Chapter Eleven
Instinct didn’t clock out just because the only threats he’d seen in days were a raccoon, gravity and bad footing. Hawk swung his head left and right, tuned into the forest in a way he hadn’t been as a boy.
Training made him aware of what to watch out for. Sounds that seemed wrong probably were. But nothing out here tripped his alarms—just birds and the heat of the sun and a long stretch of mountain ahead.
First thing, he’d found a satellite signal and sent a message to his team to look into McCrae and Callahan. And he got back a short reply that the mercenaries’ vehicle had been found tucked behind some brush and the team was running the plates.
His pack rode between his shoulders, the weight distributed evenly. He’d found his rhythm and moved with ease through every mile, purpose settling into his bones like he was built for guiding a woman through the backcountry.
His GPS said they were close now—just a few hours out. Maybe less if they kept this pace. Seeing the little pin on the map brought a feeling of giddiness he hadn’t experienced since his boyhood adventures.
They could make camp early tonight. Scout the ridge before dark for food and another place to bathe.
He glanced back to check on Sinead. Her head was down, her focus on placing her feet on the mix of rock and roots on the trail. And her lips were moving.
She was muttering under her breath.
She hadn’t done that since their first days together.
“You good?” he tossed over his shoulder.
“Yes.”
Since it wasn’t a response of “fine”—a telltale sign she was not—she must be all right. He continued on, picking his way along a trail pioneers navigated centuries ago.
Maybe it was coming to terms with his own past that made him feel lighter. Or helping her to find her own peace. Maybe it was the two orgasms she’d given him.
Either way, he felt as if he could walk to Canada with Sinead.
He caught her muttering again and tried to pick up the words, but her voice faded. They could take a break, but they’d already burned through a longer lunch just so he could let her have a rest. If he pushed a little farther, they could stop soon.
“You know what’s crazy?” he said, mostly to keep her mind off whatever was bothering her. “People have been chasing this legend for a hundred fifty years. Explorers, treasure hunters, probably even members of the McCrae and Callahan families. Who knows if any of them got this close.”
She didn’t answer, just kept walking. He sent another glance over his shoulder to see her lips moving on some private complaint.
He held a heavy branch out of her way so she could duck beneath it. She did so without speaking, and he gently released the branch in a rustle of leaves.
“It’s not even about what’s actually at the end of the trail,” he went on. “It’s the mystery for me. Something’s been sitting out here for over a century, and we get to be the ones who solve it.” He shot her a grin over his shoulder. “And I get to do it with you.”
They made it through the thick cover and into a spot in the woods where sun broke through the tree canopy, dappling the ground in patches.
He stopped, looking around.
“My mom would call this a fairy glen.” The words trickled out of him without thought.
Sinead stepped up beside him and took in the lush ferns and spots of sun highlighting some of the fronds. “Sounds like your mom is a bit of a dreamer. I’m surprised.”
He looked at her. “Why does that surprise you?”
She shrugged. “She raised a son who lives by rules and training.”
His lips twisted. “My brother went into law. I guess you could say my mom has enough free spirit for all of us. Life is tough for a single mom of two boys and she made small things more special with her view of the world. Still does.”
Sinead’s eyes were softer, as if she was seeing his mom through his words. “I’m glad you have her. Do you see her very often?”
“I visit at least once a month. She lives east of here.”
She moved into a patch of sunlight and tipped her head back to stare up at the opening in the brilliant green canopy. The light kissed her face in gold, and his chest tightened.
If someone told him two months ago that guarding a woman like Sinead was in his future at Black Heart Security, he would have laughed.
“What would she say about you being my bodyguard on an expedition to find some legendary treasure, if that’s really what we’re meant to find?” Sinead swung her gaze to his. From several feet away, their eyes connected in a long beat.
His throat was tight too when he swallowed. “She would tell me not to screw it up.”
She issued a soft laugh, and the moment faded as they started walking again.
The trail quickly went from packed dirt to loose scree again, and the ground shifted under every step.
To add to the peril, roots crossed the path like tripwires, half hidden under drifts of dead leaves, and Hawk kept throwing looks over his shoulder to check on Sinead. She let out a curse and he twisted to see a root caught her boot, but this time she freed it without help.
