Chapter Nine
If Hawk thought the previous day’s hike was slower than anticipated, this was ten times worse.
When he and Sinead set out, he thought he had a decent read on the map, but the ground refused to cooperate with any of his estimates.
What he thought to be a ten-minute hike to the next landmark turned into an hour.
Loose scree gave way underfoot in places that looked solid enough to trust. What should have been a simple ridge crossing turned into twenty minutes of searching for a better route when the planned one appeared too dangerous.
Suddenly, he came to a stop.
“What’s wrong?” Sinead caught up to him and let out a groan.
The trail came to a dead end without warning at the lip of a cliff, the rock dropping away below them.
Hawk studied the drop, then the terrain stretching out on either side. “We’ve got two options. We keep walking. It could be miles before we find a better place to descend, which will burn the rest of our daylight.” He met her gaze. “Or we go down here.”
She peered over the edge, jaw tight. “How bad is ‘here?’”
“Doable. Slow. Not fun.”
She blew out a breath. “We’re already behind schedule. Let’s try it.”
He went first, testing each foothold before trusting his weight to it. He called back handholds and warnings as they went. The descent demanded every ounce of his concentration.
“Don’t look down,” he told her when the bottom was far away.
And he said, “Don’t look up,” when they were far from where they started.
The world narrowed to the next place to put their feet, the next place to put their hands.
Suddenly, loose grit shifted under Sinead’s boot, and she let out a sharp cry, sliding hard against the rock face.
Hawk lunged sideways, half controlled, half falling, and caught her arm before she could start rolling. Both of them scraped hard against stone, bumping and crying out before they came to a stop.
His heart hammered and he was sore all over. But his first concern was for her. “You good?”
“Good.” Her voice shook. “Let’s keep going.”
They picked their way down the rest of the slope in tense, careful silence. When they finally hit level ground, both of them were shaking with exhaustion, palms torn open and bleeding from grabbing at rock the whole way down.
By the time the sun dropped lower and turned everything to gold, he felt like they’d forged through uncharted territory.
They found a sheltered spot to pitch the tent, and while he got the fire going, Sinead dug out the first aid kit, and they worked in silence, cleaning grit and blood from each other’s palms and wrapping the worst of their scrapes.
She’d been too quiet ever since he’d told her of the legend, and the near- catastrophe of pitching down that rock face hadn’t shaken loose whatever sat heavy in her thoughts.
He could only imagine how she must feel, knowing what her ancestor was a part of—and what threat could be following her now. As soon as he had a minute to catch a satellite link, he’d shoot a message to the Black Heart Security team so they could start looking into those families.
When she finished with the sleeping bags, she sat back on her heels and gazed off at the setting sun.
As she took a moment to rest, he set off around the perimeter of the clearing to forage for food.
At their noon break, he’d emptied the entire contents of his food pack and found a handful of protein bars and a special treat he planned to surprise her with for dinner.
This humble windfall eased his worries a little, because at least she had protein to keep going.
She was thin anyway, in that way women who were too busy to sit around for long were. He didn’t want her losing more, getting sick or lacking enough energy to complete her personal mission.
He located mushrooms growing in a drift beneath a tree and another discovery that almost made him let out a hoot of victory.
He stuffed it down before he could alarm Sinead and began gathering enough hazelnuts to carry her for at least a day.
When he walked back into camp, she was sitting before the fire, staring at the small, flickering flames. A tiny crinkle between her brows smoothed when she saw him.
Then she really looked at him. “What happened to your shirt? Did a bear rip it off?”
He flashed a grin and dropped the bulging, makeshift sack he’d formed by knotting the corners of his shirt together.
Her eyes widened. “More berries?”
“Take a look.”
He lowered himself to the ground across the fire from her and watched her open the sack.
She sucked in a gasp of delight and scooped up handfuls of the hazelnuts, letting them trickle out of her hands. “This is fantastic, Hawk.”
His gut tightened at the memory of her saying his name—his real name—as he moved inside her.
Across the fire, she met his gaze. “Thank you. Really.”
He didn’t know why her gratitude touched a spot deep in his chest. But he had to tug his stare away before she caught his reaction.
“We had a long day. I wish we were covering the ground faster.” He chatted as he set up the tripod over the fire and set a little pot of water on top to heat.
