15. Marcie
CHAPTER 15
MARCIE
DAY 2 – MORNING - THE NIGHTMARE CONTINUES
A s the morning wore on, the sun hit hard, even beneath the forest canopy. The still air pressed down like a heavy blanket, oppressive and unrelenting. My boots crunched softly over dry leaves and twigs, the murmur of the river a constant companion, guiding us downstream.
Anton walked ahead, his broad shoulders leading the way. There was something unshakable about him—so strong and sure even in the face of the ever-present danger. Despite the suffocating heat and the gnawing worry that the hunters might soon catch up with us, his presence bolstered me. His unwavering confidence that we’d make it out of this alive was like a lifeline I clung to with desperate hands.
We’d been trekking for hours, and my feet were killing me. I was sure my blisters had blisters. Every step sent sharp little stabs of pain shooting up my legs, and my limping gait was becoming unsteady.
My hair clung in damp waves to the back of my neck. I pushed it over one shoulder, but a strand snagged on my earring, nearly yanking it out. Swearing under my breath, I fumbled to fix it with sweaty fingers. They were the only gift Anton had ever given me, and losing them would break my heart. My chest tightened with the thought, the humid air doing little to ease the pressure building inside me. Sweat trickled down my back, and I clenched my fists, determined to keep moving despite the fatigue clawing at my limbs.
I wanted nothing more than to stop, to rest for just a moment, but I knew we couldn’t. Not yet.
“How much longer do you think before we find something? A road, a farm, anything?” I asked, striving to keep my tone light and casual. The last thing I wanted was for Anton to pick up on how exhausted I was.
“Not sure, honey. Hopefully soon,” he replied over his shoulder, his voice low and focused.
Helpful. I rolled my eyes at his back, frustration tugging at me. Maybe if we talked for a while, it would take my mind off the pain.
“So, what made you go into the special forces?” I asked, remembering Anton hadn’t been just a regular soldier.
“The opportunity arose, and I took it,” he replied, but I knew immediately there was more to it than that. My eyes narrowed and I bit my lip as my instincts flared. There was something he wasn’t telling me. My gut told me there was a story there, one I needed to uncover. But not now. Whatever it was, it was clear he wasn’t ready to discuss it.
The silence that followed was thick with awkwardness, hard to dispel. I fished around in my mind for another topic of conversation, something—anything—to shift the unease that had settled between us.
“Well, those skills you learned in the forces are mighty useful. Is that where you got your secret agent survival belt?” I teased.
“Not quite. But I did learn to survive, and the best way to do that is to always be prepared for anything,” he said with a hint of amusement, slowing to walk beside me again.
“A bit like the Boy Scouts. Dib, dib, and all that,” I winked and gave him the scout sign with my three fingers, which was all I knew about scouts.
“I wouldn’t know—I was never a Boy Scout. Probably a good thing too, with Ash’s bad influence, not to mention the rest of the Rominovs. Even Luca, for that matter—I’d have likely been thrown out,” Anton chuckled.
My lady parts tingled, awakening at the sound. Not the time, Marcie, I reminded myself, brushing away a drop of sweat that trailed down my forehead. My clothes clung to me, my feet ached, and my bare legs chafed. This was no time to add to my discomfort by getting horny.
“So, where did you get it?” I asked, gesturing to the belt, trying to keep my eyes from drifting lower. Behave, Marcie!
“It’s my idea. Marko got it made up for me, though. This is a prototype we designed together. If it proves useful, and it seems to be, we plan on marketing something similar to the military. This type, we’ll try to market to the survivalists out there. I was going to add the hunters, but I’m definitely rethinking that idea,” he said with a wry smirk.
“Well, when we get out of this, sign me up for one,” I said, eyeing the belt more seriously now. “Actually, have you thought about designing something more suitable for a woman? I mean, sure, we could use a belt like that, but it wouldn’t be much use unless we were wearing trousers. I’m thinking something like a garter belt, you know, the kind female agents use to conceal weapons under their sexy dresses.” I wiggled my eyebrows and grinned.
“I’ll think about it,” he replied, returning the grin.
“I like the idea of having something that isn’t what it seems—a surprise for the next fucker who tries to kidnap me,” I added with a wicked smile.
“Definitely a good idea,” he said, his smirk growing. “Although, you already have something that isn’t quite what it seems,” he said, his eyes gleaming with an unreadable expression.
“Say what?” I asked, brows furrowing.
“Your earrings are lovely, Marcie,” he said, his gaze locking with mine.
