by Janie Crouch
But she still shuddered when another cold drop of rain found its way through the trees and down the neck of her shirt.
She forced herself to trudge on step after step, trying to think about anything but her own misery. Mostly that included trying to think of the elements of Dylan’s story that she wasn’t aware of. Although she knew she shouldn’t care.
Shelby didn’t realize Dylan had stopped walking and slammed right into his broad back. His reflexes were quick. He reached his good arm around his back to steady her against him.
“You okay?” he asked.
“Yeah.” Cold. Tired. Hungry. Stressed. Miserable. “I’m fine.”
“This storm is moving in quickly. It’s only drizzling now, but soon it will be pouring. We’re going to need to find somewhere to hunker down. Hypothermia can become an issue even in these temps if we let ourselves get too wet.”
Shelby gritted her teeth to keep them from chattering. It was probably in the upper fifties, but she felt much colder in her shirt and lightweight jacket. “Where?” She forced the word out, sticking her numb hands under her armpits.
“We’re going to build a wickiup. It won’t be perfect, but it will be something.” Shelby watched almost in a daze as Dylan began gathering thin branches about four to five feet in length.
“A wickiup?”
“It’s also called a debris hut. It won’t be fancy, but it will get us through the next few hours. We’re going to build it up against that overturned tree. It’ll provide us with a good deal of shelter from the rain all on its own.”
Shelby looked over at the tree Dylan pointed at. She felt as if her brain was processing information too slowly. Dylan, on the other hand, was moving quickly, efficiently. Not unlike when she had watched him go through his preflight checklist. He had done this before.
He looked around for something, and then evidently found what he needed: a stick of a specific size, about six feet long, thicker than the others.
“This will be our ridgepole.” He wedged one end of the stick into the overturned tree, about four feet up, and wedged the other end into a spot on the ground. “Now we add branches to make a lattice.”
Slowly, Shelby’s brain began to process. He was making them a shelter. It wouldn’t be very big, but it would maybe keep them drier and warmer. She looked up at the clouds that were now ominous overhead.
She needed to start functioning and help. Shelby began gathering sticks similar to the size Dylan was using to frame his construction. He seemed surprised when she handed the first few she found to him, but then nodded.
“Thanks. We’ll need to hurry if we’re going to beat this storm.”
“How many more do you need?” she asked him.
“At least a dozen.”
Shelby began to scramble for them as Dylan took some items out of the backpack. Trash bags.
“One of the disadvantages of owning your own charter business? You’re also the cleanup crew. But these will come in handy keeping out the rain.” He took his pocketknife and began to slice them lengthwise. “We’ll use them as tarps.”
The thunder boomed from the clouds overhead, causing Shelby to drop her sticks. She bent down to pick them up again and brought them over to Dylan.
“Good,” he said as he stretched the trash bag over the frame he had built and pinned it to the ground. “Try to find as much dry pine straw, grass, leaves, anything we can use to put on the ground and over the tarp.”
Shelby brought anything she thought might be useful. Some he used, some he didn’t, but the rain was picking up, making gathering more material impossible.
Thunder boomed again and rain began to fall in earnest.
“That’s it. We’ll do more damage than good if we bring anything in now. It’ll be too wet. Let’s get in. I’ll go first since it will be easier for you to work your way around me.”
He wasted no time, throwing the backpack into the shelter then sliding himself headfirst into the small enclosure. There was barely room for Dylan. How was Shelby supposed to fit?
“Okay, I’m in. It’s pretty cramped.”
A blast of thunder eliminated any further hesitation Shelby felt. She climbed in as rain began to really pour down around her. She slid as far as she could. Dylan’s arm reached around her and slid her fully inside.
The shelter was cramped, no doubt, but it was also warm and dry. Shelby took a moment to enjoy being out of the wet and wind; the tension she’d been carrying eased some. Dylan was lying flat, his head resting against the backpack. There was no room to sit or shift around.
The warmth felt delightful and Shelby felt herself relaxing. Her head slowly drooped until it came to rest on the hard ground. Except it wasn’t the hard ground. It was Dylan’s muscular chest. Shelby realized how much of her body was lying on Dylan’s body. There really wasn’t any way around it. There was no room.
But unwilling to trigger one of Dylan’s cooties attack where he didn’t want to touch her, Shelby tried to pull herself back and away from him. But his large body seemed to completely fill up the shelter.
“You might as well relax. We’re going to be stuck here for a while. At least it’s warm and dry.” Dylan shifted and pulled Shelby closer, but she still resisted.
“What?” he asked her, his voice deep and soft.
Shelby sighed and closed her eyes. She could not be thinking how deep and soft his voice was. Not trapped in this little shelter with a storm raging outside.
And especially not because at any moment he might decide he couldn’t stand to be near her. Again.
“I just don’t want to make you uncomfortable. You seem to do okay, but then something happens and you...”
“I what?”
“I don’t know. Panic or something. Like you’ve got to get away from me as soon as possible.”
