by Ronie Kendig
He let out a weighted breath. The bird had upended his defenses. Had anyone else been here, they could’ve taken him without much of a fight. Holding the door, he stretched around the building and waved to Roark.
He started when she stepped from the woods, parallel to his location, not where he’d left her. She’d been moving into position, moving closer. And fast. Nice not to have to act like a drill sergeant. She knew what needed to be done and did it. Roark swept around him into the shanty.
As he let the door close, his gaze surfed the surrounding debris. “Find something to barricade the door.”
Together, they carried a broken table and propped it against the door. Canyon rigged a rope around a counterbalance, effectively anchoring the door shut. “It’s not much, but with the clouds coming, we should be safe. Soon as it lets up, we need to move out and find a town.”
Roark turned toward him—light beams seemed to tease her hair and face as she moved. “Is that smart?”
“It’s vital. We have to clear out before we’re found.”
“Then why stop here?”
The ground shook. A rumble snaked through the air.
He raised his eyebrows. The skies had answered for him.
“More rain.” She let out a long sigh.
“It’s your fault.”
She whirled on him, eyes wide. “What?”
Canyon shrugged. “You said it was rainy season.”
Lips parted, she stared but said nothing. No doubt trying to discern whether he was teasing or serious.
He kept the smile and laugh to himself.
“Then the river was your fault.”
“How do you figure?”
Hands planted on her hips, she stood firm. “You said we were safe. Then the tree hit the Hummer and knocked us into the river.”
Though he tried to stop the smile, it snaked into his lips. When she returned with a smile, it warmed him. Deep, deep inside. And angered him. He shoved it aside and refocused. “Grab some rack time. I’ll keep watch.”
“Sleep? I can’t sleep”—she raised her hands—“in the middle of all this.”
Wanna bet? She’d tripped twice and fallen once in the last half hour. He’d wager Roark would sleep within minutes of lying down. “You’re dead on your feet.” When her mouth opened, he shook his head. “Don’t argue. Get some rest while we can.” He pointed to the back corner. “It’s dry over there.”
Roark surveyed the shack. “Considering your track record, I’ll try the opposite side.”
Again, he grinned. Boards creaked and groaned as she settled into a corner. Curled on her side, she tucked her hand under her head. Canyon jerked a three-legged chair toward the wall where the leaning boards gave him an inch of space to watch for trouble. If he straddled the chair and used the wall for support, he could make it work. Seated, he crossed his arms over his chest and rested his head against the wood.
The dull throb of exhaustion pounded through his legs and arms. He yawned. Falling asleep wasn’t a worry. His senses were on high alert. This territory hauled out the demons of his past. The jungle so familiar yet unfamiliar. The smells similar yet strange.
I will keep my mind and body clean, alert, and strong, for this is my debt to those who depend upon me.
The words from the Special Forces creed echoed in his mind. He owed a great debt … to her. As the thoughts assailed him, the heavens opened up their bounty again, dumping more rain. Drops sailed through gaps and some streamed down from cracks, slicking the walls. The storm washed away the cobwebs in his mind, that tragic night alive and fresh.
She had mumbled something about her mother, then raced off. He was too busy fighting his own panic as he screamed into the coms to call off the attack. The coordinates were wrong. Had to have been.
Canyon pinched the bridge of his nose. Shut it out. Shut it out. Couldn’t go there now or he’d lose focus. And he would keep his mind and body clean, alert, and strong. For Roark. For Range. To bring Roark home to Range.
Something inside him twisted and knotted. He wanted to curse. Their names even sounded alike. Well, enough. Maybe they belonged together.
As darkness and rain dragged them into the night, he noticed a dull halo hovering over the valley below. He strained to decipher what gave off the glow. Lights?
That much illumination meant considerable light—electricity. The thin golden strand stretching across the blackened and wet landscape meant there was a town at least a day’s journey. Hours of walking. Could Roark make it?
