Not if I Save You First

by Ally Carter

  “No. Everything is perfect on this end,” Stefan said into the phone in Russian. Logan tried hard not to smile at the sarcasm he wasn’t supposed to understand.

  But he must have failed because Stefan snapped, “What?”

  Logan shook his head. “It’s rude to have conversations in front of people without including them. I’m kind of an expert, you see, because when I was seven my parents got me an etiquette tutor. And, you know, if there’s one thing seven-year-old boys love, it’s etiquette.”

  Logan smiled his too-bright smile, but Stefan only scowled.

  “You should rest your mouth while you’re resting your feet.”

  When the man hung up the phone and put it back in his pack, he pulled the zipper halfway.

  But only half.

  Logan could have sworn he’d done it on purpose, like eating in front of a starving man.

  Then Stefan pulled a map from his pack and spread it on the nearest boulder. The map was laminated and unfolded into probably twenty squares.

  “Can I have the canteen?” Logan asked as he stood and walked toward Stefan and his map.

  “Here.” Stefan shoved the canteen at him and Logan took it. He drained it in one long gulp, then handed it back, lingering a little too long over the map as he did so.

  The map’s creases gave it something of a grid-like pattern, which was great as far as Logan was concerned. He liked things tidy and straight and neat.

  He liked things he could memorize.

  He wasn’t there more than ten seconds. Fifteen maybe. And Stefan never even got suspicious.

  Maybe I’ll join the CIA after this, Logan thought. Or maybe I’ll lock myself in my room and never leave again.

  He was turning, he was thinking, when a gust of wind blew through the trees. Rain hit him hard, and the temperature seemed to drop instantly to below freezing. It was like winter decided to wake up and blow out its birthday candles. The rain suddenly burst from the clouds, thicker and colder, and Logan squinted for a moment, as if maybe he could shake his head and open his eyes again and find it had all been a very bad dream.

  But it wasn’t a dream. It was a nightmare. When the wind blew again, it caught the map and whipped it off the rock and across the clearing.

  They were in the middle of millions of acres of wilderness—no roads, no mile markers, and absolutely no cell signal. Google Maps would never get them to the airplane Stefan was so desperate to meet.

  He needed that map.

  So Stefan ran, chasing it like it was a butterfly flitting and floating on the freezing wind.

  Logan didn’t think about it. It wasn’t a strategy or a plan. He only knew that Stefan was busy and his pack was sitting, abandoned, by the boulder.

  The pack that had the satellite phone in it.

  Logan didn’t think at all, he just moved. Instinct taking over, the fight for survival warring with the fight for being smart.

  But maybe this was smart. Maybe this was the right move at the right time. He didn’t know. Didn’t really care.

  He just knew that he had to do something, and he was reaching into the half-zipped pocket of the pack—pulling the satellite phone free—before he could even blink. He almost had it in his own pocket when he felt something ram into his side like he’d just been hit by a bus.

  He fell hard, but the ground was soft enough that the only thing that really hurt was his pride.

  That was before Stefan managed to roll them again. Logan elbowed him in the ribs, but a moment later he was pinned against the ground, Stefan’s heavy weight on top of him. Logan lashed out. He remembered everything every Secret Service agent had ever taught him during the long, boring nights in hotel suites and on campaign buses.

  He managed to reverse their positions. He got in a good shot to Stefan’s eye.

  When the phone went skidding from Logan’s hands, he lunged for it again—and that was his mistake.

  Facedown in the mud, the cold seeped up from the ground and into Logan’s bones. Stefan was on top of him and Logan couldn’t breathe. Stefan was too heavy. And he had both hands on the back of Logan’s head, pushing his face into the mud.

  “This is what you are worth to me!”

  Was Stefan yelling in Russian or in English? Logan didn’t know. Didn’t care. It was the last thing he was likely to ever hear in any case.

  “This is what you are. I should kill you here. I should—”

  “Why are boys so stupid?”