That was met with silence. Shelby didn’t even know why she had brought it up. She leaned up on her elbow so she could try to see him in the mostly dark enclosure. “Look, you’re not into me. I get it. It’s not a prob—”
His lips stopped the flow of her words and wrecked Shelby’s train of thought. Her eyes closed as his hand reached up to wrap behind her neck and pull her down more firmly against him. He teased her lips apart slowly, nibbling at them.
All Shelby could hear was the rain and all she could feel was Dylan. And that was just fine. His other arm came up to wrap around her waist.
The kiss went on as Dylan pulled her closer, shifting her weight until she was almost fully lying on top of him. He traced her lips with his tongue and she opened her mouth, giving them both the access they wanted.
But another large crack of thunder, directly over them, startled them apart. Shelby opened her eyes to find Dylan looking at her. He stared at her for long moments.
“I’m into you. That is definitely not the problem.”
But Shelby noticed he didn’t pull her back in for another kiss. Not that they could do much more anyway in the middle of the wilderness in a lightning storm.
Instead, he slid her weight off him by rolling slightly to the side so she was tucked next to him. Then pulled her head down against his chest so she rested against him. Shelby gave up any thought of trying to keep distance between them. She just relaxed. His arm around her began playing with her hair.
Neither of them said anything for a long time as the storm continued to rage overhead. Shelby was amazed at how well the shelter held.
“I can’t believe we’re still dry. You must have made one of these shelters before.” She remembered the deftness he had shown when putting it together.
“Yeah. It was part of my training in the army. We had to build field-expedient shelters—ones made out of only natural objects. You can stay relatively dry in those, but having the trash bags really helped.”
“Ho
w long were you in the army?”
“Six years. Got my college degree and pilot experience while I was in, so a pretty good deal for me overall.”
“And then you went to work for Omega Sector.” Shelby could feel Dylan begin to tense at the mention of the law enforcement group he once worked for, but had no idea why.
“Yes. They recruited me, actually.”
“Were you a pilot for them?”
“On some missions, but not necessarily. I was an undercover agent. So I used whatever I could to give me an in with certain criminals. Being a pilot helped in a lot of situations.”
“Your siblings all work for Omega?” It was difficult to concentrate with Dylan making circles on her waist and hip with his hand. “They like it?”
“Yeah. Everyone has had their ups and downs, but none of them seem to want to leave.”
“Why did you leave?”
Dylan’s hand stopped moving then. It dropped away from her body altogether. He was silent for so long Shelby thought he was going to refuse to answer.
“An operation went wrong. And some people were hurt because I made stupid mistakes. I got out right after that.”
Shelby was quiet for a moment. She could feel Dylan’s heart beating in his chest that rested under her ear. She trailed her hand that rested at his waist up his torso. She sat up so she could look him in the eye. She cupped his cheek with her hand.
“I’m sure it wasn’t your fault. Anybody working at Omega has to know there are risks involved.”
“These were innocent people. Not agents.”
Shelby knew she should just leave it alone, but somehow couldn’t. “But still, you can’t control everything. I’m sure it wasn’t—”
“It was my wife and unborn child that died. I led a member of a crime syndicate group right to them. He shot her right in front of me before I could do anything about it.”
Dylan flinched from Shelby’s hand that still rested on his cheek, so she moved it. She lay back down, unable to stand the agony in Dylan’s eyes any longer.
This explained so much of his hot-and-cold reactions toward her. Dylan was obviously still in love with his dead wife. Shelby knew he wished he didn’t have to touch her right now, but she was unable to do anything about it in the cramped enclosure. Her head now rested on his arm rather than his chest. She stared up at the ceiling of the shelter, listening to the rain.
Dylan didn’t elaborate any further. Nor did the arm that had been around her touch Shelby again. Shelby was amazed at how close they could be together, yet so, so far apart.
Chapter Eleven
Dylan never liked to talk about Fiona. She had been so young, so beautiful, so full of life.
Okay, Dylan knew that wasn’t totally accurate. Really, Fiona had been a little spoiled and their marriage had been a bit rocky. But you couldn’t really say those things about someone who had been struck down in the prime of her life.
Dylan didn’t know if his marriage to Fiona would’ve worked out if she had lived. But he damn well knew he would’ve loved that child—his son—she had been carrying. No matter what, Dylan would’ve loved that child.
“She was only four months pregnant,” Dylan murmured. “The baby never had a chance. Sometimes I’ve wondered if Fiona had been further along, if the baby possibly could’ve made it, even if she hadn’t.”
Dylan had never said those words out loud to anyone. He wasn’t sure why he was saying them to Shelby now. They probably made him sound like the most insensitive jerk in the history of the world.
Dylan braced himself for whatever Shelby would say, because no matter what it was, it wouldn’t be right. Nothing could be said to make the situation right.
But Shelby didn’t say anything. She just reached up and grabbed the hand of his arm that was under her head. She intertwined their fingers.
