by Nicole Helm
She blinked, not sure what avenues her brain was trying to go down. It made her achy, and it made her want to lean into him.
Which was insanity.
He leaned forward again, his mouth against her ear. She shivered involuntarily, wondering if he would read into what he could surely feel under his palms. The unsteadiness in her. The kind that had nothing to do with the situation they were in.
But when he spoke in that intimate whisper, he was all business. “Have to take it day by day, all right? We just do what he says, and we pay attention.”
She wanted to close her eyes and cry. Maybe crawl onto the cot and sleep for a day so her legs would stop throbbing with pain.
Cam pulled away from her, but he lifted his palm to her cheek, gentle and somehow soothing in the midst of all this turmoil. He held her gaze.
“It’s going to be okay,” he said firmly, in full voice, completely and utterly sure of himself.
Her stomach flipped. Not just at the words, but at the rough palm on her cheek. That his hand could be that big, that rough, and gentle at the same time, sent another shudder through her, but his words steadied her.
Hilly hadn’t made a lot of decisions in her life, but the past few days had been all about them. All about Cam allowing her some of her own decisions.
So, right here, right now, she decided to believe him.
Chapter Twelve
Cam led Hilly back outside the tent-like structure. The afternoon had grown warm, and the sun was shining. This small compound was eerily quiet, and he’d only seen four people so far.
It had to be a decoy compound of some sort. There were only women and the man who’d led them here. Unless the men were purposefully out of sight.
It was possible. He didn’t feel watched, but he wouldn’t let that put him at ease.
He glanced back at Hilly. She definitely wasn’t at ease, but he liked to think he’d comforted her some. She looked worried, but not quite so panicked as she had been when they’d arrived in the clearing.
“Have a seat,” one of the women said as Cam approached. “We’ve been told you’ve had a long journey. You must be hungry.”
Her voice was warm, the words kind, but Cam couldn’t shake the creepy feeling wiggling up his spine. Still, he took a seat at the picnic table she’d gestured to and motioned for Hilly to sit next to him.
“What a sweet dog,” the woman said in the same pleasant tone. “Gayle, why don’t you find her some scraps? You don’t mind, do you?” the woman asked of them.
“No. Go right ahead. Thank you for thinking of her,” Cam answered.
She smiled at them. “Aren’t you two so sweet?” She sighed, almost dreamily. “You’ll be cured of that soon enough,” she said just as cheerfully before heading over to where another woman stood next to a stack of dishes.
Cam forced himself not to stare at her, reminded himself it didn’t matter if she meant that as a general view on the eventuality of relationships souring or if it was some kind of warning or what.
But that flutter of concern was out of place, because Hilly and he weren’t in any relationship, and they were only in this place to find her father. There was nothing to be “cured of” regardless of what the woman had said.
There were two women in the lean-to, though there had been three before when they’d arrived. The man who’d led them here was nowhere to be seen.
A bowl of some kind of stew was placed in front of him and one in front of Hilly. It was followed by a tin cup of milk, and a bread roll on a paper towel.
It was all so kind and accommodating, Cam wondered for a moment if it was poisoned. He glanced at the woman who’d brought them the food, but she’d already bustled back to the fire and wasn’t paying him any mind.
He glanced at Hilly, who was looking down at the bowl with the same concern on her face.
But they didn’t have much of a choice if they wanted to get to the big compound. They had to do what was asked of them, earn some trust. He nodded at Hilly, taking a spoonful of the stew, urging her to do the same with a look.
The concern didn’t leave her face, but she took a bite. They ate in companionable silence, Free munching on some of the scraps a woman had given him outside the tent.
When he was just about finished, the man who’d led them here reappeared making no sound whatsoever.
“You’ll come with me,” he said with no preamble.
Cam stood, held out a hand for Hilly, but the man shook his head.
“She stays here. You come with me.”
That gave Cam a pause. More than. He eyed the man. “I don’t see any reason for that.”
“You don’t have to.”
Cam took a few moments to tamp down his frustration, and the “hell no” he wanted to spit in the man’s direction. He wasn’t going to be separated from Hilly, but he had to be careful. Strategic.
“Look,” Cam said, trying to find some measure of calm over fury. “I’m not going anywhere without my wife until I have some reason to trust any of you. I may want to be one of you because of your group’s ideals, but I don’t know you as men or women yet.”
The man remained completely unperturbed, and completely unmoved. “To be one of us, you’ll need to come with me. And she’ll need to stay here.”
Cam clenched his jaw in an effort to keep his mutinous words to himself. If he could remain calm, he could reason with this man. He wasn’t letting Hilly out of his sight, that was for sure.
Except, he felt her hand close over his and squeeze. He glanced at her and she was staring at him imploringly.
“You should go, Cameron. This is your dream,” she said, raising her eyebrows as if encouraging him to remember why they were here. She flicked a glance at the intimidating jerk currently trying to wedge them apart. “I can take care of myself. I’ll help these nice women clean up after our lunch. And Free will be with me.” She squeezed his hand, hard, a clear sign the end result was more important than this moment.
