“Well, you’d already used assholes. I could have gone for douchebags, but figured short and sweet would be best.”

  His grin widened. God, she was adorable. “Hey, works for me.”

  “That’s our plan?” she asked. “Wait for the weather and make a break for it?”

  “Do you have a better suggestion? I’ve been wracking my brain for days trying to figure out what else I can do, but maybe a fresh brain will help.”

  She considered that a moment, then strode toward the couch and flopped down, avoiding the mattress still in pride of place on the floor. “I’ll throw out some suggestions. You’ve probably thought of them all, so I won’t be offended if you shoot them down.”

  “Sure.” He followed her at a slower pace, drawn, as always, into her orbit. He sat on the opposite end of the coach. As if they’d rehearsed it, they both turned on the cushions, propping on knee up, so they were facing each other.

  Aaron’s heart kicked, and Sara smiled as if she’d noticed, too, but didn’t comment.

  “Okay, first suggestion is to call the cops.”

  Aaron shook his head. “No phone. I only have the landline, not a satellite.” He’d helped set his friend Elijah up with a satellite phone six months or so ago. He lived farther from civilization and couldn’t get a landline where he was. At least his friend was much closer to town than he used to be. Aaron could now visit him occasionally. Since his previous cabin—the one that had burned down the night Aaron was shot—had been an arduous two-day hike away, it was definitely an improvement.

  “You don’t a have backup?”

  “No point,” he said with a shrug. “I don’t mind being out of contact for a while. I prefer it, actually.”

  She eyed him for a long moment, and his gut twisted in worry that she was going to ask him about it. Sara never pressed about his frequent trips into the woods, even when he could tell she wanted to. It was one of the things he liked most about her.

  He didn’t know how to explain it to her without revealing all those dark, twisted things inside him. Those things she should know, but he couldn’t tell her. Not when it would change the way she saw him. And as much as guilt ate at him for the lie by omission, he still couldn’t reveal that side of himself.

  “No radio,” she stated, almost to herself. Aaron breathed a sigh of relief at the change in topic.

  “No.”

  “Don’t imagine you’d get much coverage out here.”

  “No, I doubt it would even reach your diner.” The small cluster of shops where Sara’s diner sat was Aaron’s nearest neighbor, and took him about half a day to reach on foot. He liked it that way. Mostly. But between the distance and the interference of the mountains around them, radios were practically useless out here.

  Sara considered for a moment. “Well, then how about we fight back?”

  The word fight was like a kick to his gut. “No,” he said, his voice a too-harsh rasp.

  Sara blinked. “Okay, but it might be the only way we can get out of here. What if they catch us running?”

  “I said no.” The walls closed in on him, his lungs squeezing tight at the thought. Fighting meant blood, meant pain. Meant that kick of adrenaline as he watched people fall beneath his bullets. And death. Most of all, it meant death.

  Sara’s brows tugged down in a frown. “Why not? You’re a hunter. Surely you have guns around here somewhere. We could shoot at them. What do they call it? Lay down cover fire.”

  He swallowed, trying desperately to pull himself together. But the darkness was bubbling up, consuming his reason with its sucking misery. The walls crept closer, until there was barely any air left in the room.

  “No guns,” he managed.

  “None? But how do you hunt?”

  “I don’t.” Not anymore. He hadn’t been able to bear the guilt.

  “Huh,” she said. “You don’t even have one for protection?” He knew she was thinking of her own shotgun, stored safely behind the counter in her diner.

  “No.”

  She was staring at him strangely, and Aaron knew he was doing jackshit to convince her he wasn’t crazy. He felt crazy. Like his mind wasn’t his own anymore.

  He needed to get out. To walk into the woods and not come back until the demons inside him shut their damn mouths and gave him some measure of peace. He needed the fresh air and the silence and nature surrounding him. Letting him feel like he was a part of something more pure than his past. More pure than his soul.

  But he couldn’t leave. He was trapped in here. And every day, every hour, that he was stuck here, the worse the darkness became. The more potent it grew.

  He took a deep breath, and then another. He forced the darkness back down, burying it deep. Sara eyed him almost as if she was afraid, and that look sliced him to the bone. Rather than get upset, he accepted the cutting pain, molded it, and used it to force that ugly part of himself back under submission. He couldn’t bear for Sara to be frightened of him, or disgusted by him, which is why he kept that part of himself so well hidden from her.

