22. Gus
Chapter 22
Gus
T he day was already heating up as we headed back toward our camp.
God, this felt good. Not as good as holding her all night, but the elation that hit me at the sight of the smile that split her face when she first saw the wildflowers was a pretty close second. It was fucking spectacular.
And a reminder that beauty could come from devastation and loss.
We sat on the plateau for a long time, snapping photos, drinking water, and enjoying the quiet. If this was as good as it got, then already, the trip was a success.
The longer we were out here, the more she unwound. Her posture was looser, the line between her eyes had smoothed out, and she was smiling more.
“Thanks for bringing me out here.”
My chest warmed at the genuineness in her tone. “It’s your land. I figure now’s the time to see it.”
“Before I get too pregnant.”
“Or before we have a newborn.”
She grew silent behind me as we continued down the trail. Dammit. That was probably the wrong thing to say. The baby may only be the size of a blueberry—yes, I had an app on my phone—but it was the official elephant in this forest.
I had so many questions, and there was so much to figure out. Although my goal was to give her time to relax, I was anxious to discuss how this would all work.
Based on her silence, though, she wasn’t ready to talk about this yet. So I’d give her time.
“Sorry, I’m so slow,” she said behind me. “My legs are a lot shorter than yours, and I guess I’m not as fit as I thought I was. I’m getting sore.”
I turned around and assessed her. Her face was flushed and her shoulders drooped. She was tired, and it was already three. Shit. I’d been marching this woman around the woods for hours.
“Okay,” I said, approaching her. “I’ll carry you.”
“What? No.” She put her hands up, frowning. “No way.”
“I didn’t realize how much hiking and climbing we’d be doing. You’ve got to rest. Let me carry you.” I took another step closer and reached out.
She jumped back with a scowl. “Keep your paws to yourself, Hebert.”
“I won’t try anything. I’m just offering you a ride.” I arched a brow. “Now, what’ll it be? Fireman style? Piggyback? Ooh, I could flip you upside down. Have you ever seen wife-carrying competitions?”
“Oh my God. Just stop.” She laughed. “I’m fine.”
“You’re tired, and I have fancy cheese waiting for you back at the campsite.”
That perked her right up. “What kind of cheese?”
“My mother went to the Trader Joes in Bangor and got a variety. Including buffalo cheddar and aged Gouda.”
She tapped her chin. “That is the best gouda. Also, why is your mom running cheese errands for you?”
A chuckle escaped me. “Because she was already going there, and I told her I had to impress a cheese-loving lady. We should hurry, though, wouldn’t want a raccoon to find it and enjoy it all.”
She let out a resigned sigh. “Okay, fine. You can piggyback me. But only for a little while. I don’t want to hurt you.”
“I’m a strapping lumberjack.” I tapped my chest with my fist and spun around. “I can carry my woman for miles.”
She hopped up onto my back and wrapped her legs around my waist.
“I’m not your woman,” she corrected.
“Yet,” I replied.
The hike back to camp was slow, but I was enjoying the way Chloe clung to me far more than I should. I never would have thought it would be, but carrying my baby mama around the woods was sexy. It had to be a caveman thing, especially the urge to hunt for our dinner and howl at the moon.
As we stepped into the denser forest, I stopped and pulled out my compass to make sure we were headed in the right direction.
Chloe, still on my back, tapped my chest. “Do you see that?”
She hopped down, her cheeks pink and the hair around her temples starting to curl from the humidity. She looked like a woodsy angel. Damn, I wanted to pin her up against that big maple and kiss the breath out of her.
But she was too busy looking up into the trees.
“What is that?” She pointed up at one of the pines.
I squinted. What looked like a small brown box was strapped to the tree.
I jogged closer, then snagged a branch and hoisted myself up. I wasn’t as graceful as I used to be, but I could still do it, thank God. Falling out of a tree in front of Chloe would destroy the shred of ego I had left.
As I got closer, I realized what it was.
A camera.
I pulled my Leatherman out of my pocket and cut the black zip ties that anchored it to the tree trunk.
It was small, probably the size of a book, but there was no doubt about what it was. The problem was that it shouldn’t have been here.
I pocketed the Leatherman and jumped down, and once I righted myself, I handed it to her.
“What is this?”
“It’s a game camera. And not a cheap one from Cabela’s. This is professional stuff.”
“Did one of our guys put it here?”
“No. We have cameras at our facilities and along the Golden Road so we can monitor for obstructions or danger, but ours are orange. It makes them easy to spot when the batteries need to be changed out. We don’t cut out here because of the bats, so there’s no need.”
Her face fell, and I could see the wheels turning in her head. “Should we spread out and look for more?”
“We should stay together, but let’s keep an eye out.” I handed her the monocular, then convinced her to let me continue carrying her. As I hiked ahead, she scanned the trees, and we tried to piece together what we had found.
A quarter of a mile or so later, she jolted. “Found one,” she said, hopping down. With a hand around my forearm, she dragged me off the trail.
This one was even higher. There was no way I could climb up and get it without gear. So I turned on my phone and took a few photos of the surrounding area, hoping they’d help us find the spot again. I had no GPS tags with me because this wasn’t a work trip, and we had no reception out here. I had a sat phone, but that was only for making calls for our pickup.
“Who put them here?” she wondered out loud.
“I don’t know. No one comes out here. There isn’t even road access.”
“What about ATVs?”
“Yes. There are plenty of trails. But we don’t harvest this segment anymore. This area is where the bats nest. No one has cut trees up here since they were declared endangered in 1995.”
“Do you think…?” She worried her bottom lip.
“Yes,” I said. She didn’t have to finish the sentence. We were on the same wavelength. The wheels in my mind were turning, and none of my suspicions were good. My forest, a place I had felt completely safe since childhood, now seemed to be filled with hidden danger. The thought that we might not be alone out here filled me with anxiety.
“We need to get back to camp and call Finn,” I said, hoisting her onto my back again.
“Are we in danger?” she gasped.
“I don’t think so, but this isn’t good. We’ve got to get back and call the FBI.”