Securing Zoey

by Susan Stoker

  The furrows in his brow evened out and he smiled down at her. “Good. Maybe another kiss to seal the deal before we tackle this log and continue our journey?”

  Zoey returned his smile and nodded probably a bit too enthusiastically.

  His head dropped once more, and then they were kissing again. His beard was scratchy against her face, but Zoey barely noticed. Her focus was on the way he playfully nibbled on her lower lip and, when she opened for him, how he didn’t hesitate to sweep his tongue into her mouth.

  Their kiss was shorter than before and less intense, but it still made Zoey’s toes curl. He pulled back and rested his forehead on hers and said softly, “We haven’t talked much about what happens after we get rescued, but hear this—I’m not going to walk away and never look back. We don’t know who was behind this, but if there’s even a hint that you could be in danger, I’m not leaving you to defend yourself. I’d never abandon you. This is going to sound crazy…but I want you to think about coming back to California with me.”

  Zoey inhaled sharply, but he didn’t give her a chance to speak.

  “Don’t say anything right now, just think about it. I know you have a life in Juneau. A job. Friends. But anyone who would go to these lengths to get rid of us wouldn’t hesitate to try again, and if you’re right there, an easy mark in Juneau, I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if something happened to you.”

  “Mark,” Zoey protested. “I don’t think I’m the person they were targeting here. I’m nobody.”

  Mark pulled back and brought the palm of his hand up to smooth her hair away from her face. “We’ve been over this. Don’t underestimate your worth, Zo. We have no idea what Pop left you, and I’m beginning to think it’s probably more than either of us thought. But even if it’s not, it doesn’t matter. Pop obviously loved you. You loved him.”

  Zoey shivered, not wanting to think about someone wanting to kill her. She really wasn’t anybody important. The thought that someone wanted her dead was crazy, wasn’t it?

  “Just think about it, okay?”

  She nodded.

  Mark took a deep breath and said, “Right. Time to get to work. You ready?”

  Zoey mimicked his inhalation and nodded. “Carry on, oh fearless leader.”

  It was his turn to roll his eyes, and the sight made Zoey smile.

  “Piece of cake. Let’s do this and get on with our day,” he quipped. When he turned, he kept hold of her hand, and Zoey knew she’d never forget this moment for the rest of her life. When the guy she’d crushed on for years had kissed her. Then said he wanted to date her. And offered to bring her to California so he could make sure she was safe.

  Oh, yeah, this was definitely one of the best days of her life.

  Did she say this was the best day of her life? Zoey shook her head. She’d lied. Today sucked. Dragging a simple log a hundred feet shouldn’t have been as hard as it was. The thing was heavy. Like, really heavy. It had taken the two of them over an hour of swearing, slipping and sliding, and pure brute strength to get it close enough to the stream.

  Then it had taken another thirty minutes, and the use of the rope Mark had in his pocket, to roll the log to where they needed it to go. They’d managed to get it up on its end and push it over the creek, which had worked surprisingly well. It wasn’t all that stable, but it wasn’t in the water and, on paper at least, they could cross it without getting their feet wet, which was the goal all along.

  They’d both taken off their outer shirts as they’d worked, as they were warm in the sun and sweating. Zoey was in her tank top and long-sleeve shirt, and Mark was wearing only his green Henley.

  She would’ve admired his bulging biceps if she hadn’t been so concerned about crossing the stupid stream. Looking at their makeshift bridge, this suddenly seemed like a bad idea. Especially considering they had no idea what was on the other side. They might cross this thing to find another wider stream a hundred yards farther down and around a bend.

  “Maybe we should just turn around after all,” Zoey said as she and Mark stood looking at the log and the fast-moving water under it.

  “We’ve got this,” Mark said in his familiar positive tone. “I’ll go first. Make sure it’s safe. I’ll anchor it with some rocks on the other side, prevent it from rolling. Then you can come across. Okay?”

  Zoey wanted to say no. That she was too scared. But she tried to be positive by swallowing hard and nodding.

