by C. J. Miller
Guilt and grief returned. Justin deserved better. He deserved justice, no matter what he may have been involved in, and for that to happen, she had to remember. The men who had set fire to the boat believed she had killed him. She didn’t want to think it was possible. A small lingering doubt whispered. Her mother had killed her father. She had witnessed how far people could go to defend and protect themselves. Had she had a reason to protect herself from Justin? He had never threatened her. Had never made her feel unsafe. Had something changed between them that night causing her to commit the ultimate act of violence?
Another sound of footsteps crunching through the snow and Susan held her breath. Brady appeared, his arms filled with wood, leaves and twigs. Relief washed over her. “Thank God you’re back.”
Brady cleared an area of snow and set out the twigs. “Did you think I’d leave you alone out here?”
The thought had never crossed her mind. “I thought I heard something. I was worried.”
Brady looked around. “I circled the area. I didn’t see other human footprints. We’re alone for now.”
Human footprints? “You saw animal prints?”
Brady arranged the sticks over the twigs. “I’m not an expert in tracking, but they likely belonged to a smaller animal. Maybe a beaver or a fox. We don’t have to be concerned. We’ll get this fire started and get as dry as we can.” He paused and looked at her. “The snow will make it difficult for a fire. Not impossible though.”
In his words was a hint of cockiness from the old Brady, the Brady who wasn’t injured and who believed he could do anything. After several starts and misses and borrowing some paper from the sketch pad, Brady fanned small flames into larger ones. He slowly added more kindling. Once the fire was going strong, he laid Susan’s shoes and socks close to it. “We’ll let those dry.”
He then opened their duffel and rearranged their supplies. “We’ll rest for a while, and then keep moving. The falling snow will cover our tracks, but an experienced tracker will find us.”
“Do you think it was an experienced tracker that forced us off the road?” Susan asked.
“At this point, we need to be paranoid. Are you cold?”
“I wasn’t while we were walking.”
He handed her clothes from the duffel. “Layer your clothes. As we walk, you can shed layers you don’t need. If we’re resting, you have to stay warm.”
He laid leaves on the ground underneath the natural overhang formed by the rocks. “These will keep water from seeping from the ground into your clothes. Lie down and rest. I’ll wake you when we need to get moving.”
“What about you?” She had slept in the car. Brady had been awake all night.
“I’ll rest, as well,” he said.
Susan lay on the leaves and set her head on her hands.
Brady spread more leaves behind her. “I’ll sleep with my back to you, is that okay?”
It would be warmer and if he was close enough, the rocks would shelter him from the elements. “Of course. We have to do what we can to stay alive.”
* * *
Brady shifted on the ground. It was too easy to get comfortable and fall asleep. He had to keep one eye open and rest for a short time. They needed the daylight to walk over the rough terrain of the mountain.
Their fire could draw attention. Though no worn path existed to follow them, their tracks could be traced in the snow. His training as a pararescueman warned him about getting too relaxed. He had to remain alert. He beat back the exhaustion that crept over him.
Susan’s warm body was inviting in a way that was cruel to a cold man who’d been without a woman for too long. Brady had the burden of knowing she needed someone to protect her and he was that someone. An injured someone, a man who had been medically discharged from the air force because of his inability to perform at an acceptable level. It didn’t bode well for them.
To heap more concerns onto his overtired brain, Susan had planted ideas about the future in his mind. She’d flat-out dismissed his reasons for not working toward another career. For the first time in months, shame for wallowing in his misery pummeled him. He’d felt he deserved self-pity and self-anger about his situation. Seeing it through Susan eyes, he felt weak. And weakness wasn’t a trait Truman men embraced. The future didn’t need to be as bleak as he’d painted it. Maybe he could find something to do with himself, something that brought him the same satisfaction being in the air force had. Maybe he could get himself together.
For the present, despite his physical challenges, he had to keep her safe. Concern for his brother was playing a secondary role to his worries for Susan. He’d gotten involved to help Reilly, but he was staying involved because of Susan.
Susan rolled over and faced him, the skin under her eyes dark with exhaustion. “How is your knee feeling?”
He considered lying. Maybe it would lift her confidence in him if she believed it wasn’t aching. But Susan knew him well and she’d see through the lie. “It’s not great. The crash didn’t help.”
“Can I do anything?” she asked.
He wished she could. “Try to get some rest. We can’t stay here long. If I keep off it for a while, it will feel better.” He hoped it would feel better, but had his doubts. Physical therapy had helped strengthen it, but he’d been rough on it the past few days. Without pain medication or rest, how long before his knee gave out under the strain he was putting on it?
“Do you think I killed Justin?” she asked.
He guessed the question never stopped playing on her mind. He’d addressed that question before. Why did she need to hear it again? “Unequivocally, no. You did not kill him.”
“My mother killed my father,” Susan said.
“You think it’s genetic?” Brady asked.
“I think I have it in me. If not me, then who?” Susan asked.
“We’ll find out,” Brady said.