  The voice was light and airy, like sunshine. And that’s how Logan knew that he was dead—that even in death, Maddie Manchester was going to mock him, roll her eyes at him, taunt him until the end of time. It was the most comforting thought he’d had in ages.

  But then Logan could breathe again—Stefan’s weight was off his back, and Logan was able to roll over and look up into the freezing rain that struck his face like pinpricks, jolting him awake.

  “You’re alive,” Stefan said, and Logan pushed away, gasping for air and grasping for balance as he pushed to his feet and turned to see the most beautiful sight he’d ever laid eyes on.

  She must have washed the blood from her face, but a big bruise was growing at her temple. She was covered in mud and standing oddly, like she wanted to keep most of her weight on her right leg.

  But Maddie was here. Maddie was alive.

  “What are you doing?” Logan shouted.

  “I couldn’t let him kill you,” she said, then smirked and looked at Stefan. “You see, I’ve been wanting to kill him for years. Couldn’t let you steal my thunder.”

  “You lived,” Stefan said, looking her up and down. Then Stefan actually smiled. “You must be very tough.” Maddie looked like she wanted to smirk again, but Stefan went on. “And also very stupid.”

  Maddie shrugged at that. She actually looked like she might start chanting, Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words from stupid Russian kidnappers can never hurt me.

  “I’m sure I am,” she said. “But protecting his family happens to be my family business.”

  “Good.” Stefan smiled. He reached down and pulled the satellite phone from the mud. He gathered up the map from where he’d dropped it. “This is very good.”

  Logan looked between the two of them as if maybe they had slipped into a language that he didn’t speak.

  “It’s not good, Stefan,” Logan told him. “If you haven’t noticed, you’re outnumbered.”

  Then Stefan turned on him, so fast it was like he wasn’t frozen—wasn’t tired, wasn’t weary—at all. In the next moment, the knife was in his hand and at Logan’s throat. When he spoke again, his mouth was an inch from Logan’s ear.

  “Oh, it is very good. Because now I have someone I can kill.”

  He pushed Logan toward Maddie and pulled the gun from the waistband of his jeans, pointed it in their direction while he went to retrieve his pack, sliding the phone inside.

  Then he eased toward Maddie.

  “Hands up.”

  Maddie complied, but not without saying, “Okay. Okay. But please … just don’t judge me based on my cuticles, okay? When your primary heating source is a wood-burning stove, dry skin is your perpetual enemy.”

  For a moment, Stefan looked at her like maybe she wasn’t entirely sane, like maybe kidnapping the president’s son and dragging him across the wilderness in the freezing rain was okay but maybe he had no idea what to do with any teenage girl who might willingly come along for the ride.

  But he was so happy with his new, highly disposable hostage that he was willing to compromise whatever questionable code of honor he happened to have, Logan realized as Stefan dug a length of slender rope from his pack and wrapped it around Maddie’s wrists, tighter and tighter. And then the truth sank in: Maddie wasn’t just Logan’s ally. She was also Stefan’s hostage.

  Once her wrists were bound, Stefan ran a hand down her side, and Logan wanted to kill the man, but for an entirely new reason.

  “Don’t touch her!” Logan shouted, but i
t was like he’d never said a word.

  The only difference was that now Stefan was smiling as he felt along Maddie’s leg. Her backside.

  “Leave her alone!” Logan shouted, but Stefan pulled back and held a small pocketknife between two of his fingers after he pulled it from the back pocket of Maddie’s jeans.

  “This isn’t much of a knife.” He slid it into his own pocket as he laughed. “You won’t survive for long out here with this, little girl,” he said—and for the first time Maddie actually looked like this wasn’t the best plan she’d ever had.

  Had she actually expected him not to search her? Had she thought she was going to sneak up on Stefan and stab him with a knife that had a blade three inches long? Was that what Maddie was playing at?

  Well, the game was up, Logan realized, and Stefan had moved on to Maddie’s jacket.

