Unless she really was the crankiest, most stubborn person he’d ever met. Or her dislike of him was that intense.
Man, she pissed him off. He welcomed the anger, knowing if they had any chance of getting out of this alive, the anger was better than the desperate ache of his desire.
Turning around, he picked up the pace, knowing her shorter legs would have to do double time to keep up with his long strides.
First things first. It wouldn’t matter if he couldn’t get her to Egerton alive. When those guys found out they weren’t headed for the road, what would they do? They would get a boat and head out on the cove.
They were totally screwed.
If they somehow made it to Egerton, against all odds, what then? She was reckless enough to go back to Riverton.
What about him? Could he abandon her to those murderers?
Or would he be the bigger fool and take her to Riverton? Would she even let him?
* * *
Emily could feel the tension radiate off Matt as he shot off down toward the cove. It was as if he had some sort of sixth sense that danger was ahead. There were more trees for cover now, but in some ways it was riskier because it meant the hit men would have the same advantage.
After twenty minutes, struggling to keep up, she said, “I thought you said we could slow down once we got to the trees.”
He whipped his head around, glared at her. “That was before we got shot at. If we slow down now, we’re dead.”
“All right. All right. I was just asking.” She motioned him forward with a flick of her hand.
She had to have water soon. Her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth and her head throbbed, as if a thousand tiny hammers were pounding away at it.
Matt seemed no worse for wear. He was hypervigilant, constantly scanning the trees, as if he expected a gunman to pop out from behind one of the gnarly trunks at any moment. Every couple of minutes, he stopped and listened, head down. The only sounds were the wind and the buzzing of insects. Satisfied there was nothing, he would move on, taking big steps, landing on the balls of his feet to minimize noise.
Of course, he might have been just showing off his tracking skills, but there was one good thing about it. Being on red alert meant he wasn’t peppering her with questions. He seemed almost unaware of her presence.
The muscles of his broad shoulders and back strained against his dark green T-shirt. Khaki shorts hung low on narrow hips, which seemed to roll back a bit with every step.
Studying that movement, her stomach did a little flip. Did every man walk like that? She’d never noticed it before, although she’d never spent much time watching a man’s backside.
Stop. What was she doing thinking about him like that? She didn’t even like him.
When they got to the cove, she would jump in, stay underwater for a minute to wash off that smell, and the sweat and grime. Get her hands on some drinking water, concentrate on finding a way to get to Egerton. Get something to eat, although she wasn’t hungry anymore. She’d get out of town as fast as she could, maybe beg a ride from some trucker. After that, she’d have to figure out how to pick up the investigation. Start with Jason Hatt. The last time she’d spoken with Amber’s boyfriend, she’d had a feeling he held something back.
She had to get out of here first. Matt was leading her on a crazy zigzag route down through the trees. She wanted to ask if he was sure it was a direct route, because her sense of direction was all messed up and the cove wasn’t visible through the trees, but she held her tongue. He didn’t look receptive to questions right now and maybe he knew exactly what he was doing, which meant she would sound like a total idiot.
Looking down, she focused on picking her way over the uneven ground. The trees gave some shade, but it was still hot. Her feet throbbed and a blister was forming on her sockless left foot. Boss Man would object if she stopped to check her feet. He wouldn’t say anything, just give her that cocky smile. She really didn’t like him or that smile. It was too cocky. He was too cocky. She’d fallen hook, line, and sinker for a guy like that a couple of years back, a bad-boy type, confident and assertive, always quick with a smile. Too quick. He turned out to be a jerk, mean even to his mother. But she’d hung on for too long, done his bidding, even when she’d had his number.
Maybe Matt wasn’t a bad boy, but her fine-tuned radar picked up a couple of blips of something. Women would come way too easily for a guy like him. That road could only lead to heartache.
Looking up, she caught him watching her in that way she’d become all too used to, as if he was assessing her. As if he knew her thoughts, had her all figured out. Knew how scared she was. Messed up.