  Mark put his finger under her chin and forced her to look up at him. “Hey, we got this.”

  She tried to smile, but knew it fell flat.

  “I’ll even let you wear my outer shirt. I know you’re gonna start shivering in a minute or two, and you’ll need the extra warmth.”

  “And you don’t?”

  “No. I’m good. I’m way more used to being cold than you are. Which is kinda funny, considering you’re the one who lives up here in Alaska. You’re the one who’s supposed to think this weather is warm enough to sunbathe in.”

  Zoey shuddered. She couldn’t imagine lying around in a bathing suit. Even though the sun was shining, it probably wasn’t even sixty degrees. Besides, the clouds would most likely come out any second. That’s how it was in the early autumn months in Alaska. It could be beautiful and sunny one second and cloudy and foggy the next.

  “A kiss for luck?” Mark asked.

  Now that, Zoey could do. She immediately went up on her tiptoes and kissed him. It was short and sweet, but every time his lips touched hers, sparks shot down to her toes. It was a very effective way to get her mind off of where they were and what they were doing, and it went a long way toward warming her up to boot.

  Mark pulled back and kissed her temple before turning toward the log. Around his waist, he tied the long rope he’d made by braiding vines, bark and dead plants, and Zoey took the other end in her hands. As far as a safety line went, it wasn’t much, but he’d assured her it was merely a precaution. That nothing was going to happen, and he’d be on the other bank before either of them could blink.

  Zoey watched as he tested the stability of their makeshift bridge and winced when it wobbled as he lowered himself onto it. Instead of walking upright, which would’ve been suicide, he straddled it. His feet came up behind him, steadying him. He ever so slowly inched forward, stopping every few inches to balance himself as the log shifted under him.

  Zoey couldn’t breathe. She tightened her grip on the thin rope, letting out slack as he moved across the fallen tree.

  For a minute, she thought he was going to make it. He was moving at a pretty good clip and was halfway across when disaster struck.

  He’d just shifted to move forward another inch when Zoey happened to look upstream. Her eyes widened and she yelled, “Watch out!”

  But it was too late.

  A large tree that had fallen somewhere upstream was rushing headlong toward Mark and their precarious bridge.

  He braced himself, and even stuck out a hand to try to push the log away, but it was no use. The branches of the floating log rammed right into Mark, and the tree itself lodged under their bridge. The force of the water and the tree was too much, and one second Mark was perched on top of the log, the next, he’d disappeared into the rushing stream amongst a flurry of leaves and branches.

  The rope in her hands immediately went taut, and Zoey fought with all her strength to keep hold of it. She didn’t feel the way the make-shift rope left burn marks on her palms; her only focus was Mark. She fell to her ass on the bank and grunted as the water tried to rip him away. For a wild moment, she thought it might be better to let go, to let him ride the rapids down to the lake, where it was calmer, but then she thought about how cold the water was. The water in the stream had to be coming from the mountains, where the snow and ice was constantly melting. There was a good chance he wouldn’t make it to the lake, and even if he did, it was possible he wouldn’t have the strength to get out because of the cold.

  So Zoey frantically held on. She
was dragged closer and closer toward the stream. Mark outweighed her by quite a bit, but she refused to let go.

  She was pulled ever closer but as luck would have it, a large rock sat between her and the bank. She turned slightly and used her feet to brace herself against the boulder.

  It worked. She stopped moving.

  Wrapping the vines around her wrists, she vowed to do whatever it took to get Mark to shore. Every now and then, she saw his head pop out of the water in the rapids, and she knew he was fighting on the other end of the rope.

  Slowly, ever so slowly, she watched him make progress toward the bank. After he disentangled himself from the rogue tree that had appeared at exactly the wrong time, he was able to move a bit faster. Within thirty seconds, Zoey felt the rope in her hands go slack.

  He’d done it.

  Unwrapping the vine from her hands, not even noticing the bruises already forming on her wrists, she ran toward where Mark was crawling on his hands and knees out of the stream.

  “Mark! Are you all right?”

  “Don’t touch me,” he ground out.