  When he pulled out a small tube of Vaseline, she cocked an eyebrow. “In Alaska, bears will totally kill you, but chapped lips will make you wish you were dead, so …”

  Stefan put the tube back in her pocket and didn’t say a thing. He just ran his hands expertly down her arms and up her torso. When he reached the chain around her neck, Maddie looked affronted.

  “Just because you’re in the middle of nowhere doesn’t mean a girl doesn’t feel better when she’s properly accessorized.”

  Which was more than Stefan could take. He looked more pained than when Logan had hit him as he pushed her away. “Enough!” Stefan shouted. “We walk now.”

  Stefan was readying the pack, taking one last look at the map. But Logan could only look at the face he’d thought he’d never see again.

  “Why are you here? Why didn’t you save yourself?” Logan asked. This time his voice actually broke. He was willing to die out here. He hadn’t asked for this life, but he’d had seven years to get used to it—to accept the possibility.

  But it should never have been Maddie’s life, and the joy he’d felt when he found her bracelet was gone.

  “Mad Dog, why didn’t you run?” he asked again.

  He honestly didn’t expect an answer. He certainly wasn’t expecting Maddie to raise her bound hands and throw them around his neck, to plaster her body against his and bring her lips to his mouth as if Logan might be holding her last breath.

  He’d never kissed Maddie before. Until twenty-four hours ago, he’d never really thought about it. But he’d never cursed his handcuffs more than when he couldn’t hold her, touch her, pull her close and keep her near and never, ever let her go.

  Maddie hadn’t run away—hadn’t saved herself—because of this, Logan realized. This kiss.

  He just didn’t know how right he was until Maddie’s lips parted and the kiss deepened … and Logan felt a small piece of metal pass from Maddie’s mouth into his.

  Then Maddie pulled back quickly.

  She unwound her hands from around his neck, and when Stefan yelled, “Walk!” she did exactly as she was told.

  Logan’s legs weren’t working right, though. Neither was his head.

  Maddie had kissed him.

  It was smart, he had to admit. How else could she be sure Stefan wouldn’t find the key when he frisked her? What better way to pass Logan the key undetected?

  She’d kissed him so that she could save him.

  For the life of him, Logan had no idea why that made him feel so disappointed.

  Dear Logan,

  Okay, so I lied. I’m writing you another letter because, turns out, you’re the only person I can really talk to. Even if you don’t talk back. Maybe BECAUSE you don’t talk back.

  If you were here, you’d tell me that I do all the talking anyway. Then I’d point out that you saying otherwise totally negates your own point.

  And then we’d probably argue about it for an hour. Maybe two. And then we’d go get ice cream.

  So I’m gonna keep writing these letters.

  I’m just never going to send them ever again.

  Maddie

  Maddie was real.

  Maddie was alive.

  Maddie was here.

  And she was going to get them both killed.

  “Oh my gosh! You guys walk so fast,” she said, and for a moment she sounded almost like … Maddie. Or how Maddie used to sound when they were looking for ways to sneak into the Oval or trying to guess the middle names of all of the agents on his dad’s detail. She sounded like Old Maddie. Not Older Maddie. Logan never realized how much he’d missed her.

  He also never realized just how annoying she could be.

  “I mean, it’s no wonder you walk fast. Your legs are a lot longer than mine. How tall are you anyway?”

  She turned around to look at Stefan, who had his gun out and pointed at her, but it didn’t seem to faze Maddie. She just kept talking.

  “You look tall. I’m only five four. I mean I pretend I’m five five, and I might be in boots. Do you think it counts if you’re in boots?”

  She stopped then and studied him. Stefan moved toward her and Logan jolted. He wanted to put himself between that gun and Maddie. And he wanted to put something between Maddie and the man.

  “Who did you call?” Stefan snapped. “Who did you tell?”

  Maddie actually scooted back, but she didn’t look afraid.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Who did you call for help?” Stefan shouted—and this time Maddie looked at him like maybe he was crazy.

  “No one. There is no one here!” She threw out her arms and spun around. “There’s never anyone here.”

