In This Together

by Kara Lennox

  Elena hurried back to the campsite, her feet crunching noisily in the leaves. “What is that?”

  “Uh, coyote?”

  “It’s enough to chill my blood.” She looked around fearfully, as if carnivorous monsters might appear from any direction at any minute. “They sound close.”

  He opened his mouth to reassure her that they were safe, that the coyotes were just calling to each other and wouldn’t bother them. Humans were far too big to be prey for a small critter like a coyote unless the animals were really desperate.

  But then he realized he could use her fear and ignorance of the woods to his advantage. If she was afraid of coyotes, she was less likely to wander off in the night and try to escape.

  He looked around, feigning worry. “They are close. And they sound hungry. They howl like that when they’re hungry.”

  “Do you have a gun?”

  “A gun? No. Why would you even think that?”

  “Well, you’re a kidnapper. I just thought you might have a gun.”

  “No. But they won’t bother us so long as we keep the fire burning. Coyotes are afraid of...wood smoke.”

  Elena scurried back into the clearing, standing close to the fire. “Do we have lots of firewood? Should we collect more?”

  Travis eyed the meager pile of deadwood he’d collected, most of which had been lying around within twenty or thirty feet of their campsite. He’d been planning to let the fire die down; it wasn’t so cold that they really needed the warmth. But after the whopping lies he’d just told, he was going to have to keep it burning. Well, he hadn’t intended to sleep much tonight anyway.

  “I’ll go get more.”

  She picked up one of the smaller logs and held it, club fashion. “Don’t go far. If I see anything move, I’ll scream.”

  Now he felt a little bit guilty for making her so afraid. She hadn’t shown that much fear toward him, and he had the capacity to do her a lot more harm than a scrawny coyote.

  Travis spent about ten minutes collecting more wood, occasionally checking on Elena to make sure she wasn’t pulling another fast one, using the distraction of the coyotes to get him out of the way so she could make a break for it. Then he moved the tarp to the ground closer to the fire and spread the sleeping bag on it again. “You can sleep here. It’s not the Ritz, and you’re probably used to a feather bed and silk comforter at Logan’s house, but it shouldn’t be too bad.”

  She shrugged. “I’ve slept in worse places.”

  “Really? When?”

  She sat cross-legged on the sleeping bag and pulled one end of it around her shoulders for warmth. “How about in the bottom of a leaky dinghy?”

  Yes, that sounded worse. “When did you—”

  “Never mind. I shouldn’t have brought it up. It’s something I don’t think about often, let alone talk about.”

  Now he was consumed with curiosity. She’d dropped a few hints that she hadn’t always lived a privileged existence, but now he wondered how bad it had been.

  “Elena, how did you learn to pick pockets?”

  “It’s a gift.”

  A pat answer. “So, you don’t want to talk about that, either?”

  She shook her head. The coyotes howled again, and she shivered.

  “I promise not to let the coyotes get you, okay?”

  Elena nodded, but she looked as if she didn’t completely believe him.

  “Is there anything you do want to talk about? It’s kind of early to go to bed.”

  She hesitated, staring at him intently as if seeking to see beneath his skin. “Why are you willing to exchange places with your brother, to go to prison for him? Isn’t your life worth saving, too?”

  So, she didn’t want to talk about bad times in her life, but his life was fair game? He supposed he could say no. But he didn’t. “Look, I don’t relish spending the next few decades behind bars. But Eric... You’d have to know him. He was a special kid even before he could walk and talk. He had this wild, curly blond hair and inquisitive eyes, and as soon as he could talk, he wanted to know everything. His curiosity knew no bounds. He was smart, too—absorbed everything like a sponge. You’d tell him something once, he’d remember it. You’d show him how to do something and he’d pick it up immediately, and pretty soon he’d be doing it better than you. I taught him how to tie his shoes in five minutes.

