by Rachel Grant
Alec’s mouth curved in a vague smile. “These are my campaign shoes.”
Isabel snorted. “Good thing you’re running for office in Maryland, because in Alaska, expensive shoes with no sole will get you laughed out of contention.”
He wiggled his feet as he studied his footwear with his one good eye. “I hate these shoes. I wore them on the flight and planned to change as soon as I got to the compound. I didn’t bring a suitcase, because I keep a full wardrobe—not the campaign kind—at the compound.”
“So you just flew in today?”
His brow furrowed. “I think so. What day is it?”
“Thursday.” She glanced at her watch. “Eight forty-three p.m., Alaska time.”
“My plane landed in Fairbanks at eleven. Today.”
“Is that the last thing you remember?”
His fingers drummed against the soft, rotting floorboards. “I remember driving. I was heading toward the compound. Then…nothing.” He met her gaze. His one eye was clearer and the other opened slightly. She realized she’d never given him the promised cold cloth for his eye. “When and where did you find me?” he asked.
She inched forward. “If I give you a cold compress for your eye, do you promise not to hurt me?”
He held her gaze for a long moment, then slowly nodded. “I don’t know what I believe—if you’re innocent, or if you somehow abducted me—but I know I need you to survive. Even if I escaped here—from you—I don’t know where I am. I could step outside and walk for five days in the wrong direction. So yes, I promise I won’t hurt you.”
His words were honest. Those of a soldier used to assessing threats and making the logical decision. Vin had been like that. She remembered it well, Vin’s inner determination to do the smart thing, even if it didn’t seem like the right thing.
Hell, that type of decision making was what led Vin to join the Army in the first place. And later, it was why he took the job with Raptor.
She swiped at her eye. Now was not the time to get caught up in messy emotions over her big brother. Right now, she needed to deal with Vin’s former boss, who had just admitted that no matter what his suspicions were, not hurting Isabel was the smart thing.
She could live with that.
She grabbed the pack towel, which she’d doused in stream water, and her compass, and approached him, slowly, as she would a feral cat.
It was a good analogy. Alec Ravissant reminded her of a tiger, all sleek muscle and coiled energy. He was power and ferociousness in one beautiful package. Best to approach with caution.
He reminded her of Richard Parker, the tiger on the boat in Life of Pi. Alec needed her to survive. Lashing out, as he’d done earlier, had been instinctive. His nature. But now that he understood the situation, he’d scare her to bend her to his will, but he wouldn’t rip open her throat. Not yet, anyway.
He was a Ranger. He knew how to bide his time.
And she’d better not forget it.
She stopped just out of his reach and dropped the damp towel on the floor. “For your eye.” She lowered the compass more carefully, dangling the long lanyard from her fingers. “There is a mirror there, if you want to check out your cuts. Be careful with the compass—it’s our only one, our only hope to find our way out of these woods.”
She retreated quickly, resuming her seat with her back braced against the log wall. He took the towel first and pressed it to his eye, then took up the compass. He studied his reflection in the small mirror. “It’s too dark in here to see much.”
“If I build a fire, whoever assaulted you might see the smoke.”
He shrugged. “I’m cold. It’s a risk I’m willing to take.”
As if to prove his point, the wind whistled through the broken window. It was cold, and would only get colder as the night wore on. But still, his request was shortsighted and proved he still believed she was his only threat. The risk involved in proving him wrong was too much. “Yeah, well, I’m not. I found you and dragged you here because, for some stupid reason, I couldn’t let you die, but that doesn’t mean I’m willing to risk more for you.”
He shrugged and studied his reflection in the mirror, making her wonder if she’d passed or failed some sort of test. “Butterfly bandages?” he asked.
She nodded. “You were bleeding pretty badly.”
“Probably why my head hurts like hell, but the ibuprofen is helping.”
Would it kill him to say thank you? She’d not only bandaged him and given him the painkiller; she’d also dragged all two hundred pounds of him a mile through the forest. Every muscle in her body ached from the effort, and his first greeting was his hands on her throat.
Ungrateful bastard.
She pulled a trail mix energy bar from her backpack and broke it in two. She paused before tossing him half. “You’ll get this after I get my compass back.”
He slid her compass across the floor. “You think I can’t navigate by stars?”
She laughed. His temper or his headache had gotten the best of him. He wasn’t thinking. “Go ahead and try it. But it’s early September. You won’t see a star in the sky for another week. The sun doesn’t go low enough below the horizon for full darkness. Plus tonight—it’s cloudy, with a bitter wind. You want to leave? Be my guest. But I’m staying here until morning.”
She tossed him the energy bar, then draped her compass around her neck. “I’m going to sleep. Keep in mind, I’m jumpy when I’m stuck sleeping on a hard rotting floor not far from an idiot politician whose life I saved—who hasn’t even bothered to say ‘thank you’ yet—and who may still be in danger. In such situations, I sleep with my pistol in one hand and bear spray in the other. So if you don’t want to suffer, leave me the fuck alone.” With that, she pulled out her emergency shelter and slipped between the thin Mylar sheets. If he was cold, he could cuddle with his stupid, expensive shoes.