“I wish the mountain would stop trying to kill us. I didn’t think we were going to make it down that face today.”
He pushed out a low noise of agreement. “I think our tough moments are behind us.”
“Let’s hope.” She used a rock to crush the shells of several nuts and chewed the meat thoughtfully. “How do you know how to do all this?”
He glanced over. “All what?”
“This.” She gestured vaguely at the campsite, the fire, the rugged terrain around them. “You know how to read the ground. You navigated that loose rock like your forefather was a mountain goat instead of a doctor. You know how to find food for a vegetarian in the wilderness.”
Their gazes connected for a soft beat.
“You mentioned a Ranger unit. Or did the security agency train you? “
He didn’t talk about his past experiences much. He’d had more than his fair share of jobs, pivoting in his career several more times than most people his age usually did. But after all he and Sinead had been through together, he didn’t hold back.
“I joined the Army right out of high school. Trained to become a Ranger. I did two tours overseas.”
Her brows rose, and she swept a look over his body as if searching for scars. He was one of the lucky ones—his scars were all on the inside, and he had been able to find ways to deal with them.
“When I came out the other side, I went to college.”
Her shapely brows lifted higher. He didn’t know whether to be amused or irritated that she was surprised that her bodyguard was educated.
“What did you study?”
The water started to simmer, and he used his handkerchief to pull the metal pot off the flames. “Criminal justice. Graduated magna cum laude, if you’re keeping score.”
That earned the smallest flicker of a smile—there one heartbeat and gone in the next, as if he caught her trail of thought and she didn’t like being called out on it.
“I am, actually.” She popped another nut in her mouth.
He opened a pouch of dehydrated food and poured the water in. “After that I joined the FBI.”
She stilled, another nut halfway to her lips. “You were FBI?”
“For a little while.” He poked the fire with a stick, and sparks scattered upward. “Then I accidentally became a mercenary.”
She tossed her head as a full belly laugh burst out of her. “I’m not sure I should believe you. That’s a big resume. And you’re what—thirty?”
“Thirty-three.”
She shook her head. “You seriously did all that?”
“I seriously did.”
She studied him. “How does one accidentally become a mercenary?”
“I joined the FBI because I thought I’d be doing some good in the world.
But I couldn’t stand all the red tape. I was headhunted by a group.
I did some research on them and I thought they were doing good works for the world too.
” He said it simply, without any drama in his tone, though the experience actually carried more importance than he let on.
“I’m listening.” She abandoned her stash of nuts and sat like a quiet squirrel, eyes shiny in the firelight.
“I took a job that looked clean on paper. Then another. Same story. Each one made sense in the moment, but six months in, I wasn’t sure where the lines started to blur. Suddenly, I found myself standing in a place, taking an order that I never intended to take.”
He stared into the fire.
“We were contracted to secure a mining site in Uganda Officially, we were there to protect company equipment and personnel. Then villagers started showing up. Families. They said the company had taken their water and pushed them off the land they’d worked for generations.”
His jaw tightened.
“Our orders weren’t to help them.”
He looked away.
“Our orders were to keep them off the property.”
Silence settled between them.
“Nobody fired a shot that day. Nobody died. But I watched hungry parents standing behind a rope line while men with money decided they didn’t matter.”
He scrubbed a hand over his jaw.
“That was the day I realized I wasn’t protecting people anymore. I was protecting someone’s bottom line. So I quit.”
Sinead’s full lips parted as he spoke, her eyes filled with an expression that sent a hot spark straight through his chest. She didn’t speak for a moment, and only gave a shake of her head. “And then?” she asked at last.
“I came home. I needed to regroup.”
“Where’s home?”
“Here. Wyoming.”
“No wonder you know the land so well. And you know what’s safe to eat.” She turned her attention to the mushrooms he set on the ground next to her.
He couldn’t keep the smile from tugging at his lips. He reached for his pack and dragged it closer. When he pulled out the small package on the top, he read the label before handing it to her.
She straightened and took the offering. The light and shadows played over her face, making the moment she saw what was in the package that much more of a reward.
She let out a gasp. “Cheese tortellini! In tomato sauce!” She flipped it over in her hands to read the ingredients. “No meat!”