to his, gently at first, then hungrily, as if he were all the food and drink she craved.
He responded in kind, all the anxiety and anger and despair of their months apart channeled into that kiss. He still didn’t know what to think about her betrayal, and he wasn’t ready to trust her, but for this moment, stranded with only each other to depend on, he gave in to the need to simply be close to her. To be with her, emotionally, in a way he had never allowed himself to be with any other person.
She pulled away first and regarded him with an expression he read as equal parts wariness and hope. “Does this mean you’ve forgiven me?” she asked.
“No.” He touched the corner of her mouth, which was still swollen from Braeswood’s blow. “But I’m not blaming you the way I once did. Consider it a first step in a long journey.”
She pulled away. “Speaking of long journeys, we’d better get going.”
He checked the opening, and seeing nothing but still woodland, he boosted her up, then climbed out himself. “Do you know the way back to the body?” she asked.
“I think so,” he said.
In the end, they were able to follow Braeswood’s and Roland’s tracks through the woods. The two men hadn’t been concerned about being followed, and their heavy boots and careless steps made a trail of scuffed leaves, broken branches and even boot prints that led all the way to the little clearing, where the remains of the campfire still smoldered, and one of the cans of water sat, undisturbed, Buck’s body slumped a few yards away.
Leah hurried to retrieve the can of water. She drank half and handed the rest to Travis. “You take it,” he said, returning the can. “I’ll get the bottle on Buck’s pack.”
Already, the body was drawing flies. Travis ignored them and focused on unbuckling the pack from the dead man’s back. He set it aside, then riffled through Buck’s pockets. He found a wallet with three different driver’s licenses, identifying him variously as Bradley Simons, Brent Sampson and Bartholomew Spietzer. He had a couple of credit cards and twenty-three dollars in cash. Travis replaced the wallet and riffled through his other pockets, coming up with a pack of breath mints, some change, a Ruger .45-caliber pistol and an extra clip of ammo, and finally, in his front jeans pocket, a
cell phone.
“He has a phone,” he said.
Leah knelt a short distance away. “Can you call someone to come and get us?”
He tapped the phone to waken it, relieved to discover Buck hadn’t bothered locking it, then punched in the direct number to his supervisor, Special Agent in Charge Ted Blessing. The screen almost immediately went black. He frowned and checked the display again. “We don’t have a signal,” he said.
Leah sat back on her heels. “I should have thought of that,” she said. “Wilderness areas don’t have cell towers. Plus all these trees...” She tilted her head back to regard the pines and firs that towered overhead.
“Maybe we can climb to a better signal.” He pulled the water bottle from the pack and drank deeply, then offered some to her.
She shook her head. “I’m okay. But I’d like to know if there’s any food in there.”
“We should move to a safer location before we check it out,” he said. He stood and shouldered the pack. “Whatever is in here, it’s heavy enough.” Anything they didn’t absolutely need, he would discard at the first opportunity. They had to move quickly, and that meant not taking anything that would weigh them down.
He led the way back into deeper woods—not taking the path they had followed to get here, but moving, he hoped, closer to the road. Leah followed, saying nothing. After a while, he noticed she still carried the two empty soda cans. “We might need them,” she said when she saw him looking at them.
“Good idea.” She had come up with a lot of good ideas so far during this ordeal. Another civilian might have been a burden, but she was turning out to be a capable partner. As much as he had loved her before, he wasn’t sure he had ever respected her the way he did now.
Chapter Six
It was almost dark before Travis felt it was safe enough for them to stop moving. He had held out the hope of making it to the road before they halted, but navigating among the trees grew dangerous as the darkness deepened. He halted in a small clearing backed by a shelf of rock. “We can’t go any farther without light,” he said. “And I don’t want to risk using the flashlight, in case the wrong people spot it.” He didn’t bring up the worry that Braeswood and his men might have night-vision goggles or infrared scanners, which would make finding them much easier.
“No, we won’t risk it.” Leah sank to the ground. Her shoulders slumped and her face was slack with exhaustion.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
She straightened and looked up at him, forcing a smile. “I’m fine. And I’m anxious to see what’s in that pack. If we shield the flashlight with our bodies, we can risk taking a look. I’m hoping for food.” She rubbed her arms against the night chill. “And maybe a fleece jacket.”
Travis slung the pack from his shoulder and dropped it onto the ground in front of her. Then he lowered himself to sit beside her, their shoulders almost touching. He switched on the Mini Maglite and propped it against a couple of rocks so that the beam shone on the pack. Then he opened the top of the backpack and began laying out its contents. First out was a wrinkled black fleece jacket. He handed it to Leah and she immediately wrapped it around her shoulders. “Not only will it keep you warm, it will make you tougher to spot,” he said.
She smoothed her hand over the sleeve of her red sweater. “I wasn’t anticipating having to flee through the woods when I got dressed this morning.”
“Where were you going when you first left the house?” he asked.
“I had an appointment for a manicure.” She studied her chipped nail polish.
“How nice for you.”
She glared at him. “It was better than being stuck alone with my jailers all the time.”
Now would probably be a good time for him to ask her more about her time with Duane, and how she had ended up with the man in the first place. The more time he spent with her, the harder it was to think of her as a terrorist. But he wasn’t ready to let down his guard with her yet. And how would he know she wasn’t telling him more lies? Better to put off finding out a little longer.
