Chapter 23

chapter

twenty-three

Lucy studied Sawyer from the corner of her eye as they waited. He seemed back to his old self, all chiseled determination and steady composure, but she kept picturing how he was last night, vulnerable and in pain.

She had been so scared. More scared than she'd ever been in her life, and she'd been kidnapped by a serial killer. But seeing him weak and hurting had triggered something in her, something deep and fierce and utterly terrifying.

Sawyer was one of the strongest people she knew. He was always steady and sure, always joking and laughing in the face of danger or hardship. She'd seen him do things that most people would find impossible. He was blind, but he never let his lack of sight hold him back. And he never complained.

But last night…

Despite his near superhuman ability to remain steady in the face of danger, last night had reminded her he was just a man.

God, she had never felt so helpless.

He sat against a tree with Zelda faithfully at his side, his face raised toward the sun. He looked relaxed, like he was just enjoying a beautiful dawn on the mountain. But she knew better. He was simultaneously listening for the helicopter and focusing on any unusual sounds that might signal the shooter's approach. Every now and then, he would rub his swollen knee and wince.

Lucy shifted nervously, casting worried glances at the sky. Rescue was so close, yet felt a million miles away. She couldn't make herself believe this nightmare was finally over until she and Sawyer were safely inside the helicopter and headed home.

The silence was eerie, as if the forest itself was holding its breath in anticipation. Dew-drenched leaves glistened under the golden shafts of sunlight. Normally, it would be beautiful, but—and she never thought she'd think this—she'd had more than enough of nature for a while. She pulled her jacket tighter against herself, despite the chill of the fog not really being the reason for her shivers.

"A penny for your thoughts?" Sawyer broke the silence, looking in her direction but not directly at her.

Lucy snorted. "You can't afford my thoughts, Murphy," she said with a forced half-smile. His constant attempts at levity in stressful situations, though irritating, were comforting in a way.

His laughter echoed through the clearing, breaking the heavy tension that had settled. The sound was warm and familiar.

"Fair enough," he conceded while his attention shifted back to the sky above them. "But mine are free, if you're curious."

She didn't want to be. She was already far too close to him. Any closer, and she'd completely lose her heart. She shifted toward him. "Okay. What are you thinking about?"

He grinned. "Getting you naked again."

She rolled her eyes. "Of course you are."

"When we get home, I plan to keep you in my bed for days. I want to take my time and explore every inch of you. I want to know what you taste like when you come. I want your smell all over my sheets, my skin." His grinned turned wicked. "Your breathing changed. Are you wet thinking about it?"

She was, and squeezed her thighs together. "No."

His head tilted as if he could hear the rush of her pulse. "Liar."

Damn him. The man had a way of sweeping away her defenses, making her forget for a moment the very real danger lurking in the wilderness around them.

Before she could respond—not that she had any idea what to say to that—the whup-whup-whup of an approaching helicopter snagged her attention. She popped to her feet and exhaled in a rush of giddy relief as the bird appeared over a ridge, its blades chopping through the morning fog. The sight of it, blocky and solidly real and safe, made something tight in her chest loosen.

"Send up the flare," Sawyer said, getting to his feet with a wince. "We're getting off this fucking mountain."

She nodded and reached for the flare gun. As she loaded it, her hands shook from a combination of nerves and relief.

It was over.

Finally.

She aimed the flare up towards the sky and pulled the trigger. The shot exploded into the air in a vibrant red streak, painting the dawn sky with its urgent message. She watched it arc high before starting to descend slowly, the trailing smoke weaving intricate patterns in the clear blue sky.

The helicopter tilted slightly to their direction.

They had been seen.

Sawyer turned towards her, his face lit by the flare's reddish glow. Up close, she could see the lines of fatigue etching themselves deeper into his rugged features, but his eyes held a spark of triumph.

"We made it," he said softly, reaching out toward her.

She laced her fingers through his. Tears welled up and spilled over, but these were tears of relief instead of fear.

They were going home.

Then, just as the helicopter lowered itself into the clearing, an ear-splitting crack echoed through the valley. The sound was so sudden, so violently loud, that both Lucy and Sawyer froze in place. Zelda growled low in her throat.

It took a second for Lucy to realize what had happened. "Gunshot!" she shouted over the thunderous whirring of the helicopter blades. She grabbed Sawyer's arm and yanked him down behind a large boulder.

"Sawyer?" a voice blared from the helicopter's loudspeaker and Lucy looked up, spotting a man clad in the red RWCR uniform leaning out of the chopper's open door. His face was obscured by the visor of his helmet, but she recognized his voice—Connelly Davis, former pararescue jumper, now a bestselling author and RWCR's part-time medic.

"Pull up!" she shouted, waving an arm at him without exposing her position behind the boulder. "Shooter!"

Just then a bullet pinged off the skid near Connelly's boot. He ducked back inside. She couldn't hear him, but she was sure he was swearing. The helicopter veered away, and her heart sank as she watched it go.

They were so close. But the shooter was still out there.

Sawyer's hand gripped hers tight as if to ground her. "Are you hurt?"

"No," she said, looking down at him. "Are you?"

He shook his head.

She let out a small sigh of relief. They were okay. For now.

"We can't sit here. We need to move." He struggled to his feet. His swollen knee trembled under the strain, but he ignored the pain and pushed himself upright. Zelda whined at his side, her tail tucked between her legs. She knew something was wrong and Lucy could see fear in her expressive hazel eyes.

"You're okay, girl," she whispered and gave the dog a kiss on her forehead. "We're okay." She looked up at Sawyer. "Where can we go?"

