Four
Liv
H e’d asked me to behave myself, but I didn't feel in any danger here. The place had the same empty feel to it I'd recognised in homes and office buildings. No sensation of eyes on me other than Cruz's, no raising of the hairs on the back of my neck to tell me a threat was imminent.
But he'd set a boundary, and I intended to respect it.
I honestly hadn’t expected it to get this far. As he lost his shirt and loosened his belt, I didn't know how to feel about luring him into the water with me. Proud? Embarrassed? Excited? Rather than ruin the moment by analysing it to death, I relaxed and let myself enjoy the view.
The last time I saw him like this, we were getting ready to leave Melbourne, and we hadn’t crossed any lines with each other yet. At the time, I had to play it cool and pretend his body had no effect on me, but now I could look as much as I wanted to without the need to hide my interest.
"Hurry," I said, unsure if he could hear me over the rush of the waterfall.
"I'm working on it." He stripped off his pants, and as I followed the line of dark hair that travelled from his abdomen to the waistband of his black boxer briefs, my breathing hitched. Seeing him hard and ready beneath that thin layer of material made me desperate to touch him. When he looked up, it was comforting to see everything I felt for him reflected in his eyes.
Cruz gave me the ghost of a smile, then grabbed both our knives and moved closer to hold mine out to me. He took my free hand in his, and my heart stuttered as our fingers interlocked. Such a simple gesture, yet so foreign to me now that it almost felt like the first time a man had held my hand.
My face grew warm as we waded into the water and picked our way through the stone-filled riverbed. We both exclaimed our shock at the temperature—it was breath-stealing freezing—as we headed closer to the rushing water. The spray hit our faces, and the overwhelming noise eclipsed every other sound.
I checked behind me, but we were still alone.
In a perfect world, we wouldn't need to scan our surroundings in an isolated place, but we had to assume we were in danger everywhere we went and stay on alert. We stopped at the base of the waterfall, and Cruz released my hand as we set our weapons on the nearest rock. The two of us spent a minute or so checking the water for signs of movement.
I hadn't been out in the wild long enough to know if the infected walked into water voluntarily when there were no humans around to follow, but it was so clean here that it wouldn't be hard to catch any threats under the surface.
Once we'd cleared the area, I pulled the tie from my hair and shook out my braid. I backed under the waterfall and laughed as it threatened to drown me with its force. So, so cold. It quickly reached the point of being intolerable, and the weight of the water nearly pushed me to my knees, but it helped me acclimatise faster. By the time I was completely drenched, I'd become used to the temperature.
Cruz eased me out from under the worst of it and smoothed my soaked hair back from my face. He looked me over with a faint smile that encouraged one from me. " Tú mujer loca. "
With a laughing breath, I looked away and took in our surroundings. I didn't need to be fluent in Spanish to understand what loca meant—and he honestly made me feel crazy sometimes. The man was addictive. His scent, his body, his mind. God, his heart .
Every day I spent with him had me falling deeper, but before I could get too carried away with that train of thought, I focused on the reason he came into the water with me. "We forgot the shampoo."
"Shit. I'll get it." He left me standing in the river and climbed onto the bank to rummage through my pack. My breaths were coming quickly, my pulse thrumming in my neck. With a sigh, I let my gaze caress his bunched abs as he bent over, then the hard muscles in his thighs and calves. His dark hair glistened in the dappled sunlight, and when he straightened again holding the bottle of shampoo, his soaked underwear moulded around him in a way that had my entire body yearning for him.
Life was just not fair.
He came back to me, his eyes locked with mine as he stepped across the rocky riverbed. "I don’t know what the hell’s wrong with me. I spent thirty seconds away from you, and it was thirty seconds too long."
God, I couldn’t take much more of this without spontaneously combusting. His words filled me with warmth, the roughness of his voice sending every overwhelming feeling from before slamming into me again. I gazed up at him, struck dumb and unsure of what to say. We were linked somehow, a connection that went beyond the physical, because I didn’t want to be apart from him either.
He smiled and swept his thumb over my cheek. "Turn around."
With a huff of embarrassment, I faced away from him as he flipped the cap on the herbal shampoo I’d found this morning. He squeezed a dollop on my head and set the bottle on the boulder beside us.