She would. Because that’s the type of woman she was—rock solid. When he’d assessed her shoulder at the river, he couldn’t believe how mangled it was. After he reset it, she hollered—he’d done a lot worse when he had his reset after games with his brothers—but she worked through it. Even now, hours later, she made no complaint. He doubted she ever attempted anything without finishing it. They had that in common. His mom called him obsessed. His dad called it focused.
Maybe that’s why it’d been so hard to let go of Roark: obsession. That’s what it felt like, her beauty—inside and out—digging into his gray matter with a death grip.
He thrust his head back against the wood. Pain darted down his neck. Good. Maybe he’d remember that the next time he got stupid. Even if Range hadn’t set his heart on her, Canyon was too screwed up to deserve a woman like her. SOG in hand, he drew the blade along his pants and allowed the splinter of moonlight to skid off the steel. Cut her loose.
Elbows propped on his knees, he hung his head. God … I’ve tried … tried to do right so many times and it backfires. But this … Roark … Help me …
He couldn’t finish the prayer. It was wrong to pray and ask for help. Wrong because he didn’t want help. He wanted Roark.
Flipping the blade closed, he let his gaze wander to the side, over the rain-slicked boards, past the crate with a can on it, beyond it to the corner … to Roark. Chin on his shoulder, he watched her sleep and slid the knife back into his pocket, hooking the clip on his material. Shadows and darkness shrouded her face, but he could make out the contours of her body. Enough for his vivid imagination to spring to life.
Canyon fisted a hand against his lips. Curse it all!
He’d screwed up once. Divided the family. He couldn’t—would not—do it again. That mistake had pushed him into the Army. Not enough pain of punishment, so he went into the Green Berets. Which led to Tres Kruces. And destroyed everything important in his life, including … Chesa.
The massacre walled off his heart.
Even if Roark gave herself to him, it wouldn’t be fair. He could never provide what she needed and deserved. Because as much as he wanted her, he could never again commit.
The revelation coiled around his mind, drowning his ill-placed longing for the woman sleeping just a few feet away. Implicitly trusting him to protect her.
Just like Chesa.
Canyon stomped to his feet. The chair clattered against the floor.
He cringed, hoping he hadn’t woken her, but he couldn’t look. Why was it easier to live with and train a hundred non-English-speaking villagers than to deliver one woman to safety? What if everyone ended up dead again?
Canyon pinched the bridge of his nose. What time was it—could he take more? He shrugged. Two more wouldn’t hurt. He dumped two tablets into his mouth and swallowed.
“You okay?” Doused in sleep, her soft sultry voice reached through the night and clenched his heart.
Snap!
Yanking the SOG out, Canyon spun toward the north wall.
DAY TWO
Near Mindanao, Philippines
13:34:30
What is wrong with me, Mama?”
Wiping the tears from her face, I tried to calm my daughter. “It is normal—”
She buried her face in my chest. “It is not! Mary already carries Maut’s baby, and he took her only two months past. Bayani took me four months ago. Why does his child not grow in me?”
“Be at peace, Chesa
. When it is right, it will happen.”
“But I heard him talking—orders came for them to prepare to leave.” She cried harder and louder. “He is going to leave me and with no child. What will I do? No man will have me after I have been taken by an outsider.”
I gripped her face in my hands. “He is leaving? When did you hear this?”
“Last night. He said the order came. Bayani was very angry.” Her dark eyes darted over my face, as if searching for me to tell her this was all not true. “If he was angry, it means he has to leave. You know those orders must be obeyed just as everyone does what Father tells us to do.”
On my feet, I grabbed her hand. “Come, we must talk to the chief.”
CHAPTER 18
5 May
Rigid and poised to take on an intruder, Canyon faced the door.
With stealth, Dani pulled herself upright just as the glint of a blade flashed in his hand. Images of him taking down that guerilla in the jungle told her she was in very capable hands. But it didn’t ease her mind. Watching him fight … it wasn’t as comforting as Hollywood might portray. Brutal, sickening. The blood. But the other side of her knew his actions were vital to staying alive.
