Chapter 23
Lark wasn’t sure where she found the strength. Maybe adrenaline had taken over. Maybe terror was stronger than exhaustion. Whatever it was, she refused to let the river take Cormac back.
She hooked her arms beneath his shoulders and dragged him farther up the muddy bank, inch by agonizing inch. His soaked clothes seemed to weigh twice as much as they should, and every time his body shifted, a fresh wave of panic went through her.
“Come on,” she panted. “Just a little farther.”
Finally, she managed to get him beneath the cover of several large trees. Lark looked around. Forest. Nothing but thick forest. Beyond the trees, the Blue Ridge Mountains rose in the distance, their familiar ridges barely visible through the sheets of rain.
They were on the wrong side of the river. The side where there were no houses. No roads. No businesses. No people. Just miles of wilderness.
Normally, that would have terrified her. Right now, she decided it might be exactly what they needed. If the men were looking for them, the thick forest would make finding them difficult.
But first... the blood. Lark dropped to her knees. “I need to stop this.”
She pulled off her soaked shirt, leaving herself in the sports tank she’d worn beneath it. The rain was cold against her skin, but she barely noticed.
She twisted the shirt in her hands and tried tearing it. Nothing. “Come on.” She tried again. Still nothing. She remembered something she’d once seen online and grabbed a section with her teeth. She pulled and gnawed. The fabric tore. Lark stared at it. “Well, I’ll be damned.”
She ripped the rest into strips. Then she pressed several layers against Cormac’s wound. He didn’t move. She pushed harder. Blood soaked through the fabric.
“Please work.” She kept pressure on the wound until the bleeding finally slowed.
Not stopped. But slowed to a trickle. Good enough.
For now. Especially since she was fairly certain the bullet was still inside, since there was no exit wound.
Her stomach lurched. She’d heard horror stories about how bullets could travel through the body, creating havoc and great damage.
She hoped that wasn’t what happened here.
She wrapped more strips around his torso, tying them as tightly as she dared. Her fingers shook as she finished. “There.” She sat back on her heels. “That’ll have to do.”
She looked at him. Cormac was still unconscious. Lark swallowed hard. “No more dying.”
She patted his pockets. If they were going to survive out here, she needed to know what they’d been given to work with. His cargo pants had several pockets. And apparently, Cormac had been prepared for trouble. “Okay...”
She pulled out a folding knife. Lark held it up. “Useful. Wish I’d known he had this when I was tearing up my shirt with my teeth,” she mused.
Another pocket produced a compact flashlight.
A waterproof lighter. A small first-aid packet.
A multitool. Two energy bars. A small bottle of water.
A length of paracord. And, tucked into another pocket, a waterproof phone case containing his phone.
His password protected phone. Of course, it wouldn’t be that easy. “Murphy’s Law.”
She’d have to wait until he woke up to deal with that.
Lark stared at the collection. “Do you always carry an entire survival store in your pants?” Apparently, he did.
She tucked everything safely back into his pockets. Then she heard him groan. Lark froze. Cormac’s face tightened. His eyes opened.
“Oh, thank God.” She leaned over him. “Don’t move.”
His eyes focused slowly. “Lark?”
“I’m here.”
“What happened?”
“You got shot.” He blinked. “Then you fell into the river.”
Another blink. “That explains the water.”
Lark stared at him. “You do realize it’s raining buckets as well.”
“Right.”
“You are impossible.”
He tried to sit up then stopped. “Wait. Did you jump in after me?”
She hesitated.
“Technically?”
His expression hardened. “Lark.”
“What?”
“You jumped into a flooding river after me with your hands tied?”
“When you put it that way, it sounds reckless.”
“It was reckless.”
She couldn’t help giving him a weak smile, every muscle in her body ached. Yeah, it’d been a reckless move. But what else was she supposed to do? “You’re welcome.”
His eyes narrowed, but the anger didn’t last. His gaze dropped to her wrists, where angry red marks circled both of them. Then he noticed the bruises forming along her arms and legs. His jaw tightened. “They did that to you?”
“The zip ties did most of it.”
He reached for her wrist, then stopped just short of touching it, as though afraid he’d hurt her. “Fuck, that looks bad.”
“I’m okay.”
His blue eyes snapped back to hers. “Don’t.”
Her eyes flickered. “Don’t what?”
“Don’t tell me you’re okay when you’re clearly not.”
The words were quiet, but something in them made her chest ache. “You’re the one who got shot,” she fired back.
“That’s not the point.”
“It is to me.”
He stared at her for a long moment. Then his expression softened. “You shouldn’t have jumped.”
“I couldn’t let you drown.”