When his fingers began massaging my scalp, I closed my eyes and smiled, the scents of rose and apple wafting around us as he turned my hair into a mass of bubbles. With a sigh, I tipped my head back and soaked up every swirl of his fingers, wondering why I hadn’t let a man wash my hair before. How was I supposed to go back to doing it myself now I knew what I’d been missing?
His chest pressed against me as he worked, and I heard a smile in his voice when he said, "The view from up here is pretty incredible."
Confused, I opened my eyes and glanced down to find bubbles sliding over my damp skin. A cluster had slid into my cleavage and pooled in my sports bra, taking on a rainbow hue in the light. I thought about suggesting I take off my bra to improve the view, but he must have sensed the incoming question.
A low laugh rumbled in his chest, and he gave me a gentle nudge toward the waterfall. "Step under the water and rinse."
So demanding. The authoritative tone in his voice sent a thrill racing me. Without another word, I moved closer to the water and leaned into it, turning to face him as I flushed the shampoo from my hair. I held his gaze and gave him a small smile as I ran my fingers through the strands, rinsing until the water cleared.
His jaw hardened as he watched me, his dark eyes taking on a flinty edge that had my pulse skyrocketing. He didn't beckon me over with words, but something in the air made me move out from under the water and step in his direction. I resumed my position with my back pressed to his chest, facing the riverbank as I waited with breathless, barely there patience.
He stayed silent while he massaged my shoulders, pressing his thumbs into the base of my neck. I flicked a glance at the row of tents and sighed, trying to prove I could still sweep the area for potential dangers even as he turned me into a puddle of lust. My interest in our surroundings had already waned, though, and all my focus wanted to stay with him.
He was too distracting, too tempting.
He dipped his head to press a kiss on my cheek as he manipulated my shoulder muscles with slow, deep touches. His fingers were slippery with remnants of shampoo, his palms rough with callouses. He dug his thumbs into the space beneath my shoulder blades, and I couldn't keep my groan contained.
He rubbed his cheek against mine. "I like the sounds you make."
"You're torturing me," I half whined, half laughed.
"I'm torturing myself," he admitted. "This is heaven and hell."
I couldn’t take much more of this without throwing myself at him, and he only had himself to blame.
When my attention locked on a movement along the riverbank, my smile slowly dropped, and my pulse gave a hard thump. For a split second, I wondered if I was imagining the sight, and I blinked, seized by disbelief.
"What the…" It took me a second to focus, but then my stomach dropped, and I had to accept that, yes , this was happening right here in front of me. "Someone's here."
A woman rushed toward our belongings in a crouch-like run, her footsteps disguised by the noise of the waterfall. My heart slammed against my ribs, and I sucked in a breath as I pushed away from Cruz. When she passed beneath the shade of the trees, sunlight beamed through a break in the canopy and bounced off the rifle clutched to her side.
Not only did she have the potential to take our things, but this stranger could erase our lives .
I swiped my knife from the nearby rock and clutched the handle in a death grip. "Hey!" I yelled, too concerned with her stealing our keys to care about how little Cruz and I were wearing. The water went up to my waist, and I risked a couple of wading steps in her direction while her attention was on our backpacks. I didn't want to get shot, but leaving too much distance between us would only give her time to escape.
She appeared to be in her late-thirties, dirty and emaciated from living rough, her hair a tangled brown mass around her face. She met my eyes and spent a fleeting moment taking in the rest of me, then shifted her attention to Cruz.
He'd already collected his knife as the air grew heavy, the mood dark.
"Head on a swivel, querida ," he warned as he left my side. His deep voice was all business—and once again, we were back to fighting for our lives.
I was so tired of this crap.
We had no idea if she was alone or part of a group, if we were in immediate danger, or had time to talk our way through the situation. The thought that this could truly be the end for us motivated me to pay close attention.
She had a gun, and we had two knives between us. She wore boots and clothes while we stood barefoot and half naked in the middle of a river. The only way we could have been at more of a disadvantage was having no weapons at all.