She was off duty for the night.
Chapter Three
Alec wanted to laugh and groan and maybe even punch something. At least the pressure in his head had eased. The ibuprofen had helped a lot, and the cold compress soothed in a way that almost tipped the scales from pain to pleasure.
Jenna Hayes. Just looking at her could give a man pleasure. Funny that it took him so long to notice that, but then, aside from being in agony and even blinded for a while, he wasn’t exactly inclined to find her attractive. She might have beaten the shit out of him and abducted him. That sort of diminished a woman’s overall appeal.
Did he believe she’d somehow done this to him?
The jury was still out on that question, but as his head cleared, he could admit to having doubts.
He shivered as another gust of wind rattled the unbroken window. The broken pane was leeward, but with the way the wind whipped around the cabin, some gusts still found the opening. He studied the travois. Clever of her to have built it. It was the sort of thing he’d learned to make in survival training, but he’d never needed one until today.
Holes had worn through the tarp from being dragged across acres of rock with his weight pressing down. He had scratches on his lower back and butt in matching locations. Knowing how she’d struggled to pull his weight, it was no wonder she’d been pissed to discover he could’ve walked—the last quarter mile or so, anyway. He could have made the journey a hell of a lot easier on her if he’d admitted to being awake.
He reached for the travois and stood.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” she asked.
“I’m going to wedge this in the window, to block the wind.”
She sat up, grabbed her pack, and scooted away from the broken window, giving him wide berth. She nodded her permission for him to approach.
Yeah, he’d been an asshole for trying to strangle her. He’d earned her distrust. But he wasn’t exactly thinking straight at the time.
He shoved the narrow edge of the travois through the broken pane. He considered pocketing a shard of glass for a weapon, but what wo
uld he do with it? He wouldn’t cut her. For all he knew, she really had saved his life.
He pushed the contraption upward until it was wedged tightly in the opening, the top half of the travois outside the cabin, the wider, flared end inside, with the gaping opening blocked by the tarp. The wind wouldn’t dislodge it, and only slight drafts would enter the cabin around the edges.
They wouldn’t be warm, but they wouldn’t freeze either.
He returned to his spot on the floor in front of the cold hearth. “I don’t suppose you have another emergency blanket?”
“No.” She pulled the shiny blanket tighter around her. It flashed and crackled as she rolled to her side and presented her back to him.
He smiled. That answered any question he might’ve had about sharing. He eyed the tarp. He’d just used his blanket to block the wind. Well, he’d sure as hell had worse nights’ sleep in the Army, both during training and on ops. He lay down and closed his eyes.
This felt like an op. Like the old days, before bullshit campaigning and politics. He’d been reluctant to run for the open senate seat in Maryland, but Curt Dominick had convinced him he could do more good as a US senator than as Raptor’s CEO. Curt had honed his persuasive skills in the courtroom, where he’d been a hell of a prosecutor before being appointed US Attorney for the District of Columbia and eventually US Attorney General. He’d been damned convincing, but Alec had doubted his decision to run for office just about every day since throwing his hat in the ring.
The shit of it was, as much as he hated campaigning, it turned out he was good at it. He’d won the primary, and, with a little more than sixty days left in the campaign, it was too late to back out now.
He studied the woman curled up in the emergency blanket. Survival, Evasion, Resistance, and Escape Training—better known as SERE—had never covered this situation.
He couldn’t help but wonder if this was somehow related to the campaign. But that made no sense at all. He was running for office in Maryland, not Alaska. And he might be fuzzy on the details of how he got here, but he’d seen enough of the woods to know he was definitely in Alaska.
Maybe tomorrow, today would make more sense.
Isabel felt a little guilty keeping the blanket when the man was injured. But still. He’d tried to strangle her. No blanket seemed a fitting punishment.
She closed her eyes. She was exhausted, and the evening had been tense, scary, and confusing. She just wanted the oblivion of sleep. Hard to believe that a few hours ago, she’d been singing happy show tunes. The soundtrack for the night was vastly different. Unsettling. Discordant. Instrumental, it had no hook to hold on to, no familiar bridge or melody. Useless for scaring away bears, because there were no words to sing.
Did one sing to ward off tigers, or was that just a bear thing? Bears, she could handle—or rather, she knew what to do—but she had no knowledge or skills with tigers. She’d never imagined being stuck on a life raft with one. Or stuck in an old, musty, decaying cabin. Whatever.
She dozed lightly, never quite sinking into deep sleep. Sometime after one a.m., she felt compelled to check on Alec. He’d had a nasty blow to the head, and she’d never really examined him to see if he had a concussion.
She set her gun next to the backpack—so he couldn’t grab it from her—but kept the bear spray in hand—just in case—and silently crawled toward him.
She paused just out of his reach and studied him. His face was relaxed in sleep. The swelling around his eye had gone down, so there was just a slight bulge around the lid and cheek. When it disappeared completely, he’d be every bit as handsome as the campaign photos she’d seen.