  “He made straight As in school. The teachers loved him. The other kids loved him. Yet nothing ever went to his head. He was exceptional in every way, and he knew it, but he still managed to somehow be humble.

  “The girls were all over him, but he always treated them nice. He had a few different girlfriends over the years, but he was loyal to each one while he was with her.

  “He got a full-ride scholarship to Stanford, and then he went to law school. He was courted by some pretty big law firms, but he didn’t want to leave Houston, so he went with a smaller firm. He could have been a very successful trial lawyer—he was something to watch in the courtroom. But he chose real estate law instead because he didn’t like the confrontational aspect of the courtroom or the unsavory nature of dealing with criminals. He’s basically too nice to be that kind of lawyer.

  “When he met Tammy, he was positive she was the one. They seemed to be the golden couple living the perfect life. They had a gorgeous home, and when MacKenzie was born it was the icing on the cake.

  “Eric didn’t have a malicious bone in his body. I never once in my whole life saw him lose his temper. Which is why it’s so ludicrous that he would kill Tammy.

  “We used to go fishing as kids, but I noticed that Eric never baited his hook right. He was hoping a turtle would steal his bait so he wouldn’t have to catch anything—so he wouldn’t have to clean it. That was how much he hated knives. Can’t see him picking up a knife and stabbing someone.”

  “Did you testify at your brother’s trial? As a character witness?”

  “No. His attorney was afraid I’d do more harm than good, seeing as I’m an ex-con. He thought I would have no credibility.”

  A wariness came into her eyes. “Oh. You’ve been to prison?”

  “Assault. It was self-defense, but I couldn’t prove that, so I pled out. Did eighteen months.”

  “Excuse me for saying so, but Eric’s lawyer was an ass. If a jury had heard what you just told me... Well, let’s just say it would have made them think.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  ELENA COULDN’T BELIEVE this was happening to her, but she was actually taking Travis’s side. She’d always had strong feelings about the work Project Justice did. Her family had come to this country to find freedom and fairness, and it had appealed to her sense of honor that even when the justice system made a mistake, there was still recourse. Her family had left Cuba when they did because her father was being threatened with jail simply for expressing an opinion that wasn’t popular with the government.

  Her father had trained as a doctor, but for reasons Elena never fully understood, he hadn’t been allowed to practice. Instead, his fine mind had gone to waste in the cane fields and his family had lived in a tin shack. And even that had been threatened.

  Their first few years in America, they’d still been relatively poor. But they’d been free—free to speak their minds, to live and work where they wanted, and free from the constant threat of jail.

  She was proud to work for the man who had created a foundation that defended people who’d been unfairly imprisoned.

  But this was the first time she had been so up close and personal with the pain and devastation a false conviction wreaked on the prisoner’s family. If her family had not left Cuba when they had, she could easily be the one left on the outside, mourning an innocent person’s life being wasted behind bars. She could easily see herself in Travis’s place—powerless to help, desperate
to make someone—anyone—listen to reason.

  Still, she couldn’t overlook the fact that Travis had himself committed a crime. He’d kidnapped her and was still holding her against her will, though her will had weakened considerably over the past few hours.

  How she felt didn’t really matter, she supposed. The course had been set. Nothing would happen until tomorrow, when Travis checked his voice mail to find out Daniel’s response.

  The whole thing would be over before too long. Travis would let her go—she felt pretty sure about that. Then he would be arrested. But something good would come of it. Daniel would be forced to take a look at Eric’s case. And when he realized Eric’s lawyer had been weak, that he hadn’t pursued certain avenues that he should have, that he hadn’t let Travis testify, Daniel would have no choice but to do something. His conscience wouldn’t let him ignore the situation, no matter what he said about proper channels and priorities.

  And there was a child involved. Daniel had a soft spot for little ones, and unless Elena missed her guess, he would soon have one of his own. He and Jamie hadn’t made any announcements, but Elena had noticed that these days Jamie often ate saltines for breakfast, and that some of her suits were a little tight across her formerly flat tummy.