He’d heard something. His dark form deftly moved to the right side of the door. He turned. Back against the wall, he craned his neck to the side as if pressing his ear to the wood.
Easing onto her feet, prepared to fight the way the Army had taught her, she hoped her fear wouldn’t slow her. Training in explosives demanded steeled responses to high stress. She’d mastered that. Until now. Seeing Canyon place himself in harm’s way sent waves of nausea crashing through her stomach. He was her only hope. Hands knitted and squeezed, she waited.
Creak! Flop!
A furry thing scampered in through a small broken board in the opposite corner. The board flapped behind the animal.
Canyon huffed out a breath.
Dani laughed.
He ran a hand over the back of his neck. “Ready for breakfast?”
Breakfast? What? Oh. “No!” Dani whispered. “You can’t—”
With a chuckle, he shook his head.
Stretching her back plied a yawn from her lungs. “How long was I asleep? Hey.” She tilted her head to the side. “It’s not raining!”
“You slept nearly four hours. The rain stopped just a few minutes ago.”
Dani stilled. “Four? Seriously?” It’d felt like a blink. Well, at least until she awoke and spotted Canyon watching her. It’d warmed her through the damp clothes. Then he’d snapped to his feet. At first, she thought he’d heard something, but the way he stood there as if facing off against some unknown assailant. What had agitated him?
“Ready?”
Trying not to alarm the animal, she quietly crossed the room. “What’s the plan?”
Canyon pointed through a broken slat. “See it?”
Straining to see around him yielded only darkness. She shook her head, but then— “The light.”
The lure of his grin felt like the tidal pull of a full moon. To say he was handsome was an understatement. The way his brows almost hid those pale blue eyes … the way his lips seemed permanently parked in that cocky smirk …
She just wanted everything to be okay. “I’m sorry I got mad earlier.”
“No worries. You were tired.”
Silence held them in its vacuum. Couldn’t he see there was something between them? Must he always wedge emotional distance between them?
Canyon blinked. Looked away.
Apparently he must.
“It’ll take a day or a day and half to reach that town,” he said.
A soft, tender moment slammed shut every time. Why did he always do that? Why wouldn’t he explore the chemistry between them?
Because nobody wanted a used-up woman.
Range hadn’t cared what Bruzon did to her. Was that the real reason why Canyon kept his distance? Was his rejection because she’d been raped? Was he that puritanical?
No, that couldn’t be true. He’d been a hero in every sense of the word since they’d met. So, what kept him so far out of reach? “Why do—?”
Crack! The sound resonated through the night.
Canyon stilled.
Dani froze, listening.
Tat-tat-tat. Tat-tat-tat.
Canyon grabbed her hand, kicked aside the blockade, and jerked her out of the hut. The seconds between hut and trees felt like minutes of naked exposure. He sprinted into the trees and burrowed deep into the dark, balmy jungle. Her foot slipped as he tugged her along but she quickly caught her balance and continued on. Dodging limbs and trunks. She bit down hard when her shoulder rammed a tree. But she kept moving.
Part of her still hated the way Canyon moved, as if born nocturnal, not affected by the darkness, the vine-entrenched forest, or the snaking roots that acted more like gotcha trunks. It was like he belonged to the jungle.
Strands of hair dangled in her face. Taunting, itching, irritating. She batted them back. Wiggling her hair into submission, she pushed on.
As they plunged through the trees and over the forest litter, her legs grew leaden. Die-hard determination dug into her. Canyon liked her strong, so strong she would be. Besides, Canyon hadn’t slept and he continued with agility and skill. She wouldn’t whine about aching legs even if they were falling off.
Light shoved away the night, but the overcast day hung gloomy and depressing. After what felt like hours, Canyon slowed and led her up around a cluster of rocks. “Take a break.” He pointed to a smooth spot.
