by Jill Shalvis
"Never meant … to love you back. Didn't want to."
He froze. His hand tightened on her waist as he hovered over her, torn between shocked disbelief and joy. "Haley?"
But she didn't respond because she'd finally drifted off to sleep, and he wondered, as his heart threatened to burst, if she'd even realized she'd spoken out loud.
* * *
Chapter 13
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In the dark, cold cave, Haley stirred from her dreams, gradually becoming aware of an incredible, healing warmth surrounding her. In her half-wakefulness, she smiled and curled back against it.
A band around her chest tightened, and a husky growl sounded in her ear. Her eyes flew open.
She was on the cave floor, spooned up to Cameron's hard, warm body. He had one leg thrown over her, another thigh nestled between her legs. Her back cozied up to his chest. She was using his arm as a pillow. Snuggled between her breasts, holding her possessively against him, was his other hand.
His thumb made lazy circles over her tight and achy nipples. "Good morning."
"It's … not morning yet." She gasped as his teeth sank gently into her neck. A liquid heat seeped through her despite the remarkable cold of their surroundings.
"Mmm. I know." There was a hint of regret in his voice as he rolled back from her. At the loss of his body heat, a chill instantly gripped her. And with that, their circumstances came flooding back to her: the airport, being shot at, running through the woods to make their escape. Making love with Cam.
He'd come for her, even at the risk of his own life. If that didn't define the depth of his feelings for her, she didn't know what did.
"It's time to go," he said.
She rolled onto her back and stared up at his tall, muscular form as he stood, and watched as his wide shoulders moved beneath his shirt, his long kegs rippling with strength. He caught her staring and smiled a little wickedly, as if he knew a secret. A good secret.
"Unless, of course, you want to delay a bit." Those expressive eyebrows lifted suggestively.
She had to laugh. "We can't." Then her eyes caught the bulge in his jeans that told her he wasn't kidding. Unbelievably, an arrow of longing pierced through her. "Well, maybe we could… But we shouldn't."
Grimacing, he shifted his hips, losing his smile. "No, we shouldn't. But around you, my body rarely pays attention to my brain."
She felt herself blush hotly, and thankful for the relative anonymity of the dark, she sat up. Nothing mattered, she thought, except making sure Cam's family had gotten out safely. She'd do whatever was needed to ensure that, even if it meant giving herself up to Branson.
But one look at Cam's lithe frame above her, poised and unusually intent, told her the terrifying truth: he wouldn't let her go; he'd fight with his very life to save hers. Swallowing hard, humbled to the bone over his love for her, she took his proffered hand and let him pull her up.
She rested her hands lightly on his chest, a little embarrassed to remember the passion he'd dragged from her, the unbelievable emotions he'd coaxed—
The man was grinning.
"What?" she asked warily.
The grin broadened when her eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Nothing."
"It's something," she insisted, stepping back, her hands on her hips. "Do I snore? Did I grow a third eye? What?"
He laughed softly and hugged her, twirling her around. "Worse," he whispered. "You talk in your sleep."
"Well, let me have it, then. What did I say?"
"I'm not telling."
The cave was still too dark. All she could see was his vague, annoyingly cocky outline. "Cam."
"You can beg me later. Maybe, just maybe, you can change my mind and get me to tell you. But no promises, darlin'. You're going to have to work damn hard at it."
Before she could demand a better answer, he'd moved to the entrance of the cave, motioning her to follow. She stepped up to him and he pushed her behind his back as he stared out into the predawn woods.
Turning slightly, he whispered, "This is the safest time to go. We'll take the long way around, back to Tex's farmhouse. We'll use the phone there."
"What about your truck?"
He shook his head. "He might be waiting."
She took a deep, involuntary breath. They weren't armed. They'd be helpless to protect themselves. Given Cam's sudden tense expression, he was worried about the same thing. He fastened her jacket, then lifted her chin with his finger, staring into her eyes for a long, intense moment, his gaze drinking in her every feature.
