by Liliana Hart
“What’s wrong?” he said, stopping to look at her closely. “You weren’t limping before.”
“Blisters,” she said automatically, not caring anymore since they’d made it to their destination.
“Dammit, woman,” he said, coming toward her. He looked like a madman, coming at her with machete in hand and a vicious scowl on his face. “Why didn’t you tell me you were hurt? That’s all we need is to be in a situation where we have to make a run for it and you can’t take two steps.”
She felt her temper bubble to the surface. “What difference would it have made? Would you have carried me the rest of the way? If not, then there’s nothing you could’ve done about it. We still have to go to the same stupid place, whether I’ve got blisters on my feet or not.”
“Take your shoes off,” he demanded. “We don’t have time to stop and doctor them, but you can at least give them some relief. We’ve got about another mile to go, but the sun is going down. It’s going to get dark here first because we’re canopied by the trees. Damn stubborn woman,” he muttered under his breath.
“I heard that,” she said, narrowing her eyes.
“I meant for you to,” he shot back.
“The ground is too rough to take off my shoes. I’ll tear up the bottoms of my feet,” she said. “And what do you mean we have another mile? We can hear the falls. It’s deafening. I thought we were here.”
“It’s going to get a lot louder,” he said. “And you should be fine to walk. The closer we get to the falls, the smoother the rocks are becoming.”
The thought of another mile was just depressing, but she sat down and undid the laces of her boots, stifling a sob as she tried to pull the first one off. She didn’t quite manage to stifle it when she pulled the second boot off. Her white socks were stained with blood.
“Oh, baby,” Elias said, kneeling down in front of her and gently taking a foot in his hand. “I’ve got a first-aid kit in my bag.” He stood and then held out his hand to help her to her feet. “Take your pack off your back and put it on your front,” he told her.
“What?” she asked, confused.
He was already pulling the pack off and shoving her arms through the holes so it rested over her chest. He reached down and grabbed her boots, tying the laces together and then attaching them to her pack, and then with a heroic amount of strength, he put his arms beneath her knees and her back and he picked her up, carrying her like a baby.
She put her arms around his neck automatically, afraid he might drop her, but he didn’t even let out a groan as he shifted her weight in his arms.
“You’re out of your mind,” she said. “You can’t possibly carry me a mile in the rain, plus both of our packs. You’ll kill yourself.”
“I’ve carried a man twice your size and both of our gear through the desert. This is not such a big deal.”
And then he proved his words to be true as he carried her the rest of the way to the falls.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
She was in over her head. And it wasn’t like she could blame anyone but herself.
Her entire adult life had been spent observing those who experienced love. Writing it down on paper with a smugness and assuredness that she was above the butterflies in the stomach and the feelings of light-headed bliss.
But she wasn’t above it all. She’d had passion before. She’d had great sex and mutual admiration for her partners. But she’d never had the indescribable feeling of oneness like she had with Elias. There was so much more to the bond they shared than just the physical. She trusted him with her life—had trusted him with her life, and she respected him as a man, and admired him for having a core value system in him that would always do the right thing, even when it caused him hurt.
She loved him.
And it scared the hell out of her.
Because he mattered. And because he mattered, she knew it would break something inside of her when he left. He’d told her his future wasn’t like Deacon and Tess’s, where they had a chance to love. But even knowing that, she loved him anyway.
Rays of sun shot through the canopy of trees like spotlights, highlighting fallen logs or the exotic fuchsia flowers that bloomed with abandon. A howler monkey had found a sunny spot on a tree branch and was lazily soaking up the rays.
It was the glint of metal that caught her eye, and she strained to get a closer look, but the sunlight played tricks on the eye. There was a huge tree close to fifty yards away, thick with vines and overgrown with foliage, but it seemed as if part of the trunk was make of some kind of iron.
“That’s weird,” she said, “Do you see that?”
“I can’t see anything with the back of your head in front of my face.”