And somehow that was enough. No words were needed.
Dylan thought about Shelby as the storm raged on around them. The way she had handled this whole situation had been pretty impressive. She hadn’t fallen apart, not during the crash, not afterward.
She’d marched on through the wilderness at a pretty punishing speed, although Dylan knew she had to be cold. Not once complaining. For someone who spent the majority of time by herself behind a computer, the way she was holding it together in this real-life dangerous situation was impressive.
Hell, everything about her was impressive. But Dylan knew he had to leave her alone. He had nothing to offer. He didn’t even have a job now, for goodness’ sake, not since his Cessna lay burned a few miles away.
The storm seemed to be moving away from them. Good, they needed to get moving. As soon as they made it into the little town, Dylan would call for a pickup. But he wouldn’t be calling Omega directly, not while there was a mole. Dylan would call the people he knew he could trust: his brothers and sister. One of them would come get them and bring them to Omega.
But maybe Dylan wouldn’t leave immediately. Somebody needed to stick close to Shelby and make sure she was safe. His siblings had their hands full with their own cases and duties.
But Dylan still planned to keep his hands off the tiny redhead resting beside him. Definitely no more kisses. Because he knew he wouldn’t be stopping next time, whether or not they were in the middle of a lightning storm in the wilderness.
“Sounds like it’s passing through,” Dylan told her. “We should be able to get going again in a few more minutes.”
“How much farther do we have?”
“Probably eight or nine more miles. Maybe three more hours.”
He heard Shelby’s sigh, the first indication of stress about the situation he’d heard from her. “You’re doing great. Couldn’t ask for a better hiking partner.”
Shelby gave the most unfeminine grunt Dylan had ever heard. He couldn’t help laughing.
Dylan released Shelby’s hand and shifted around behind him to get the backpack. “Let’s eat the food. No point carrying it when we’re hungry.”
“Definitely.”
They made short work of the sandwiches and soda from Dylan’s lunch. It wasn’t enough to fill them up given the number of calories they were expending, but at least it took the edge off. They decided to save the trail mix and water for later when they’d need it.
Eating lying down wasn’t easy, but they managed. By the time they had finished the sandwiches, the worst of the storm had passed. The thunder and lightning were gone.
“Are you ready to get going?” he asked her. He knew neither of them were thrilled at the thought of hours of walking in the cold, but it was just going to get worse if they had to go after the sun went down. They definitely didn’t want to be stranded out in the wilderness overnight if they had any other option.
“Yep.” Shelby didn’t sound enthused, but she certainly wasn’t complaining either. A lot of other women wouldn’t be so tough. Fiona sure wouldn’t have been. Damn it, Dylan had to stop comparing Shelby to Fiona. Shelby seemed to win every time, which couldn’t be fair, right? Fiona was dead and couldn’t defend herself. Shelby was very much alive.
For some reason, a quote from the one literature class Dylan had taken in college came to mind. From Shakespeare, if he remembered correctly.
Though she be but little, she is fierce.
Yeah, that was Shelby. Fierce.
Dylan turned to her. “The walk is going to be tough, but you’ve been doing really well.”
Shelby rolled her eyes. “Thanks. I don’t necessarily feel that way, but thanks.”
Dylan nodded. “We’re going to try to salvage the trash bags, in case we need to reuse them. As a matter of fact, you might want to wrap one around yourself if you’re getting dripped on too much.”
“It’s my hands that get really cold. I wish I had some gloves.”
It was only the beginning of November, but in the mountains with the rain, it was easy to get chilled. Especially someone with as little insulation as Shelby.
“I have extra socks in the backpack. They aren’t gloves, but they’ll at least give you a little covering.”
“I’ll take them. Thanks.”
Dylan slid out of the shelter, wincing a little at the ache in his arm. It was painful, but not unmanageable, so he put it out of his mind. The rain had mostly stopped, but he could tell the difference in temperature immediately.
Shelby slid out behind him. “Wow, we would’ve been in trouble without the shelter.”
Dylan set down the backpack and took out the socks, handing them to Shelby. “Here, put these on.”
“Let me help you take down the shelter first.”
Dylan shook his head. “No, it’s all wet. You need to stay as dry and warm as possible, not get wet taking this apart.”
“But what about you?”
“I’ve got quite a bit more body mass than you. It’ll take a lot more than some wet sticks to get me cold.” He pointed to the socks. She was already shifting back and forth to keep warm. “Go ahead and put those on.”
As she did so, Dylan grabbed the trash bag they had used on the ground, getting off as much of the leaves and debris they’d piled on it for warmth as he could. When he had shaken off as much as possible, he folded it and put it next to the backpack. Then he walked around the frame of the structure to get the other trash bag.
And nearly stepped on a large snake that was coming out from under some bushes.
Dylan immediately froze, hoping his stillness would cause the snake to just slither off in the other direction. But the snake coiled and slid its head back, ready to strike. Dylan knew by the shape of its head and coloring it was poisonous.