Chapter 8

chapter

eight

God.

The mountain was half gone. Lucy gripped the balcony railing and stared out over the ruined landscape. It looked like an angry god had reached down and sheared off the east slope with a sharp blade. Large patches of the land were still scarred from a rampant wildfire two summers ago, and now with this new damage, it looked barren and alien. The national park service was going to have a hell of a time cleaning up this mess.

She exhaled a long breath. She had known the earthquake was bad, but she hadn't realized the full scope of the damage it had done. She looked toward the valley below and worried about how the towns there had fared.

No wonder they couldn't reach anyone on the radio.

She turned her gaze to the unscarred wilderness, the vast expanse of trees that stretched out below the tower, dark and foreboding as the light of dawn hadn't broken over the tops of the mountains yet. The forest was deathly silent, the normal sounds of nature waking up conspicuously absent. A chill ran down her spine that had nothing to do with the cooler temperatures the storms had left in their wake. She shuddered and drew her blanket closer around herself.

A board creaked behind her, but she didn't jump. She instinctively knew who it was. She always knew, and smiled a little as Zelda nuzzled her neck below her ear.

"Hi, girl," she murmured and kissed the dog's cold nose.

Sawyer lowered himself to sit beside her, using the balcony railing to guide him down. "Couldn't sleep?"

"No."

"Yeah, me either." His lips thinned into a hard line as he slid his legs under the railing to dangle over the edge next to hers. "I don't trust Chuck to watch my six while I'm sleeping."

"Ethan wouldn't let him do anything."

"Ethan wanted to kick us out in a storm last night," he reminded dryly. "Don't really trust him, either."

She closed her eyes and leaned her forehead against the cold metal railing. "Trust is a commodity we're sorely lacking."

He bumped her shoulder with his. "I guess we'll just have to rely on each other." He laughed softly as Zelda wiggled between them. "And Zelda, of course."

She liked his laugh. Always had. Despite all he'd been through, and despite their current dire situation, there was a lightness to it that never failed to make her smile.

"Of course." She ruffled the dog's furry ears. "Zelda's the only one making any sense right now."

"That's because she's smarter than most of us humans."

"I believe it." She shifted to study him, half assessing, half admiring. Other than tired, he looked okay. If his concussion was troubling him, he didn't let it show. His profile was in shadows from the pre-dawn gloom. His golden hair, unruly and a bit longer than she remembered, gleamed with the first touch of sunlight. It struck her how beautiful he was, just sitting there wrapped in a blanket, his gaze directed toward the horizon he couldn't see.

His face was calm, the lines of tension that had been there earlier relaxed. Even though he carried burdens that would have crushed a less resilient man, he seemed almost untouchable in his tranquility, his peace extending outward like a buffer against the chaos around them.

She wanted a little of that peace for herself.

Lucy scooted closer, sliding her arm through his. They fit together easily, as if they were two parts of a puzzle. She rested her head on his shoulder, and let herself wonder, for just a moment, if they would fit together as easily in other, more intimate ways. She hoped someday she could find out.

He leaned his head against hers. "I wish I could see it," he said softly, drawing her out of her thoughts.

She looked toward the mountain again. "What, the earthquake damage?"

"No." His lips curved into a smile as they brushed her temple. "My Lucy. Always so pragmatic."

Warmth curled through her belly. Had he just claimed her as his?

"No, I meant the sunrise. Describe it for me?"

She looked toward the east. "It's still mostly dark out here, but there's this warm promise of light just at the edge of the mountains. The clouds are like... wisps of cotton candy, all pink and orange and purple."

He groaned. "Jesus, I'd give a body part for some cotton candy right now."

"Sweet tooth, huh?" She'd never have guessed it. From the hard lines of his body, she'd pegged him for a health food fanatic. The kind of guy who bought dry-as-dirt granola and tried to convince you it was as good as a candy bar. She'd dated more than her share of that type.

He grinned. "Sugar is my kryptonite. But don't tell anyone and ruin my rugged, man-of-the-wilderness facade."

"Oh I wouldn't dream of it." She took a deep breath, the pine-scented air filling her lungs. "The trees are still in shadows, but they're beginning to take on different shades of green, from the deepest emerald to a light sage. And the sunlight... it's like melted gold, pouring over everything slowly, lighting up the world bit by bit."