You have no idea, buddy.
Half an hour later, she didn’t think she could go on. Swallowing was impossible. Plus, the hammers in her head had now turned into sledgehammers, each in a competition with the other to see who could pound the fastest and hardest.
Looking up through the trees, her head spun crazily around. Trying to steady herself, she put her hands on her hips, looked down at the carpet of ferns, mosses, and lichens at her feet. When she looked up, her eyes caught a flash of movement at the base of a pine tree about fifty yards ahead.
Lurching forward, she grabbed Matt’s arm and motioned with a shaky hand through the trees. “I saw somebody, behind that pine, the big one that looks like it has two trunks,” she whispered. “Close to the ground.”
“Get down.” His voice low and urgent, he quieted her with a finger to his lips.
They crouched down. She listened to the soft rustle of the wind in the trees and the sharp, buzzing call of a small bird. With shaking hands, she clutched a handful of moss, squeezed it tight as she ran scenarios through her head. If it was the men, she wouldn’t stand a chance. She had no energy left, but Matt could run.
After a minute, he stood up. “It’s okay. It was just Mr. Fox.” Amusement tinged his tone.
Letting out a breath, tears sprang from her eyes, completely unexpected. She looked down at the moss, soft and feathery in her mud-caked hands. She couldn’t do this. It had been a false alarm this time, but what about the next?
“Are you all right?”
Wiping her eyes, she forced herself to her knees.
He knelt down in front of her, and his deep-set eyes examined her face with new concern. He had the beginnings of a five-o-clock shadow, the dark stubble thickening around his chin. “We’re going to be okay. I’ll make sure you get out of here.”
Warmth crept into her cheeks. There was too much sexy in those eyes, full lips, and strong cheekbones. There were flaws, too, his eyes a little too close together, the jaw a touch too prominent. Oddly, those imperfections only made him better looking.
He reached his hand out to her shoulder, and she leaned back quickly, crossed her arms in front of her stomach. She couldn’t have him touching her, pitying her. She didn’t want to be this person she felt like right now, weak, unable to handle herself. Worse, she didn’t like the way her body craved him. Wanted him to touch her, even though her brain tried to fight it.
Putting a hand on the ground, she pushed herself up, avoided his eyes. “Let’s go.”
They didn’t stop until an hour later, a mile from the cove. Crumpling to the ground, she started a damage inventory. Thirst emerged the clear winner, followed by the pounding in her head and the legs like rubber bands stretched to the snapping point. Prying off her shoe, she added the blister, an inch-long raw patch on the side of her foot.
He looked at it in disgust. “Why didn’t you tell me? I have a first-aid kit. We could have fixed it up.”
She narrowed her eyes. “I thought we didn’t have time to stop.”
Letting out a huff, he said, “I think you would have been able to go faster if your foot was okay.”
“That’s great.” Her tone was frigid. “Nice to know you’re more concerned about going faster than the fact that my foot was killing me.”
A shake of the head suggested he was f
inished with the conversation.
She would have felt better if he’d looked worse for wear. But he didn’t. Sitting on his haunches, his head was straight up, the longish hair falling loosely over his face. Unfocused eyes looked into the distance. Maybe he was wondering how much of a target he was, now that they had seen him with her. Maybe thinking about what his next move would be. Whatever it was, emotion didn’t come into it.
He stood up. “I’m going down to the shore to scout around, see if any of the cottages are empty. I’ll see if I can get some water.”
Grabbing her shoe, she said, “I’ll go with you.”
“No, wait here.” He pulled a small first-aid kit out of the knapsack and handed it to her. “See what you can do with your foot.”
She put on the shoe. “I’m okay.”
“No, you’re not. Your face is beet red. You need to cover that blister. I’ll be back as soon as I can.” He handed her a folding knife from his pocket. “If anybody comes near you, use it. The blade’s not very long, but it’s sharp as hell.”
