Chapter Six
By dawn, Hawk had it all set to go. Packs, food, water purification. Enough cold-weather gear for himself and a few items for Sinead too in case she hadn’t brought any in her designer luggage.
He checked the first-aid supplies twice and made sure he had enough rope to rappel, though he hoped it didn’t come to that.
He also had a tent and enough dehydrated food packs to keep them alive in the wilderness for days if the terrain or weather—or worse—turned against them.
In the dining hall over breakfast, Hawk studied the satellite image while Sinead picked apart a slice of toasted raisin bread.
The hall was empty at this time of day, and he used the quiet to go over their route again.
It looked ugly but manageable. Steep in places and thick with trees.
A ravine cut through the side. Still, if they set a decent pace and didn’t take many breaks, they could reach the coordinates in two days, max.
By the time they returned, Colson and his team might have found the mercenaries’ vehicle and the team would have more of a lead on the men after Sinead.
He traced a path with one finger.
“That looks like a difficult hike.” She leaned over the phone, flooding his nose with the fresh, bright scent of citrus. It had to be her shampoo. Or body wash. Whatever it was…it smelled good.
And made him want to get closer.
He straightened. “I warned you it’s rough terrain. It isn’t too late to change your mind and stay here on the ranch. The place is a fortress. You’ll be safe here.”
She made a sound that said she disagreed with every word he said and probably everything about him too.
By the time the sun broke over the peaks, they were in the truck, driving as far as the track would take them. Behind them, the Black Heart faded into the distance. Ahead, the road narrowed until it became less of a road and more a suggestion carved through trees and rock.
Eventually, they couldn’t go on. Hawk parked, killed the engine and listened to the world outside the vehicle before opening the door.
Wind moved through the pines in a low sigh. Overhead, a hawk shrieked as it cut across the pale morning sky.
He climbed out and Sinead followed, adjusting the straps of her pack.
He looked over the gear she’d chosen for hiking. Lightweight pants with cargo pockets, a long-sleeved top to shield her from the sun and the wind once they started the climb. And of course those good boots that cost as much as a week of military pay.
“You good?”
Her lips only tipped up at the corners but a smile sparkled in her eyes. “I can’t wait to get up there.”
He dipped his head in a nod. “Stay close.”
“I was planning to sprint into the woods and befriend some bears, but fine.”
They set out. Within the first hour, Hawk realized he’d totally underestimated the amount of time it would take to hike the route.
He wasn’t just a little wrong. He was very wrong.
The satellite image overlaid with the topographical map hadn’t shown the way the ground broke under layers of loose stone. It hadn’t shown fallen trees stacked like walls of a colonial fort or snowmelt turning pockets of earth into a slick slide beneath their boots.
It hadn’t shown the way every easy path disappeared once they were inside the trees.
They couldn’t move at his projected pace—they were hiking at maybe a quarter of it.
“You’re doing that jaw thing.” Her voice startled him from his thoughts.
“I don’t have a jaw thing.” He realized he’d just clamped it tight and forced himself to unlock it.
Her eyes did that sparkling thing again. “You absolutely have a jaw thing.”
He stopped beside a boulder and scanned the slope above them. “We’re moving slower than expected.”
“No kidding.”
He swept his gaze over her and saw her breathing was elevated and color rode high in her cheeks, but she moved over the rough ground with surprising ease. Careful but light-footed and agile in a way that made him reassess her all over again.
He was faster than her on straight ground. Stronger by a wide margin and he had her safety in mind every step of the way.
But on this terrain, Sinead moved like she knew how to place her feet before the ground betrayed her.
“You said you hike a lot?” he asked.
“Not lately.”
“Then why are you good at this?” He pointed to the ground with rocks of every size pitched at every angle.
“I wore high heels on cobblestones in Europe for years. This is basically the same thing but with more trees.” She set off again with a smile on her face, and he had to force himself to face the slope and keep moving.
They pushed on for hours. The sun climbed, then began its slow fall toward the ridgeline. Shadows stretched longer between the trees, playing tricks on his eyes.
The air grew sharp with the cold he knew they’d have to survive a night in. Every instinct in Hawk told him to keep going, but his better judgment told him not to get caught in the dark.
When the sun began sinking behind the mountain, he stopped.
“We make camp here.”
Sinead stared off into the wilderness. “How far away are we?”
“Too far to reach before dark.”
She blew out a frustrated breath. “Of course.”
