by Katie Ruggle
Cara’s breath caught, turning from what would’ve been a frightened noise to a choked cough. She stared at the squashed and twisted doors, and she knew that they’d be impossible to open.
“It’s okay.” He sounded a little winded as he shoved her headfirst through the opening where the driver’s side window had been. As soon as she realized what he was doing, she tried to help, grabbing at the rocky ground outside to haul herself out of the car. The trip down the mountain had flattened the car, leaving the window openings narrow and misshapen, but she was able to fit through with some wiggling. As soon as her feet cleared the window, she turned around and saw that Kavenski had his arms out and was working to get his broad shoulders through. Grabbing handfuls of the back of his coat, she pulled on him, her stomach twisting as the breadth of his chest filled the entire opening.
She set her jaw. They’d made it this far—through bullets and a cliff dive and a grenade, for Pete’s sake. She wasn’t about to lose him because he was too much of a muscled tank to fit though the smashed window. Getting a better grip at the base of his biceps, she used all the strength she had to haul him out.
His body moved, but it was in inches. The car shifted again, and the crack of wood breaking echoed across the slope, amplifying the sound so it was even more terrifying. Cara redoubled her efforts.
“We’ve got this,” she told him in a hoarse voice. “I’m not letting you go.”
Kavenski didn’t pause in his efforts to escape the car, but he did give her a narrow-eyed glance.
“What?” she puffed, her muscles straining. She hadn’t expected torrents of gratitude, but his look had been more exasperated than grateful.
“Inspirational…speaking,” he gritted out as he dragged himself forward, his muscles vibrating with the strain, “isn’t…your thing.”
She opened her mouth to retort, their back-and-forth strangely reassuring in a crazy way, but then the sound of splintering wood filled the air again. This time, the car lurched sideways, away from them, yanking Kavenski along with it.
Taken by surprise, Cara stumbled forward, pulled by her grip on him, but then she planted her stocking feet and resisted being towed along. Kavenski caught at the rocky ground, searching for handholds, and his fingers locked into a narrow crevice. She tightened her hold and threw herself backward, putting all her weight into being an anchor while she wished she were bigger and stronger, feeling like a hummingbird trying to save an eagle.
With a horrible grinding, tearing sound, the car toppled forward. Cara held on and watched, terrified that Kavenski was going to be dragged along with it. His hips and then legs slid free as the hunk of twisted metal and shattered plastic tumbled over the edge of the cliff. Cara toppled backward, and Kavenski followed her down, landing on her with enough force to drive the remaining air from her lungs. She didn’t care about breathing at that moment, though. She just appreciated the feel of his huge, intact, alive body flattening her against the rocky ground.
The crash of the car landing far below them was as loud as the grenade had been, but somehow worse as the sound bounced around the peaks. Cara flinched at every echo. It had been too close a call. They’d been so close to being inside the vehicle when it fell, so the sound of its destruction hit Cara hard.
Kavenski’s weight lifted as he pushed himself up. Hovering above her, he inspected her with an intense gaze. “You okay?”
“I think so.” Now that he wasn’t on top of her, she could actually breathe again, but a part of her missed the secure feeling of being pinned by his bulk. “Give me a minute. I have to wait for the adrenaline to subside before I know if, you know, one of my legs fell off or something.”
His huff of air could’ve been just an acknowledging grunt, but Cara liked to think that it was a laugh. He rolled to the side so he was lying on his back next to her, and it felt oddly intimate, as though they were in a bed together—if the bed was a sheet of rock.
As her heartbeat started to steady, her aches and pains let themselves be known. Her entire body felt as if she’d been tossed into a cement mixer, but she couldn’t feel any pain that stood out more than any other.
“Everything still attached?” Kavenski sat up and then rose to a crouch, as if he could tell she was mentally cataloging her injuries and ready to report.
“Yeah. Sore, but nothing needs immediate attention.” She started to sit as well, but it was harder than she’d expected, her muscles protesting any movement. Flopping back down, she allowed herself one miserable groan before making her next attempt.
Kavenski offered a hand up, his mouth twitching in that way that was equivalent to a grin from anyone else. She gave him the flattest stare she could manage while scrambling to her feet with his help, hiding her pleasure at getting him to smile.
His humor disappeared quickly once she was standing. “We need to get moving.”
Everything rushed back. “Right. They’ll be looking for us.” She peered up the slope, but she couldn’t see the road. That was good, though. If they couldn’t see their pursuers, hopefully she and Kavenski couldn’t be seen, either.
“Most likely.”
“Won’t they think we’ve gone down with the ship?” She waved in the general direction of the cliff without looking at it. Their close call was too fresh in her mind.
“At first. They’ll eventually check out the wreckage and know that we weren’t in it. Abbott tends to be…thorough.” Kavenski was back to his expressionless, almost harsh way of speaking, and Cara was strangely glad. That soothing voice had been disturbingly unlike him, and she mentally filed away the fact that if he pulled out his gentlest tone, they were probably very close to death.
Focusing on the subject at hand, Cara looked around. The part of the slope they were on wasn’t too steep for them to traverse on foot, but it would be difficult in just her socks. She dropped her gaze to her feet.
