Chapter 4
The next morning, Amber”s breath misted in the crisp mountain air as she followed Hunter, the steady crunch of pine needles beneath their boots forming a natural cadence in the vast silence of the Rockies. She’d led him back to where the men had met and now, they were hiking through the surrounding woods. Towering trees loomed around them, casting long, uneven shadows that stretched across the rugged trail. Hunter had suggested they go on a hike and talk about everything.
The forest”s untouched beauty was a stark contrast to the urban landscapes where Amber usually found herself for work. She spent her childhood in these woods, playing hide and seek with her siblings and cousins, splashing around in the creek and living her best life.
“These evergreens,” she murmured, brushing her fingers against the rough bark, the scent of sap and earth mingling in the cool mountain air. “Brings me back to childhood.” The trail weaved its way through the dense grove, a serpentine path hemmed in by towering pine trees. Sunlight played peekaboo with the forest floor, dappling it in ever-shifting patterns of light and dark.
“Watch your step here,” Hunter called back, his voice low and even, barely rising over the whispering wind that danced through the treetops.
Amber nodded, her athletic frame easily maneuvering around a gnarled root protruding from the earth. She fell into step beside him, noting the way he scanned their surroundings—always alert, always prepared. It was second nature for someone with his background.
”Ever wonder,” Amber said, ”what it”s like to just disappear into these woods? Leave everything behind and live in the mountains?”
Hunter glanced at her. “Thought crosses my mind more often than I care to admit.”
“I know I couldn’t do it. As beautiful as all of this is, I need to be doing something with my life. I’m not the sit on the front porch in a rocking chair type. Never have been, I have the desire to continue to learn, grow… evolve.”
“Like the six languages I speak,” Hunter said, his tone a mix of admiration and curiosity. “That”s impressive. How”d you manage that?”
“My inspiration comes from telling people’s stories,” she replied, her voice softening. “I hunt them, live them. Mostly in extremely dangerous situations. I couldn’t ask others to go with me and the translation software for interviews lags. If I wanted to converse with people well enough to accurately portray their lives, I needed to speak their language.”
“Your documentaries don”t capture it all, do they? There’s not enough time in an hour to show the entire story,” Hunter ventured, his gaze tracing the line where earth met sky.
“Never,” Amber confirmed. “And some truths are too heavy for the screen.”
A silence between them stretched, each lost in their own thoughts, filled only by the sounds of nature and their footfalls. Amber”s curiosity itched at the back of her mind, her reporter”s instinct mingling with a personal intrigue she hadn”t felt in years. She glanced at his profile, the strong jawline, and focused eyes that seemed to hold countless untold stories.
“If you don”t mind me asking,” Amber began, breaking the quiet with her clear, measured voice, “what was it like being a Navy SEAL?”
Hunter turned his head slightly, his gaze flickering to meet hers before returning to the path ahead. A brief silence hung in the air as if he was weighing the cost of sharing a piece of his concealed world.
“It wasn’t just a job; it was a life commitment,” he finally said, his words slicing through the tension. “Every mission...it”s about pushing past limits, both physically and mentally. And now,” he paused, glancing at her again, “my job is all about dealing with threats most people don”t even realize exist.”
Amber absorbed his words, feeling the weight of his experiences resonate within the chambers of her own past—a past scarred by encounters with the darkest facets of human nature. Her documentaries had exposed crime syndicates and brought her face-to-face with evil, but Hunter”s battles were fought in the shadows, away from camera lenses and microphones.
“Threats like what?” she prodded gently, careful not to press too hard, yet driven by the same force that propelled her in her investigative work.
“Like, drug trafficking, although drug trafficking is just scratching the surface,” he replied tersely, his tone edged with a cold hardness. “But it”s also about protecting innocent lives from the fallout. Ensuring that what festers in the dark corners doesn”t spread into the light.”
Amber”s heart thrummed with a mixture of admiration and an inexplicable sense of kinship. In her job, she shone light on the darkness he tried to keep hidden. She imagined they had a shared purpose, making society safer. Although, she sought to understand humanity. She craved knowing the whys. Why people did what they did.