I fiddled with them. “Yes, they are. You did get my thank-you card, didn’t you? I sent one out to everyone after the party.” I swallowed, feeling that familiar awkwardness creeping back. The party where I made a fool of myself over him, then pushed too far the following morning, leading to months of avoidance.
“I did, yes. But they aren’t just earrings. I should have told you sooner, but well, things between us were a little…” His voice tapered off.
“I… I know.” I nodded, the awkwardness becoming almost unbearable. “So, what do you mean? They aren’t just earrings?” I asked, the full meaning of his words finally sinking in.
He reached up and touched one. “They’ve got a hidden tracker inside.”
“A tracker?” I felt the other one.
“Surely, they’re too small?” I asked, frowning. Was he kidding?
He shook his head, a slight smile tugging at his lips.
“How’s that even possible?”
“Another prototype of Marko’s. He’s always working on something. All the Rominov men have a tracker in their watches, and all their women have them in their jewellery. I got him to put one in each of your earrings.”
I gasped. “That’s why you put the little note in, saying you hoped I’d wear them always?”
Oh, my god. My mind raced back to what he’d just said: “…all their women have them in their jewellery…” All their women? Was that how Anton saw me? As his woman—even though he desperately tried not to admit it? My insides practically danced at the thought, but I forced myself to keep a tight rein on my emotions. I wasn’t willing to read too much into the gesture or his words—not yet. My history with my stalker and our friendship might be the real reasons for the tracker.
“Yes,” he nodded, pulling me from my thoughts. “I wasn’t sure you would wear them at all after the way we parted that day, but I’m so glad you did.” His voice was low and soft as he met my gaze.
“I cherish them. I’ll always wear them, Anton.” My voice was barely a whisper as I stared at him, the warmth in his gaze burning through me deeper than the heat from the sun. God, how I wanted this man. If only he wanted me the same way.
I shook my head to break the spell he had on me.
“So, wait. If there’s a tracker inside, can Marko track us from it?” I asked, unable to keep the excitement from my voice.
“Only if we’re within range. We’re too far away. And they’d have to be looking for us. I’m not sure if they even know we’ve been taken yet,” he replied, putting a dampener on my hope.
My body slumped as I sighed, nodding. “I thought that too. The arseholes who took us searched me for my car keys, so they must have moved our cars out of the car park. I’m not working again until tomorrow, so unless someone checks on me sooner, nobody will miss me.”
“Me neither,” Anton said. “Of course, they saw you storm out and me go after you, so maybe Claire or Ash will call one of us to find out what happened. If they don’t get an answer, I’m sure they’ll try reaching the other. When neither of us responds, I think they’ll start worrying.”
“Yeah, I guess,” I murmured, unable to keep my upset hidden.
Anton lifted my chin. “Don’t worry. Once we get to a phone, the guys will come for us. Then we’ll be home before you know it and tend to those blisters.”
“And when I get home, I’m going to burn these bloody boots. Although, it’ll be a shame. Derrick bought me them for my birthday,” I lamented with a pout.
“I’ll help you do it. And I’ll buy you replacement boots since I broke the heels.”
“Not your fault they had to be broken,” I said, wondering at his offer.
“But you liked them?” His question was more of a statement.
“Yes, I did,” I replied, confirming what he already knew.
“Then I’d like to replace them. I’ll look forward to seeing you enjoy wearing them, as they should be worn.”
“Well, thank you,” I replied, unsure how to respond. I could replace them myself—after all, I ran a successful business and wasn’t short of a pound or two. But somehow, I sensed there was more to Anton’s offer than I realised, some underlying message. Was this his way of saying he wasn’t going to continue avoiding me? That he’d like to see me after all this is over? As a friend, or… dare I hope for something more?
The thought of his flirting yesterday and his heated looks today made me reconsider. Last night, I’d assumed his change in behaviour was just a distraction, a way to lighten the situation—like I’d been doing. And I’d decided to play along. Now, I wasn’t so sure it was a game. The more time we spent together, the more I believed his shift in attitude was genuine. But that didn’t mean I had to stop playing. In fact, it made me more determined to turn up the heat.
“What about the dress?” I asked, doing a little shimmy to show off what was left of it. “Claire bought it for me. It’s one of Sara’s originals. I love how it feels. It’s beautiful, don’t you think?” I said, feigning innocence as I dragged my hands down the sides of it, my touch slow and deliberate.
“I… er…” Anton stuttered, his mouth hanging open. He blinked rapidly, clearly struggling to focus.