“Oh, sorry,” she said and relaxed back in his arms. “That tree over there. It looks like the trunk is made of metal.”
He stopped and stared for a few minutes. “No, it’s some kind of wreckage. A pretty old one, too. The tree has grown around it, so that’s why it looks like that.”
As soon as he said the word wreckage she knew. No one had to tell her that a simple piece of metal had belonged to her parents’ plane. She just knew in her gut it was true.
“Put me down,” she said, thumping his arm with her fist. “Put me down.”
“Miller,” he said, but she was already crawling out of his arms and on her feet. The pain of walking didn’t register as she moved closer to the tree, almost as if she was in a trance.
“It could be anything,” he said, coming up behind her.
“You know it’s not,” she said. Now that she was closer she could see the metal was part of the propeller, and then she started looking for more. “This is the direction Justin came. He said in his letter he found their plane. It would make sense that we come across it too.”
Her breath was coming too fast and tears clouded her eyes. She searched frantically for the rest of it, climbing over logs and pulling at vines to see what else the jungle had claimed over the past couple of decades. Her blistered feet sunk into damp earth as she swatted at ferns and tugged at the ropy vines.
She could see Elias out of the corner of her eye, helping her clear a path, but she couldn’t hear him because the blood was rushing too loudly in her ears. She swiped at a group of vines and they pulled back like a curtain. And there it was. Or what was left of it. A small, single engine Cessna with a blue strip down the side.
Miller sucked in a breath and took a step back. Tears blurred her vision and she shook her head in denial.
“I can’t,” she said, taking another step back. “I can’t look.”
“Oh, baby,” Elias said, but he didn’t touch her. If he’d touched her she would’ve broken completely. “I’ll do whatever you need. Just say the word.”
She realized what he was offering and she felt the sob rise up inside of her. She didn’t have the courage to look for their remains. But he would do it for her if she asked.
Miller turned to him, and he opened his arms, pulled her in as she sobbed twenty years of grief against his chest. She didn’t know how long she cried, but he picked her up off her feet and held her so she didn’t have to stand. And being held in his arms was the most comforting thing she’d ever experienced.
Exhaustion overwhelmed her and she collapsed against him.
“It’s going to be dark soon,” he said. “You know I’d sit here and hold you for days if I needed to, but we don’t want to be caught here in the dark. There are too many unknowns and too many predators looking for a meal.”
She nodded her head, but couldn’t seem to look him in the eyes. “I’m sorry about that,” she said. “I wasn’t expecting to relive it again.”
“Don’t ever apologize for your grief. You have a right to it. We all do. Expressing it is the only way to heal.” He kissed the top of her head and asked, “Do you want me to look around?”
“Yes,” she told him. “I’ll always wonder otherwise. It’s time to bury them once and for all.”
He nodded, and picked her up, setting her on a nearby log, and then he disappeared behind the veil of vines where the wreckage was located. She waited for him in a trance, staring fixedly on grooves of the fallen trunk she was sitting on and the trail of ants marching in the crevices. They hypnotized her, and she might have dozed for a moment or two.
He was standing right in front of her before she realized he’d come back.
“There’s nothing,” he said, taking her hand.
“I guess this really is their final resting place,” she said. “Let’s go before it gets dark.”
THEY REACHED THE summit of the falls an hour later.
“I’m not an invalid,” she told him. She was emotionally wrung dry, and her nerves were on edge, but when the clearing opened up all she could do was stare in awe.
It wasn’t at all what she’d been expecting. What she’d seen in her mind was a picturesque waterfall that would splash into a gathering pool at the bottom, where they could hopefully bathe without drowning. She imagined they’d set up their camp near the water and enjoy a peaceful night. She should’ve known better.
It was beautiful. And terrifying.