Susan didn’t appear convinced. “Is the snow falling on you?”
He brushed the back of his hair. “A little.”
She squirmed nearer to the rock formation. “Move in. We’re supposed to be getting dry.”
He slid his body close and arousal and heat arrowed to his groin. Slipping his arm around her waist, he reveled in the feel of being close to her. It was a place he’d never thought he would be again. A fire started low in his pelvis and he chastised himself for it. She was hurting, worried and grieving. Pouncing on her like an animal wouldn’t make her feel better. He marshaled the response and forced his libido to slow.
He would keep his distance and find a way to let her go when this was over. It was best for her. He’d done it once and he’d find the strength to do it again.
* * *
Sleep had chased away the worst of Susan’s exhaustion. What time was it? She shifted, trying not to wake Brady sleeping next to her. Her arm had started to ache from being pinned in the same position for too long. She moved it slowly.
The rhythmic rise and fall of Brady’s chest and the peaceful expression on his face caught and held her attention. He’d needed rest. They both had. With the tension gone from his face, he looked more like he had when they’d dated—relaxed, happy.
Guilt weighing on her, Susan crawled out from next to Brady and went to the fire, checking her shoes and socks. They were much drier. She pulled them onto her feet.
When she turned, Brady was awake, watching her with sleepy eyes. “How’d you sleep?”
“Good.” Better than she’d expected under the circumstances. “You?”
Brady sat and rotated his torso, stretching. “It’s been a long time since I slept next to a woman.”
The words sounded intimate. When they were physically close, the seconds seemed to be laced with sexual tension.
“We’ll break camp and get moving,” Brady said.
“I want to make the most of daylight. If we’re lucky, we’ll find a road or cabin.”
Brady doused their fire and threw snow on top of it. After he added rocks, it blended with the ground around it. “I shouldn’t have slept for so long. We’re losing daylight.”
“We’re both exhausted. We need sleep to think and we needed to dry out.” What would happen if night came and they hadn’t found shelter? They’d need to protect themselves from the weather and nocturnal predators.
Brady reached to his knee and rubbed it. Had the rest helped? It was her fault his injury was worse. He’d been jumping in water, running from assailants and involved in a car wreck because of her.
Brady turned on the cell phone. “Still no signal. We’ll keep walking. We’ll find something.”
Brady had rearranged their supplies into one bag. He lifted it over his shoulder.
“I can carry something,” Susan said.
“We’ll switch when I get tired,” Brady said.
He was too chivalrous to let her carry the bag. “You won’t let me help, but you should.”
“I said I would look out for you,” Brady said.
He was a man of his word. She got that. He was missing something important, though. “When you were on a mission with the Special Forces, did you work alone?”
“Of course not. You know I didn’t.”
“Then why do you want to work alone now when I’m standing here, ready and willing to help?”
Chapter 8
Brady frowned at her. “You aren’t a teammate. You aren’t trained in survival techniques.”
“That doesn’t mean I can’t be useful,” Susan said. Sleep had revived her and she was prepared to help however she could. She understood the obstacles they were up against.
Brady walked farther ahead. “We need to keep moving.”
Susan didn’t follow him. She was fed up with him ending conversations before anything was resolved. “Stop. Running. Away. Every time I try to have a serious conversation with you about something of significance, you blow me off and walk away.” And not just in the last week. Their relationship had been that way, too.
He opened his mouth as if to offer a retort and then snapped it shut. “Bad timing.”
To him, no time was a good time to talk. “That’s an excuse. I want to know what you’re thinking and not about Justin’s murder or the people looking for me. I want to know why you’re helping me. What you’ve done for me goes beyond helping your brother.” He could have ditched her after she couldn’t remember anything on the boat and written her off as a lost cause.
A muscle flexed in Brady’s jaw. He looked at the treetops and then met her gaze. “You want to know what I’m thinking? I’m thinking I’m standing here, in the middle of the woods with you. We’re tired and we’re worn and I want to get into bed and hold you and protect you from whatever piece of crap has decided he’ll take the next shot at you. As I’m saying the words, I know it’s ridiculous. When I kissed you at Reilly’s, it ignited those thoughts. Those got-to-have-you thoughts. I can’t shut them off. I’m not doing this for my brother, not just for him. I’m doing this for you. Because I still care about you.”
He’d given her what she wanted: an honest admission. Now she had to say something, too.
Did she want to diffuse the tension or did she want to leap headfirst into this conversation when she knew where it may lead? “We’ve been through a lot and that kiss was...” Explosive? Mind-blowing? Charged with a million watts of sexual electricity?
Susan’s heart froze and then broke into a gallop. Did she want to open that box? “We can’t have a fresh start.”
“Do we need one?” he asked.
She had wanted him to open up to her, and now that he had, she was the one fumbling for words. His eyes burned into hers, the intensity on his face quickening her heartbeat. Brady closed the distance between them and she set her hand on his chest to stop him from coming any closer.