She could see why he’d been so successful. He had the polish of a politician and the rugged edges of a soldier, and it translated well in TV interviews. Up close and personal, he had presence even when wounded. He was big, imposing, and at least one reporter—who, Isabel had figured, had a crush on him—had described his eyes as a clear, compelling topaz blue. She’d have to take the reporter’s word on that, because she’d only gotten a glimpse of burning, puffy, red eyes.
But then, she wasn’t exactly seeing him on his best day.
She touched his forehead. His skin was cold. Scary cold. She immediately checked for a pulse and found one, thank God.
But still, he was too cold for comfort.
Shit. There was only one solution. Well, two. Either give him her blanket, or share it with him.
The smart thing would be to share it. They’d both be warm. They’d both get the rest they needed to face the hike to her truck tomorrow.
But sharing a blanket, getting up close and personal with Alec Ravissant, definitely didn’t feel like the right thing.
The right thing would be to give him the blanket and get the hell out of the cabin, head back to her truck alone. When she arrived home, she could call Raptor and tell them where they could find their boss.
The smart thing, or the right thing?
“If you’re trying to decide if you should give me your blanket,” Alec said softly, “forget it. I won’t take it from you. I can handle a little chill.”
Crap. He was awake, meaning the right thing wasn’t an option. If she tried to leave, she had no doubt he’d follow her. And he was in no condition to traipse six miles through the windy woods in the middle of the night.
“No, I was debating sharing it with you.”
His mouth curved in a slow smile. “You wanna get close to my body, Jenna?”
She rolled her eyes at his tone even as she stiffened at the fake name. He was going to be so pissed when he found out who she really was. “No, but I don’t want you to die after I worked so hard to save your ungrateful life. It would be disappointing to know my shoulders ache for nothing.” She stood. “Can I trust you not to hurt me if we share the blanket?”
“Yes.”
She’d just have to take him at his word, because there was no way she’d bring the bear spray into the tube tent with her. Not when he could grab it the moment she drifted to sleep. She set the spray next to the gun and grabbed the Mylar tent.
“It’s not a regular emergency blanket, it’s the tent kind—a long tube. We’ll have to shimmy into it.”
“No problem,” he said.
Yeah, no problem for one person, but a little awkward for two, especially when she didn’t want to touch him. The tube tent crackled as he slid in first, making even more noise when she followed. He was a big man, with wide, muscular shoulders. No matter how much she tried to avoid him, her body brushed against his.
“I’m not contagious, Jenna.”
“I know, but I’m not in the mood to be strangled again.”
“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice quiet and sincere. “I wish I hadn’t attacked you. It hadn’t occurred to me that you were helping me, not abducting me.”
She rolled over and faced him. “You honestly thought I’d be capable of abducting you—a former Ranger—all by myself?”
“I have no memory of what happened to me. For all I knew, you had accomplices. Plus, my brain wasn’t exactly clear at the time. But for what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”
“It never crossed my mind that you might not remember what happened to you, so I never considered that you’d think I was somehow the villain here.”
He reached toward her, and she stiffened, but then his fingers gently probed her neck, caressing the skin he’d bruised. A strange, fluttery feeling started low in her belly. A sensation she didn’t like at all. Not when Alec Ravissant was the person who caused it.
“If you hadn’t found me,” he said in a low, warm tone, “who knows how long I would have remained unconscious? I’d have lost a lot more blood and wouldn’t have shelter. Thank you for saving my life. I’m in your debt.”
She realized she was staring into two eyes, not just the one good one, and while it was too dark to gauge if they were indeed a crystal topaz blue, she couldn’t deny they were compelling. And she was glad his condition had improved.
>
Also, after hours of waiting for him to acknowledge what she’d done for him, he’d done a rather nice job of it. She gave him a soft smile. “You’re welcome. Now, let’s get some sleep so we can hike out of here tomorrow.” She rolled over, presenting her back to him and maintaining as much distance as the tube tent would allow.
His arm snaked around her waist and pulled her back against his chest. He tucked his knees behind hers and her butt pressed snugly against his crotch. “We’ll be warmer if we spoon. One of those things you learn in survival training.”
She snorted. “Yeah, I bet you Rangers all snuggled up tight.”
“If it were a matter of survival, we would.”
His breath tickled her ear, causing more unwelcome flutters in her belly. But damn, he did feel nice and warm at her back. She’d been colder than she wanted to admit.
“Do you have a husband or boyfriend, Jenna?”
She stiffened. Was he going to hit on her now?
“Relax. I’m just asking because I want to know if anyone is going to hear about this and demand an explanation. As it is, if the press gets wind of this, they’re going to have a field day.”
Oh God. There would be a massive media frenzy. And when the press learned her name…oh shit.
She probably should tell him right now.
But if she did, this fragile trust would go away. And he might just try to strangle her again.
Face it, the only good time to tell him would be via telephone.
“You haven’t answered my question.”
“No. No boyfriend. No husband.” No brother. No family. “Just me,” she added.
