Chapter Ten
Daniel
Something’s wrong.
I’ve had that itch in my gut all afternoon. Even with the fire mostly contained, even as we were wrapping things up and the air started clearing, I couldn’t shake the feeling of foreboding crawling up the back of my neck. The same one I get right before shit goes sideways on the fire line.
Only this time, it’s not smoke or heat I’m worried about. It’s my girl.
The second I’m back in the truck and headed toward town, I dial her number. It goes straight to voicemail.
My grip tightens on the wheel. Something isn’t right.
I call her again. Same thing.
And just like that, every alarm bell in my body starts screaming.
I floor it.
The road blurs as I barrel toward the Airbnb. The engine isn’t even finished groaning when I throw the truck into park and jump out. When I see the sheriff’s cruiser out front, my stomach hits the dirt.
Ben’s here.
Shit .
I jog up to the porch, rain still falling in cold sheets. The air is heavy with tension, voices murmuring low near the doorway. Cindy’s mom is there, her arms crossed tight, shoulders hunched like she’s barely holding it together. Lenny stands behind her, shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot.
Ben turns just as I reach them.
“What the hell’s going on?” I bark.
Her mom’s eyes meet mine, and the fear in them makes my blood run cold. “She ran off,” she says, voice trembling. “Earlier. There was a—a little argument, and then she got upset and she ran into the woods. We haven’t been able to find her.”
My heart slams into my ribs. “She what?”
“I tried to go after her,” Lenny adds quickly. “But she was gone before we could even get to the trees. She just…disappeared.”
“She was upset?” I repeat. “Why the hell was she upset enough to run?”
And then the bastard steps out of the house.
Lyle, calm as a cucumber, hands in his pockets like he’s out for a casual stroll. Like he didn’t scare the woman I care about so bad she had to hide behind a bush yesterday.
Red washes over my vision and I step forward, jabbing a finger in his direction. “That guy. That’s why.”
Ben’s brow furrows. “What do you mean?”
“He attacked her yesterday. Cornered her in the woods. I found her, shaken, bruised, and crying because he chased her down like prey. I saw her injuries with my own damn eyes. That’s how we met. I was the one who pulled her out.”
Lyle snorts, like I’m making up a story to impress the cops.
I take a step closer, fists clenched, my body one twitch away from throwing him through the wall. “I’ll say it again so it’s real clear—that guy is dangerous. He’s got a problem keeping his hands and his threats to himself.”
Ben turns his serious gaze on the group. “Is that true?”
Cindy’s mom lowers her head. “We…we don’t know for sure. There was some confusion. Cindy felt unsafe, but Lyle swears—”
“She felt unsafe?” I snap. “That’s all it should take.”
Lenny lets out a sigh, eyes darting toward the floor. “Maybe we should’ve handled things differently…”
“You think?”
Ben looks between them, then back to me. His eyes narrow. “You sure about this, Daniel?”
I meet his gaze head-on. “You and I served together. You know I don’t lie. I don’t exaggerate. I know what I saw. I know what I heard. I intervened. You want a witness? I am one.”
Ben looks at Lyle again, longer this time. Then back to me.
He nods. “Alright,” he says slowly. “Lyle, you need to come with me. We take accusations like this real serious in these parts.”
Lyle sputters. “You’ve gotta be kidding me—”
“Now,” Ben commands, cutting him off with a motion.
Two deputies move in behind him, and Lyle, now not quite so smug, starts arguing under his breath as they lead him toward the cruiser.
I turn back to Ben. “Where was the last place anyone saw her?”
He pulls a notepad from his pocket. “Ran into the woods out back. Behind the rental. My men are already canvassing the area.”
“I’m going,” I say immediately.
Ben frowns. “Daniel—”
“I know these woods better than anyone. Every ridge, every hollow, every runoff path. You want her found? I’m your best damn shot.”
He must see the desperation I’m trying so hard to hide because his eyes soften and he gives me a curt nod. “Northwestern quadrant, near the river drop-off. The rain’s slowed us down, and that slope’s slick as hell.”
I’m moving before he completes the sentence.
“Radio me if you see her,” Ben calls after me. But I’m already sprinting into the trees.
She’s out there. Scared. Hurt. Alone. And I swear, if anything happens to her…
No way in hell. I’m going to find her, even if I have to tear this entire forest apart to do it.
***
An hour later and I still haven’t seen a trace of her.
The forest is slick with rain. My veins are pulsing with frustration, mud clinging to my boots.
Every step is a calculated risk, every bush or broken branch a possible clue.
The chill is settling in now, turning my soaked shirt cold against my skin. But I don’t care.