She shouldn’t have touched him. Her fingers dug into his jacket. She was torn between pulling him close to her and shoving him away. Her heart warred with her head. She’d wanted Brady from the moment she’d laid eyes on him. Knowing what she did now, was kissing him a mistake? “We’ve been down this road before.”
“This one might look the same, but trust me, it’s entirely different. Do you want me to kiss you?”
Plumes of fire infused her body. Want him? Did she want him to kiss her? Her body answered with a resounding yes. She couldn’t say she didn’t need him. The words wouldn’t form on her lips. Her anger over their past sparred with her desire in the present. Desire won. Her fingers tightened on his jacket and instead of pushing him away, she pulled him closer.
This time, she was going in with eyes wide open. She knew Brady’s limits. She knew hers. She’d never been an impetuous person, but now, more than ever, she wanted to make the most of every moment.
His mouth touched hers, his lips skimming lightly, tasting and testing her response. She closed her eyes and let the feelings roll over her. The second touch was harder, his lips pressing into hers. The third touch was ravenous. She opened her mouth beneath his and wrapped her hand around his neck, holding him to her.
Brady dropped their bag onto the ground and wrapped her in his arms. She melted against him, the softness of her curves into the hardness of his body.
She could handle this. Susan had learned something from the emotional wreckage of their past. This time, she knew what she was getting into with Brady. It was lust. It wasn’t love. It was now and not for the future. As long as she kept that in the forefront of her mind, he couldn’t hurt her.
Brady stilled. Pulling away again? Her frustration halted when she opened her eyes and saw the worry on his face. He pressed a finger over his lips and pointed behind her. Desire fled and terror gripped her. They’d been followed. The man who’d run them off the road had caught their trail. They shouldn’t have lingered longer than they’d needed to.
Susan looked to Brady, hoping her face conveyed her question: What do we do?
Brady grabbed the bag and patted the front of his jacket where she assumed he had the gun. He gestured for her to get behind him. Behind him? Taking a bullet for her wasn’t a help. She didn’t want him hurt. They needed to run.
A man in military fatigues emerged from behind the trees sixty feet away, carrying a high-powered rifle across his chest. Fear clenched around her body and Susan grabbed Brady’s arm. “We have to run,” she whispered.
The assailant wore a ski mask, disguising his identity. He was the same man from the SUV who had run them off the road.
“I’ll buy us some time,” Brady said. Brady withdrew his gun and leveled it at the man. He fired in his direction and the man disappeared behind a tree. Brady swore. “Now we run.”
Brady took her hand and they ran. They weaved through the trees, sliding on the snow.
The sound of gunshots exploded around them, echoing through the trees. The man was returning fire. Brady abruptly changed direction. “At the top of that hill, we’re going to slide down it and put distance between him and us.” His words came in breathless puffs.
The gunman would catch up to them and kill them. They’d become his prey and the men chasing them had proven relentless. She and Brady couldn’t outrun a bullet.
When they reached the summit of the hill, it was steeper than she’d imagined. What now?
“Protect your head,” Brady said, not changing his plan like she’d expected.
Susan looked behind her at the man in the ski mask approaching and then at the slope below. “He’ll shoot at us!”
“Go now!” Brady commanded.
Not an answer to her concern, but she didn’t have a choice except to do as Brady instructed. She and Brady ran and slid down the hill, tumbling, slipp
ing. She lost track of Brady. When she stopped moving, shouts and laughter filled her ears. She sat up, brushing snow from her clothes and out of her coat and off her hands. She looked around. Had the gunman followed them? Was he closing in on them?
Fifteen feet away through a thin copse of trees, ski slopes were filled with skiers flying down the hill.
She searched for Brady. He’d landed three yards away, his body pressed against a tree and their bag clutched in his hand. He wasn’t moving. Susan scrambled through the snow to his side. His eyes were closed. She shook him. “Brady, Brady, wake up. Are you okay?”
He moaned. “I twisted my knee.”
Would he be able to walk? Could she carry him if he couldn’t? “We’re near a ski resort. We have to go a few more steps and then we’ll disappear into the crowd.”
Brady opened his eyes. “Were we followed?”
Susan glanced over her shoulder. The man with the gun was moving in their direction, but at a slower pace, keeping his footing, clasping his gun. “Yes. I can see him. Hurry.” If he opened fire on them again, they’d be in trouble. They couldn’t move as quickly injured. Would the thicker cluster of trees provide some cover? Would moving toward the skiers create more victims?
Susan helped Brady to his feet. She threw their duffel over her shoulder and they struggled through the trees. Every step was heavy as Brady leaned on her. Susan’s chest heaved with fear and she gasped for breath, the cold stinging her lungs. Emerging on the other side, they stayed close to the tree line and moved down the slope.
She didn’t see the man in the fatigues behind them. She and Brady looked out of place among the skiers in their gear. Would anyone notice them and approach? Would they be recognized? Their assailant would be more out of place in his fatigues, his weapon impossible to hide. Brady had stowed his gun in his jacket again before sliding down the hill.