by Hope White
“Smart girl,” he whispered.
Most of her clothes, except for her jeans, were dry thanks to the jacket. She could remove her jeans to dry out when she regained consciousness. He wouldn’t do anything that would make her feel uncomfortable.
He adjusted her on the bed, covered her with a wool blanket and pulled the bed closer to the fire.
Rushing into the kitchen area, he grabbed more first-aid supplies from the cabinet. Her groan echoed across the small cabin. Cracking an ice pack a few times to release the chemicals, he grabbed a kitchen chair and slid it close to her.
“Let’s get a better look.” He analyzed the lacerations on her face, retrieved an antiseptic wipe from the first-aid kit, and pressed it against the scrapes scarring her adorable face.
Adorable, Will? Really?
Shaking off the thought, he cleansed the debris from her head wound, and then placed a bandage over the cut. He pressed the ice pack against a lump on her head that was sure to swell and probably leave her with at least one black eye, if not two.
“Uh,” she groaned.
“I’m sorry, but this will reduce the inflammation.”
She pinched her eyes shut as if in extreme pain, which indicated a concussion.
“Where else are you hurt?” he said.
She didn’t answer. He noticed she gripped her left wrist against her stomach.
“Your wrist?” he said. “May I see it?”
She buried it deeper into her stomach. Yeah, it was injured, all right. Her reaction was similar to Marissa’s when she’d broken her wrist after falling off her bike last spring.
The mystery woman wasn’t making this easy, but he wouldn’t force the issue. He suspected that dehydration intensified her confusion and fear, and he wouldn’t risk making it worse.
He grabbed a water bottle out of his pack. “You need to hydrate.”
Supporting her with his arm, he sat her up and offered the water. Slowly, her eyes blinked open.
“You really need to drink something,” he encouraged.
She pursed her lips, and her blue eyes clouded with fear. Ah, she thought he’d put something in the water.
“It’s filtered water, see?” He took a swig, and made sure to swallow so she could see him. “Delicious.”
He sounded as though he was trying to convince five-year-old Marissa to eat her broccoli.
The woman nodded and he held the bottle to her lips. He tipped it and she sipped, but coughed. He pulled her against his chest and gently patted her back. How long had it been since he’d comforted a woman like this? Lord knew Megan wouldn’t accept his comfort during the last months of her life.
The mystery woman leaned into Will and he held his breath. Maybe she’d decided to trust him?
“What’s your name?” he said.
She pushed away from him.
He put up his hands. “I’m sorry.”
Clutching her wrist to her stomach, her blue-gray eyes widened, her lower lip quivering.
“At least let me wrap your wrist?” he said.
She glared.
“The longer we wait, the more it will swell. I’ll wrap it, then ice it to reduce the inflammation. It might hurt less once it’s iced.”
She didn’t shake her head, so he thought she might be open to the idea. He pulled an elastic bandage out of his first-aid kit and extended his hand. “May I?”
She tentatively placed her wrist in his palm. It didn’t look broken, but they wouldn’t know for sure until she had it X-rayed.
“Did this happen when you fell in the creek?” he asked.
She nodded affirmative.
“It’s probably a sprain.” He slid his palm out from under her wrist. “I need you to hold this steady between your thumb and forefinger,” he said, placing the bandage just right.
He wrapped the bandage down to her wrist and back up between her thumb and forefinger, noting how petite her fingers were.
“They’ll obviously do this better at the hospital,” he said, guiding the bandage to circle her wrist a few times. He secured it with a plastic clip. “I’ve got some pain reliever.”
He dug in his backpack and found ibuprofen. When he turned to her, she’d scooted away from him again, her eyes flaring at the sight of the bottle.
“What do I need to do to convince you I’m a friend, not an enemy?”
“Give me my gun.”
“I’d rather not.”
She clenched her jaw.
“You’re dehydrated and not thinking clearly,” he explained. “The gun could go off by accident.”
She pulled her knees to her chest, her hands trembling.
He grabbed an extra blanket off the foot of the bed and shook it open. He started to drape it across her shoulders, but noticed she’d gone white. He hesitated. Yet he had to get her warm somehow.
Gently draping the blanket around her, he pulled it closed in front.
“Hold it together,” he said, as softly as possible.
She reached up with her right hand and their fingers touched.
She burst into a more violent round of shivers.
It tore Will apart that she was having this kind of reaction to him. Maybe it was a physical reaction to near hypothermia.
“We need to warm you up. Let me try something.” He rubbed her arms through the thick blanket.
He thought he was being gentle, but after a minute she pinched her eyes shut as if suffering severe pain. He snapped his hands from her body and stood abruptly.
“You can’t get warm with those wet jeans soaking your skin. You can take them off, and wrap this around your waist.” He pulled his spare blanket out of his pack and laid it on the bed. “And ice the wrist. I’ll go try to get the phone working.”
He shifted his backpack onto his shoulders and turned to leave.