  He needed to give her an answer, something that would explain his odd behavior. He took another breath.

  “I saw enough guns in the war,” he told her, his voice only slightly raw. It was true, but not the whole truth.

  Her expression cleared. “Oh, of course. I’m sorry. That was probably really insensitive of me.”

  He shook his head, guilt nudging him, knowing he was letting her assume things about his time as a Marine. “No, it’s me. I just…I don’t like guns.” He kept breathing, forcing his heart rate to calm.

  “That’s totally fair,” she said, throwing her hands up in a gesture of surrender. Then, she lowered them and hesitated a moment. “You don’t talk about your time in Iraq much.”

  “No.” When he talked about it, thought about it, the darkness grew in strength. The only way to manage it was to ignore it as much as possible, and escape into the mountains when it grew too strong. “It wasn’t a fun time, so I don’t want to relive it.”

  “Yeah, of course. Sorry. I’m curious about you is all, I guess. I mean, you’ve been coming into my diner most days for the last five or six years. But you don’t tell me much about yourself.”

  He went into her diner to enjoy her presence, not to recount horrible memories of death and bloodshed. And even if he wanted to, he wouldn’t bring that taint to her soul. He was already ruined enough for both of them.

  “I’d rather talk about you,” he told her. And that was the whole truth.

  She laughed. “I talk more than enough.”

  She never could, but he knew better to tell her that. She might get ideas about how he felt about her. Might peel back the layers to see the truth he’d worked so hard to conceal from her.

  “Okay, focus,” she said almost to herself. “So, no fighting. Which leaves running, which is our current plan, or somehow contacting the police without a phone line or radio.”

  Aaron shook his head. “Even if we did call the cops, there are only, what? Three of them in the station below the mountain? What will they do against five guys with guns?”

  Sara shrugged. “I don’t know, but it’s their job to figure it out, right? Not ours.”

  Aaron drummed his fingers on the back of the couch. “I guess so. I’d still hate to bring them into this.”

  “Well, the hunters didn’t shoot me when I pulled up,” Sara reminded him. “So maybe they won’t shoot the cops.”

  “Or,” Aaron countered. “Maybe we’d lure more people into their trap.”

  Sara pouted. “Maybe,” she allowed. “Still, we should consider it as an option, in case our escape plan doesn’t work out.”

  Aaron gritted his teeth. “Fine.” But he had no intention of involving anyone else in this. He wouldn’t have anyone else’s death on his conscience. Sara being in danger was bad enough, but he could likely protect one person—particularly her, since he’d lay down his life if he had to. But any more than that and there were no guarantees.

  Sara’s eyes darted toward the window. “Do you think they’re watching us?”

  “I doubt they can. Night vision goggles don’t see through walls.”

  “That’s a movie myth?”

  He cracked a grin. “Yeah.”

  “Well, I’m glad. It’s bad enough that they’re out there, waiting for us. To think that we had no privacy as well?” She shuddered.

  Aaron reached out and brushed his fingers over the back of her hand. To comfort her, or because he simply wanted to touch her? He wasn’t sure.

  What he was doing? He snatched his hand back and stood. He turned toward the window and twitched the curtain aside. Sara was right. Clouds gathered, but he wasn’t convinced the storm would arrive tonight, or be big enough to drive the hunters underground. But they should prepare in case.

  There was enough moonlight for him to see the guy who’d shot at them earlier, still holding his rifle. Their eyes met and the other man tipped his cap up. Then he raised the gun. Not pointing at them, simply as a reminder that he had it and was watching them.

  Aaron shook his head and dragged the curtain closed. That guy was enjoying whatever this was far too much.

  “If and when that storm comes in, we need to be ready,” he told Sara, already preparing a mental list of everything they’d need.

  “What does that entail?” she asked, tucking her knees to her chest.

  “We’ll need to find you some outdoor gear, for starters, or you’ll freeze to death out there.” He must have something she could wear.

  “Won’t we head straight for the truck?” she asked with a frown.

  “Maybe. But maybe they’ve disabled it to stop us from doing exactly that. Or maybe they’ll be watching it. We might need to go on foot.”

  Her eyebrows shot up. “Seriously?”

  “Yes,” he told her. “We need to be ready for whatever comes. I already have a go-bag for myself, with any supplies I might need. But we’ll need one for you, too.”

  Sara blew out a long breath. “This hardly feels real.” She hands fisted against her legs. Aaron fought the urge to go to her, comfort her. Pull her into his arms so she’d be pressed against him.