He returned his attention to the pack and pulled out two sandwiches. He sniffed the packets. “Peanut butter and jelly,” he said, and handed her one.
“My favorite,” she said. “At least right now it is.” She tore open the plastic zipper bag.
He unwrapped the second sandwich and took a bite. Rich peanut butter and strawberry jam on wheat bread—it wasn’t steak, but he was definitely going to savor it. Sandwich in one hand, he dug with the other into the pack again. He pulled out a water filter. “That should come in handy.” He realized why the pack had been so heavy as it continued to yield treasures: a first aid kit, protein bars, two more clips of .45-caliber ammo, a Mylar space blanket, a plastic garbage bag, matches and cotton wool for starting fires, and another bottle of water. In a side pocket of the bag he found a headlamp and a map and compass. Tension he hadn’t even realized he had been holding went out of him. “With these we should be able to find our way out of here,” he said.
“Hmmm.” Leah had opened the first aid kit and was riffling through it. “Looks like Buck was pretty well prepared. There’s all kinds of meds and bandages here.” She stopped, and a faint blush edged up her cheeks, visible even in the flashlight’s glow.
“What is it?” Travis leaned toward her to see what had caught her attention.
She held up a familiar foil packet, the kind used for condoms. “Like I said, Buck was prepared for anything.”
He choked off a laugh, disguising it as a cough. He began putting everything back in the pack. “It’s getting dark. We need to make a shelter for the night.”
“It’s getting colder, too.” She wrapped her arms around herself. “We’ve been having frost at night.”
“If we can make a kind of lean-to with branches, it will help hide us and block any wind.” He stood and shouldered the pack. “We can wrap up in the space blanket and we should be all right.” He grabbed the flashlight. “Help me find some branches.”
* * *
AS LEAH HELPED Travis cut and tear branches from nearby spruce trees, he talked about his plans for the morning. “We’ll get an early start, refill both water bottles, then climb until we get cell service,” he said. “If we can get above the trees, we should be able to figure out where we are, now that we have a map. The Bureau might even be able to get a helicopter in here to retrieve us.”
He made it all sound so easy, but all she could think was We have to get through the night first. She wasn’t as afraid of Duane as she had been. The sight of Buck lying dead had calmed her, in a way. It had shown her that despite his power, Duane wasn’t invincible. Now that Travis had more ammunition and another gun, she believed the two of them had a chance of outrunning and outwitting Duane.
Her uneasiness now all centered on the prospect of spending the long, dark hours in close proximity to Travis. Though the kiss they had shared proved passion still sparked between them, she didn’t believe he had really forgiven her. And she still had plenty of reasons for keeping some distance between them, no matter the temptation.
“Here. Take this.” He handed her the flashlight and bent and gathered an armful of cut branches. She had put on Buck’s jacket, rolling the too-long sleeves up over her wrists. Though the fleece smelled of stale cigarette smoke, she was grateful for its soft warmth as the night air chilled. “Shine the light over there by those rocks.” Travis nodded to their right, and she did as he asked. A long-dead fir, the trunk bare of bark and stripped of limbs, lay on its side, the tip caught in the rocks. Travis moved to this area and began leaning the largest branches against the tree trunk. The result was a kind of tent made of soft fir boughs. He stepped back. “What do you think?”
“It looks...small.”
“It will be easier to stay warm that way.” He took off the pack, opened it, and
removed the space blanket. “We’ll spread this out to help block the cold from the ground, then wrap ourselves up in it. Here, take this end and crawl in.”
She hesitated, but since her only other option was spending the night outside in freezing temperatures, she would have to make the best of it. She crawled into the shelter, dragging the stiff, crackling foil-lined blanket with her. “What am I supposed to do now?” she called.
“Get comfortable, then I’ll squeeze in beside you and we’ll wrap the blanket around us.”
She could have pointed out that on the cold ground in the dark woods, against hard rocks, wearing the same clothes she had had on all day, with no pillows or wine or chocolate or any of the indulgences she considered necessary, the probability of anything close to comfortable was less than zero. But pity parties were best celebrated solo, so she kept quiet. She arranged the blanket under her as best she could, settled her back against the rocks, and tried not to think of the bugs that were probably sharing this space with her. “Okay,” she called.
He came sliding in, immediately shrinking the space to the size of a coffin. Unfortunate comparison, she thought. He grunted and turned on his side. “Does your side hurt where you were shot?” she asked, momentarily forgetting her own discomfort.
“It’s okay. What about your shoulder and your neck?”
In the rush to escape Duane and everything that had happened since, she hadn’t had much time to dwell on what had happened to her. “My shoulder is a little sore, but it will be all right,” she said. She put a hand to her throat and felt the line of dried blood. “My neck doesn’t hurt, but I hope I don’t end up with some nasty infection.”
“I can take care of that.” He leaned forward and dragged the backpack, which he had left at his feet, up onto his legs. He fished out the headlamp and the first aid kit. The light made a soft white glow in the shelter, illuminating his face and whatever he looked at. He opened a disinfecting wipe and dabbed gently at her neck. “This might sting a little.”