As Elias had carried her, the elevation had eventually leveled off and she noticed several creeks with rushing water heading in the opposite direction, instead of down the mountain like she’d assumed they should have been. And then she realized they climbed to a peak and all the water was gathering in a large pool of dark water. It wasn’t a relaxing pool, but one that seemed to pick up speed as the elevation dipped down toward the other side of the mountain. There were large rocks sticking out of the water, and the sound of the water crashing against the rocks before it roared down the falls was so loud she could barely hear Elias speak.
“Ohmigod,” she said, as he set her to her feet. She hobbled a little but was able to stand. Even the time he’d carried her had at least given her a small respite of relief. “I’m afraid to see what it looks like on the other side.”
She watched as Elias made his way around the large pool, climbing up on boulders so he could see over the cliff to where the waterfall fell. The rain had started to lighten, but there was still a fine mist that came down. He looked almost small, standing on the precipice of the unknown and looking down. And then she saw him shake his head and turn around and come back toward her.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“That’s at least a fifty-foot drop, maybe more, and unless your brother left any more clues up here, I’m not seeing any fallen pillars to landmark his last clue in the letter.”
“If he did leave us something, it’ll be impossible to see in the dark and rain, so we’ll have to start at first light.”
Elias nodded and helped her remove the pack from her front, also removing his own pack. “You need to get off your feet,” he told her. “I’m going to set up camp first, and then we’ll see about getting dry and your feet doctored.”
“It’s getting pretty dark,” she said. “Do you need help setting things up?”
“Nah, I can do it blindfolded. And faster just doing it myself. Get off your feet,” he repeated, and then went about setting up camp.
He found a good flat place in an area not far from the boulders he’d climbed to look over the falls. It was a muddy area, and she watched as he used the machete to cut several soft-looking fronds from what looked to be a fern of some sort, though it wasn’t like any fern she’d ever seen before.
He laid the fronds in a crosshatch pattern on the mud, and then he quickly and efficiently erected the tent that had been rolled up in his pack. And he’d done it with no more than the glow of the flashlight he’d propped on one of the rocks.
“It’s not too damp,” he said. “Go ahead and strip down and then we can put dry clothes on once inside.”
He came over and helped her to the tent. She was too tired to argue, and it wasn’t like there was anyone around to see, so she stripped out of her wet clothes as quickly as her lethargic limbs would let her. He did the same and just tossed their wet clothes in a pile, unable to do anything with them for the moment, and then he led her into the tent like a child.
He helped her pull on silk long underwear and she fell back onto the sleeping bag. The fronds beneath the tent were surprisingly comfortable, and she felt him rustling around as he put his own long underwear on and placed his gun within easy reach. Then he pulled out the first-aid kit and took a look at her feet.
“The good news is I don’t think we’re going to have to amputate,” he said.
“I’m so relieved,” she said, wincing as he put cold antiseptic on each of the bleeding blisters.
“This is not good, baby. I have no idea how much farther we’re going to have to hike to get to where we’re going. You can’t walk in those shoes anymore.”
“I don’t really have a choice,” she said. “We’ve got to walk forward or we’ve got to walk back the direction we came. Either way I’m walking. Unless I decide to jump over the waterfall and end it all.”
“You’re always looking on the bright side,” he said. “That’s one of the things I love about you.”
Her eyes popped open and met his, and neither of them said anything. Had he meant to say that, or was it just a figure of speech? She wasn’t sure, but by the look in his eyes, he seemed just as surprised as she was.
He finished with the antiseptic and said, “I think the best bet is to wrap you up as good as we can. I’ll put on Band-Aids, and then wrap each of your feet in a loose Ace bandage. Then we’ll cover them with socks. Hopefully, that makes it at least bearable for you to walk.”
“I’ll be fine,” she insisted. “I’m a lot tougher than I look at the moment. I just need some sleep and a chance to get off them for a few hours. I’ll be ready to roll in the morning. And no offense, but maybe we could stop talking and go to sleep now. I’m not feeling very chatty.”
She heard him chuckle as he wrapped her feet. “And I was just getting ready to seduce you,” he said.
