Chapter 6

6

Grace ran blind.

She'd lost all sense of direction. Gunshot had destroyed her scrappy plan to hike to the nearest town as easily as it had shattered the night air. Branches grabbed at her, their thorns piercing her jacket, scratching the backs of her hands and snagging on her hair.

Voices punctured the night air, thick accented male voices. Richard's security team. They had been the background to her life for the last fifteen years, haunted her sleep even now. She would know them anywhere.

Acidic tendrils snaked through her veins, scorching her throat and lungs, until only bitterness remained. A fresh cramp clawed at her side, threatening to cripple her resolve. Every step was like wading through molasses, her energy depleted. She was running on empty. The temptation to surrender, to succumb to the darkness, whispered enticingly in her mind.

Just give it up, Grace.

Heavy steps gained on her. A man, but quick on his feet, his stride purposeful and steady, not the chaotic footsteps of her pursuers.

With a wary glance over her shoulder, her world lurched as her foot caught on an unseen obstacle, sending her crashing to the forest floor, one arm twisting under her. Pain engulfed her exhausted body, and stars danced at the edge of her vision, threatening to swallow her whole.

It's over.

"Hey." The voice in her ear was a soothing lifeline in this living hell. Strong arms enveloped her, forming a physical shield, and then his solid body pressed against her spine. "They're close. Don't move." The voice was familiar. The man she'd seen only moments before. Locked in by the embankment studded with roots before her, and the warmth of the man behind, she found herself both trapped and protected. He must have heard the gunshots. Why would he want to help or get involved?

Her heart raced in her chest, a wild creature desperate for escape. The coarse texture of fallen leaves grazed her cheek. I'm in a ditch.

"Try to slow your breathing."

"Slow," she echoed, but her breathing was an erratic rasp. Adrenalin made her heart give another spurt, till she was sure it would rupture right out of her chest. Her left hand throbbed, trapped beneath her, while she dug her right into the soil. Spongy with decayed matter, it was a futile attempt to ground herself somewhere other than the ongoing nightmare of her life. With a desperate last attempt to free herself, she shifted, only to freeze at the sound of her pursuer's voice.

"Bailey. We know you're here."

The mention of her surname iced her spine.

"You're going to freeze to death out here. Let me take you home. Richard is worried." Alex Mason, Richard's right-hand man, a former bodyguard and submariner. Richard wasn't messing around. He meant to silence her once and for all.

The careful tread of snow under boots was near. Alex would see her at any moment. She closed her eyes tight, her body slipping back to her childhood when she believed she was invisible if her eyes were closed. Soft dirt pattered on her cheek, her neck, her arm.

What?

A gentle touch scattered dirt and leaves over her, concealing her from view. The stranger wanted to protect, not harm her. His breath, steady against her neck, not jagged like her own, offered a rhythmic reassurance.

The tread of boots halted nearby, the harsh rasp of breath slicing through the tense silence. "Fuck." A soft mutter. More footsteps approached. "Granger?"

"No sign of her, sir."

"Fuck. She can't disappear. She's fucking running scared. Spread out and circle back to the road. We'll create a loop and close in. There's nowhere for her to go on foot. She'll be dead by the morning if she stays out in this, and we can't risk drawing that kind of attention."

Grace squeezed her eyes tight. She'd known they wouldn't give up easily, but to hear the determination in Alex's voice? It crushed the small crumb of hope that had sustained her over recent days.

"Yes, sir." As the younger man moved away, there was a brief reprieve, interrupted only by the striking of a match and the acrid smell of cigarette smoke. The smoke was brief, a few rapid puffs and then the stamp of the butt being extinguished under a boot before Alex moved on. Rough voices faded, swallowed by the night.

The arm locked around her loosened, but his protective embrace remained. For a fleeting moment, Grace allowed herself to relax into the safety of his hold, the outside world and its harsh reality held at bay.

"Okay, I'm going to help you get up, but we need to be quiet." The man's voice was deep. "They'll come running back if they hear us. You understand?"

Grace nodded, her throat tight with tangled emotions. She wanted to be alone, to trust no one, especially a stranger. But his actions spoke louder than words, and he proved true to his promise. He released her and for an instant, she missed the soft pulse of his breath against her nape. With gentle hands, he lifted her to her feet, brushing away the leaves and mud with care.

As she straightened, she got a good look at him.

Towering over six rugged feet, he possessed an undeniable presence that demanded attention. His face wasn't conventionally handsome like Richard's. Instead, it carried the weathered lines of experience, of a life immersed in the raw elements of nature. Stormy gray eyes, sharp with concern, met hers above a jaw that bore the scruff of a life lived unencumbered by the sharp side of a razor blade. His bearing resonated with a primal, animalistic masculinity, a lone wolf untamed by societal norms and an air of wilderness clung to him.

But his touch was considerate. As he gently cupped her wrist, the pain almost dulled in the warmth of human contact. "You're hurt?"

Prickles sparked on her bare skin in the gap between her glove and sleeve. Cold or the comfort of care after so long running on her own, she wasn't sure.

"My hand got caught under me. I think it's okay…" She pulled off her yellow mittens, tried to rotate her wrist. "Woah…" She braced her arm against her chest, swallowing against the grayness that burst against the fringes of her vision. "Still… bit sore."

He glanced around, his gaze skimming over the shadowy trees looming around them. "Let's get you out of here."

A hand slid against the small of her back. The pressure was gentle but insistent, urging her to move.

Grace resisted, her mind a whirlwind of uncertainty. "Thank you," she whispered, her voice inaudible to her own ears. "I can take it from here."

His breath puffed out in regular beats. He cocked one eyebrow, his gaze steady on hers. "You don't have a compass or a map. You know which way to go?"

Grace lifted her chin, trying to push aside the doubts clawing at her mind. She glanced up at the sky. "Sure." She squinted. "There's the north star, so I should head this way." She took a few hesitant steps forward, her resolve wavering.

"And where are you going?"

"Um… Aurora Cove." The seeping cold was making her teeth chatter, her thoughts sluggish. Was it possible for your eyeballs to freeze solid?

"Aurora Cove is the other way." He took several long steps in the opposite direction. His gaze locked onto hers, a silent challenge in his eyes. "And the men after you?"

"They work for my ex-boyfriend." Nausea rolled through her and her knees weakened. This man was different. He was a stranger, and yet he had helped conceal her from Alex. Was that enough reason to trust him?

"Your ex hired thugs to chase after you?" He scratched his jaw then exhaled slowly, his breath forming a frosty cloud. He motioned for her to follow him. "Come on," he said, his voice soft but firm.

Grace hesitated, torn between the safety she'd felt in his arms and the instinctive urge to flee. He was a stranger, but if he intended to harm her, he could have done it already, couldn't he?

Branches closed behind him with a soft swoosh of dislodged snow, and he was gone.

She was alone, the moon and stars her only companions in the darkness, the skeletons of spiky trees crowding her from all sides, the earthy scent of pine filling her nostrils.

Mister Compass brain had vanished into the depths of the forest.

Damn it. Grace stumbled after him. "Wait?—"