“You could’ve died.”
“So could you.”
His jaw worked. “Lark...”
She reached over and squeezed his hand. “Neither of us died.”
His fingers closed around hers. “You’re a hell of a lot braver than you have any business being,” he murmured.
“Look on the bright side. If I hadn’t jumped in after you, I’d still be their prisoner.”
“So your defense is that nearly drowning was the better option?”
“When you put it that way, it sounds terrible.” She gave him a small smile. “But yes. Between being their prisoner and rescuing you, I think I made the right choice.”
“Fuck. Fair enough.”
With a grunt, he attempted to sit up once more. She immediately shoved him back down. “Absolutely not.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re still bleeding.”
“I’ve been shot before.”
She stared at him. “That isn’t reassuring.” He tried again. Lark pushed against his shoulder. “Stay down.”
He looked at her. She could practically see the stubbornness settling over his face. It’s just a flesh wound. The Monty Python line popped into her head. Lark nearly laughed. The fact that she could even think about laughing right now was probably a sign she was losing her mind.
“You military guys are ridiculous.”
Cormac’s mouth twitched. “Occupational hazard.”
Relief flooded through her so suddenly that she threw her arms around him. His grunt reminded her almost immediately that she’d just hugged a wounded man. “Shit.” She pulled back. “Sorry.”
“No worries.”
“I hurt you.”
“I’ve survived worse.”
She glared. “Stop saying things like that.”
He gave her a tired look. “Help me up.”
“No.”
“Lark.”
“No.” His expression became more determined. She sighed. “Fine.” She hooked an arm around him and tried to pull. Nothing. Cormac was considerably heavier than she was. “Come on.” She strained. He pushed with his good arm. Slowly, painfully, they got him upright.
He swayed. Lark grabbed him. “Whoa.” His arm went around her shoulders. “What now?” she asked.
Before he could answer, they heard it. A motor. Both froze. Cormac’s head snapped toward the river. “That’s them.”
Lark’s heart began pounding. “They found us?”
“They’ll search for where we came out of the water.”
“Then we need to move.”
“Yes.” He looked toward the trees. “We need to get inland.”
“How far?”
“Far enough.” Cormac tried to take a step. His face tightened.
Lark immediately moved beneath his good arm and wrapped her arm around his waist. “Lean on me.”
“I'm fine.”
“You need to stop saying that.”
“I can walk.”
“Great.” She glanced up at him. “Then walk.”
They started into the forest. Slowly. Painfully. Cormac’s weight pressed against her, but Lark refused to complain. They’d worry about how ridiculous this was later. Right now they needed distance.
The forest swallowed them quickly. Branches scratched her bare arms. Wet leaves slapped against her face. Roots twisted beneath her feet. More than once, Cormac stumbled.
Each time, Lark tightened her grip. “Got you.”
“I’m okay.”
“You’re going to make me push you into a tree.”
“Noted.”
They kept moving. Behind them, the sound of the boat grew louder. Lark glanced back. Through the trees she could barely see the river. She couldn’t see the men. That was good. They hadn’t found them. Yet.
Cormac stopped suddenly. Lark nearly ran into him. “What?” He lifted a finger. She listened. Nothing. Then she heard it. Voices. They were distant, but there, nevertheless.
“Spread out!”
Lark’s stomach dropped. “They’re searching.”
Cormac nodded. “We need to move faster.”
“You’re shot.”
“I know.”
“And you’re bleeding.”
“I know.”
“And you’re telling me to move faster?”
“Yes.”
She sighed. “Men.”
He actually smiled. Just a little. Then he stumbled. Lark caught him. His weight nearly brought them both down. She gritted her teeth.
“Okay.”
“What?”
“We’re going to find shelter. Once we do, I can call my team.” That sounded like a good plan to her. “There’s a ridge about a half mile ahead.”
“You know that how?”
“I’ve been here before.”
“Of course you have.”
He leaned harder against her. “And if I remember correctly, there’s an old hunting cabin somewhere along the ridge.”
Lark’s heart lifted. “A cabin? That’s the best thing you’ve said all day.”
“If it’s still standing.”
“Don’t jinx it. Murphy’s already got it in for me, remember?”
“He’s not getting near you this time,” he teased.
“Wishful thinking,” she mumbled, but hoped he was right.
They pushed forward. The rain continued to hammer the forest. Thunder rolled across the mountains. Behind them, voices drifted closer.
Lark tightened her grip around Cormac’s waist. She was exhausted. Cold. Terrified. And completely out of her depth.
But she wasn’t alone. And somehow, that made all the difference.
They climbed deeper into the forest, leaving the river—and the men searching for them—behind.