Chapter 24
Hoot had no idea how long they’d been moving. Twenty minutes. An hour. Long enough that the adrenaline had begun to wear off, and every step sent a fresh pulse of pain through his shoulder. With each step through the forest, more of his weight pressed onto Lark.
The storm made judging distance nearly impossible. Rain hammered the forest canopy, dripping from the leaves in steady streams. The ground was slick beneath his boots, roots and rocks hidden beneath layers of mud.
Lark stayed tucked against his good side, one arm wrapped firmly around his waist. She hadn’t complained once. That worried him more than if she had.
He glanced down at her. Her hair was plastered to her face. Her bare arms were covered in scratches from the brush, and the angry marks around her wrists stood out against her skin. She looked exhausted. But determined.
“You need to slow down,” she said. Hoot almost laughed. “You’re walking like you weren’t just shot.”
“It’s just walking.”
“You’re struggling for breath.”
“Technicality.”
She gave him a look. Even exhausted, she still had enough attitude to keep him from getting too comfortable. He liked that about her. Probably more than he should.
A distant shout drifted through the trees. Hoot stopped immediately. Lark froze beside him. They both listened. The next shout was closer. Hoot’s instincts snapped fully into place.
“Down.” He pulled her toward the nearest cluster of thick brush. They crouched beneath the dripping foliage, pressed close together. Lark’s breathing quickened. Hoot put a finger against his lips, she nodded.
The voices grew louder. “Check along the bank.”
“They couldn’t have gotten far.”
Hoot’s jaw tightened. They were still checking the riverbank for where they’d exited the water. Good. That meant they hadn’t found their trail. Yet.
He slowly scanned the woods. The forest was dense enough to conceal them, but their tracks would be another matter.
His eyes fell to the muddy ground at his feet. His boots had left obvious impressions. So had Lark’s. Damn. He’d been too focused on getting away from the river to think about covering their tracks.
Another voice carried through the rain. “Can’t see shit in this storm.”
“Shut it and keep looking.”
Hoot waited. Minutes passed, and finally, the voices began fading.
Lark exhaled. “What are we gonna do if they find us?”
Hoot didn’t answer immediately. Because the answer was simple. They couldn’t let that happen. He couldn’t let that happen.
He looked at her again. She was scared. He could see it now. She’d been brave on the island. Brave in the river. Brave while dragging his half-conscious ass onto shore.
But fear was catching up with her. As was exhaustion. He reached for her hand. “I’m going to get you out of this.”
Her fingers curled around his. “You promise?”
Hoot had made promises before. Some he’d kept. Some had ended with body bags. But this one came without hesitation. “Yes.”
She studied his face. Then nodded. “Okay.”
They moved again. Hoot forced himself to keep a steady pace despite the pain. After another stretch of woods, the terrain began rising. He recognized the ridge. The hunting cabin shouldn’t be much farther.
“If I remember right, there’s a cabin ahead.”
“How sure are you?” she asked, her breath coming in short, rapid gasps.
“Pretty sure.”
“Pretty sure?” she questioned.
“About seventy percent.”
She snorted. “That’s reassuring.”
“It’s the best you’re getting at the moment.”
They climbed. The slope grew steeper, forcing Lark to brace herself against trees as she trudged along beside him. Hoot’s vision began to blur at the edges. He ignored it. He couldn’t afford to stop. Not yet.
Then he saw something through the trees. A roof, overgrown with vines, it was old and sagging. But it was there.
Hoot stopped. “There.”
Lark followed his gaze. “Is that it?”
“Yeah.” Relief nearly buckled his knees. They reached the cabin a few minutes later. The door was hanging crooked on its hinges. Drawing his knife, he reached out to push it aside. “Stay behind me.”
Lark frowned. “You’re wounded.”
“And you’re not. I’d like to keep it that way.”
“I could help.”
“You can help by staying behind me.”
She rolled her eyes. “Bossy.”
“Occupational hazard.” He pushed the door open.
The cabin was dark and empty. At least, as far as he could tell.
He swept the room carefully. One large room, with an old fireplace taking up one wall.
A broken table and dusty furniture comprised the room’s contents.
No signs anyone had been there recently.
Hoot finally lowered his knife. “Clear.”
Lark stepped inside. The relief on her face was almost painful to see. She immediately moved toward the fireplace. “Can we make a fire?”
Hoot hesitated, worried about the smoke being spotted, but conceded. The storm would conceal most of it. “Probably.”
She looked over her shoulder. “Probably?”
“I’ve been shot. My brain isn’t operating at full capacity.”
“Good. Because I’m pretty sure mine left somewhere around the time I jumped into the river.”
Despite everything, Hoot smiled. A real one. Lark stared at him. “What?”
“Nothing.” But her smile told him she liked seeing it.
Hoot leaned against the wall. The moment he stopped moving, the pain hit him full force. His knees nearly buckled.
Lark was beside him instantly. “Cormac.”
“I’m fine.”
She gave him a flat look. “Don’t.”
He closed his eyes briefly. “Okay.”
She slipped an arm around him. “Sit. Rest.”
He didn’t argue this time. As she helped lower him onto the old couch, Hoot looked at her. The woman who’d been kidnapped. The woman who’d jumped into a flooded river with her hands tied. The woman who had dragged a wounded SEAL out of that same river and then hauled him through the woods.
She was exhausted. Terrified. Probably traumatized. And yet she was still worrying about him. Something tightened in his chest.
He’d spent years protecting people. It had always been simple. Assess the threat. Neutralize it. Get everyone home.
But Lark had somehow complicated everything. Because this time, getting home wasn’t enough. He needed her to get home.
And suddenly Hoot understood that the thought of failing her frightened him more than the men hunting them ever could.