“Wait,” she said.
He hesitated, hopeful.
“My gun?”
His heart sank. He pulled the weapon out of his jacket pocket and slid it onto the kitchen table.
“I’ll be outside if you need me.” Will shut the door and strode away from the cabin, kicking himself for his last remark. Of course she wouldn’t need him. She thought Will the enemy, a man out to kill her.
“She’s dehydrated,” he muttered. “And confused.”
Which made him a complete idiot for leaving her alone with the gun. Although he’d removed the clip, there was still one bullet in the chamber.
Talk about not thinking straight—he’d been thrown off-kilter since he’d found her. What else would explain his behavior? She’d practically broken his nose, yet he still wanted to help her. She’d tied him to a tree, and he’d cut his own skin to free himself so he could save her life.
He glanced at his wrist. He should have bandaged it while he was in the cabin, but had completely forgotten about his own wounds, and he’d left the first-aid kit behind. The cuts weren’t that bad. A good thing since the woman would probably lock him out of the cabin.
The woman. He still didn’t know her name.
He took the phone out of his pocket and removed the battery. Trying to power it up while wet could cause more problems, so he’d try to dry it out. He sat on a rock and dug into his pack for the small can of compressed air. His friends often teased him about the random things he carried in his pack, but after Marissa had dropped his phone into the town’s water fountain, he knew anything could happen where his girls were concerned, and he had to be ready.
Glancing at the cabin, he realized he hadn’t been ready for today’s events. He hadn’t been prepared to stumble upon a wounded, vulnerable woman in the mountains, nor had he been prepared to have to fight so hard to help her.
He aimed the compressed air nozzle at his phone a
nd squeezed. As it blew away the moisture, he considered that maybe he should accept the fact he would never win this woman over. Perhaps he should cut his losses and head back to town, leaving her to her own devices until SAR could make the save.
He stilled, removing his finger from the compressed air button. No, he was not his father. He did not abandon those who needed him. Wasn’t that exactly why he’d gotten involved in Echo Mountain SAR?
A crack of thunder drew his attention to the sky. Clouds rolled in quickly from the south. Not good.
Although the compressed air might have helped, he knew he’d have to wait a few hours before reinserting the battery and trying it out. He pocketed the phone and battery, and headed back to the cabin.
He hoped she wouldn’t shoot him on sight.
* * *
As soon as he left, Sara grabbed the gun and sneaked out of the cabin. Maybe not the smartest move, but then staying with this man, this very manipulative man, could prove much worse.
She was actually starting to believe him.
As she trudged up a trail, clutching a wool blanket around her shoulders, she realized how close she’d come to dying back there at the hands of her captor.
Dying because he was so good at his job.
He’d nearly convinced her of his sincerity as he’d gently tended her wounds and warmed her body with his strong hands. And to think, when their fingers touched, she’d felt a sense of calm she’d never felt with another man.
Dehydration. A concussion. General insanity. Check on all of the above. LaRouche and Harrington must have paid big bucks to send such a master manipulator out here to find her.
At least she still had her gun. She pulled it out of her pocket, only then realizing the clip was missing. “Great.”
Her head ached, her ribs ached and now her wrist was throbbing thanks to breaking her fall when she went facedown in the creek.
The creek. Will the assassin had saved her life after pulling her from the water. He hadn’t had to do that, had he?
She focused on the rugged trail ahead to avoid any missteps. There’d be no one to catch her this time.
A flash of Will’s green eyes assessing her injury as he’d held her upright taunted her. A part of her wished he’d truly been the man he’d claimed to be: a single dad on a hiking trip to commune with God.
But then, Sara wasn’t a fool. She knew how that relationship worked—people prayed and God ignored them.
She stuck her gun back into the waistband of her wet jeans. At least she had one bullet left in the chamber.
A deep roar echoed through the woods. She froze.
Another roar rattled the trees.
She snapped her gaze to the right...
And spotted a black bear headed her way.
Everything in her body shut down—her mind, her legs, even her lungs. She couldn’t breathe. Frozen in place, she stared at the beast as it lumbered toward her.
Closer.
Don’t stand here, idiot. Run!
Could she outrun a bear? Were you even supposed to try? She struggled to remember what she’d learned about bears, but her brain had completely shut down. One thing she did know was that she couldn’t defend herself if he decided she’d make a good appetizer.
“Don’t run or he’ll attack,” a deep male voice said from behind her.
Will.
“Wh-wh-what are you...doing here?” she whispered, unable to take her eyes off the bear.
“Listen to me carefully. Do not look into the bear’s eyes. Okay?”
She nodded and redirected her attention to the ground.
“Now back away slowly. Toward the sound of my voice.”
She hesitated.
“It’s okay. Slow movements shouldn’t spook her,” he said.
Sara followed his directions and backed up, but the bear kept coming. Will stepped in front of her.
The bear roared, aggravating her headache.
“What does she want?” she said.
