Chapter 10
Ten
Sleep?
Right.
Liam shifted against the canyon wall, every muscle screaming protest. The night had dragged on—cold seeped through the sandstone into his spine while his hip throbbed where a jagged rock had dug in for hours.
He’d been about to fix it when Nimue had pressed her back warm against his side sometime around three a.m. The canyon’s heat had finally bled out, leaving the air knife sharp.
Rock or not, he wasn’t going to move after that.
His ears strained against the silence, cataloging every whisper of sand shifting in the breeze.
The Bratva knew exactly where they were. Perfect. Nothing like being a sitting duck, waiting for killers to drop by for a chat.
His chest squeezed tight every time his mind wandered to that breath-stealing what-if. Nimue with a gun pressed to her temple. Nimue’s eyes wide with terror. Nimue—
No.
He couldn’t lose her. Losing Christiana had nearly destroyed him, and they’d only been friends. Nimue?
Yeah, she’d become so much more. Something about her kept drawing him back, as if she might be his grounding point, the calm in his chaos—despite the fact that they were on the run.
She was the one that made the rest of the world make sense.
From that first moment at the lodge—her sarcastic quips, the way she’d looked at him like he was some puzzle she wanted to solve—she’d gotten under his skin.
Every conversation revealed another layer, another piece of her story he desperately wanted to know.
The good stuff. The messy parts. Even the secrets she refused to tell him.
He was greedy for all of it. And losing all of that now…
The ache in his chest deepened. He pressed his palm against his sternum, willing it to ease.
Nimue shifted and started shivering. They were still maybe an hour from the sun finding them down here. Liam turned and wrapped his arm around her. She went rigid for half a heartbeat, and he almost let go—then she melted into him like she belonged there.
Maybe she did.
The warmth seeping through his jacket grounded him. Reminded him why he was here. Why he’d risk everything—his job, his life, whatever it took—to keep her safe.
She was worth it.
And not just because of how perfectly she fit against him, small but fierce, like she could take on the world and still need him to hold her steady.
Her voice—raw, unguarded—when she’d talked about those sketches had revealed glimpses of the pain she carried.
Something bitter had edged her tone when she’d mentioned drawing in color. As if joy were some foreign concept.
Every fiber of him wanted to be the one to change that. To show her that happiness wasn’t just for other people.
But the gaps in her story gnawed at him.
She’d mentioned that her sister was a Black Swan.
He’d nodded like it made perfect sense, but the term meant nothing to him.
Yesterday, before talking to said sister, he’d have guessed it was some ballet thing.
Now he knew it was tangled up in whatever danger was hunting her.
And that ignorance could get them both killed.
Nimue stirred, her breath catching as she woke. He eased back, cold air rushing between them as she sat up. The sky above them arched black, with only the faintest hint of gray touching the canyon rim.
“We need to move.” His voice came out rougher than intended. “Phantom Ranch is our best bet. It’s closed for renovations, but they have an emergency phone line. We can reach Emberly, tell her about the sat phone…”
Nimue’s gaze flicked to her pack, where the tampered device waited like a ticking bomb.
“You think they’d actually come down here?” he said. “Into the canyon?”
She shook her head, already shoving gear into her pack. “I don’t know. But I doubt it. They’re killers, not backcountry hikers. Smarter play would be tracking where we come out. Set up an ambush and take us out there.”
He stilled at her words.
She glanced at him. “Sorry. I need coffee.” She’d taken out the phone and set it on the ground with the battery case still off, the little green light still taunting them.
“Any ideas yet on what to do with this thing?” He nodded toward the phone.
“Can’t we just get rid of it?”
“We talked about this last night. If we destroy it, then they’d know we’re onto them. Leave it here, same problem. We need to—”
“Lead them the wrong way.” Her eyes lit up as she glanced at the creek flowing past their shelter. “Send it downstream. This water flows opposite from where we’re headed. Dumps into the Colorado eventually.”
“Hold up.” One eyebrow climbed toward his hairline. “You’re asking a ranger to intentionally litter? That’s like asking a chef to burn dinner on purpose.”
“Even if your life depends on it?”
He hesitated.
“If my life depends on it?”
Direct hit.
He’d pollute the entire park system if it meant keeping her safe.
Liam dug through his pack—past the MREs and half-empty water bottle—until his fingers found a crumpled Ziploc bag. He clicked the battery cover back on and slipped the phone inside, leaving room to inflate the bag before sealing it tight.