Kavenski pulled off his coat, silently eyeing the rips now decorating the sides where they’d caught on the edges of the car window. The sight reminded her that he’d gone through an even more traumatic event than she had. “Are you hurt?” she asked, feeling guilty she hadn’t immediately checked. The man was so stoic that he could be missing a body part, and he’d probably just rub some dirt on it and walk it off.
In response, he flipped his hand in a dismissive gesture, which Cara took to mean that, like her, there was nothing life-threatening wrong, although she guessed he had to be even sorer than she was. As she studied him, looking for signs of more minor injuries, he pulled a folded knife out of one of his pockets and flipped it open.
Her attention caught, she watched as he used the knife to hack off both sleeves of his coat. Although she couldn’t imagine why he was mutilating his outerwear, she kept her mouth shut, figuring she’d eventually figure it out if she kept observing. Once the sleeves were removed, he put on the remains of his coat, which now looked like a hacked-up vest, and put away the knife.
When he pulled out a few zip ties, Cara couldn’t help but flinch. He met her gaze. “Don’t worry. They’re not for tying you up this time.”
This time? Somehow, his words weren’t as reassuring as he’d probably meant them to be. Warily, she watched as he banded the cuff of the separated coat sleeve and pulled the tie tight. He did the same to the other sleeve and then held them out to her.
She accepted the sleeves but held them in front of her, eyeing them uncertainly. “What am I supposed to do with them?”
“Put them on.” When she didn’t immediately follow his command, he gestured impatiently toward her feet.
Looking back and forth between the sleeves and her socks, it finally clicked what he was aiming for. “Oh! They’re boots…well, sort of.” Still not sure how exactly they were going to work, she lifted her foot and pulled one of the sleeves on so the zip-tied end was by her toes. When Kavenski didn’t tell her she was doing it wrong, she put t
he other one on as well. Immediately, she felt warmer, the insulated fabric making her skin tingle a little painfully as her feet thawed.
Crouching next to her, he pulled the top of the sleeve up past her knee and then secured it with a zip tie. “Too tight?” he asked.
Having his hands on her legs, even for such a practical purpose, made her heat up in a way that had nothing to do with sleeve-boots. Every touch from him instilled such a sense of comfort that she wondered how she’d ever thought him capable of cold-blooded murder. “No.” Her voice came out low and husky enough to make her cheeks heat up.
Either he didn’t notice her face turning red or he was content to ignore it as he added a second zip tie right below her knee, checking wordlessly with her once he’d tightened it. By the time he’d secured the second sleeve, she was feeling very warm, and her heart was beating in double time.
She shook off her reaction as he moved away, telling herself firmly that it was neither the right time nor the right place nor the right man to get silly about. To distract herself, she took a few practice steps. Although her improvised boots didn’t have a hard sole to protect her from sharp rocks, they provided a layer of warmth and cushion her socks didn’t offer. Also, they were much more waterproof than fuzzy fleece.
“These are great. Thank you.”
Kavenski just dipped his chin slightly in acknowledgment before turning his gaze to the area around them. Cara felt a sudden surge of gratitude.
“Thank you for coming to get me,” she continued, feeling a little awkward when his silent attention returned to her. “From the kidnappers. I don’t really mean anything to you, so you could’ve just run, and then they would’ve killed me, so I appreciate the rescue.”
He studied her for long enough that she was having a hard time not shifting uncomfortably under that steady stare. “It wasn’t an option.”
“What wasn’t?”
“Running. Let’s go.” He started off, and she followed, wanting to question him more but too busy keeping up while getting used to the strange feeling of her sleeve-boots. The footing was uncertain, with loose pieces of shale to slip on and protruding rocks to trip over, so she kept her focus on their path, darting occasional glances at Kavenski’s back to make sure she wasn’t falling too far behind.
He must’ve been pacing himself to her speed, because he was always right in front of her when she looked up, and she knew he could move faster than her with his longer legs and regular boots. She wondered if he knew where he was going or if he was making an educated guess. Knowing Kavenski, he had a full topographical map of the mountains in that robot brain of his.
She snorted a laugh, and he glanced over his shoulder at her, his eyebrows drawn together in either question or condemnation. “Sorry. Just amusing myself back here.”
After he turned back around, she gave a small hop to get over a medium-size rock in her way. As she landed, her sweatshirt swung, and something hard in the front pocket bumped against her hip.
“Oh!” she said as realization hit her. Reaching into the pocket, she pulled out Kavenski’s phone. He’d turned around at her first exclamation, and she held the cell out to show him. “I forgot I had it on me. I can’t believe it didn’t fall out in all the commotion.” Commotion didn’t seem like the right word for their terrifying, life-threatening experience, but it made her feel strangely better to reduce the event to something no more scary than a hectic day at home. Pressing the button to turn on the phone, she held her breath, watching the screen intently as she waited for it to light up. There were several cracks zigzagging across the front, but she was still hopeful. After all, her twin was always cracking the screens of her phones, and they continued to work…well, until Charlie dropped them in the toilet or ran over them with a car or something.