“Probably the same thing you want. To be left alone. Maybe she’s got cubs nearby.”
“I have the gun.”
“That’ll only make her angry. Back up slowly.”
She took a step back, then another.
“That’s it,” he said.
As she and Will tried to distance themselves, the bear slowly followed.
“This isn’t working,” Sara said, panic gripping her chest.
“Easy now. Don’t make eye contact. You’re doing great.”
Sara continued to step back. “What if she charges us?”
“We make ourselves big and threatening. I have a feeling you’ll do great.”
Was he teasing her? As they were both about to be torn apart by a bear?
They kept backing away and Sara was stunned when the bear hesitated.
“That’s right, we’re boring hikers, mama bear,” he said in a hushed voice.
That smooth, sweet voice he’d used on Sara.
They backed away until they were out of sight. Will turned and gripped her arm. “Let’s move.”
“You think she’ll follow us?”
“Doubtful, but we’re safer in the cabin. What were you thinking, taking off with nothing but a blanket?”
“I was... That you were—”
“Enough. I don’t want to hear any more about how I’m going to kill you. The dehydration is messing with your head.” He stopped and looked deeply into her eyes. “If I wanted you dead, I would have let Smokey eat you for dinner, right?”
True. An assassin wouldn’t have risked his own life to save a mark from a bear, only to kill her later. In LaRouche’s and Harrington’s minds, a dead witness was the best witness, yet Will have saved her twice.
Which meant she’d been abusing this innocent man, Good Samaritan.
Single father.
She sighed as they kept walking.
“Thanks,” she said. “For the bear thing.”
“You’re welcome. I don’t suppose that warrants me knowing your name?”
“Sara.”
“Nice to meet you, Sara. I’d rather you not run off again and get eaten by wild animals on my watch.”
“No promises,” she half joked.
“Ah, you like pushing back for the fun of it,” he teased.
But he’d nailed it. Sara was always pushing, although, not necessarily for fun.
“Why do you think someone wants to harm you?” he asked.
“I witnessed a crime.”
They turned a corner and he stopped short.
“What?” She looked around him.
A man was coming out of the cabin.
“Do you recognize him?” she said.
“No.” He motioned to a nearby tree. “Hide back there. I’ll check it out.”
“It could be dangerous.”
“Or simply a hiker lost in the mountains. Kinda like you.” Will smiled and nodded toward the tree. “Go on.”
“Maybe you should take this.” She offered him the gun.
An odd smile creased his lips. “Thanks, but you keep it.”
She nodded and watched him walk away, shielding herself behind the tree. From this vantage point she could watch the scene unfold, not that she had a great escape plan. Hiking back up the trail meant crossing paths with the bear, but sticking around meant being interrogated by the real assassin, if that’s who the stranger was.
If it was the man hired by LaRouche and Harrington, that meant Will, a single father of two girls, was walking into trouble.
For Sara.
“No,” she whispered, and peered around the tree, wanting to go to him, to tell him not to take the chance.
A gunshot echoed acr
oss the property.
And Will dropped to the ground.
THREE
Will hit the dirt, thinking Sara had come after him and took her best shot. But that didn’t make sense. She was smart enough to know it was safer where he’d left her, camouflaged by the trees.
Sara might be confused, but she wasn’t foolish.
He struggled to slow the adrenaline rush flooding his body.
“Hey, sorry about that,” a man’s voice said.
Will eyed a man’s hiking boots as he approached.
“I saw a mountain lion and wanted to scare him off.”
Will stood and brushed himself off, irritated both by the hiker’s decision to discharge a firearm and by his own reaction to the gunshot. It was a defense response developed from growing up in a house with a volatile, and sometimes mean, drunk.
“I’m B. J. Masters.” B.J. extended his gloved hand and Will shook it.
“Will Rankin.”
B.J. was in his late thirties, wearing a top-quality jacket and expensive hiking boots. He didn’t seem like an amateur hiker, nor did he seem like the type to be hunting a helpless woman.
“Whoa, what happened?” B.J. motioned to Will’s face.
Bruising must have formed from Sara nailing him with the gun.
“Embarrassing hiking moment,” Will said. “Would rather not go into the details. I noticed you were in my cabin.”
“Yeah, sorry about that,” B.J. said, glancing at the ground. “I thought maybe it was abandoned, but once I went inside I saw your things and the fire going. Didn’t mean to trespass.”
“No problem. You on a day hike or...?”
“Yeah, I’m scouting places to hold a retreat for guys at work. I’m with Zippster Technologies out of Seattle.” He handed Will a business card. “I was surprised to see a cabin in this part of the park.”
“A well-kept secret. Where are you headed today?”
“Squawk Point.”
“That’s a nice area,” Will said.
He eyed Will’s cabin. “You rent the cabin through the park website?”
“I do.”
“I wonder how many guys could fit in there?”
“Probably eight to ten,” Will said. “After that it might get a little crowded.”