Here, amidst the towering peaks and ancient forests, she found herself standing shoulder to shoulder with someone who understood the stakes of confronting darkness. That realization sent a shiver down her spine, one not borne of the mountain chill, but of a burgeoning connection she wasn”t sure she was ready to explore. She didn’t need a distraction in her life. She didn’t need a man…and yet, she couldn’t help but wanting the one next to her.
“Sounds intense,” she murmured, her brown eyes reflecting a worldliness that belied her appearance. “And necessary.”
Hunter nodded once, sharply. They continued their trek, the sun filtering through the pines, casting a golden glow on the path ahead—a path that seemed to promise more than just the end of a hike, but perhaps the beginning of an unforeseen journey together.
Hunter”s boots disturbed a patch of loose stones, sending them skittering down the slope beside the trail. Amber watched as each pebble seemed to bounce with pent-up energy, like the stories he was finally beginning to share. The muscles in his jaw worked subtly, betraying the effort it took to dredge up memories buried deep.
She knew how to get people to talk to her and she’d gotten through Hunter’s tough outer shell with the right questions. “Training was brutal,” Hunter began, his voice a low timbre that harmonized with the rustling leaves around them. “It breaks you down, physically and mentally, then rebuilds you into something... more than you were.”
Amber saw the way his eyes darkened, not with regret but with a fiercely lived intensity. She recognized that look; it was one she”d seen in her own reflection after delving into the labyrinthine worlds of crime and corruption for her documentaries. There was kinship in survival, in enduring beyond what one thought possible.
“We relied on each other for everything,” he continued, the ghost of a smile touching his lips as he recounted anecdotes of brotherhood forged under fire. “Those men became my family. We trusted each other with our lives.”
She watched him closely, noting the subtle shift in his demeanor as he recounted tales of camaraderie. Amber”s heart twisted with a familiar pang—she had never known that kind of reliance, always maintaining a distance while she navigated the treacherous waters of her investigative work. If anything, she’d drawn apart from some of her closer friends. They got married, had babies, and she chased the next story. She loved her girlfriends, but they had little in common anymore. After too many close calls with death, she knew she couldn’t get married. How could she continue to stare her mortality in the face when there was someone waiting at home for her?
“Every mission felt like walking a razor”s edge,” he said, his gaze meeting hers. “The stakes were high, failure wasn”t an option, and every choice could be your last. But knowing you”re protecting your brothers, innocent people... It gave meaning to the danger.”
“It’s like walking a tightrope over an active volcano,” Amber murmured, her words threading through the air between them, binding their shared understanding of calculated risks. “And treading lightly so the person behind you doesn’t fall off into the lava below.” She felt responsible for the life of her cameraman when she was on assignment. She knew he volunteered to be there alongside of her, but she was acutely aware that her behavior, her questions, balancing on that tightrope, was the difference between life and death.
Hunter nodded, pausing to lean against a boulder, the lines of strain around his eyes softening. “Exactly. You get it.”
She did.
More than he realized.
Her documentaries weren”t just stories; they were battles against shadows that thrived on silence. The sacrifices, the fear—it resonated within her, echoing through the canyons of her own experiences.
“Survival,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper, “isn”t just about living through it, is it? It”s about carrying the weight afterward.”
Hunter locked eyes with her. “And finding a way to keep moving forward, after walking through hell’s flames.”
“Is that why you started Spartan Elite? To find a way to move forward after the wars?”
“Spartan Elite... It”s more than just a team; it”s a creed.” His eyes, a fierce blue reminiscent of the skies above the canopy, locked onto hers. “We”re out there in the darkest corners because that”s where the innocent get lost. That”s where the predators wait. In the corners, underground, scurrying around like rats and roaches.”
Amber took a cautious step over a protruding root, her mind turning over his declaration. “Protecting innocent lives...” Amber repeated softly. The concept wasn”t entirely foreign; her documentaries peeled back layers of darkness too, exposing the criminal veins that pulsed beneath society”s skin.
“Yeah,” Hunter confirmed, his pace steady beside her. “You”ve seen it, right? In your work—there”s evil that festers when good folks turn a blind eye. We don”t turn away. Not ever.”
She watched him dodge a low-hanging branch, his movements fluid—a dance with danger he”d learned well. The sun filtered through the needles above, casting a warm glow over his features, softening the edges of his hardened warrior facade.