Dani dropped on the rock and hung her head, gulping air through a parched throat. Hard to swallow with a dry mouth. Even as they rested up, the staccato heartbeat of weapons’ fire poked the thick air.
“They’re … closer,” she said through pants.
“Don’t talk.” He shook his head, face dripping. Sweat rings darkened the black shirt around his throat. Jaw muscle dancing, he breathed through flared nostrils. “Save your strength.”
Read: no idea how long they’d be out here.
Great. Dani nodded.
“Let’s go.”
With a huff of frustration and irritation, Dani pushed to her feet.
Heat wound through the jungle and wrapped her in sweat. They roved over one hill after another. After a while, the hills and trees all looked the same. Were they running aimlessly? Of course they wanted to put as much distance between them and the guns. But did Canyon know where he was going? Or was his goal just “far away”?
Only when she dragged her feet over a large root system did she realize they’d slowed. She shook off the haze that gobbled her focus and tried to pay attention to their surroundings. Should’ve been doing that from the beginning. Yeah, the whole tat-tat chasing them kinda messed up that plan.
Splat.
But what if something happened to Canyon? She’d never find her way out of here. Okay, bad thought. But realistic. Everything bad was plausible right now. Wild animals. Guerillas. A local farmer who thought they’d steal his crops. Gypsies—did they even have them here?
Splat-splat.
She should—splat! The drop nailed her in the eye. Dani looked up. Rain peppered her face. “Oh come on.” They’d run for God only knows how long through rain. Then hiked the last several hours in the blistering heat of the jungle. Now … more rain? “Give us a break, okay?”
“Who are you talking to?”
She looked at Canyon. “Anyone who’ll listen. Ants. Critters. God.”
“I think only one of them can really help.” He flashed that cockeyed smirk that always undid her pulse. “Come here.” His amusement drew her across the five feet that separated them.
When she stood beside him, Canyon angled her to the side, her back to his chest. His breath skidded along her cheek as he leaned closer and pointed through a cluster of trunks. “See it?”
Am I really supposed to notice anything except Tarzan next to me? She glared at him.
Using two fingers agains
t her chin, he guided her attention out through the darkness. “See?”
She shook her head. “No …” A white blip on the canvass of green snagged her attention. She sucked in a breath and peeked at him over her shoulder. “A church?”
He grinned. “Probably another three- or four-hour hike.”
She shifted around to face him. “But … a town!” Hope ripped open the gray clouds that had gathered over her heart. “They’ll have food.” Her stomach rumbled loud and unfeminine-like.
Canyon started hiking again. “A phone is more important.”
She scampered after him, eyeing a large root that she stepped over. “Then food?”
He chuckled. “Then food.”
Had she sprouted wings, they would not have carried them as swiftly as her racing heart over the next several hours as the facade of the church grew larger. White, gloriously white. Which meant someone tended it and kept it as a beacon of hope for the weary of body and soul. For a while, it blinked out of sight and took her hope with it, until they crested a hill.
Tugging her down, Canyon dropped to the grass.
Before them, a lavish landscape spread out. Okay, so maybe not lavish. The buildings were old, the fences in disrepair, but they’d made it! A town. A full town. Buildings. Homes. Farms with budding fields. Children playing in the street near the church and what could very well be a school.
The children … What if the guerillas found Dani and Canyon here? Their presence could bring a lot of trouble upon this quiet community. Or would the people here capture them and turn them over? Her stomach squeezed. Maybe they should find another way.
“Wires,” Canyon whispered.
Dani traced the length of black running between poles at the far edge of the village where the wires passed the church and dropped out of sight. Electricity. Perhaps phones.
“Let’s wait till nightfall.” He glanced at the setting sun. It’d be an hour or less before they could scamper across the open. With a motion of his hand, he directed her back down the knoll and into the trees. They hovered a dozen feet back.