Then he lowered his lips to hers in an incredibly tender kiss that brought a stinging moisture to her eyes. "Let's go," he whispered, stroking her cheek once.
He took her hand and led her down from the cave.
Only minutes later, the eastern sky was streaked with light from the rising sun. Together they jumped down from a high rock. She had absolutely no idea where they were, but beauty surrounded them as the Colorado mountains came awake in their full glory. Tall aspens, brilliant with autumn leaves, were outlined against a gorgeous sky completely devoid of clouds. The storm must have passed in the night. As Haley straightened and brushed the dirt from her hands, she stilled.
"I hear the creek," she whispered. Her heart tripped. "I thought we were going back a different way."
"We are." He wrapped an arm around her waist and gave her a reassuring squeeze that didn't fool her for a minute. The rigid tension in his body defined every clenched muscle. "We have to cross the water first." He glanced down at her feet, covered in her meager leather flats. Their eyes met. It couldn't have been more than thirty-five degrees outside and she was already cold. When wet, she'd be freezing. With a grim look, he took her hand and they started across.
When they'd made it, he stopped short and looked at her, his head tilted as he listened. Eyes narrowed, he pulled her to a tree and flattened her against it.
"What?"
"Shh." He held her still, and his broad shoulders blocked any view she might have had. The fierce pounding of his heart against her was an unwelcome reminder of their dangerous situation.
The distinct sound of a helicopter's blades filled the air. Cam lifted his head and stared at her. "That's either very good news…"
"Or very bad," she finished, a shiver running through her. Every bone in her body screamed with sudden terror. She knew, she just knew, it was Branson; that he was perfectly capable of flying a helicopter. "Cam, he's looking for us—"
He shoved her back and down behind a clump of trees and then squatted next to her, waiting.
A minute later she forgot to be cold, forgot her discomfort as the chopper came into sight. Cam took one look and stood, grabbing her hand. They started running back through the woods, deeper and deeper until Haley thought her lungs would burst.
"Cam," she gasped, tugging on his hand. He didn't stop. Sharp branches tore at her, rocks dug painfully into her shoes, the air thinned until it hurt to breathe, but still they didn't stop.
The chopper vented the cold morning air, closer now. They entered a ravine and she slowed, unable to keep up the pace, but Cam relentlessly, ruthlessly, dragged her on. Sharp rocks lined the mountain walls that surrounded them on either side as they made their perilous way through the canyon floor. The brilliant morning sun shining down on them made it difficult to see.
They paralleled the now rushing creek, swollen with the recent rains. Twice Haley nearly slipped in, saved by Cam's sheer strength and will, but her feet had gone numb with cold. A rock gouged her ankle painfully, but Cam wouldn't let her stop.
"Ahead!" he yelled back to her, pointing. She glanced up, breathless, and saw that they'd made a circle. The caves where they'd spent the night loomed a hundred yards in front of them.
No helicopter could get in there without crashing in on the narrow rocks. But between the cliffs and where they stood was an unbelievably high rock-face they'd have to climb. They stood looking up at the jagged cliff and Haley felt dread overwhelm her
.
"You can do this," Cam urged.
"I don't know." She'd never been athletic. Panic engulfed her and she gripped his hand tightly. "I haven't exactly made mountain climbing a habit."
The helicopter had gained on them, was lowering closer, causing a huge whirlwind. Dust rose from the earth; so did small sticks and rocks, pummeling them cruelly as the craft followed their every move.
Shielding her eyes, Haley looked up and nearly fainted. Between the two narrow ravine walls, the helicopter sank, suspended directly above them. She could see Branson glaring down at her through his windshield as he worked the controls. He smiled grimly and she screamed Cam's name.
They ran as fast as they could through the narrow ravine, closer to the cliffs far above. Their feet pounded the dirt. Cam pulled so hard, her shoulder ached as she fought to keep up.
Then her ankle caught in a rock, sending a sharp, shooting pain radiating up her leg all the way to her hip. She ignored it, figuring if she slowed, a lot more than her ankle would get hurt.