“Is it enough?” she asked, the question slipping out before she could corral it. “To combat the darkness?”
“Has to be.” His jaw set. “Balancing the scales, it”s all we”ve got left.”
There was a truth in his conviction that reached into her chest and squeezed. The same truth that drove her to chase stories that others shied away from—the unrelenting belief that shedding light could, somehow, make a difference. The depths of criminal behavior, she’d learned, ran deep. It wasn’t shallow. It wasn’t as simple as bad men doing bad things. The motivations were the same as others. Feed their families. Provide shelter for their children. Live to see another day. Too many of the men and women she’d interviewed were desperate for survival, even if that meant making horrific choices along the way.
“Ever feel like you”re just...one person against a tsunami?” Amber asked.
Hunter glanced at her. “All the time. We take down one monster, and another pops up. The never-ending game of whack-a-mole. But tsunamis recede. We shore up and rebuild.”
The simplicity in his response chipped away at her skepticism. She”d seen too much, reported on too many atrocities to dismiss the necessity of a force standing firm where others fled. The realization settled in her gut—a reluctant admittance that maybe, just maybe, groups like Spartan Elite were essential.
Their conversation unfolded with the trail—winding, unpredictable. With each step, Amber sensed the layers peeling back. She learned more about Hunter”s stint in the military, the missions that still haunted his dreams, the friends he could not save. Each revelation was a shard of his armor falling away.
They emerged from the confines of the pines into an expansive clearing. A panorama of towering peaks unfolded before them, the Rockies’ rugged beauty stretching into eternity. Sunlight bathed the valley in gold, shadows playing upon the jagged rocks. Their boots stilled, crunching sounds giving way to a reverent hush as they drank in the scene.
“God...” Hunter”s voice was a low murmur, reverence threaded through the syllable.
“It’s amazing,” Amber agreed, her pulse thrumming with the raw majesty of nature. It was moments like these—when the world revealed its untamed splendor—that reminded her how small her fears and doubts truly were. “I’ve been here hundreds of times, but it gets better with each viewing. As I’ve gotten older, I appreciate it more.”
“I’ve been to places like this all over the world. But, standing here, with you, nothing has ever been this beautiful.” She realized Hunter was no longer staring at the view beyond them but looking directly at her.
Amber”s breath came quicker, not just from the exertion of their ascent but from the undeniable quickening of her heart. Hunter”s stories, his voice—low and resonant—had woven an invisible thread between them, pulling taut with each shared story. She stared at him, taking in the set of his jaw, the focus in his eyes.
This is just temporary.The thought was a cold splash against the warmth building inside of her. This connection, intense and unexpected, was nothing more than a momentary convergence of two lives on divergent paths. They’d find a way to stop the cartel and he would return to Spartan Elite, and she would head back to New York City before heading out to film the next season of her show.
Hunter seemed to sense her introspection, turning his head to offer a smile that didn”t quite meet his eyes. “Are you okay?” he asked.
“More than okay,” Amber replied, the lie slipping out smoother than she expected. Her own career, chasing down leads and exposing the criminal underbelly, had never left room for permanence. And Hunter, with his Spartan Elite and shadows of war, was a man anchored to a life that would always call him back.
“We should keep moving,” he said, gesturing further up the path where the trees thinned and promised new vistas.
“Lead on.” Amber nodded, falling into step beside him. As they moved, the conversation lightened. Hunter recounted an absurd tale from BUD/S training involving a stubborn goat and a midnight swim that had Amber chuckling despite the tightness in her chest.
“Seriously? A goat?” She couldn”t help but laugh, the sound bright and genuine, mingling with the rustle of leaves underfoot.
“Swear to God.” He grinned, the twinkle in his eye reaching deep into places Amber had long since barred. “It was either that or fail the exercise.”
Their laughter drew the attention of a jay perched high above, its sudden call echoing like a sentinel’s cry across the expanse of wilderness. The bird took flight, its wings cutting through the still air, leaving behind a fleeting sense of freedom.
“Look.” Hunter pointed toward a cluster of wildflowers, their vibrant hues defiant against the rugged terrain.