I’d take a hundred more storms if it means I find her.
“Cindy!” I call, my voice cutting through the trees. “Cindy, baby, can you hear me?”
Nothing but the hiss of rain through pine needles.
We need this rain, I know. It’s good for the land. Good for the fight we’ve been waging all season.
But damn it…it’s hell on tracking.
Every trail is washed out. Every footprint erased. Every snapped twig soaked and sagging. It’s like the forest is trying to swallow her whole.
I check every ridge, every drop, every hollow. My flashlight beam dances over moss and rocks and glistening leaves.
Then a scrap of pink…something. My body tenses, my heart hammering. It’s caught on a low branch, half-soaked and clinging like a flag. I move toward it slowly, carefully. It’s the same color as the shirt she was wearing when I dropped her off.
“Cindy?” I call again, softer this time, like I’m speaking into the wind. “You out here, baby?”
No answer.
But when I kneel beside the fabric and look closer, I see it, just past the tree line. A faint trail. I follow it, my boots sinking into the soft earth. It leads me along a slick embankment, and then just like that…it disappears, vanishing into nothing.
I slow to a crawl, heart thudding as I realize the slope drops off sharply. A steep hill plunges down toward the river below.
No. Please no.
I creep to the edge and peer over, and…there. A flash of pink among the brush, barely visible from above.
My whole body freezes.
I grab the radio, slowly raising it to my mouth. “This is Foster. I’ve got something. Possible visual. Steep drop off the north ridge, about a hundred yards from the fire trail.”
There’s no time to wait. I scramble down, hands digging into wet soil, boots skidding against the slick terrain. Branches whip my face, rain pelts my back, but I don’t stop until I reach her.
She’s curled near the bottom of the embankment, half-covered in mud, her ankle twisted and swollen, one arm draped limply across her body.
“Cindy!” I drop to my knees beside her.
Her eyes flutter open slowly, lips blue, skin pale and soaked. “Daniel…”
Relief crashes through me so hard it nearly knocks me over. I cup her face gently and pull her against me.
“Jesus, baby girl,” I breathe. “You scared the hell out of me.”
Her arms wrap weakly around my neck, and she buries her face in my shoulder. “I didn’t mean to…I just wanted to get away.”
“I know, I know,” I whisper into her hair. “You did good. You stayed strong.”
“I thought…I might not see you again,” she says weakly, her voice cracking with a sob.
I pull back just enough to look at her, brushing wet strands from her face. “Don’t say that. Don’t ever say that. You hear me? I couldn’t stop thinking about you. I was going crazy out there.”
I kiss her. Deep, hard, desperate. The kind of kiss that tastes like fear and rain and everything I was too scared to admit until right now.
“I can’t live without you, Cindy,” I whisper against her lips. “It hasn’t been long, but I don’t give a damn. That’s how I feel.”
Her eyes glisten with tears that mix with the rain on her cheeks. “I feel the same way,” she says, voice trembling. “You’re the only place I feel safe.”
I slide my jacket off and wrap it around her, tucking her close against my chest. The cold doesn’t matter. Nothing does but the way she fits in my arms.
She’s shivering, but she presses in closer, her lips brushing my jaw. “You’re warm,” she murmurs, almost like a secret.
“Always will be,” I murmur back, cupping my palm over her cheek, sweeping my thumb over her lower lip. “For you.”
Her breath catches. Her hand curls into my soaked shirt.
And even out here, on a forest floor, soaked and half-frozen, we fall into that kiss again.
Slower this time. Hotter, despite the cold.
Her tongue finds mine, her fingers tangling in my hair.
It’s like the storm disappears around us, replaced by this heat.
This pull. This fire that only burns for her.
She whimpers softly into my mouth. “Daniel…”
“I got you,” I whisper, lips brushing her ear. “You’re safe, baby girl. Always.”
“I need you,” she whispers back.
I groan, holding her tighter. “You’re gonna be the death of me, darlin’.”
I’m sliding my hand under the edge of the jacket, running my palm over the smooth skin beneath, when a voice cracks through the rain.
“Well, damn. Should we give you two a minute, or…?”
Cindy jumps back but I hold her waist, keeping her firmly pressed to my chest. One of Ben’s guys is standing a few feet above us with a flashlight and a smirk. Another crew member is behind him, carrying a med kit.
“Get a room,” the guy laughs, tossing me a blanket. “C’mon, lover boy. Let’s get her warm before y’all start fogging up the forest.”
Cindy laughs weakly against my shoulder, and I swear I’ve never heard anything better.
“God, I love you,” I mutter, pressing a kiss against her temple. “I love you so much.”
“I love you too,” she says, burying her face in my neck.