"Is there higher ground nearby?"

"Higher than here?"

"Anywhere we have a better chance of not getting shot."

She scanned their surroundings, her gaze landing on a cliff a good distance away. One side was vertical, but the other was a more manageable slope. It would still be a difficult climb, especially with Sawyer's injured knee, and they would be exposed on its rocky side until they reached the top. But once there, they would have the advantage of a view over their entire surroundings. The shooter wouldn't be able to sneak up on them.

"Yes," she said finally. "There's a ridge maybe half a mile to the north. It's a stretch, but it's our best shot."

His jaw clenched. "Any cover?"

"Some trees between here and there… but once we're on the rock, not much until we reach the top."

Another gunshot rang out then, closer this time, echoing sharply off the surrounding hills and making both of them flinch. Zelda whined again but stayed obediently at Sawyer's side.

"Fuck!" Sawyer cursed as the echo faded. "We don't have much choice, do we?"

Lucy glanced back at the ridge, her mind already calculating their route. "Just get to the trees first, then we'll worry about the climb. The shooter can't hit what they can't see."

"Then we go on my count," Sawyer said, the resignation in his voice punctuated by another gunshot, this one ricocheting off their boulder with a sharp ping.

Lucy nodded, tightening her grip on his hand. Her heart pounded in her chest, her breath coming short and quick with fear.

Sawyer leaned closer, pressing his forehead to hers. "Breathe, Lucy," he said, and she closed her eyes, focusing on the sound of his voice over the chaos around them. "We are going to make it. We have to."

She opened her eyes and met his distant gaze. Just once she wished she could look into his eyes and see him looking back. "Okay," she whispered.

He gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. "Three… two… go!"

Without another word, she took off, angling their path toward the cluster of trees dotting the terrain between them and the ridge. His grip was tight on her hand as they weaved through shrubs and rocky outcroppings, their boots thudding against the uneven forest floor. Branches cracked underfoot and leaves rustled in their wake, each noise a potential giveaway to their location.

They'd covered about half the distance to the trees when another gunshot shattered the tense quiet. The bullet kicked up dirt just a few yards away from where they were running. She let out a strangled gasp, but she didn't stop moving. If she let fear win, they were dead.

The shot had come from their left. The shooter was moving, trying to get into position to trap them against the ridge. Clever, calculating... and ruthless.

Just as they neared the treeline, another shot rang out. Lucy flinched as it whizzed past them, close enough to make her ears ring. It was followed by another crack, then another.

They stumbled into the cover of the trees just as the barrage ended in an eerie silence. Panting, she turned back to look at Sawyer.

He squatted

down next to Zelda, his hand resting on her head as he struggled to catch his breath. "That was too fucking close," he muttered, wiping sweat off his forehead with the back of his free hand.

Lucy nodded, pressing her back against a gnarled conifer and gulping in the sharp, pine-scented air. Her heart thrummed in her ears, and she could feel adrenaline coursing through her veins, leaving a tang of copper on her tongue.

"Are you okay?" Sawyer asked, reaching out toward her with a hand speckled with dirt.

"I'm okay." She was half-surprised to find that she was telling the truth. She was terrified, yes. Exhausted, absolutely. But not injured. "You?"

She'd noticed his limp had become more pronounced.

He shrugged and a wry smile twisted his lips. "Same as before. I'll live."

"Good, because I'm not carrying your sorry ass up that ridge."

His smile widened. "If I remember correctly, you liked my ass the other night. Nothing sorry about it."

She heard a noise in the woods and looked up, scanning the sparse grove of trees. She didn't see anything, but she didn't dare wait any longer. She grabbed his hand again. "Less flirting, more running."

"Roger that," Sawyer said, still grinning. The crazy man.

They didn't speak again as they darted across the open ground toward the base of the ridge. It loomed over them, an unforgiving slant of earth and stone under a slowly darkening sky. It was much steeper than it had looked from the distance; they would have to scramble up most of it on all fours.

Nothing like free soloing with a blind man, a dog, and a killer on their asses.

Okay, that was an exaggeration. But, still, it was going to be dangerous.

"We need to be fast and stay low," Lucy murmured as she calculated the best path up.

"Hey." He caught her hand and pulled her to him. Their mouths crashed together in a quick, hard kiss.

When he pulled back, his breath fanned across her lips. "If I don't make it?—"

She cut him off. "You're going to make it."

"I love you, Lucy Harper," he murmured. "I am so crazy head-over-heels for you. You're all I can think about. Even now. I need you to know that before we go any further."

The words hit her like a bucket of cold water.

"Don't say that like a goodbye." She gripped his jacket, her fingers digging into the rough fabric. "We're not having this conversation, Sawyer. We are both getting off this goddamn mountain. Now, move."

He gave her that half smile again, the one that did funny things to her heart. "That's my girl. Lead the way."

They started the ascent. Zelda took the lead, her powerful body scrambling over rocks and loose soil with ease. Lucy followed behind, using the bark of a tree to hoist herself up a particularly steep section of the ridge. She glanced back at Sawyer. He was moving slowly, feeling his way, grim determination in every line of his dust-streaked face.

The whole world seemed to hold its breath as they climbed. The only sounds were the harsh raggedness of their breaths and the occasional dislodging of small stones under their boots. Her muscles burned, and her lungs screamed for air, but there was no time for rest. They were too exposed on the pale gray rock.

Gunfire ripped through the stillness, peppering the ledge right where she was about to place her hand. She jerked back as hot pain blasted through her thigh…

And lost her grip.