The single detail in our favour was the knowledge that she couldn’t wrangle two backpacks and hold us off with the gun at the same time. The moment she tried taking off with the bags to search them elsewhere, we’d be on her.
She kept the rifle pointed in our direction in a silent threat as she dug in Cruz's backpack one-handed. I'd put the key fob in the side pocket of my bag, so we still had time to reach her before it was too late. If she got to our car and left here without us, any chance of us making it to Bridgehill would be gone.
"I don't want trouble," she called out. "I don't want to shoot you. I just need your car. Tell me where the keys are. I'll take it, and we can all leave here in one piece."
Two of us would leave this place unharmed, I knew that much for sure. Whether she joined us depended entirely on how the next few minutes played out.
"We can't give you the car," Cruz said, his voice calm and reasonable. "But if you put the gun down and back up a few steps, we can talk and figure something out."
A simmering rage burned inside me, and I turned my knife upside down in a pinch grip, keeping the blade secure and hidden beneath the water's surface. I'd practised throwing over and over to pass all the long, endless hours in the city, but I hadn't been nearly as stringent with my knife skills as I had with running and fitness. I could only hope my aim was accurate; if I left her injured and still able to operate a gun, we could end up worse off than if we'd just let her take the car.
Cruz sent me a fleeting look over his shoulder as he waded closer to the riverbank, his movements slow and deliberate. No doubt he planned on using his negotiating skills to avoid unnecessary violence, but if I had to kill her to save us, it wasn't a decision that required any thought.
"I don't want to talk," she said, her movements growing more frantic. "I just want the keys. I'm telling you now, I'm not leaving here without that fucking car."
Cruz took another step forward. "Did you know these people?" he asked, nodding at the wrecked tents with the bodies inside.
She ignored his question and screamed, “ Where are the keys ?"
I took my eyes off her to make sure no others were hiding in the nearby bushes. If she had any living friends left, one of them would have been searching through the bags while the rest kept us at bay. Hiding when they had the distinct advantage wouldn't make tactical sense.
She was alone. I'd bet the car on it. She was also on the verge of a mental breakdown after being isolated for too long. Part of me empathised with her—I could have easily ended up the same way if Cruz and I hadn't crossed paths—but the other part, the one that was desperate to survive, wouldn't allow those feelings to get in the way.
"What's your name?" he asked, his calmness a ploy to get her on our side.
She frowned, then laughed in a hysterical way that made her sound unhinged. "We're not going to chitchat, asshole. I just need your keys." She kicked Cruz's backpack aside and moved across to mine. "Tell me where they are!"
So close.
We had another minute, two at most, before she discovered where I'd stashed them. Cruz had progressed a few steps while distracting her with inane questions, getting ready to take possession of the rifle before we learned the hard way if it was loaded. We were out of time. Someone needed to act. The adrenaline rushing through me turned my gaze hard, my body rigid.
The woman glanced up while she was rummaging through the main compartment of my bag and noted Cruz's new position. Instead of threatening him, she jerked upright and swung the gun in my direction. " Don't fucking move, " she said, locking her elbows in position. Her gaze snapped from me to Cruz. "Come any closer, and I’m putting a hole in this bitch."
"Easy," he said. "Why don't you lower the gun so we can talk?"
If the rifle was loaded, all she had to do was squeeze the trigger, and I'd be gone in seconds—dead and floating in the water—then Cruz would become her next target. The thought of him being hurt ramped up the urgency.
Her arms blocked access to her vital organs, but all I needed to do was embed the blade somewhere on her body, and Cruz could dive in and take over from his closer position.
Focusing on my target, I slowed my breaths and lifted my hand from the river. Droplets of water slid down my forearm. My heartbeat pounded in my ears. With my knife cocked beside my head, I aimed and released the blade with a fast, straight throw… directly into her left eye socket.
Nothing happened for a few seconds. It seemed as if all the noise faded to silence, and the air grew still. Confused, the woman blinked her remaining good eye in slow motion, then her body dropped to the dirt with a thud. When her gun clattered to the ground a beat later, I blew out a breath, shocked and relieved.
"Nice arm." Water sloshed around Cruz as he waded the final few steps to the riverbank.