His fingers brushed against hers. "Sounds beautiful."

"It is."

"You love it these mountains. I can hear it in your voice."

"I do. I'm from Ohio originally, but my parents brought me out here to see the redwoods when I was about ten, and I fell in love. I wrapped my little arms around the biggest tree I could find and knew right then I wanted to work here."

His lips curved into a smile at her temple. "This place… it has a way of captivating people."

"It does. I've seen it time and again. And until last year, I always felt most at peace in the woods. Most at home. There's an honesty in nature that people lack. It's raw and beautiful and..."

"Unforgiving," he finished.

She turned to look at him. His face was cast in the early morning light now, his blue eyes reflecting the sunrise he couldn't see.

"Yes," she agreed softly. "It can be unforgiving and brutal, but nature doesn't kill just because it can. Not like people." She realized he was looking at her instead of out at the horizon. Well, not exactly at her, but in her direction. His expression was quiet, contemplative.

"I wish you didn't have to know that firsthand."

"Me too." She glanced down at Zelda who lay patiently between them with her head resting on Sawyer's thigh, brown eyes soft and tail wagging.

"The Shadow Stalker is dead, Lucy." He said it softly, gently, as if worried the name might trigger her. His fingers tracing over the back of her hand. "He can't hurt you anymore."

She cleared away the sudden knot in her throat. "I know that, but…"

"But," he finished when she trailed off, "the fear doesn't just disappear because the threat is gone. I get it. After what happened to me, I had nightmares for years. Still do sometimes, honestly. I saw his face all the time—the sniper who shot me. Of course, I never actually saw his real face, but my fucked-up brain decided to fill in the blanks. One of the other fun side effects of an occipital lobe injury is hallucinations. They've mostly disappeared now, but for a while I saw that sniper everywhere. He was the only thing I could see. Just a blur of light and color and then there he was, crystal clear. I thought he was real, and I was afraid of every shadow, every unexpected sound. It took a lot of therapy and time to feel safe again. But there are still moments when I feel on edge, when all the progress I've made seems to vanish."

God, what he'd gone through. Her heart ached for him. And, really, her experience, as awful as it was, paled in comparison. Why couldn't she just suck it up and move on like he had?

But…

"I have nightmares all the time. I close my eyes and I'm back in that damn cave, shot and bleeding. Cold. Alone." The thought made her sick, and she had to swallow back the bile rising in her throat.

"Hey, come here." He traced his hand up her arm to curl around her waist. He pulled her into his side, and she let herself be pulled, sinking into the warmth and security he offered. Zelda shifted back to make room, and Lucy curled up against Sawyer, nestling into his side. His other arm slid around her, too, until he was completely encompassing her.

"You weren't alone in that cave," he murmured into her hair. "You had me. And you have me now."

The words seemed to hang in the air between them for a moment, charged with something she didn't dare name. And then he was gently tilting her chin up. It felt like the world narrowed down to just this moment, everything else forgotten.

His thumb brushed back and forth over her lips, a quiet, almost reverent touch as if he were memorizing their shape. A jolt of electricity sizzled down her spine, lighting her body on fire in a way she hadn't experienced in a very long time. She found herself leaning into him. Their noses brushed against each other's in a feather-like touch before Sawyer's lips found hers in the gentlest of kisses.

Her heart pounded wildly as Sawyer's hand moved up to cup her face, his thumb stroking her cheek. It was disarming and sweet, the gesture so full of care that it brought tears to her eyes. She'd missed him more than she ever admitted to herself. She'd spent the last year worrying that the connection they'd shared had been nothing more than a trauma response, a fleeting, desperate grasp at humanity during a nightmarish ordeal. But this...

The emotions swirling through her now were just as potent, if not more so. This was real. He was real, and so was their connection. And if his desperate grip on her was anything to go by, she wasn't the only one who felt it.

The kiss deepened, taking on a life of its own as Sawyer's fingers slid into her hair, cradling her head. Her body trembled in response as his lips moved languidly over hers, his tongue seeking hers with a gentle urgency that left no room for doubt about his feelings or intentions. It was a slow dance of desire and intimacy that sent waves of delicious heat pulsing through her body.