  Zoey stopped in her tracks in shock. “What?”

  “I’m soaking wet. I don’t want you to get near me. Give me a second.”

  “What can I do?” Zoey asked. Even as she watched, Mark’s body began to tremble. Now that the adrenaline from his dunk in the water was wearing off, the cold was already settling in.

  “Just step back, sweetheart. I’m okay. I promise.”

  Hating that she was powerless to do anything to help, Zoey did as he asked. She hovered near him as he crawled even farther out of the stream. He got to a patch of grass and tried to stand but couldn’t, falling back on his ass.

  “Mark!” Zoey exclaimed.

  “I’m okay,” Mark said again. “J-Just c-cold.”

  He looked up at her then, and Zoey could see that his lips were already turning blue.

  Shit, shit, shit!

  Mark began to fumble with the laces on his boots, but it looked like he was having a hard time.

  “Fuck not touching you,” Zoey mumbled and went to her knees at his feet. She brushed his hands away and went to work on getting his boots undone. It was hard to get them off his feet, but after tugging for a bit, she was finally successful.

  “The s-socks too,” Mark said.

  Zoey knew he was right, but she hated this. And of course, when they needed it the most, the sunlight had disappeared behind rapidly growing clouds. She stripped off his socks, and when his hands went to the button of his pants, the fact that he was actually going to strip naked sank in.

  Quick as a flash, she stood and raced back to where they’d spent the early afternoon working to get the log to the stream. Both their outer shirts they’d taken off were still hanging from a branch. Thankful he had something dry to put on, she sprinted back to where she’d left him.

  By the time she got back, he’d managed to get his pants and shirt off. He was sitting on the ground in nothing but his soaking-wet boxer briefs. In any other situation, Zoey would’ve been thrilled and ogled him, but at the moment, all she could think about was his health and well-being.

  He tried to get up on his knees to take off his underwear, but was having trouble staying upright. Zoey dropped their shirts on the ground and reached for him. “Let me help,” she ordered.

  “I c-can d-do it,” Mark insisted.

  “Bullshit. Mark, you’re shaking so bad you can’t even curl your finger around the waistband. Lay down,” she said. Zoey wished he could keep his underwear on, but they were soaking, just like everything else. And the last thing he needed was that wet cotton against his most vulnerable parts. He had to get everything off, get dry, and get warm.

  Swallowing down the panic that threatened to overwhelm her, Zoey concentrated on doing one thing at a time.

  Frowning, Mark lay back. Zoey slid her fingers under the cotton—and jolted when Mark chuckled.

  “What the hell are you laughing at?” she groused.

  “I w-wanted you to p-put your hands on m-me, but never imagined it w-would happen this f-fast.”

  “Shut up,” she told him, secretly thrilled he hadn’t lost his sense of humor.

  “P-Please remember w-what c-cold water d-does to a m-man’s dick, Zo.”

  At that, her gaze went up to his—and she was surprised to see a hint of concern in his eyes that he tried to hide with humor.

  Shaking her head, she looked back down at what she was doing. “You have nothing to worry about, SEAL Man. I’m more concerned about your blue balls right now than the size of your package.”

  He burst out laughing, and it made Zoey feel good that she could give that to him. There was certainly nothing funny about their current situation.

  She couldn’t help but see Mark’s dick as she helped him remove his underwear. Even almost frozen, he was still impressive.

  She quickly stripped off her long-sleeve shirt, immediately shivering in the cool afternoon air, but she ignored her own discomfort, knowing Mark would feel twenty times worse after his dunk in the glacier-fed water of the stream. She shoved her shirt at him. “Here, use this to dry off as best you can. You can put on your dry flannel and use my fleece-lined shirt to cover your legs. When you’re done using that shirt to dry off, it can stand in for underwear for the time being, as well.”

  It wasn’t enough. Zoey knew that. He didn’t answer, was awkwardly doing his best to dry himself off with her shirt. His movements were uncoordinated and stiff. She shifted to her ass and started fumbling with her shoes.

  “W-What are you d-doing?” Mark asked.