Swearing under her breath, she glared at him. Who did he think he was, acting like a drill sergeant? He’d saved her life, sure, but that didn’t mean he could boss her around, treat her like some boot camp recruit.
He said, “If you get a chance, don’t worry about aiming for anything, just hit whatever you can and keep hitting.”
“I can’t do that.”
“You have to.”
Swallowing, she said, “Do you make a habit of this?”
“Of what?”
“Bossing people around? Playing the white knight?”
Hands on his hips, his dark eyes pierced hers. “I don’t think anybody can be your white knight.”
She scowled. “You obviously think I’m a damsel in distress. I have to sit and wait under a tree while you go on your little mission.”
“Why are you trying to make something out of this that isn’t there?” His voice was a whip. “I’m just trying to save my own skin. If those men are down there, they’ll spot two people faster than one.”
He waited a second for her to say something, but when she didn’t, he turned around, picked up the knapsack. Gritting her teeth, she watched him slip away into the trees. He didn’t even bother to look back.
She slapped the ground. Why hadn’t he just said why he wanted to go alone, rather than being such a jerk about it, making it seem like he thought she was useless or he didn’t want her around? And why did she care, anyway?
Alone now, she leaned against a tree, picked up a pine cone, and ripped off the scales one by one, flung them on the ground. Her face felt hot with an anger she couldn’t explain. She needed Matt’s help, but she couldn’t let him think he could do whatever he wanted with her. When you trusted people like that, it would just come back to bite you. The only sound was the buzzing of insects. All day she’d wanted to be alone, but now that she was, it was far from peaceful. Closing her eyes, she felt tense and twitchy, as if she was going to jump out of her skin. Somehow, without her noticing, those insects had turned up the volume, and were so loud now that they sounded like the constant drone from a thousand power lines.
CHAPTER SIX
Emily woke with a jolt and her left leg jerked as if hit by an electric shock. Slumped against a tree trunk, it took a couple of seconds to realize where she was and that she’d fallen asleep. Dragging herself up, she shot a nervous glance around.
She was alone. Matt wasn’t back.
Her throat felt dry, her tongue thick. Her head pounded. But she was still alive.
Sucking in a breath, she tried to decide how worried she should be. A couple of hours had passed, judging from the sun. It was just a pink smudge now, low in the sky, casting long and lonely shadows through the trees. There was an eerie stillness, as if everything had been shut down in preparation for night. Even the insects had abandoned her.
Shivering, she rubbed her arms, sorry now that she’d ditched the sweater a couple of hours earlier, when it had been so hot. She stretched her neck. Cold was the least of her worries. What if Matt was in trouble? What if he had been caught by those guys?
Running through the scenarios, her stomach tightened. He had gone off alone, because he had known it would be dangerous. And he had been caught. She slammed her fist on the ground, felt sharp bits of gravel bite into the skin. She should have gone with him. Why hadn’t she? Had he been killed while she slept?
There was another possibility. He had decided not to come back. She nodded, said a silent prayer. That had to be it, because everything she knew about him indicated he wouldn’t have easily been caught. A dead giveaway was the knapsack. He’d taken it. He wouldn’t have done that if he were coming back.
Of course, there was the chance his reconnaissance mission had taken longer than expected. But that didn’t make sense. The cove was close, just through the trees a bit. The smell of salt was in the air. Hadn’t he said he’d be back in an hour? She racked her brain, couldn’t remember.
Holding on to the tree trunk, she struggled to her feet, tried to think what to do. Water was a priority, which meant she had to find a cabin. A sound registered in her brain, like the scuffle of a shoe on rock. Her hands flew up to her face to cover her mouth as her heart leaped in her chest.
Stepping behind the tree, she reached down, grabbed the knife, and struggled with trembling hands to pry it open. What had he said? Don’t worry about aiming, just use it. Taking a deep breath, she stepped away from the tree, ready to fight.
