She nodded and closed her eyes, struggling to catch her breath.
He scanned the ground around them and spotted a dead pine tree, uprooted in some past storm. The roots stretched into the air above the hole where they had once been planted. “Over here,” he said, and led her to the hole. It was large enough to accommodate two people. He helped Leah down into the depression, then dragged a tangle of branches and vines over it. After scattering leaves to hide their footsteps, he slipped into the hole behind her and tugged the last branch into place.
“Do you really think they won’t see us?” she asked.
“We’ll see them first.” He grasped the Glock and peered out of their makeshift shelter. If Braeswood or one of his men did try to attack them here, Travis would have the first chance to get off a good shot.
Minutes passed, their breathing growing more regular and even. Then the unmistakable sound of footsteps on the forest floor grew louder. Leah clutched at him, but said nothing. Seconds later, Eddie Roland appeared, followed closely by Braeswood. Both men were armed—Braeswood with his pistol, while Eddie had traded his handgun for a semiautomatic rifle. The two men moved deliberately, studying the ground around them.
“I know they came this way,” Braeswood said. “I saw their tracks.”
“It’s hard to follow anything in this heavy underbrush,” Roland said. “We need a dog. They can track anything.”
“We don’t have a dog, idiot,” Braeswood said. “They can’t have gotten far. The only place Leah ever walked was on a treadmill.”
At the mention of her name, she pressed her face more firmly against Travis’s chest. Her silken hair tickled his chin, the sensation at once foreign and achingly familiar. In the silence while the two men above them searched, he became aware of her heartbeat, strong and rapid against his own.
After a while, he couldn’t hear their two pursuers anymore. “I think they’ve moved on,” he whispered.
“We should wait in case they come back,” she said.
“We will.” He settled more comfortably into the bottom of the hole, though he kept his eyes trained on the opening above them, and his ears attuned for any sound of approach. “Try to get some rest,” he said softly. “I’ll keep watch.”
“I’ll watch with you,” she said, but within moments he felt the tension drain from her body and her breathing grow more even. The physical and emotional stress of the last few hours had taken their toll.
Determined to stay awake, he turned his mind to analyzing the day’s events. He had arrived at the log home where Braeswood and his team were hiding with a clear idea of his mission. His job was to capture and arrest a group of terrorists. One of those terrorists happened to be his ex-fiancée, but that didn’t make her less guilty of the horrible crimes the group was responsible for.
Now, after a few hours with Leah, he was less sure of the latter. Seeing how afraid she was of Braeswood, and how cruelly he treated her, Travis was beginning to doubt she had gone with the man willingly. He had believed she left him because she had fallen in love with someone else—what else could “changed my mind” have meant? Later, when he had learned she was living with Braeswood, he was shocked and angered that the woman he had loved and trusted had left him for a murderer.
But he had sensed no love between Leah and the terrorist leader when he saw them together now, only fear. Braeswood had clearly been intent on killing her once he used her to lure in Travis.
So why had she left Travis for a man who only seemed to want to harm her? Before this ordeal was over, he intended to know the answer to that question.
An hour or more had passed when she stirred awake. She sat up, blinking. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep,” she said, pushing her hair out of her eyes.
“It made sense for you to rest while you had the chance.” He checked the view through the narrow opening. Long shadows stretched across the ground, telling him the sun would be setting soon. “Are you ready to head out again?” he asked.
“I guess so. I’m so thirsty.” She rubbed her stomach. “And hungry, too.”
“We’re going to do something about that,” he said.
“What?”
“We have to go back to the area where we had the fire, near the creek.”
Fear tightened her features. “If Duane retraces his path, he’ll find us.”
“We have to take that chance.” He stood and pushed aside branches to widen the opening to their shelter, then pulled her to her feet.
“Why?” she asked.
“They didn’t have Buck or his pack with them when they moved past, so they must have left him there. He had at least one water bottle in that pack, and probably food and other supplies. And he probably has a phone we can use to call for help.”
Her expression grew more animated at this news. “I hadn’t thought of that. Then yes, we should definitely go back.” She started to haul herself out of the hole, but he pulled her back.
“Let me go first.”
“Why? So they can shoot you in the head first? At least you can cover me. Don’t count on me for the same.”
“I can pull you up to the ground,” he said.
“You can boost me up from here.”
“Are you always this stubborn?”
She smiled. “Always.”
Something broke inside him at that remark, some last restraint against his emotions. Not thinking, he pulled her close and looked into her eyes. “I’ve missed you,” he said, his voice rough with emotion.
“I’ve missed you, too.” She brushed her hand along his cheek, then leaned in to bring her lips to his, gently at first, then hungrily, as if he were all the food and drink she craved.
He responded in kind, all the anxiety and anger and despair of their months apart channeled into that kiss. He still didn’t know what to think about her betrayal, and he wasn’t ready to trust her, but for this moment, stranded with only each other to depend on, he gave in to the need to simply be close to her. To be with her, emotionally, in a way he had never allowed himself to be with any other person.
She pulled away first and regarded him with an expression he read as equal parts wariness and hope. “Does this mean you’ve forgiven me?” she asked.
“No.” He touched the corner of her mouth, which was still swollen from Braeswood’s blow. “But I’m not blaming you the way I once did. Consider it a first step in a long journey.”
She pulled away. “Speaking of long journeys, we’d better get going.”
He checked the opening, and seeing nothing but still woodland, he boosted her up, then climbed out himself. “Do you know the way back to the body?” she asked.
“I think so,” he said.
In the end, they were able to follow Braeswood’s and Roland’s tracks through the woods. The two men hadn’t been concerned about being followed, and their heavy boots and careless steps made a trail of scuffed leaves, broken branches and even boot prints that led all the way to the little clearing, where the remains of the campfire still smoldered, and one of the cans of water sat, undisturbed, Buck’s body slumped a few yards away.
Leah hurried to retrieve the can of water. She drank half and handed the rest to Travis. “You take it,” he said, returning the can. “I’ll get the bottle on Buck’s pack.”
Already, the body was drawing flies. Travis ignored them and focused on unbuckling the pack from the