She wanted her father back, and the best chance they had at that was infiltrating this group—not at their fake, near-empty decoy camp, but at the main compound, wherever it was.
He took a breath, tried to blow out the frustration and the gut feeling that leaving her alone was wrong. All wrong.
But she’d said she could take care of herself. He should believe her on that score.
“All right,” he acquiesced, looking at Hilly instead of the man he was supposed to go with. He was making too much of this. Likely the man wanted to question them separately to make sure their stories matched up. The Protectors were a group wanted by the government. They couldn’t be too careful with strangers who could potentially be undercover FBI or ATF.
So, this was just their routine and Cam had to accept it. Trust Hilly to handle herself, and be smart enough to ace whatever test this was.
But before he followed this strange man who knew where to be tested on who knew what, he leaned down to Hilly. He brushed his mouth over her cheek, trying to keep any feeling that small contact elicited caged away.
“Be careful,” he whispered, letting his palm drift over the crown of her hair before he stood to his full height and followed the man in charge without looking back.
He was afraid all this feeling jangling around inside of him would show on his face, would change things he couldn’t afford to change right now. He could stand the threat of danger if they were together, but being separated?
It was like a jagged, searing slice of a blade against his chest. More so because he had no choice. This was the only possible route to take right now. Following the man on a narrow, rocky trail away from the camp.
Cam watched the man’s every move. He wouldn’t be isolated and then taken out, not with Hilly waiting for him. The man might have a bigger, more dangerous gun within quicker reach than Cam’s smaller, holstered wea
pon, but that was only one advantage.
“Cameron Tyler,” the man said conversationally as they hiked farther and farther away from the camp. “Former military, I take it.”
“Yes.”
“Marines, if I had to guess.”
Cam didn’t let his discomfort at being made show. “You guess right.”
“Why’d you leave?”
“I thought I could do more good at home. We’ve got a lot of problems in our own country.” That lie was hard, certainly harder than pretending Hilly was his wife.
The man made a noncommittal sound, leading them up and up until he stopped on a rocky outcropping that looked out over a valley of open land. There weren’t any structures out this way, just trees, fields and the ribbon of a river catching the sunlight every now and again down below.
It was beautiful, and Cam had a bad feeling this man hoped it was the last thing Cam ever saw. Too bad for the man, Cam wasn’t going to go down easily.
But when Cam slid him a glance, the man only stared. He made no move to push him off the cliff or reach for his weapon. He stood. He studied. So, Cam let him.
Eventually, he spoke, his dark eyes never once leaving Cam. “There’s no record of you. Or your wife.”
“Record?” Cam asked blankly while his brain tried to figure out just where this man had run the fake names he and Hilly had given him. He’d need to hack into a government system, which he supposed an antigovernment group might have the tools to do, but where? Had to be close. Unless he’d passed along the fake names to someone else.
Too many possibilities. Too many variables.
“Not a marriage license, not a driver’s license with pictures that match your face. You two don’t seem to exist. It’ll take time to hack into your military records, but so far...” The man trailed off, threat laced in his tone.
The cold dread in Cam’s stomach intensified, but he isolated that feeling away with all the rest. “We like staying off the grid. The government doesn’t need to be tracking me. My military records...” He shrugged. “They’ll say what they say.”
Again, the man made that noncommittal sound. Then he patted the gun strapped to his back. “I will find out who you are.”
A threat, in more ways than one. Cam shrugged again, being careful to make sure it wasn’t as jerky and tense as he felt. “Go right ahead.”
“You sure you don’t want to give me the truth here and now? Save you a lot of trouble.”
“You’ve got the truth. My name is Cameron.”
“But not Tyler.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Didn’t not say it either. So, Cameron, former Marine, Wyoming resident, fake husband. If I start digging into you, what do you think I’ll find?”
Cam didn’t consider himself a particularly quick-tempered man. He’d grown up a Delaney, and been expected to be the one to keep his temper in all situations, most especially volatile Carson situations. He always had. His career as a Marine had been all about controlling his temper and following orders and doing the right thing.
He’d been faced with far more irritants than a strange man threatening to look into his background, and yet he couldn’t remember the last time he’d been this close to losing his temper.
“FBI? ATF? Maybe just local law enforcement on his own time trying to figure a case out.”
Cam laughed, and he didn’t have to pretend he found that amusing. “Strike three, you’re out, buddy.”
“I don’t know who you are, or what you think you’re doing, but let me give you a clear warning—you don’t want to get involved in this. Take your friend back to wherever you came from and stay there.”
“My wife.”
“I don’t have much experience with wives, but they generally don’t look like they’re going to jump out of their skin when their husband kisses them on the cheek.”
Cam tried to ignore the tide of embarrassment that swept through him at that. He’d needed an excuse to get his mouth close enough to whisper an assurance to her, but he hadn’t considered the move might read as unwanted all over her face.