“Beautiful,” she murmured, though her eyes remained fixed on Hunter for a beat too long before flitting away, tracing the outline of peaks against the sky. Survival, Amber mused, was as much about the battles fought within as those waged in the harsh light of the world. And right now, both seemed all too real.
The cadence of their footsteps shifted as the forest floor gave way to a mosaic of smooth stones and moss. Amber”s eyes followed the playful dance of the water, the brook babbling like an old friend sharing secrets. The cool mist kissed her skin, promising respite from the heat that had settled between her shoulder blades.
“Here,” Hunter said, his voice subdued by the serenity of the flowing stream. He gestured to a fallen log worn smooth by time and elements—a natural bench in their cathedral of green. They claimed it with a mutual sigh, the weight of their hike settling into the nooks and crannies of the wood.
“Used to skip rocks here with Lauren,” Amber offered, while her smile tinged with nostalgia as she plucked a flat stone from the ground and expertly sent it skimming across the surface.
Hunter watched, impressed. “You were taught well.”
“Now, Lauren”s kid has quite the arm.” She chuckled, her thoughts drifting to her cousin and the life she had built amongst these trees. She spent a few minutes telling Hunter about her childhood memories before asking him about his family.
Hunter picked up a stick, drawing idle patterns in the dirt as he spoke. “My dad was military too. Guess the apple didn”t fall far...”
“Or maybe it didn”t have a choice,” Amber murmured, feeling the weight of inherited expectations.
“Maybe,” he conceded, a shadow crossing his rugged features before he shook it away. “But dreams... They”re all ours. I wouldn’t do this any other way. I don’t regret going into the military or becoming a SEAL.”
“Survival specialist for the Navy SEALs isn’t exactly a common dream,” she teased, but there was awe in her tone, a recognition of the grit such a path demanded.
“Neither is confronting with crime syndicates head-on and living to tell the tale,” he countered, the admiring glance he shot her way making her insides flutter.
“Guess we”re both suckers for a challenge,” she said, her laughter mingling with the gurgle of the brook.
“What’s your biggest fear?” Hunter asked, the question slicing through the tranquility.
“Stagnation,” she admitted without hesitation. “To stop moving is to stop living. I’m not one to be afraid of dying. I’m more afraid of not living. You know, the people who do the same thing day after day, but don’t experience life? They just kind of survive it? I don’t want to survive life. I want to explore it. To conquer it. To go out knowing I did something to make a difference, somehow. What about you?”
“Loss,” he returned, his voice barely above a whisper. “To fail those who depend on me.”
Amber”s fingers trailed the cool water, her reflection rippling with each disturbance. She drew a deep breath, as if bracing herself against an invisible adversary. “I couldn”t stop him,” she said, her voice a mere whisper against the symphony of nature around them. “The head of the syndicate... My documentary exposed everything but him. He got away. Normally, my episodes aren’t about catching people but about exposing the world they live in. This one was different. It meant more…and I did something I’ve never done before, I lied to the people I was interviewing.”
“Sometimes, the beast is too big to take down,” he offered quietly, his own experiences with intangible enemies surfacing within him. “You did what you could. More than what others do. Don’t blame yourself. When entire governments and armies can’t take them down it’s not on you.”
She nodded slowly. “I thought I could make a difference,” she confided, her shoulders slumping under the burden of her responsibility.
“You did make a difference, Amber,” Hunter insisted, leaning closer, his voice firm yet gentle. “You shed light where there was only darkness. That”s the first step to bringing change.”
“Change feels like a raindrop in the ocean sometimes,” she countered, pulling her knees to her chest, and wrapping her arms around them.
“Every mission we undertook,” Hunter started, pausing as he searched for the right words, “felt like that at times. We take down one cartel head and another springs up in his place. But it”s those drops that start the ripple. You”ve started something powerful.”
“Did you ever feel like it was enough?” she asked, her voice steadying as she found strength in his presence.
“Sometimes. Returning a kidnapped girl to her parents safely. Bringing home a dad to his children. Removing a tyrant from power, knowing he won’t be left to kill any more innocent people. But, sometimes, I feel like it’s not enough,” he admitted. “But I know I have to keep fighting. Just like you will.”
