Chapter 10 #3
None of his teammates had looked like Cici, either. At the moment, that wasn’t a point in her favor. He needed fewer distractions, and everything about her distracted him. It was why he walked in front of her, not beside her or, even worse, behind her where he could watch her move.
He needed to jiggle those thoughts loose, then stomp them into the bracken.
“I just thought we could catch a bus to Boston, or a flight to Portland.” Her voice was pitched high and getting higher. Soon, only dogs would be able to hear her.
The snarky side of him thought, good.
But that guy was a jerk.
“Won’t work,” he said.
“Of course not. Of course nothing will work.” She sighed. “Could we steal a horse? Find a hot-air balloon? Hitchhike with a serial killer? I’m sure there’s a tandem bicycle rental somewhere.”
Turning, he watched as she made a show of looking around, though they were surrounded by nothing but trees on every side.
He snorted despite himself. “You’re making it really hard to concentrate, you know that?”
“Maybe you’ll actually listen to one of my ideas instead of grunting like a caveman.”
He stopped short and faced her, and she nearly collided with him. Her green eyes blazed, cheeks flushed from the trek and her agitation.
“Sheesh, Cici.” He felt a grin breaking through and tried to temper it. “I’m having flashbacks to high school. Trying to think when you’re around is impossible.”
Her annoyance seemed to fade away as her head tilted, confusion flicking across her face. “What do you mean?”
What was he thinking, reminding her of the loser he used to be?
His neck heated, and he shook his head, trying to wave his remark off.
“Nothing. Just… You had to know, right? You were like”—he gestured vaguely toward her, grasping for something safe—“the prettiest girl in school.” Sexiest. That was the word that had popped into his head, though thank heavens he hadn’t said it aloud.
“All the guys tripped over themselves watching you.”
Her lips parted, surprise softening her features. “Pretty?” she said, almost to herself, like she was turning the word over.
He started walking again, silently cursing himself.
And then one of his eyes stung, sharp and sudden. Not tears—don’t even think it. He was a Navy SEAL, and SEALs didn’t cry.
No. A speck of grit had lodged itself under a contact lens.
He blinked hard, then rubbed it, but the pain only got worse.
“Hold up.” He slid his pack off his back and fished for the small case he always carried.
No choice now. He popped out the right contact, and the pain was gone instantly, though his vision blurred.
He held it up to the dim light filtering through the trees and closed the bad eye.
Whatever had gotten in his eye had torn the contact lens. It was useless now.
With a sigh, he flicked it away. He had fresh lenses, still in their sealed packages, but to use them, he’d need to wash his hands.
Not like there was a sink and soap nearby.
He removed the left contact, and his vision blurred even more.
He found his glasses—chunky black frames he only wore when nobody was looking—and slid them on.
The world snapped back into focus.
A small smile played at Cici’s lips. “They look good on you.”
He knew that was a lie. He had a mirror, after all. He was the geeky kid all over again. “Whatever.”
She was being nice—much nicer than she’d ever been in school—and it was messing with him. She was a shallow prom queen who’d burned his confidence to ash.
He had to keep reminding himself to focus on the mission.
Even if this Cici wasn’t playing her part, she was kind, quick-witted, and despite her tears, holding it together better than most would with killers on their tail. If he wasn’t careful, she’d suck him in again.
He couldn’t afford that—not now, not ever.
He started walking, faster now, as if he could outrun his thoughts.
She fell into step beside him. “We need a real idea.” Her voice was lighter. Was she trying to encourage him? Did she read his embarrassment?
How…embarrassing.
“I was kidding about the tandem-bike thing, but seriously, what if we found a bike shop? We could borrow a couple of mountain bikes and pedal our way out of here. If they need a credit card, I could get one of my parents to provide one. No cameras, no cards, just…us and the forest until we reach a safe place.”
He grunted. It wasn’t a terrible idea, except that, as confident as he’d sounded when he’d told her he knew where they were, finding trails suitable for biking was a whole different matter. And off trails, they wouldn’t move any faster on bikes than they were moving on foot.
“Or,” she went on, “we could find a river, build a raft like Huck Finn. Float all the way to Maine. I mean, I’m no Tom Sawyer, but I can tie a decent knot.”
He shook his head, fighting another grin. “You’re ridiculous.”
“Ridiculous is my middle name.”
Rose was her middle name, and ridiculous was the fact that he remembered that. Ridiculous was the fact that he’d ever known it.
Proof of his…yeah, the word still worked. Ridiculous crush.
“Come on, Asher, throw me a bone. I’m doing my best here.”
He glanced at her, her strawberry-blond hair catching a stray beam of sunlight, her eyes bright despite the fear she was clearly wrestling. She was trying to help, which threw him off. He wanted to stay mad, to keep her at arm’s length, but her kindness made it impossible.
They reached a shallow creek, the water gurgling over smooth stones, and he paused to check their bearings.
The forest stretched on, but he could hear faint traffic in the distance—a road, maybe a mile off.
They needed a ride, but stealing another car felt like tempting fate.
He fished his water bottle from his bag and handed it to her.
She took a long sip, then he finished the bottle and refilled it in the stream, using his small filter, then added iodine to kill bacteria.
“Why do you have that?”
He wasn’t sure what to say, so he said nothing.
“You just walk around prepared to survive in the wilderness?”
He shrugged.
“Seriously”—she nodded to the filter still sticking out from the top of his pack—“how do you have those things?”
“For such a time as this?”
She cracked a smile. “Does this happen to you a lot, getting stranded in the forest with helpless damsels?”
“You’re not helpless.” He splashed his face to clear his head, then stood, water dripping from his chin. “I always travel with essentials.”
“Me, too. Lipstick and hand cream. Not”—she waved at his filtration system—“that.”
He’d been taught to be prepared when he was a Boy Scout. He’d learned how to do it—and everything to be prepared for—as a SEAL.
“What about a library?” Her voice was thoughtful now. “They’ve got free internet. We could use a public computer, contact Forbes without a phone. He could arrange a pickup, somewhere discreet. No cards, no trace.”
Libraries were low-key and anonymous, and nobody would bat an eye at two people using a computer. He nodded slowly, letting the idea sink in. “Actually, that might work.”
She crossed her arms, smirking. “Wow. The ‘actually’ was a nice touch.”
His mouth twitched, caught off guard. “I didn’t mean… You’re not a pro.” He hadn’t meant to insult her and wasn’t sure how to dig himself out. “It’s a good idea.”
“High praise.” She laughed, the sound carrying no malice. “I’m like a stopped clock, right twice a day.”
She’d thrown out a thousand ideas. One was bound to stick.
That wasn’t fair. She was doing better than he’d ever have predicted, better than he was in the idea-generation department. And that was a problem, because every time she surprised him, every time she flashed that smile or tossed out a quip, it chipped away at the wall he’d built around her memory.
“Let’s move. Stay sharp.”
She nodded, falling in beside him, and he caught the faintest whiff of her shampoo—something fruity and out of place in the wild. He shook off the scent and his attraction so they couldn’t distract him.
Cici Wright was his job, nothing more. But as they moved toward the hum of civilization, he couldn’t shake the feeling that she was becoming a heck of a lot more than that. And he wasn’t sure he could stop it.
Or wanted to.