Finally pulling away, he rested his forehead against hers, breath mingling with hers in the early morning air. "I've wanted to do that for a long time."

"Why didn't you?"

He was quiet for a moment, a small frown furrowing his brow as he seemed to gather his thoughts. "Because you were in pain, Lucy. You were hurting and traumatized, and the last thing you needed was me complicating things. And..." He exhaled a soft, sad laugh, his fingers absently tracing circles on her back. "I thought you could do better than me. I don't exactly have a lot to offer a woman like you."

She sat back, pulling away enough to look into his face. His features were soft in the growing light, but there was a deep sadness in his pale blue eyes.

She reached up to cup his face in her hands. She wanted to tell him that he was wrong. She wanted to tell him that he was enough, more than enough for her. He was one of the strongest, kindest, most beautiful people she had ever known, and she didn't want better. She wanted him.

But the words stuck in her throat. All she could manage was his name.

"Sawyer," she said softly.

"Yeah?" His voice was a low rasp that sent shivers down her spine.

"I…"

"Lucy, it's okay," he interrupted before she could push out the confession. He brushed a thumb against her cheekbone in a comforting stroke. "We've got time."

But they didn't. Not with Mother Nature trying to kill them at every turn. And not with a killer among their ragtag group of survivors.

They could both die up here.

She should tell him how she felt and make sure he knew how special he was. She should kiss him again, kiss him like there was no tomorrow because there very well might not be.

She opened her mouth to speak, but a voice cut her off.

"Hey, Lucy? Sawyer?"

They broke apart abruptly and turned toward Grant. The guy stood in the open doorway of the tower, the lamplight from inside making his silhouette fuzzy. "Sorry to interrupt," he said sheepishly, scratching the back of his head. "But I found something you'll want to see."

Lucy tamped down a surge of annoyance at the interruption. She had no right to be annoyed. She and Sawyer weren't alone up here, and this wasn't the ideal place for... whatever that was.

She got to her feet and grabbed the blanket that had slipped off her shoulders during the kiss. Funny, she hadn't even felt the cool morning air until that moment.

Sawyer also stood slowly, his expression unreadable as he made his way toward Grant using the rail of the balcony as a guide. "What is it?"

Grant hesitated a beat, then held out a wallet.

Lucy took it and turned it over in her hands. It was thin, made to hold only a few cards. The soft leather was a pale peach color. Definitely feminine.

"What is it?" Sawyer asked again.

"A wallet." She flipped it open and pulled out the first card she found. A credit card in the name of Amaya Thomas. "Wait. Is this Maya's?"

Grant nodded and glanced over his shoulder, back inside the cabin. Everyone was sleeping except for Ethan, but the grumpy man was at the radio again, trying to get it to work, and not paying them any attention.

Still, Grant moved further out onto the balcony and swung the door shut behind him. "I found it in her backpack. I was looking to see if she had any contact numbers for emergencies… and I found that stuck inside the lining of the bag like she wanted to hide it."

Lucy pulled out another card— a California driver's license in the same name as the credit card. "Didn't she tell us her last name was Thompson?"

"She did," Sawyer confirmed.

"Her ID says her name is Amaya Thomas, not Maya Thompson. Why would she lie about that?"

"She was in shock," Grant said. "She'd lost a lot of blood. Maybe she was confused."

Lucy picked out another card and held it up so he could see it. "She lied about her profession, too. She told us she was a photographer, but this sure as hell looks like a military ID. She was active duty."

"Okay, I'll play devil's advocate," Sawyer said. "Photography could've been a hobby. The biggest, baddest Marine I knew was into birdwatching. Weirdly into it, you ask me, but I'd still want him to have my six in any pucker situation. Being military doesn't mean you can't have hobbies."

"But why lie about it?" She kept coming back to that one sticking point. There was no reason for Maya—or Amaya? —to hide her military background unless she was also hiding something else.

Lucy frowned, turning the ID over in her hand. The picture matched Maya's pretty face, but the blue uniform she wore, the rigid posture, and the stern expression were a far cry from the scared girl they'd found trapped under a tree.

Had she been running from something?

Or someone?