Not sure what to say or do, my gaze returned to her lifeless body as he climbed onto the bank. Her uninjured eye remained open, her head turned toward me with a blank stare. It unnerved me, and I had to look away to gather my composure.
We never even found out her name, but I couldn't let myself feel anything.
Not yet.
We needed to secure our location first.
Water streamed off Cruz's body as he leaned over her to check her pulse. We both knew she was gone, but someone had to confirm she was no longer a threat. My hands clenched at my sides as he met my eyes and shook his head.
Dead.
I pressed my lips together and nodded my understanding.
He left her there to dry himself off, dragging on clothes and boots, covering the body I'd been close to for one beautiful, peaceful moment in the water. I wanted that time back again, so we didn’t have to start today the same way we’d ended yesterday—with death and violence.
I joined him on the riverbank and made use of the second towel. Cruz kept himself busy as I changed into a fresh bra and panties and left the others lying on the ground. My breaths were coming faster as I dressed, struggling to pull on clothes over hastily dried skin. All the while, I scanned the top of the ravine, the trees, the scrub lining the trail to make sure no other sets of eyes were watching us.
The woman appeared to have been alone.
Neither of us spoke until we were fully covered and wearing our backpacks again. When our eyes met, I didn't find any judgement in his expression. Cruz curved his hand around the back of my neck and pulled me close, pressing his lips to my forehead in a comforting gesture that immediately put me on edge.
"I need to check the gun to see if we can use it," he said against my still-damp skin. "If it's empty, it doesn’t change anything."
I nodded because he expected it of me, not necessarily because I believed his words.
He bent over the woman to extract my knife from her skull, wiping it on her shirt before he handed it back to me. Forcing down my revulsion, I returned it to its sheath and kept my eyes glued to his every movement. If I knew we were truly in danger, I could rationalise my actions and eventually let myself off the hook—but what if she’d never had the option of harming us in the first place? What if we could have physically overpowered her and left this place with three hearts still beating?
Cruz collected the gun, and my heart hammered as he checked the chamber.
He sighed and showed it to me.
Empty.
A strange feeling built inside me. Guilt… or sadness. "I didn't know." Telling him I'd match energy for energy turned out to be easier than following through on those words and dealing with the aftermath.
He set the gun down beside the woman's body, his dark eyes so soft and understanding I felt like my chest might cave in. "Why didn't you give her a chance?"
I pulled my shirt away from my skin. Cornered. Claustrophobic. Droplets of water fell from the ends of my hair, leaving damp patches on the material. "She could have hidden somewhere safe and called out to us," I said, "or waited by the car far enough away that she wouldn't be a threat…" I paused and glanced at her body, my heart constricting at the sight. "Or any other option that wouldn't leave us stranded while she took our car, our clothes, our food." I shoved my hair over my shoulders and kept going, more for myself than Cruz. "We didn't have the luxury of time or distance to make up our minds about her. She had a gun that may or may not have been loaded. She pointed it at us in a threat to shoot. I had to act immediately, or we risked losing everything—including each other."
My voice had risen, my tone becoming more agitated. I’d always seen myself as a confident, capable woman. If I didn't know how to do something, I researched and learned; I figured out a way to get it done without requiring praise or recognition. But I think a small, hidden part of me just wanted the approval of a man who meant so much to me, a man I admired and respected and wanted to keep in my life for as long as our circumstances allowed.
Cruz stared at me for a beat, letting my words hover in the air between us.
He already knew the truth.
I’d paid close attention to every detail long before I committed to making a move.
My words sank in and settled inside me, loosening the tightness in my body. A beat later, an all-encompassing wave of relief rolled through me. "I made the right call."
"For the record, she would have been dead the second her gun swung in our direction if she’d pulled that stunt in the old days," Cruz said. "You've got good instincts and doubting yourself after the fact isn't a bad thing. It just means you have a heart, that you still give a shit."
“Thanks.” I drew a deep breath and made myself look at the woman whose life I'd extinguished.
We all made choices that impacted our lives, sometimes positive, sometimes negative. Rather than wish I hadn't opted to throw my knife, I'd choose to be thankful that doing so meant Cruz and I got to spend one more day together.
And at this point, he was all I cared about.