  Those damned coyotes howled again. It sounded like a whole pack of them now instead of just one or two. Tomorrow would be soon enough to deal with the repercussions of Travis’s rash actions. First, she had to survive the night without getting eaten.

  “Where are you going?” Elena asked in a panic when she noticed Travis walking away from the fire. He might be a kidnapper, but there was no one else around to protect her from hungry carnivores.

  “I’m taking this trash farther away from here so it won’t attract any unwanted visitors. Besides coyotes, we have to think of the raccoons, possums and skunks.”

  “Oh, great, give me more to worry about!”

  He disappeared into the darkness, and she felt sick to her stomach at the idea that he could leave her alone out here. What if he just abandoned her and never came back, decided to make a run for it? He could get a pretty good head start while everyone was looking for him around Houston, assuming he was still holding her hostage. Would she die out here? Would some hiker or hunter find her bones years from now, picked clean and scattered by wild animals?

  After a couple of minutes she couldn’t stand it anymore. “Travis?” She waited, didn’t hear anything. “Travis!”

  “What?” She still couldn’t see him, but he wasn’t far off.

  “Oh, um, nothing, I just thought something was rustling the leaves, but I guess I was wrong.” Now she felt really stupid. She’d die of embarrassment if he knew what a total coward she was.

  “It was probably just me.”

  A moment later he reappeared, and she quietly sighed with relief. She was not cut out for this outdoorsy stuff. As a child, during the cane harvest she’d lived in rural areas, but she’d always preferred the city. Concrete and traffic noise were far more comforting to her than trees and crickets.

  She would never get to sleep.

  “Is it okay if I share that tarp with you?” he asked politely.

  It struck her as funny that he was so concerned with her sensibilities. She shrugged. “Sure.”

  “You won’t come after me, will you?”

  “With what? My fingernails?”

  “You could club me with a log.”

  “Then who would protect me from the coyotes? No, I’m resigned to my fate. I figure if you were going to do anything hideous to me, you’d have done it by now.”

  He sat down cross-legged on the tarp next to her. His body radiated its own heat, which she welcomed.

  “You can go to sleep if you want,” he said. “I’ll stay awake and watch for coyotes.”

  “I’m not really sleepy. What time is it? Without a phone, I’m clueless.”

  “I don’t know. I left my phone in the car so you wouldn’t be tempted.”

  “We wouldn’t get a signal out here anyway.” She yawned. “It’s probably earlier than it seems.”

  “When I was a kid, I learned how to tell the time by the stars.”

  “Were you a Boy Scout?”

  “No, but Eric and I went camping sometimes. Eric had a book about the stars. He learned how to do it and taught me.”

  “You actually like the whole sleeping-under-the-stars thing?”

  “Yeah. It was fun. Hiking, hot dogs, s’mores. What’s not to like?”

  “What’s a s’more?”

  “Oh, my God, you’ve never had a s’more? That’s un-American.”

  “I’m from Cuba—sue me.”

  “You toast a marshmallow over an open fire until it’s brown and crusty. Then you take a graham cracker, and you put a chocolate bar on it, and you squish the toasted marshmallow between the chocolate and a second graham cracker. And the chocolate melts and everything is all warm and gooey....”

  Her mouth watered. “This is a traditional camping food?”

  “Absolutely. You should try it sometime.”

  “I will. Next time I plan a camping trip. Which will be when they start making ice cubes in hell.”

  “Can’t have that. You haven’t lived until you’ve tried a s’more.”

  “Why is it called a s’more?”

  He grinned. “I’ve never actually had to explain this to an adult before. Because after you eat one, you always want s’more.”

  She stared at him blankly.

  “Some more?”

  “Ohhhh. I’m not really stupid—it’s just that sometimes the cultural references escape me.”