He dropped his pack where he stood. “We start again at first light.”
They found a sheltered spot near a stand of pines, protected from the worst of the wind. Hawk set up the small tent and secured the area—double-checking for snakes—while she gathered what dry branches she could find.
He glanced over at her once every minute just to make sure she was safe. He’d just turned his attention back to his task when she let out a sharp cry.
He jerked toward her just in time to see the pouch clipped to her backpack tear loose.
“No!”
It skidded over the rock, bounced once…and tipped over the edge of the ravine.
Sinead lunged, and his heart stopped. In one leap, he caught her around the waist and hauled her back. The sound of the pack hitting rocks and bouncing was unmistakable.
It vanished into the shadows below.
It could have been Sinead.
His arms were still wrapped around her waist and her back was pressed against his front, her head tucked beneath his chin. For a long second, neither of them spoke.
She stared over the lip of the ravine. “That had my jacket in it.”
“I know.” His chest heaved at the thought of what could have really happened.
“My meals.”
“I know.”
“All of them.”
He looked over the edge. It was too steep, too unstable and too dark to attempt a descent without risking both of them.
“We’re not going after it tonight.”
Her mouth opened, then closed. He expected an argument, but for once she seemed to realize he wasn’t being bossy—that he had her safety in mind.
“I have food and extra clothes,” he told her.
“Enough for me?”
“Yes.” He noticed how she wasn’t moving out of his arms.
He also noticed how good she felt right here.
He forced his arms to loosen around her and pulled her away from the ledge just in case the ground wasn’t stable. While she sat on a rock looking despondent, he built a fire and boiled water for their meals in a pouch.
Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted movement. Something small in the scrubby bushes.
He slowly turned his head enough to see from the corner of his eye.
“Hawk.” Sinead’s murmur reached him. “What is that?”
“A rabbit.”
Their gazes met over the fire. Suddenly, he wished it was something a little larger so she’d end up in his arms again.
He arched a brow. “Do you fancy some fricassee?”
Her eyes rounded. “What? No way.”
“I brought extra backpacking meals to keep us both going for a while, but a little more protein wouldn’t hurt.”
Her lips grew tighter across her teeth and her eyes were shiny in the darkness. “That. Is. A. Bunny.”
“It’s food.”
“It has a face.”
“Most food starts with a face.”
“Not my food. I’m a vegetarian.”
He stared at her. Dammit.
It made sense now, why she’d insisted on going through the store of food and selecting certain ones—she was choosing the meatless ones. And Hawk’s pack was stuffed with meat options.
The bush shook as the rabbit vanished as if it heard his thoughts.
“You’re serious?” he asked.
“Very.”
He looked down at the pouch he just added water to. “I suppose chicken and dumplings is off the table then?”
“Absolutely.”
“It’s probably not real chicken.”
She let out a dramatic sigh and hugged herself. He grabbed a spare jacket from his pack and handed it to her.
“Thank you.” She wrapped herself in it, chin tucked down, staring into the flames as if she’d resigned herself to not eating until they got off this mountain.
After searching through the food he brought, he found one meatless option, and it was dessert.
“Blueberry cobbler in a pouch?”
She met his gaze. “That sounds good.”
After he prepared it for her and she took the first bite, she nodded. “Navy would like this.”
His lips quirked. “She does love her blueberry muffins. Of course, Chef makes the best.”
“I’ll have to try them when we get back to the ranch.”
“I’m sorry we lost your food.”
“Nothing to be done now.”
“Tomorrow gets harder.”
“Then I guess we should sleep.”
He studied her face in the firelight and saw no softness there. Fear, maybe. Exhaustion, definitely. But not surrender.
He’d make a new plan.
At dawn, he’d hunt or forage for more food. Maybe he could find some nuts to keep her going. Maybe he could pick out the dried chunks of meat in the pouch of beef stew and she could eat the vegetables.
One thing was certain—Sinead wasn’t turning back.
He’d planned the hike based on the coordinates, but somewhere along the way, he’d started planning it around Sinead.
* * * * *
Sinead woke to the loudest birds she’d ever heard. She opened her eyes and stared at the ceiling, but it wasn’t her bedroom back in Boston or even the mountain resort.
It was a nylon tent.
And Hawk wasn’t beside her.
When they first lay down, side by side, the tension between them could be cut with a knife. He was stiff. She was stiff. Then she got restless and flipped over, facing away from him, and he did the same, facing the opposite side of the tent.