Chapter 24
Twenty-Four
He waited for Sarah to finally snap out of it. After his question, she’d gone still, her breath caught somewhere between inhale and exhale.
He was doing his best to contain his frustration and hide the truth that Sentinel One had gone down not far from where the SAR team had rescued someone two years ago—where his father had died.
He wasn’t sure he could go there, but they had much more to worry about than his emotional baggage.
And he would hear what this woman had planned for them.
Finally, her shoulders dropped, and she breathed but didn’t answer his question. Had she even thought this through? Did she have an answer for him?
He’d have to press her, then. “I told you from the beginning—I’m not here for a treasure hunt. But neither am I here to play a deadly game of cat and mouse. Bottom line, I didn’t sign up for this, and I’m going to go out on a limb here . . .” He held her gaze. “You didn’t either.”
Cold air pressed in on him, adding to the chill he already felt growing around them with this discovery. She had to be feeling it too. Frowning, he turned his attention to stoking the fire again and adding more logs—a feeble attempt to chase the cold closing in around his heart.
Opening the grate, he stuck logs in. Pushed them around with a fire iron until they settled and the fire blazed again.
He spotted the window at the side of the cabin near the back and realized it wasn’t completely closed.
Why hadn’t he seen that earlier? Ryder pushed to close it, but it wouldn’t shut all the way, so he grabbed the old wool blankets and stuffed them into the space.
“We need to think this through,” he finally said.
“What do you think I’m doing?” she snapped. “Sorry. Okay, so if that vial is the bioweapon, or one of many vials of the bioweapon, we can’t just go back to town waving it around.”
“I wouldn’t dream of that, but you can’t think we need to find that plane. Knowing what we know now, that’s probably the exact wrong thing to do.”
She folded her arms across her chest and lifted her chin. “And what’s your plan? Hike down the mountain and pretend none of this happened? That your grandfather wasn’t complicit in this cover-up?”
Now, wait a minute. “My grandfather wasn’t complicit in anything. Your grandfather was on the plane, was part of the mission. Neither of us can point fingers, and it’s just a waste of time. Doesn’t matter anymore. But we’re in a situation here and now.”
I’m not trained for this.
“What would a Navy SEAL do?” she asked.
Her question startled him. Was that information on the website?
He hadn’t told her about his past. He’d circle back to how she knew that later.
Explosives, weapons caches, enemy intel—those he could handle.
But a biological agent locked in a glass vial?
That was above his pay grade, especially now that he was no longer a SEAL.
“SEALs aren’t typically trained to handle biological agents.
They aren’t trained to identify a pathogen or transport a bioweapon for storage. ”
“But you’re trained to recognize a weapon of mass destruction, right? You know about containment procedures.”
Oh, so she actually knew he’d been a SEAL, and she knew what they were trained to do.
He’d unpack that later as well. “And communication protocols,” he added.
How did she know so much about this? “I think the issue here, and you might agree, is that reporting this to the appropriate authority is our priority.”
“When”—she stepped closer—“those same authorities killed my brother?”
He wasn’t entirely sure that she knew this, and if she did, then how?
That meant she wasn’t telling him everything.
Regardless . . . “You make a good point.” She made the only point that mattered—if they wanted to survive and somehow save the world from this disaster waiting to happen.
He moved to peer out the window. Nothing but black stared back.
Was someone watching from the shadows? Waiting on them to make a move?
Lord, what do we do next? Where do we go from here?
He’d sent his brother, Holt, a message, so at least someone would know, but he hadn’t told Mom the details.
He hadn’t wanted her caught up in this, hadn’t wanted her worried, or worse, in danger.
Now, though, regret gnawed at him. Now he wished he hadn’t involved the sheriff or the town in this either.
A cold weight settled in his chest. He could die on this mountain.
They could both die. His grandfather had died here.
He’d suffered a heart attack while hiking. And his father had died here too.