  “In a pinch, you can toast the marshmallow over the flame on a gas stove. I’ll make one for you once we’re back to civil—” He caught himself then looked supremely guilty. Of course he wouldn’t make a s’more for her. He’d be in jail. They would never see each other again.

  The realization made her eyes burn. Or maybe that was just the wood smoke.

  It sounded as if Travis had lived a good life, for the most part, despite a few bad breaks. It made her uncomfortable to think of him in prison, where they undoubtedly did not have s’mores. She had heard that American prisons were like luxury resorts compared to Cuban prisons, but, still, nobody wanted to go there.

  She kept her thoughts to herself. It was embarrassing enough to have such feelings for the man who’d grabbed her off the street and held her hostage. He didn’t need to know.

  Elena yawned again. Her back hurt from sitting unsupported for so long. She curled up inside the sleeping bag, resting her head on her folded arm and trying not to take up more than her half of the tarp.

  “Oh, here. You can stretch out if you want—”

  “No, no, really, I’m good. I always sleep curled up in a ball like this.” Actually, she was more of a sprawler. She hadn’t shared a bed since childhood, and at Daniel’s she had her own queen-size pillow-top bed. She always went to sleep on “her side,” and then migrated during the night, because in the morning she might find herself in the middle or diagonal or with her head at the foot and pillows strewn all over the place. But since she didn’t plan on going to sleep, she didn’t have to worry.

  “So you didn’t go camping when you were a kid,” Travis said. “What did you do?”

  “I did what poor kids do. Played in the street.” Normally she didn’t talk about this stuff, and she was amazed she’d let her guard down enough to tell him anything about her childhood. Most people looked at her, at her wardrobe and job, and assumed she’d grown up rich.

  She wasn’t sure what it was about Travis that made her drop her guard. Maybe it was his own candor with her. He seemed so alone in the world. She felt this ridiculous urge to share something of herself with him, to show him trust he didn’t deserve.
>
  “How did you end up working for a billionaire? Seems like a pretty big jump from street kid to...whatever it is you do for him. Gate guard?”

  She laughed. “No, I’m not normally the gate guard. I was just filling in while the regular guy was at lunch. I’m Daniel’s personal assistant. I keep his schedule, take phone calls, handle travel arrangements, do all those normal but annoying things that most people do for themselves, so that he can get on with the business of running his companies.”

  “How did you get that job?”

  “I was working at Logan Oil before. That’s how he knew me. When his previous assistant transferred to Project Justice, he asked me if I wanted the job. I jumped at the chance. Doubled my salary overnight, and I got to live on the estate. It’s a hard job—the hours can be long and Daniel is demanding and he doesn’t tolerate many mistakes. But I like it...sort of.”

  “Why only sort of?”

  “It’s not something I want to do the rest of my life. At some point, I want to...what’s the expression? Do my own thing. Make my own mark in the world. Still, Daniel’s a good boss. I mean, he’s not my best friend, but I respect him.”

  “He’s going to grind me into dust when this is through. There may not be enough left of me to put in jail.”

  “He’ll calm down once I’m back.” At least she hoped he would. Daniel did not let people cross him without consequences.

  “It doesn’t matter. As long as he looks into Eric’s case. That’s all I care about.”

  “You know, if you’d asked me, I’d have helped you with the application. That would have been a whole lot easier than kidnapping me. In fact, I was about to offer to help when you grabbed me and threw me in your truck.”

  “Huh.”

  “Huh? That’s it?”

  “Assuming I believe you, it wouldn’t be the first time I showed bad judgment. But why would you have helped me? I was a complete stranger to you.”

  “Your story got to me,” she admitted. “Normally my job would have been to get rid of you. Daniel has no patience for people who show up without an appointment. But I could tell you were sincere, that you really did want to help your brother. That was why I talked to Daniel. That was why I came out there in person to talk to you. It seemed way too cold to tell you on the phone that Daniel couldn’t see you.”