He’d lost his touch and was making mistakes all over the place, and Hilly and her father were going to pay the price.
Sound familiar?
Aaron dead. His family left with that weight of loss, such pointless loss.
“It’d be better if you tell me what you are. FBI?”
When Cam didn’t say anything, the man looked out over the ledge, a sharp, frustrated expression on his face. Something about that struck Cam as all wrong.
In fact, this whole exchange did. The man had made him out as not who he said he was, but there were no threats. Violence didn’t simmer in the air. The man seemed more disappointed Cam had lied to him about his name than anything menacing.
It didn’t add up.
The man crossed his arms over his chest and glared at Cam, though the lack of threatening force still baffled Cam altogether.
“Better for you if you tell me,” the man said gruffly. “It’s not like we kill government agents out here. We don’t need that kind of trouble. You’re not in danger if you ’fess up. We’d just send you on your way.”
Which was not the kind of messages that had been coded into everything Cam had read about the Protectors. They hated the government—most especially the agencies that had tried to infiltrate them and bring them down. They believed in protection at all costs. Cam assumed that meant violence and, yes, even murder.
Something was off here, in more ways than one. “And just why would you care what’s better for me?”
The man’s expression sharpened, and whatever he’d been thinking about that had caused him to seem frustrated was gone. The blank, weapon-like exterior was back in place.
“I don’t. You and your lady friend want to get chewed up and spit out, no skin off my nose. Figured I’d give you a chance to be smart.”
“Smartest thing I can do is become a Protector. Protect what’s mine. That’s what I’m after.”
The man rolled his eyes, as if he didn’t take the Protector group seriously at all. Or maybe he was simply rolling his eyes at Cam’s lie.
“Take you back now,” he said, immediately moving back where they came from.
“But I—”
The man was out of earshot, long mean strides meant to put distance between them. Cam followed him, though he paid attention to the trail. If there was a trail here, it led somewhere other than just that cliff. It would be worth exploring later.
The man might have figured out Cam had given him a fake name, but he was looking in all the wrong corners. FBI and the like. He’d be busy trying to prove Cam was with a government agency and finding absolutely nothing.
It would give Cam time to poke around, gather more information about the group that might help them infiltrate it once they made it to the main compound. Surely when they found he had no ties to the government, they’d trust him.
He took the last curve of the trail and the tents came into view, the man quite a few yards ahead of him, though Cam was under no illusion the man didn’t know exactly how far he was and exactly what he’d do if Cam bolted.
He didn’t understand this little interlude, but the lack of threats eased his mind to an extent.
Until he got within a few yards of the lean-to, and Hilly wasn’t there. Free wasn’t either. Cold fear skittered up his spine, but it was a foolish panic. She’d likely just gone back to the tent they’d been given.
“Where is she?” the man barked.
The three women cleaning and cooking didn’t so much as jump at the harsh tone, but Cam was immediately put on alert. Why was this man worried about where Hilly was? Why didn’t he know?
One of the women looked up at the man with blank eyes and her fake warm smile. “Where is who?”
Chapter Thirteen
Hilly never thought she’d prefer the man who’d led them on the punishing hike to the decoy camp, but in the face of the burly man with a gun trained on her chest, she missed him a whole heck of a lot.
She bumped along in some all-terrain vehicle, hands tied behind her back with something hard and plastic that bit into her skin. The driver had been the one to tie her up and throw her in here. Burly gun guy had been holding his weapon trained on her ever since he’d materialized in the lean-to.
The women had done nothing. They’d gone on as if they hadn’t even noticed two men grabbing her, overpowering her and taking her away. They’d chatted and cleaned as if no one else existed.
Hilly hoped she lived long enough to spit in their faces.
As much as the gun unnerved her, especially with the intense bumping of the vehicle as they drove too fast over rocky ground, she held on to the belief that she had a chance to survive. After all, if they wanted her dead they clearly could have done it back at the lean-to. Those women hadn’t cared.
Her true worry, one she kept trying to push away lest it made her cry, was that the man had lured Cam away to harm him. Cam could be dead or injured, just like her father could be.
She closed her eyes. Tears threatened. Hopelessness threatened. But the bottom line was they could be dead, sure, but they could just as easily be alive. It was all fifty-fifty happenstance, and the only way she found out for sure was if she lived.
So, she would. She would stay alive, and she would do what Cam had tasked her with: observe. Pay attention. File it all away. If she did that she could find her father, find Cam and escape this situation.
They’d said they were taking her to the compound to “await trial.” She didn’t know what that meant, but as the vehicle kept moving down the mountain, it didn’t seem to be taking the same confusing, circular route the other man had hiked her and Cam up. This was a straight shot to lower altitudes.
That was good. As long as they didn’t keep going too long, the decoy camp wouldn’t be too far away.
She tried to count the seconds and keep track of the minutes. The separation with Cam was scary and not at all ideal, but if these men brought her to the main compound she had a chance to find her father.