Cam stopped so abruptly she crashed into him.
"Climb!" he shouted at her, turning to push her ahead of him toward the rocky incline that seemed overwhelmingly high and ungiving.
It was a sheer, straight rock and she had absolutely no experience or way to climb it. "I can't," she cried. "Cam, I can't!"
The helicopter lowered farther still, hovering, choking them with dust. Rocks and sand rained down, blinding them.
"You can." Cam boosted her up and she stretched out an arm, trying to get a hold on the rock above. Climbing behind her, he shouted encouragement, practically lifting her himself; all the while she was pelted with debris from the helicopter's wind.
She couldn't imagine how Branson was keeping it from crashing into the ravine walls. There was barely room for the craft to fit as it hovered directly over them. Trees bent from the powerful gusts the helicopter created and Haley felt as though they were suspended in time, caught in a terrifying wind tunnel.
"A little farther, Haley, come on … you can do it." Cam pushed at her, his urgent voice and scrambling, bloodied hands conveying the message simply enough.
They were going to die if she didn't hurry.
Risking a look, she twisted to stare down at Cam. His head was level with her hip, his arms were braced on either side of her legs as he waited for her to go higher. Blood trickled down his temple from where he'd been nicked by a flying rock. Sweat ran in rivulets down his face and neck, and dirt streaked over his clothes. Every muscle strained, quivering as he bore most of her weight as well as his own.
Then she caught sight of the canyon floor so far below, and the tips of the trees that swayed beneath them. Her vision swam dizzily.
"No!" Cam shouted, with a sharp shake of his head. "Don't look down, Haley! Just keep going."
Just keep going. Swallowing a sob, she twisted back to the rock, pulling herself higher. Cam followed, his big strong hands helping her often. The helicopter came even closer.
Her ankle felt like it was on fire. Something sticky and wet clung to her cheek and when she swiped at it, she realized it was blood. Her blood. Her fingers screamed as rock dug into them. They were as scraped and raw as Cam's: She sobbed out his name when she slipped, falling into him.
"Got you." Holding her steady until she regained her footing, he told her over the roar of the engine, "You're doing it, Haley." His arms continued to surround her as his hands lifted her farther. "You're doing fine, just don't stop. Whatever you do, don't give up."
She could almost feel the blades of the chopper dig into her skin as they whipped far too close for comfort. But then her fingers reached for and felt the top of the wall. Relief took a back seat to pain. Struggling, she tried to pull herself up and over, but she couldn't get the leverage she needed.
She cried out with frustration, which turned abruptly to horror.
Branson tilted the helicopter, probably to get a better aim, and through the window she saw him raise a rifle to his shoulder.
He was going to shoot them down.
Cam grabbed her, and in an unbelievable burst of strength, he lifted and threw her over the edge, yelling at her to stay down.
"Cam!" she screamed.
In the same instant, the helicopter lurched sideways as Branson momentarily lost control of the craft. Haley saw him struggle to raise the gun back up.
Cam still clung to the side of the cliff.
"Cam!" She scrambled to the very edge with some half-baked idea of yanking him up with her bare hands. "Hurry!"
He was trying. She could see it in every one of his trembling, bulging muscles. Haley reached down for him just as he got one hand to the edge.
Above them, Branson made a fatal miscalculation.
A horrific sound echoed as the blades caught in the sheer rock cliff, only a few feet from where Cam hung tenuously to the side.
The chopper careened wildly into the wall and caught fire, just as Cam flung himself over the top to safety. He didn't pause, but leaped toward Haley and flattened himself out on top of her, shielding her from the rain of fire as the helicopter blew up. Seemingly in slow motion, it fell to the canyon floor, far below.
When it hit, the earth resounded and shook.
Like an earthquake.
Fitting, Haley thought, as her world spun and her vision faded. Branson had created one last earthquake.
Haley opened her eyes and blinked. Cam's face hovered above her, streaked with dirt and strained with fear.