  “Taking my socks off. You need them more than I do. The last thing you need is to lose any toes.”

  “I’m n-not t-taking your s-socks,” Mark said gruffly.

  “Yes, you are,” Zoey told him without looking up.

  “Zo, l-look at m-me,” he stuttered.

  She refused. She stripped off her socks, then quickly shoved her feet back into her boots and tied them once again. She stood and grabbed both long-sleeve shirts and brought them over to where Mark was sitting. Snatching the shirt out of his hands, she quickly finished drying his back and ran it over his hair as well, trying to get as much moisture out of the strands as she could. Thank God it was short; long hair would take forever to dry out here. She helped guide each shaking hand into a sleeve of his warm flannel shirt and sighed in relief.

  “Lift up,” she ordered, pushing on his shoulder. Mark obliged by shifting until one of his perfect ass cheeks was lifted from the cold ground. She shoved her now-damp long-sleeve shirt under his ass, and went to his other side to do the same. With that done, she did her best to nonchalantly tie the sleeves around his waist, covering his manly bits in the process. Then she draped her own fleece-lined shirt around his waist in the front. Finally, she went to his feet and stretched her wool socks over them. They didn’t exactly fit, but they’d do.

  “Don’t move,” she ordered, before standing once more.

  “I’m okay, Z-Zo,” Mark stuttered.

  “I know. You’re a SEAL. This is nothing for you,” she said, the words more for herself than him. But deep down, she knew this wasn’t like Hell Week. He’d told her lots of stories about what they’d been through, but the difference was, there wasn’t any bell to ring to quit this hell. No medics standing by just in case. There wasn’t a hospital just around the corner that someone could be brought to if something went wrong. There was only her. She wasn’t going to let him down.

  The bottom line was, Zoey knew she couldn’t survive out here on her own. Therefore, it was in her best interest to do whatever it took to make sure Mark got warm as soon as possible.

  Without another word, she raced away from Mark toward the tree line. She ignored how he called her name and concentrated on the task at hand…namely, gathering as much wood for a fire as she could. The most important thing right now was to get Mark warm. No matter that she was running around in a tank top and no socks. For once in h
er life, she didn’t feel cold. She felt absolutely nothing but determination.

  She went back and forth from the tree line to where Mark sat at least a dozen times, ignoring the way he demanded she slow down and take a breath. She’d found some moss hidden inside a tree that seemed relatively dry, which was a minor miracle. She gathered small sticks, medium ones, and some big ones as well. Most of the bigger branches and logs were damp, but that couldn’t be helped right now.

  After dumping the last load of wood, she nodded in satisfaction at the pile near Mark.

  “Zoey, s-stop a second and l-look at me,” Mark begged.

  Taking a deep breath, she did as he requested. He was still sitting on her shirt, but had managed to bring his knees up and under his oversized shirt. All she could see of him was his feet sticking out—covered in her purple wool socks—and his head. She wished she had a hat for him; it was a well-known fact that people lost most of their body heat from their head. His lips were still blue around the edges, and he was still stuttering, which wasn’t good.

  “I’m okay,” Mark told her.

  Zoey shook her head. “No, you’re not. You’re freezing. I knew that stupid log was a bad idea. Shit!”

  “Zo,” he said firmly.

  Zoey couldn’t stop. Couldn’t look at him. Couldn’t listen. He’d just try to tell her that he was okay, and she knew he wasn’t. She went over to his pants lying nearby and rifled through the pocket where she knew he kept the flint. Pulling it out, she sent a prayer upward. Please let this work. His hands are shaking too badly to be able to light the fire. It’s up to me.

  She quickly arranged the fire as close to Mark as she dared. They were in a small clearing near the stream, and while she would prefer to be under the trees, in a shelter, this was going to have to work for the moment.

  Mark seemed to finally understand that she couldn’t talk right now. That she had to do what she had to do, and him talking would distract her. Goose bumps rose on her arms as she worked, even as sweat dripped down the side of her face. She was both hot and cold at the same time. Zoey ignored everything but setting up the fire.