The incline didn’t let up either—a long, grinding climb through switchbacks that never seemed to crest.
Thick brush crowded in from both sides until the trail narrowed to barely the width of a foot in places. Somewhere off to the left, water was running hard over rock, loud enough that he didn’t hear her renewed muttering until they cleared it.
He stopped and faced her. “Hey. What’s wrong?”
She stopped too. With a sharp flick of her hand, she swiped a loose tendril of hair off her forehead and hot words spilled out all at once, tumbling over each other like she’d been holding them in for miles.
“My feet. God, my feet! I don’t even want to look at them because every step I take I feel blisters on top of blisters, and I’m so done pretending I’m fine!”
“Blisters?” He looked down at her boots like they could confess to the crime of giving her pain. “Sinead, why didn’t you say so?”
The crease between her brows seemed to ease from anger to confusion, like she never once thought she could complain.
He waved at a flat rock a few feet off the trail. “Sit.”
She glared at him like he suggested she dance for him instead.
His bodyguard training kicked in, and he gently closed his fingers around her waist and swept her up in his arms.
“Heath!”
He smiled into her eyes. “Since it hurts you to walk to the rock, I’ll carry you.”
Her fingers bunched on his shoulder, but she didn’t protest as he settled her on the rock. He crouched in front of her and worked her boot laces loose.
As he drew off her sock, he threw a glance at her face, watching for signs of discomfort.
She spotted the angry red blister on her heel and let out a low cry.
“I’m sorry, darlin’. This must have been building for hours. You should have told me.”
He removed her other boot and sock and shook his head at finding not one but two large blisters on that foot.
He reached into his pack and located his first aid kit. She watched him pull out the supplies he needed to fix her up and keep her going for a bit longer. He laid them out one by one on the rock next to her.
Antibiotic salve, moleskin every Army Ranger carried and a fresh pair of thick socks.
He worked quickly but carefully, cleaning the blisters and covering them with soft bandages. Then he cut the moleskin to size and pressed it in place over the sores. Lastly, he rolled the new socks on her feet.
When he looked up at her face, he noticed the welt on her cheek—a bug bite, swollen enough to give her face a soft, rounded look that struck him as cute.
He didn’t dare say that to Sinead, though. Instead, he dug out the anti-itch cream and dabbed a little on the bite on her cheek and another on her forehead.
Her gaze was fixed on his face. “You don’t have to do this.” The fight seemed to have washed out of her in the wake of her outburst, making her voice quiet.
“Why wouldn’t I?” He found another bite on the side of her neck and smoothed cream over that one too, his fingertip lingering a beat longer than the task required.
She dropped her gaze to his chest. “Even the safari guide kissed up for a big tip. That’s the only reason he took the risks he did, getting so close to that lion.”
He huffed a breath through his nose. “I’m not doing this because you’re paying my salary.”
“You aren’t?” she breathed.
He capped the cream and set it aside. Then met her gaze, dead serious when he said, “I’m doing this because it’s you.”
Her chest gave a little heave, and her lips parted on a silent puff of air.
Then he leaned in and kissed her—a slow, unhurried brush of lips.
Nothing like the pace they’d been keeping all day.
Like he had all the time in the world to prove what he said was true.
* * * * *
When her father sent her on this wild goose chase through the wilderness, she wondered if he knew something she didn’t.
Like how every step—less painful now, thanks to Hawk’s care—would mean more than just being closer to finding those coordinates.
She’d met a lot of people in her life, both real and fake. Business and personal.
But she didn’t expect to find herself here, walking again, and not even thinking about her feet, her sore muscles or the bug bites dotting her arms like a bad rash.
All of it had faded into background noise, the kind of discomfort that earlier consumed every thought but was now barely registering at all.
Something had shifted the moment Hawk knelt in front of her with that first aid kit like it was the most natural thing in the world.
She had watched him work, focused on his steady hands, capable and yet gentle as he carefully applied the salve and bandages.
Those hands could kill—she’d seen that too. But when he touched her…they were magic.