"Thank God," he murmured, yanking her hard against him. The sun had risen fully, but the air still should have been icy cold. Instead, heat from the fiery crash below scorched them and dense smoke rose, making breathing difficult.
"We need help, Haley." He cupped her face and held her slightly away from him, "Are you able to walk?"
Nodding, she tried to look over the side, down into the fire, but he pulled her back.
"Don't look," he said.
"Is he dead?"
Ripping his sleeve off, he pressed it to her cheek, wincing when she jerked back. "Haley, you're bleeding everywhere."
"Is he dead?"
"Hold still a sec!" He applied pressure, frowning when she yelped. "Dammit. You need stitches."
"Is he dead?" Haley had to know, felt as though she couldn't even take her next breath until she did. "Cam, tell me!"
"No doubt, he's very dead." His voice was very uneven and his fingers shook as he worked on her face.
She sat back, as shock took over. Dead. Branson was finally dead.
"Have to say this for you, Haley. Life hasn't been a nap in the hammock since I met you."
What she'd put him through suddenly stopped her cold. She couldn't bear it. She stood, with some half-baked idea of running and never stopping, but she cried out and nearly collapsed at the sharp pain that speared through her ankle.
Cam hooked a hand around her waist. "Lean on me," he murmured. "Don't put any extra weight on it."
She stared at him. His mouth was moving but she could hardly make out the words. She could, however, make out the haggard lines on his face, the blood seeping from a series of shallow cuts over his bare arms and hands. Her fault. A shiver racked her. "I'm fine." But she took one step and would have fallen flat on her face if not for Cam's arms. The pain twisting through her made her feel nauseous.
"Damn. Okay, darlin', sit down a sec." Lowering her gently to the ground, he glanced back at the flames leaping in the air from the ravine below. "Tuck your blouse up and over your mouth and nose," he instructed. "Like this." He pulled the neck of his T-shirt up over the bottom half of his face. "It'll help you breathe."
Breathe. She had to breathe. Branson was dead. It was like a mantra in her mind. She couldn't believe it.
Cam knelt before her to peel back her pants from her ankle. His strong fingers touched her lightly while his mouth tightened. Already, the ankle—a lovely, mottled shade of blue—had swollen to twice its normal size.
"It's ju
st a sprain," she said, struggling to stand again.
"It's broken."
"Okay. I'll just wait here for you."
"Like hell." Before she could protest, he lifted her up behind him, piggyback-style. He shifted her into a better position, looping his arms around her knees, then started walking away from the smoke and flames.
For a moment, Haley allowed herself to cling, to close her eyes and hug his back, so thankful, so very thankful he was alive. It had been so close. Branson had almost killed him. She opened her eyes and saw Cam's grim profile, saw the blood on his temple from a cut. She knew he must be every bit as exhausted as she, yet he hadn't said a word. Guilt overwhelmed her. She couldn't believe she was letting him carry her when she'd almost gotten him killed.
"Put me down," she said. "I want to try walking again."
He didn't answer, didn't even slow his pace, just cleared his throat from the now fading smoke and kept going.
"Cam."
"You can't walk, Haley."
This wasn't about her ankle and they both knew it. "He can't hurt me anymore."
That stopped him. He looked over his shoulder at her. "That's right. He can't. But why don't I believe that you believe that?"
Because Branson and EVS, and what he almost did to your family, stand between us, she wanted to cry.
Unable to maintain the soul-searching eye contact, she laid her head against the strong width of his shoulder and sighed.
He continued across the top of the ravine and back into the shelter of the woods. After another minute, his arms, where they were hooked around her legs, squeezed gently. "You okay?"
"Yeah." She had to clear her throat of the thick tears that stuck there. "I'm fine." But she wasn't, and she didn't know if she ever would be again.
They stopped at the stream and he lowered her to a rock. He plopped down beside her to the bed of fallen leaves, his chest rising and falling harshly.
"Leave me here while you go the rest of the way. I'll be fine—"
"No … I'm not leaving you." He turned away and stared into the woods. "He's dead. Dead, Haley. Do you understand that?"