The man who walked toward her barely made any noise. He was tall, dark and, as he got closer, she could see his face bore traces of amusement.
Rambo.
Weak-kneed with relief, she stumbled back.
Gesturing to the knife, he said, “Can you put that down? You look like you want to use it on me.”
She threw the knife away and fell against the tree. It took a minute to find her voice. “You scared the hell out of me.”
He stepped toward her and reached out a hand, instantly contrite.
Jerking back, she held a palm up in warning for him not to come closer.
He handed her a bottle filled with water. “Drink as much as you want. I already had some and there’s more in the knapsack.”
Opening the bottle, she tipped it back and let the warm water slide down her parched throat. So that’s why he’d taken the knapsack. “Where did you get it?”
“At a cabin. From an outdoor tap.”
After another long drink, she said, “Is the cabin empty? Can we go there?” She wanted to sleep, eat if they could find anything, so she could get her strength back.
“I found something better.”
“What?”
“A canoe. We should wait until dark before we cross to Egerton.”
A rest sounded good, but getting to Egerton was better. But there was a false edge to his voice, barely perceptible, and something in the way he avoided her eyes made the hairs on her neck rise. She studied his face, knowing there was more. It certainly wasn’t regret that he’d soon see the last of her.
She said, “What aren’t you telling me?” He looked at her, surprised. “Tell me,” she demanded.
“I nicked the canoe from a cottage about a mile up the shore. I can’t be sure, but the owners may have seen me. They were partying on the deck. They could call the police.”
“Do you think the police will come looking?”
He shook his head. “Probably not, but we can’t be sure.” He took a swig of water. “Maybe they’ll just leave it until morning.”
“We’ll be long gone by that time. Did you see any boats? Any sign of those guys?”
“No. Let’s keep our fingers crossed it will be all right.”
Emily eyed him warily, didn’t think he was lying. The beginnings of hope were like a little flutter in her belly. Maybe they would get to Egerton after all. Once separated, he would no longer be a target.
And he would be out of her life.
The realization didn’t hit her like she’d expected. That flutter vanished, was quickly replaced by a dull ache that confused the hell out of her. That she was developing feelings for this guy, this macho man, had to be impossible. “Fingers crossed,” she said, unsmiling.
Glancing up, she caught those heartbreaker eyes on her. Worse, that knowing look was back.
A flood of heat rushed to her face. How could he possibly know what she was feeling? She didn’t even know how to make sense of her rampaging emotions. Taking another gulp of water, she turned away. The light was fading fast, threatening to carry with it that sense of control so necessary to her survival.
* * *
At the cove, Matt scouted out a vantage point in the trees about twenty feet above the rocky shoreline as they waited for dark. They had ducked their heads in the water to wash off some dirt, and then Emily had found a couple of square feet of soft ground. She lay on her side with her head on one arm, the other arm pulled up close beside it. With her mouth slightly open, it looked like she was sleeping. He retrieved a thin nylon rain jacket out of the pack and covered her upper body, tucked it in around her neck. Somewhere along the line she must have ditched the sweater.
A sudden urge to lie down beside her and gather her in his arms swept through him like fire. He wanted to kiss her, hold her. Yes, even rip off that flimsy T-shirt.
His head buzzing, Matt forced his eyes away from her. How did this woman do this to him? That she was irritating as hell and seemed barely able to tolerate him didn’t seem to matter.
He strode to the shoreline, sat down on a rock. He had a good view across the choppy water of the cove to Egerton. As it got darker, streetlights came on along a road that ran parallel to the touristy area of the downtown waterfront.
He dozed on and off for an hour, waited a while more until it was fully dark and woke Emily. They lifted the canoe off the ground above the shoreline and slipped it into the water. As he held it steady, she climbed in and crawled to the front. He threw the knapsack in the middle, climbed in, and pushed off the rocky shore with a paddle.
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