by Terri Reed
The thought of her being barefoot concerned him. He lightly touched her bedraggled wedding gown. She’d looked so amazingly beautiful as she’d come toward Brett, but the poor dress had taken a beating during their mad dash through the woods. “I have a pocketknife. I think we should rip strips off your gown and wrap them around your feet.”
“That might work.” She didn’t look upset at the thought of destroying her gown. Not that it was salvageable at this point anyway.
“Here.” He dug the penknife out of his pocket and handed it to her. “Work on that while I’m gone.”
She took the knife and picked up her voluminous skirt. Without hesitation, she sliced through the fabric and began sawing back and forth, creating the strips he’d suggested.
He eased to his feet and hurried off toward the sound of trickling water. The Tetons had snowcapped peaks even in June and he knew much of the water was melted snow. Pure enough, he hoped, that they wouldn’t get sick.
Once he’d secured a water source, he could focus on a shelter and building a fire. Thankfully, his time in the army and being deployed overseas to serve in Afghanistan had provided the survival skills he needed to keep them safe.
The water wasn’t far, a couple of yards and he stretched out on the ground, lowering his mouth to the stream to take a drink. They hadn’t climbed up as much as they’d headed west, but it wouldn’t take long for them to feel the change in altitude. Keeping well hydrated was critical.
Now all he needed was a way to carry the water back to Chelsey. Too bad they hadn’t gone on the run with a water bottle. He stripped off the jacket of his tux and examined the pockets. They were a blend of polyester and cotton—not waterproof by any means, but it was possible they’d hold enough water for her to take a few sips.
After filling the pocket with water, he quickly carried it back to where Chelsey waited. The water seeped from the seams but remained halfway full by the time he offered it to her.
She eagerly drank, looking disappointed when it was gone.
“I’ll get more,” he promised. “But it would be easier if you could walk over there. It’s not far.”
“I only have two strips cut so far.” She held up her work.
“Here, let me wrap these around your feet—that should hold for now. We can cut more later.”
The strips helped to hold the flimsy shoes in place. He helped her stand and showed her the way to the brook. Once she’d taken her fill of water, she sat back with a sigh. “I didn’t realize how thirsty I was.”
He nodded, glancing around the area. “I need to find us shelter for the night.”
“For the night?” Her voice rose in alarm. “We’re staying out here all night?”
“Chelsey, we don’t have another option. It’s already eighteen hundred hours. I mean, six o’clock in the evening. Even with daylight savings time, the sun will be hidden behind the mountains soon. It will be dark here in the forest—we can’t risk hiking at night.”
“Why can’t we go back to the hotel? I’m sure it’s safe, the gunman is probably already under arrest.”
He wasn’t at all convinced. “Remember the second gunshot we heard?” When she nodded, he said gently, “Who do you think they were shooting at, considering Brett was already dead from being shot in the heart?”
She opened her mouth, then closed it again. After a long moment her voice came out in a squeaky tone. “Me? You think he was shooting at me?”
He hated upsetting her, but she needed to understand the scope of what they were dealing with. He glanced around again and gestured to the right. “I think that might be a small cave in the side of the mountain. I’m going to take a quick look.”
This time, she didn’t protest, clearly reeling from the idea that someone had just tried to kill her.
The cave was more of a shallow curvature in the rock. It wasn’t much. In fact, he didn’t think both of them would fit sitting together within the indentation. But Chelsey was slim and petite. She could use it and he would sit outside the opening, keeping the fire going.
He returned to get Chelsey, who took another long drink of water before following him to the shelter. She didn’t look impressed but sank down and leaned against the rocky wall anyway.
Scouting the area for firewood didn’t take long, and soon he had a nice pile of logs and kindling. He didn’t have a lighter so he used a flint rock and dried sticks, a trick the army had taught him, to create a spark. A bit of fabric from Chelsey’s dress helped.
The spark turned into a flame. Lightly blowing on the small flame, he added one twig, then another, nurturing the flame into a full-blown fire. When he was satisfied it was large enough, he added a log and scooted back to sit close to Chelsey.
“Are you hungry?” He glanced at her.
She shivered. “No. I can’t eat.”
He understood she felt that way now, but they’d be hungry by morning. The body had a way of overriding grief to sustain basic needs. What was left of the sunlight was already fading and hunting in the dark wouldn’t work, even if he had something to hunt with other than his penknife, which he didn’t.
There was no point in thinking about food now. Tomorrow he’d need to come up with another plan.
What that would entail, he had no clue.
“Take my jacket.” He tucked the edges of his tux around her shoulders. “The rock will be cold. Better that you stretch out on the ground instead.”
“Okay.” She did as he suggested, looking like a waif in her dirty and ripped wedding gown, wrapped in his tux. There was a long silence as they watched the fire. The flickering flames were mesmerizing, but now that he’d secured the basics of their survival needs, he wanted to understand exactly what had gone down earlier that evening.
“What was Brett involved in?”
She turned to stare up at him blankly. “What do you mean?”
“Brett must have been involved in something dangerous. Do you know anything about this new job he was all excited about? Something about working protection detail for a wealthy rancher who lived near the hotel?”
Her beautiful blue eyes crinkled with confusion. “What wealthy rancher? Brett worked as a project manager for Coyote Creek Construction. They construct businesses and residential homes. I don’t know anything about Brett’s alleged job of protecting a wealthy rancher.”
He wrinkled his brow in confusion. “How long has he been working for Coyote Creek Construction?”
“I’m not sure, maybe a couple of years? Why would he tell you some weird story about a new job working for a rancher? Especially a wealthy one? The only rancher we know is Elroy Lansing, and he certainly doesn’t need protection from what I know. Frankly, his ranch has been going downhill the past few years—rumor has it he’s selling land to anyone offering a cash deal.”
No wealthy rancher needing protection? It didn’t make any sense. Brett had obviously lied about his job, either to him or to Chelsey. And the more important question was, why? There was no reason, especially if he had a job working as a project manager for a construction company.
What secret was Brett covering up?
Whatever it was, it had likely gotten him killed.
And worse, put Chelsey in harm’s way.
Copyright © 2021 by Laura Iding
Love Harlequin romance?
DISCOVER.
Be the first to find out about promotions, news and exclusive content!
Facebook.com/HarlequinBooks
Twitter.com/HarlequinBooks
Instagram.com/HarlequinBooks
Pinterest.com/HarlequinBooks
ReaderService.com
EXPLORE.
Sign up for the Harlequin e-newsletter and download a free book from any series at
TryHarlequin.com
CONNECT.
Join our Harlequin co
mmunity to share your thoughts and connect with other romance readers!
Facebook.com/groups/HarlequinConnection
ISBN-13: 9781488072277
Alaskan Rescue
Copyright © 2021 by Harlequin Books S.A.
Special thanks and acknowledgment are given to Terri Reed for her contribution to the Alaska K-9 Unit miniseries.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
For questions and comments about the quality of this book, please contact us at [email protected].
Love Inspired
22 Adelaide St. West, 40th Floor
Toronto, Ontario M5H 4E3, Canada
www.Harlequin.com