“Close your mouth, baby. You’ll catch flies,” I teased with a cheeky smirk before sauntering off in front of him, putting my hips into each step despite the ache in my feet. By the time this ordeal was over, Anton would be unable to resist my charms any longer.
A couple of hours later, the sun was high in the sky, and my footsteps were getting heavier, my feet dragging over the uneven forest floor, and all thoughts of play had disintegrated like dust in the wind.
Anton had slowed, letting me set the pace and our progress had dramatically reduced. This was bad. I couldn’t believe that nobody had caught up to us yet.
The thought had me checking over my shoulder. I stumbled on a tree root and fell forward with a cry. Before I could hit the ground, my Mr Sexy Soldier was there. He hauled me up and against him. “Are you okay, honey?”
“Sorry,” I mumbled, feeling foolish. I’d promised myself I wouldn’t be a liability, yet here I was, day two and the distance we’d created by doubling back yesterday had to be dwindling fast now. I went to pull away, but Anton tightened his arms around me. Dipping his head, he rested it on top of my own.
“I know this is hard on you, honey. You’re doing so well under the circumstances. I’m so impressed by your resilience, Marcie. I just need you to go on a little further until we can find a safe place to stop for a rest. Can you do that for me?”
Sighing heavily, I pressed my cheek against Anton’s chest, allowing myself a moment to take in the strength of his embrace, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against my ear. His words soothed the lingering ache in my legs and the doubts that clawed at my mind.
“I can do it,” I whispered, summoning every ounce of determination I had. I tipped my head back to meet his gaze, my lips curving into a small smile despite the weariness I knew must be evident in my features.
The intensity in his eyes softened, and for a fleeting second, it felt as though nothing else existed but the two of us in this vast, unforgiving wilderness. But reality came crashing back as he released me with a gentle squeeze of my shoulders, urging me forward.
About ten minutes later, my eyes were drawn to where the sun glinted off bright red patches in the trees ahead. My stomach growled as I realised what they were.
“Are those… cherries?” I pulled out of Anton’s arms, brushing past him with growing excitement, almost stumbling again in my haste.
“Careful,” he warned, following me, but his voice softened with approval when he saw the patch of fruit-laden trees off to our left. “Yeah, wild cherries. Good find.”
We stopped beneath the trees, the branches heavy with ripe fruit. My fingers trembled slightly as I plucked one of the cherries, the red juice staining my thumb. It was warm from the sun, sweet and tart as I bit into it.
“Lunch,” I declared, grabbing another handful. I felt proud I’d spotted them—my little contribution to our survival after Anton’s fish from the night before. Maybe I wasn’t such a liability after all.
Anton raised an eyebrow but followed suit, pulling down a branch to pick more cherries. He popped several into his mouth while looking around the area.
The little clearing was wild, and the small cluster of cherry trees provided not only food but also the perfect place to rest, hidden from sight, except by the path we’d just taken.
“Well, I guess this is the perfect place,” Anton mumbled around a mouthful of fruit.
We sat beneath the tree, and for the first time in what felt like hours, I let out a deep breath, relaxing.
“You’ve got…” he gestured vaguely at my face, his brow furrowed.
“What?”
“Juice,” he said, pointing to his own chin as he continued chewing.
I wiped my chin with the back of my hand, catching his gaze lingering on me. His eyes dropped to my mouth, and my pulse kicked up.
Oh, this was too good.
I licked my fingers slowly, watching him out of the corner of my eye. He froze mid-bite, his jaw tightening. Then I bit into another cherry, allowing the juice to drip over my lips.
“You missed a spot,” he muttered, his voice a little rougher than before.
“Did I?” I asked innocently, deliberately swiping my tongue across my bottom lip.
His gaze darkened. For a man who was supposed to be all business, he was suddenly very distracted. I sniggered.
“That’s enough cherries for me,” he said abruptly, standing and brushing off his trousers. “I’ve, eh, things to do.” He cleared his throat, and I stifled a grin.
“I’m going to head back a bit and then climb one of the higher trees and see if I can spot anyone trailing us. Stay here until I get back,” he said, having pulled himself together again.
Smiling, I nodded and popped another cherry into my mouth. His eyes widened, and without another word, he turned and ran—literally ran—in the direction we’d come. I couldn’t tell if he was hurrying to a vantage point or fleeing for other reasons, but I had a feeling it was the latter. And in that moment, despite the situation, a spark of resolve flared inside me. This man could try to pretend otherwise, but he wanted me as much as I wanted him. By the time this was over, Anton DuPont wouldn’t just be unable to resist my charms—he’d be mine. Completely. Utterly. Forever.