And, if so, was that person among their group? It made sense since Maya had ended up with a knife wound in her chest. But she couldn't see how any of her hikers were involved. Chuck was all bark and no bite, and Joel was just a kid. Bea was tough and ex-military, but underneath that toughness was a caring soul. She wouldn't kill a helpless woman. Theodore wouldn't either. He was too gentle, too kind, too meek. That left…

She looked at the two men standing in front of her.

Not Sawyer. He'd been by her side all night—she was sure of it. And he'd been the one to raise the alarm that Maya wasn't breathing.

She eyed Grant. She knew very little about him and Ethan, but it made the most sense that one of them was the killer.

But why would either of them kill an injured, unarmed woman?

Grant glanced over his shoulder, again checking to make sure nobody inside was paying them any attention. "Listen, I don't want to sound callous, but Maya's dead and her reasons for lying died with her. Right now, we have bigger problems and need to make some decisions. Like what to do with her body. The last forecast I saw said it was going to be hot today. By this evening, she's going to start…"

He didn't finish the sentence. He didn't need to. They all understood the implications.

Lucy's stomach roiled at the thought. She had seen death before—too much of it. People died all the time in national parks and part of her job was to clean up the sometimes horrific messes made by those deaths. But the natural, inevitable decay that followed death was something she had yet to get used to.

Ethan appeared in the doorway, moving silent as a ghost for such a big man. "Got that damn radio to work for a minute," he grumbled, ignoring the way they all stiffened at his interruption. "Didn't get anything out, but caught a few garbled transmissions. Sounds like every town up and down the coast is a mess and San Francisco is in chaos. We're on our own."

"Fuck." Sawyer took a step back, rubbing his temples as if warding off an impending headache. Zelda moved closer, nudging her head against his leg in an attempt to comfort him. He gave her a small smile and a loving stroke before turning back to the group. "All right, so we're on our own. We'll bury Maya as best we can, and mark her grave so we can comeback for her once we're safe. Then we need to figure out what we have for food and water and how long it will last us."

Ethan crossed his thick arms over his chest. "The kid's gotta get off this mountain if he wants to keep that leg. Infection's already set in."

Lucy closed her eyes. Everything in her trembled with a raw, primal fear at the news.

God, she couldn't do this.

She didn't want to be the one in charge, to have to make all the decisions.

Breathe , she reminded herself. Just breathe.

"I'm going to hike down to the nearest ranger station." The words popped out of her mouth before she fully registered that was her plan.

"What?" Grant and Sawyer said at the same time.

Ethan shook his head. "It's twenty miles through rugged, unstable terrain. It'll take you at least two days, if you make it at all."

"Hey, weren't you the one that wanted to kick us all out last night?" Grant muttered. "Thought you'd be happy to get rid of some of us."

Ethan glowered, his bushy brows slamming together over his navy blue eyes. "I was pissed. That girl may have been lying about who she was, but she didn't deserve to go out like that."

So Ethan had been paying attention to their conversation after all.

Grant dismissed him with a scowl and turned to Lucy. "I'll go with you."

"No," she said at the same time Sawyer said, "Hell no."

Grant's scowl only deepened. "Who else do you suggest? Ethan?"

Ethan grunted. "I'm not leaving my tower."

"Okay, well, Chuck's not an option. Neither is Joel. Bea could do it, but she won't go anywhere without Theodore, and he's all but useless. And you can't go with her either, Sawyer. You'll just slow her down more."

Sawyer straightened, his usual good-natured calm shattering. Fury snapped in his eyes. He obviously wanted to deny it, but he couldn't. He could do a lot despite his blindness, but the disability made him a slow hiking partner. And speed was critical.

Lucy saw the muscles along his jaw work as he ground his teeth together. She touched his arm, felt the corded muscles tense under her fingers.

"He's right, Sawyer," she murmured. "I'm going alone. I know the terrain better than any of you, and I'm the fastest."

His head jerked in her direction, his pale eyes blazing with disbelief. He looked like a man about to spring into a fight. But instead, he let out a long sigh and nodded, accepting defeat.

"I don't like it." He paused, rubbing at his forehead again. He definitely had a headache he was trying to hide. "But we can't sit around waiting for rescue, and you're the best one to go."