When the screen stayed dark, Cara’s shoulders drooped with disappointment.
“Nothing.” She offered the dead phone to Kavenski, who glanced at it before slipping it into one of his coat—well, vest—pockets. She appreciated that he hadn’t tried to turn it on himself, but just trusted that she hadn’t been able to make it work. When he turned and started walking again, she fell in behind him with a silent sigh. A working phone wouldn’t have done much good for them out here anyway. Even if they managed to miraculously get a signal, it wasn’t as though they could call for a Lyft.
The slope they were walking on grew steeper, and Cara was forced to concentrate all of her attention on keeping her footing. The material of her makeshift boots wasn’t too slick, and the lack of soles allowed her to grip with her feet to help keep her on the path, but she would’ve given quite a lot for a pair of hiking boots, especially when the sharper small stones dug into her feet.
Kavenski kept looking back more and more to check on her, and she wondered if that was because of the treacherous footing or because she was muttering invectives under her breath as she did her best to keep up without sliding down the slope.
A cluster of loose shale sent one of her feet slipping down the incline, almost making her lose her balance. Kavenski whipped around as the small rocks rained down the stone slope, but she caught herself before she tipped over.
“I’m okay,” she said, making sure her next steps were secure as she caught up to him. She didn’t want to fall, but she especially didn’t want to topple over while Kavenski was watching. For some unexplainable reason, she wanted him to think she was competent and brave, rather than a damsel in distress. He’d done the bulk of the rescuing so far, but she wanted to do her part to ensure their escape.
Despite her assurance, he was still eyeing her as if she was about to fall off the cliff at any moment. When she came to a stop next to him, he finally looked away. Cara glanced up, too, realizing that she’d been so focused on not dying in the car and then having to pay close attention to where she was putting her feet that she hadn’t really looked at what was around them.
Her breath caught as she took in the view. It felt like being in a sporting goods commercial. The exposed rock that they were crossing looked over an entire panorama of mountain peaks, sloping down to a thick skirt of evergreens and blaze-yellow aspen trees before finally reaching the winding river at the base of the valley. The air was thin and chilled, but it felt clean, and the sun shone merrily down on the gorgeous view. Cara squinted at the clear blue sky, feeling a bit aggrieved. It was much too nice a day, considering all of their near-death experiences.
“What’s wrong?” Kavenski asked. His focus had returned to her while she’d been taking in the view.
“Nothing important,” she said, feeling a bit sheepish. “It’s beautiful out here, but I wish it were a planned hiking trip, and not me in pajamas with sleeves on my feet.”
His grunt sounded like he agreed with that sentiment. “It’s just going to get steeper if we continue across here. We’re going to head for those trees, instead.” He pointed to where the scattered evergreens first cropped up, appearing to be rooted in sheer rock. Cara could appreciate that tenacious clinging to life after the day they’d had. The slope seemed too steep to walk straight down, though.
As if he could read her thoughts, he added, “We’ll switchback down.”
It was still intimidating, but Cara gestured for him to lead the way. He seemed comfortable in the mountains, while she’d only taken a hike or two on groomed trails. Most of her wilderness time had been spent in the fairly flat national forest bordering their backyard, so she was willing to cede control to the more experienced of their twosome. She followed his path exactly as he wove back and forth, creating a zigzagging line that would eventually lead them down the slope.
Focusing on her footing again, she lost track of how many steps they’d taken and how many turns they’d made. When every glance at the trees just showed a frustrating lack of progress, she kept her gaze trained on the rock in front of her feet, with only occasional checks to make sure that Kavenski was still r
ight in front of her.
He was another distraction. Her gaze would catch on his tall, well-built figure and get stuck there, mesmerized by the play of muscles under his cargo pants. It wouldn’t be until her foot landed on a particularly sharp pebble or she stubbed her toe on an outcropping that she would realize that she was staring again. She’d never been so fascinated by a man before, and it was disconcerting, especially since she should’ve been completely focused on their terrifying situation. After priding herself on relying on logic and reason, even in relationships, it was uncomfortable to realize that she was just as susceptible to losing her mind over a tight pair of buns as the next person.
Not the time or the place for crushing on someone, Cara told herself. And definitely not this someone.
She’d been concentrating so hard on not looking at the trees—or Kavenski’s muscled bits—that the brush of pine needles against her shoulder took her by surprise. They’d made it to the trees without falling to their deaths, so Cara took that as yet another win.
“Where do we go from here?” she asked, looking around. The trees blocked some visibility, but she felt so much more secure with something to grab onto in case she slipped or, worst-case scenario, something to block her from falling off a cliff.
Kavenski pointed, which didn’t really tell her anything. Falling in behind him again, she trudged along, keeping an eye on her footing. It was still very rocky, although more dirt and pine needles covered the stone. She dodged around patches of snow, not wanting to test how waterproof her improvised boots were.
Even though she looked around as much as she could when she wasn’t staring at the ground in front of her, she had no idea where they were headed. It all looked the same to her, and the lack of any signs of civilization—no roads, buildings, or even power lines—made her uneasy.