  Stefan didn’t know Maddie like Logan did. Or like Logan used to know her. He didn’t hear the stress in her voice, didn’t see the hurt in her eyes.

  “No.” Stefan shook his head. “You would not be so stupid as to get yourself captured.”

  “I don’t know.” Maddie shook her head. “I’m a teenage girl. People think we’re pretty stupid.”

  Logan knew she was right. Logan also knew she didn’t believe a word of it. Only a moron would, and Maddie was no moron. He’d seen enough in the barely twenty-four hours that he’d been here to know that Maddie had survived here—thrived here—for six years, almost entirely on her own. That Maddie was alive was proof enough that Stefan had absolutely no idea who he was dealing with.

  That Maddie was smiling proved that she had every intention of keeping it that way.

  “I thought I’d follow you, okay?” she went on. “I thought I might be useful.”

  Stefan looked at her for a long time, then let out a cold, clear laugh. “Useful how?”

  Maddie shrugged. “I know things.”

  “I know things, too,” Stefan said, all the laughter gone from his voice. “I know you’re going to be very useful.”

  “I’m not going to let you kill him,” Maddie said as if she had a choice in the matter—as if Stefan wasn’t eight inches taller and sixty pounds heavier. As if he didn’t have a gun and at least one knife and probably eight years of experience on her.

  But the kind of experience Maddie had was different, and a part of Logan warmed at the thought.

  “Where are my manners?” Logan tried to force as much sarcasm as possible into his voice. “Stefan, kidnapper extraordinaire, meet Maddie Manchester. Maddie, this is the man who tried to kill you.”

  “I will kill her if you get any ideas, Logan.”

  Logan gave a mocking smile. “You know my name. I’m touched.”

  “I can’t touch you,” Stefan stated. He sounded honestly disappointed, but then he turned to Maddie, pulled back his hand, and hit her hard across the face. Her head snapped and Logan actually heard the blow. He lunged for her, but halted, uncertain, as Maddie stumbled but managed to stay on her feet.

  She didn’t make a sound as Stefan finished, “But I can touch her.”

  “Leave her alone!” Logan yelled, but Stefan pulled Maddie close to him, a human shield.

  His hand was around her throat, fingers not quite squeezing, but close. They could cut off her a
irway, crush her throat. They’d leave a bruise, Logan was certain, and it was just one more reason why he wanted his big, sharp rock back.

  “I cannot hurt you, President’s Son. But she has no value to me. Do we understand each other?” he asked, but Logan didn’t answer. Words didn’t come. “Do we?” Stefan shouted, the force of the words making his body shake and the hand at Maddie’s throat tighten.

  Maddie didn’t make a single sound.

  “Yes,” Logan choked out.

  “Good.” Stefan took his arm away and pushed Maddie ahead of him. “Walk.”

  Maddie’s throat didn’t hurt. Not even a little bit. Her pride didn’t either. Alaska never took it easy on her because she was a girl. Neither did her father. But ticked-off Russians probably didn’t know that. By the look in Logan’s eyes, neither did presidents’ sons.

  They both kept looking at her like she was just a … girl. Which was the best thing to happen to Maddie all day.

  So she batted her eyelashes. She examined her nails. She didn’t really talk again as they moved over the rough, wet ground.

  Her hood was still up and pulled tight around her face. Maddie hated to lose her peripheral vision, but she wasn’t going to be any help to anyone if she got sick. That was one lesson people in Alaska learned in a hurry.

  “Are you okay?”

  Maddie had to turn her head a little to look at Logan. She’d never seen him look like that—all stoic and broody and … hot.

  She definitely wasn’t going to think about how hot Logan looked because:

  (A) It was Logan!

  and

  (B) She’d heard stories about girls who met cute boys and then lost their heads, and being that they were currently being held by a knife-wielding, ticked-off Russian, Maddie really didn’t want to find out how literal that saying might be.

  But Logan still looked worried—that much Maddie couldn’t deny.