How do you stop that kind of legacy? How did Ryder stand in the path of what felt like the natural trajectory for his own life—and now possibly Sarah’s?
“Ryder.” Sarah stepped forward, her voice softer now. “What are you thinking we should do?”
Honestly? Contain, report, disappear were always great strategies.
But did she really want to hear his plan? Because he had a feeling that she had her own.
Finally he turned to face her. “Our mission has changed.” He wasn’t completely sure about that. “We need to find out who is after us—you, specifically.” She must have some idea, since she believed authorities murdered her brother. She might even know. None of that she had shared with him.
“And how do you propose we do that?” The softness had fled her tone again. Exhaustion obviously pressed in on her. Exhaustion and fear.
Was he really going to resort to this? “I know a few places where we could lay low.”
“Lay low? For how long?”
“Until we figure things out.”
“Are you serious? You want to run? That’s not exactly my style.” Sarah moved closer to the woodstove, determination and fear etched in her features. She rubbed her arms, clearly feeling the chill in the air.
“Isn’t it?” he asked.
“What are you talking about?”
“When I met you—more like ran into you—you were running. You were hiding.”
That’s probably not how she saw it, but he wasn’t wrong.
But he continued before she could speak.
“Or we could just storm the plane without a plan. Is that what you want?” Ryder had to calm down.
He didn’t let emotions control him, so why was this situation getting to him?
Oh yeah, an experimental bioweapon on the mountain near his hometown, his family and friends, and people he cared about might have something to do with it.
He turned and moved to the stove and threw in another log.
He just couldn’t get this place warm enough.
Sarah said nothing, which surprised him. He turned to find her peeking out the window like he’d done earlier. He approached and stood behind her. She didn’t turn to look at him.
He was the one to soften his voice this time, and that helped calm his thoughts. “We need to use our heads instead of our emotions.”
As if he’d ever used his emotions before when making any kind of important decisions.
But apparently, he’d let this woman convince him that he wanted to help her.
He held his hands out, as if to gently grip her arms and turn her to face him, but he didn’t touch her.
Instead, he lowered his voice. “You know I’m right. ”
Sarah pulled the ponytail out of her hair, then lifted it off her neck as she turned to face him and twisted the long strands into a knot at the back of her head. Her expression grew soft, but her eyes still held a fiery edge. “I’m not afraid.”
Why had she said that? “I never said you were. You’re one of the bravest souls I’ve met.” And that was saying something.
Her gaze searched his. “I’m not afraid to finish this climb and find the plane.”
Oh. That was the angle. As if he was afraid. Well, sure . . . for her. For the town at the base of the mountain. For the surrounding wildlife. Anyone would be afraid.
“You said that I know you’re right,” she said. “I’ll admit, you’re correct that we can’t sit here and wait for them to come for us—and just to be clear, I want to get nice and warm before we ascend the top again.”
She was going to try to force them to the crash site. But it wasn’t that easy. To do that, they needed supplies. He was not going to lead her to the top. End of story. But he wouldn’t argue with her.
“Let’s consider the options.”
There. Maybe that would appease her. They would discuss the plan and agree to it.
“Run from here and hide. Go down the mountain back to town. Or find the plane and stick to the original plan.” The original plan.
Her original plan. “You must have had a plan for what you would do after you found the evidence you needed. Why don’t we start there?
You tell me—what was your plan?” He’d asked that already, and she still hadn’t answered.
As for Ryder? His plan had only been to help her find what she needed to find and then guide her back down the mountain where he would say goodbye to Sarah Ellison, who was sharp and feisty.
He admired her capacity to keep up the pace.
She was tough but also compassionate. And he couldn’t exactly ignore that she was gorgeous.
He should look forward to the moment when he would be rid of her and her trouble. And the town of Mercy Ridge would be safe. But it was too late for Ryder—Sarah Ellison had gotten under his skin the moment they’d survived a mudslide together.