Amber turned back to look down at the water. The brook babbled on, indifferent to human fears and aspirations standing next to it, yet its consistent flow seemed to offer a quiet reassurance.
As they approached the lookout and tents on the platforms, Amber”s shadow stretched long and thin as the sun began its descent. The light filtered through the pine needles, creating a mosaic of amber and emerald on the forest floor. Their hike was nearing its end, and she couldn’t help but feel sad. For a moment, she’d been able to forget all about the cartel meetup. After she’d shown Hunter where the cartel had met with the motorcycle club, the rest of the hike had felt more like a date, and one she didn’t want to end.
“Look at that,” Hunter said quietly, his voice carrying a note of reverence as he gestured toward the horizon where the setting sun kissed the jagged peaks of the Rockies.
“We’re almost back...” Amber started, her voice trailing off as she grappled with the idea of returning to her life of chasing shadows and exposing the crimes hidden in plain sight. She didn’t know what tomorrow would bring. It could be as simple as the state police rounding up the cartel or setting up a sting. Then she’d leave, go back to her life. She could return here anytime she wanted. Hunter wouldn’t be here on her next visit. Why did that thought upset her?
“One thing I’ve learned is tomorrow isn”t promised,” Hunter said. “You have to live each day fully. Make each moment count.” Hunter stepped forward, blocking her path, his hands bracing against a tree trunk on either side of her head. His amber-flecked eyes darkened with desire as he lowered his lips to hers, cutting off any protest she might have had. Hunger unlike anything she’d ever known coursed through her veins as their lips crashed together. She she couldn’t deny the way he made her feel.
Safe.
Wanted.
Alive.
It was a dominating, possessive kiss that scorched her from the tips of her toes to the roots of her hair. His lips were firm and insistent, his tongue demanding entrance as if he could consume every part of her. His hands slid down her waist, molding her against him as if he”d been made for her alone. For a brief second, she allowed herself to be lost in the kiss; his lips were firm and demanding, yet tender as they brushed against hers. She felt him shift closer, and their bodies fit together in a way that seemed only natural.
Reluctantly, Amber broke the kiss, gasping for air and clutching onto the tree trunk to steady herself. “Hunter,” she panted, “we agreed...”
“I know what we agreed,” he growled low in his throat. “One night only.” His eyes dared her to deny it as he brushed a loose strand of hair from her cheek with the back of his knuckles, sending shivers down her spine. “But what if I’m not done with you yet? What if I want more?”
“I can’t. We can’t. This place is magical and romantic, but it’s not real life. It’s what happens when we leave that matters.”
His breathing was ragged as he loosened his hold on her, but not before running a finger down her jawline. “I know...one night,” he said gruffly. His eyes held hers for a second too long before turning away. “Let’s get back to camp.”
The campsite emerged from the cloak of dusk. Amber glanced at Hunter. His eyes met hers briefly, a myriad of emotions swirling within their depths before he looked away.
“Here we are,” Hunter announced, gesturing toward the clearing where their tents stood sentinel. A small fire pit lay at the center, its ashes cold and lifeless for now. On the table was a basket that Amber assumed contained their dinner.
“Thank you for everything today,” Amber said, her voice barely above a whisper, betraying the storm of emotions she worked hard to contain. “I think I’m going to take my dinner into my tent and relax in a bath.”
“When Cameron said glamping, I had no idea exactly how fancy it would be. I definitely didn’t expect full plumbing and clawfoot tubs.”
“Lauren’s vision was to attract people who don’t like sleeping on the ground but who would benefit from fresh mountain air. The idea is to escape the city but not give up the comforts of home. Comfortable beds, running water, gourmet food…”
“I’d say she more than accomplished her vision.”
“It took some work getting it all together, but she did.” Amber reached into the basket and took out a Styrofoam container. She bypassed they fine China and reached for a fork and a napkin. The smell of barbecue made her stomach growl. She knew without opening the box her grandfather’s pulled pork was inside.
They stood awkwardly for a moment, neither wanting to sever the thread that connected them, even as the world around insisted on pulling them apart. Finally, with a nod, Amber turned toward her tent, the sound of her boots against the dry earth punctuating the silence of the forest.
“Goodnight,” she called softly over her shoulder.
“Goodnight, Amber,” he responded.