He put it into a second bag, added more air to inflate it like a small balloon to add more buoyancy.
Then he wrapped it in duct tape, silver strips overlapping until the whole thing looked like some deranged balloon animal, a bulky, shimmering puff.
But hopefully it would keep the electronics dry and shield the wildlife from ingesting anything.
He set it into the stream. “With luck, they’ll think we’re hiking that direction.” The makeshift float bobbed, riding the water’s surface as it disappeared around the bend in the quiet flow. “I hope I can find that later.”
“It’ll be okay, Ranger Rick.” Nimue stepped up beside him.
“Once it hits the Colorado, the Bratva will know we either ditched it or whittled a canoe. By the time it washes ashore, it will probably be a week from now in Lake Mead and they’ll know for a fact we ditched it.
Some kid will find it, think it’s cool.”
“Which means we need to be far from here when it hits the Colorado.” He shouldered his pack, the familiar weight settling across his shoulders. Time to move.
They hit the trail as sunlight broke over the canyon rim, painting the rocks molten gold. Liam took point, scanning for movement, listening for sounds that didn’t belong.
A hawk’s cry echoed off the canyon walls. Otherwise, a deep silence filled the canyon.
They’d barely covered a mile when the sky went dark.
“Aw, c’mon.” Liam’s stomach dropped as he watched clouds boil up from nowhere, rolling in like some biblical plague. Wind whipped through the canyon, carrying the sharp ozone scent of incoming rain. “Early for monsoon season, but this doesn’t look good.”
Lightning flickered in the distance.
“We need cover. Now.”
“Over there,” Nimue said, pointing to an indent in the canyon wall.
They scrambled for the shallow overhang.
It barely qualified as a cave, but it would have to do.
The sky split open, dumping sheets of rain that hammered the canyon floor about twenty yards before they reached cover.
Liam wiped the water from his face and dropped his pack before peering out at the deluge.
“This slows us down,” he muttered. “But if that phone’s still moving—and moving faster now—it might buy us some time.”
“Or tip them off that we’re not with it.” Nimue’s voice carried a thread of worry. “This much water? That thing’s probably halfway to the Colorado by now.”
She slumped against the cave wall, breath coming in short bursts. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry I dragged you into this mess.”
“Stop.” He turned, softening his tone. “I’m here because I want to be. You didn’t drag me anywhere.”
She searched his face, hunting for lies. The uncertainty that maybe he didn’t mean what he’d said. He met her gaze, conveying all he could in that one look.
She swallowed. Nodded.
“We’ll rest while the rain holds us up.” He set up the water filter beside a puddle forming at the cave’s edge. “Eat something. Recharge.” He opened his pack to look for beef sticks.
Her hands shook as she dug through her pack. She pulled out that small sketchpad and flipped it open.
Then she settled back against the wall and started to draw. Her pencil moved in quick, sure strokes across the page, a look of peace settling over her.
Some of the tension in his chest eased.
Art calmed her. Good to know.
He handed her a beef stick and sat beside her. “Drawing me again?” He couldn’t resist the tease.
She snorted without looking up. “Don’t flatter yourself. It’s the cave.” But she smiled.
Oh, she had a beautiful smile. “Ever think about doing more with these?”
Her pencil paused. “They’re just doodles. Keep my hands busy. Keep the anxiety down.”
“Maybe that’s how they started.” He couldn’t let this go. Something about her art mattered. “Doesn’t mean that’s all they are. You showed me two yesterday, but you have a whole book of them there. Can I see the rest?”
She looked up, something raw and vulnerable flickering in her eyes. “Why?”
“Because they’re part of you.” The truth came more easily than he’d expected. “And if you haven’t noticed, I’m here for all of you. The good parts. The complicated parts. Not just your favorite pictures. Even the doodles.”
Her lips parted. No words came.
The air between them hummed with electricity that had nothing to do with the storm. He wanted to close the distance. Kiss her again. Show her she wasn’t alone in this.
And maybe she felt it too, because she looked at him and her breath caught.
But if he kissed her now, well, maybe that’s exactly what whoever might be tracking them needed. For him to get distracted. Unguarded.
He looked away.
She did too.
But something chilly landed between them. Oh, no—the last thing he wanted was for her to think he was pushing her away.