“Listen, buddy,” she said, and she heard him chuckle again. “After the day we’ve had I’d be impressed if you could use it at all. But I’m closed for business until tomorrow.”
“At least you didn’t use the old headache excuse. People are going to think we’re an old married couple.”
She harrumphed and let her eyes flutter closed. His touch was surprisingly gentle, and he stroked his thumb down the middle of her foot, pressing gently against the sore muscles.
“Ohmigod,” she groaned.
“Don’t go to sleep yet,” he said. “I want you to drink some water and put something in your stomach.”
“Oh, for the love of …” she grumbled. “And stop laughing at me. I see nothing funny about the fact that there’s not going to be any coffee in the morning.”
“Truer words have never been spoken,” he said.
He passed her a fruit-and-nut mix, a small amount of jerky, and a bottle of water. Her stomach growled as soon as she smelled the jerky. They sat in silence for a little while, each lost in exhaustion and their own thoughts.
“What’s going to happen when we go back to Last Stop?” she asked.
“Do you mean how are we going to go from the romance of this to doing our own laundry again?”
“I mean what’s Eve going to do to you for disobeying orders?”
“I’m on vacation,” he said, shrugging. “She can either kill me or kiss my ass. I’m not opposed to either of those things.”
“How can you be so nonchalant about it all?” she asked, exasperated. “You’re talking about your life.”
“I’m already dead,” he said evenly.
“No,” she said. “You’re very much alive. And I …” She paused, knowing she’d been about to tread on shaky ground. If he didn’t care about living or dying, he sure as hell wouldn’t care about loving.
“You what?” he asked.
“I want you to keep living,” she said. “Eve couldn’t possibly be so cruel as to kill you
. That’s inhuman.”
“That’s what she is,” he said, rolling up the bag of dried fruit and nuts to stick back in the pack. “I was a sniper. Did you know that?”
“No,” she said quietly, but she could see the pain he carried around with him. It must’ve been a terrible burden to take lives, even in the line of duty.
“I’d get a packet before each mission. Inside it would be photographs and intel for me to study. They were photographs of my targets. I had to memorize their faces. Every one of them.”
She couldn’t imagine what that did to a person, and she ached for the hurt he must carry.
“There was this one photograph, the last one in my packet. Intel said he was a British agent who was selling classified information he’d obtained from the U.S. to the Saudis. He was a traitor, and I never questioned my orders. It was rare to order a hit on an ally country’s agent, but in this case, the British weren’t taking care of it, so it was left up to us. So I did the job.
“The only problem was the target wasn’t a British intelligence officer after all. The target was an American. A CIA agent who’d infiltrated the network and was feeding them false information. He was an American. A man who was doing his job and who loved his country. I’d been given a false intel report. And guess who was responsible for the life of that agent, besides me when I killed him?”
Her throat was dry as dust, but she knew the answer. “Eve,” she barely managed to get out.
Half of his face was shrouded in shadow from the light of the flashlight, but she could see him nod in the affirmative. “Eve had plans of her own. It seems she needed my particular skill set for this special ops team she was putting together. An experimental project that was so classified even the President of the United States didn’t know about it. She needed me to die so she could recruit me.”
“How did you die?” she asked. The food she’d just eaten lay heavy in her stomach, and she kept drinking her water, hoping it would make the feeling go away.
“There was an internal investigation,” he said. “And there was no record of that agent being on our hit list. His cover was so deeply classified that only a few knew of it. So then the question was asked, ‘How did I know that he was an undercover agent?’ So I was court-martialed and brought in for questioning. I was dishonorably discharged and had everything stripped from me. And then I was sentenced to death. That’s when Eve stepped in and made her offer for me to become a Gravedigger. I didn’t really care at that point. I’d have actually preferred to take the needle. But she got me to sign the contract and made sure it was the serum to make me appear dead instead of the real thing. And then a couple of days later they dug me up in Last Stop, and the woman who’d caused the shame and dishonor of my name and my family was the puppeteer holding all my strings.”