  But he’d done that once already today, and couldn’t risk doing so again.

  “I know,” he said instead, infusing as much comfort into his voice as he could.

  “Okay. And then what?” she asked, straightening her spine and putting on her most determined face.

  He sucked in a deep breath. “And then, we wait.” For whatever horrible thing those men had planned for them.

  Chapter Three

  Sara shivered and hunched deeper into her coat. She aimed Aaron’s flashlight at the neatly filled shelves that wrapped around the walls of Aaron’s spare room, trying to stop her hands shaking so the light would be steady.

  They were in Aaron’s spare room, one she always thought must be another bedroom, or maybe an office, but turned out to be storage. As a mountain guide, Aaron had a lot of gear, more than Sara ever thought people would possibly need.

  “You take all this on your hikes?” she asked.

  He snorted. “Not all at once. Most of it is the essentials, but in different sizes. Like, tents for anywhere between one and five people. And the boots,” he said, indicating cube shelves that had one pair of boots per square. Had he always been so neat, or was it a holdover from his military days? “The right boots are essential, and I tell people that when they book, even send links to purchase the good stuff.”

  She held the beam slightly to the side, so she could see his expression without blinding him. “Let me guess? They don’t follow your advice.”

  He snorted. “Of course they don’t. They’re mostly inexperienced, and don’t have any idea how dangerous these mountains can be, particularly if you have the wrong gear.”

  A sliver of memory hit her, Aaron talking to a potential client in her diner. “Ah, and you rent the gear to them at extra cost.”

  “Exactly,” he said with satisfaction. “It’s an excellent additional stream of income, honestly. But I wish they’d follow my advice in the first place, instead.”

  Sara nodded and swept the beam of light around the room, taking in all the gear. On the floor in front of the shelves, what she’d originally thought of as piles were actually neatly sequestered sections. There, he’d stacked or hung clothes, tents, sleeping bags, food, climbing gear, and plenty of things Sara didn’t even begin to recognize. Like the rest of the house, the piles were precise, if overflowing. She knew he was a good guide, the best on the mountain, but she hadn’t realized how much he prepared for his trips.

  Aaron found clothes that fit her well enough, including a jacket that was like wearing her warmest winter quilt.

  The shoes proved slightly more difficult, since apparently even her standard issue hiking books weren’t good enough for Aaron’s professional sensibilities.

  “You really take the boots seriously, huh?” she said, bouncing on her feet to keep warm.

  “A lot can go wrong out there,” he said, unrepentant. He considered a pair of boots, not looking her way. “Even a sprained ankle can mean the difference between life and death, if you can’t get to safety before a storm hits, or even get off the mountain at all before you get hypothermia. Or you could slip off a mountain pass if the grip isn’t right.”

  “I did grow up on this mountain,” she said, a little put out that he seemed to believe she was as bad as the novices he guided through the area.

  He sent her a look over his shoulders. “How many overnight trips have you done?”

  “My dad used to take me a few times a year as a kid,” she told him. “We’d grab a tent and pack our bags and head out to explore the area. At night we’d build a fire and toast marshmallows. My mom joined us occasionally, but she was more the indoor plumbing sort.”

  “Fair enough. What did you do out there?” He sounded curious, like he wanted to know more about her life, and Sara’s heart bloomed a little at the thought.

  “He’d teach me some basics of hunting and survival, but not a lot of it stuck. I wasn’t out there for the lessons, I wanted to spend more time with him, but Dad always wanted to make sure I could take care of myself. Chop my own firewood, catch my own food, that kind of thing. I was homeschooled, and I think both my parents figured that teaching me practical mountain skills was as important as my reading and writing.”

  “Smart, particularly living out here.”

  “Yes. I think I’m hardier than many.” She couldn’t keep the disappointment out of her voice. Sometimes she wished she’d learned how to do hair and makeup and match shoes to a handbag instead. Maybe then she’d have better luck attracting a man. Attracting Aaron.

  “That’s a good thing,” Aaron told her. “If you live out here, you need to be able to take care of yourself. Hell, even if you don’t live out here.”

  “Sure,” Sara said, mind elsewhere. Maybe it wasn’t that she wasn’t feminine enough. Maybe it was that she wasn’t brave enough. She mentally shook her head. “Not everything my dad taught me was necessary for survival. My favorite thing was when the three of us would have snowball fights, so I used to train my aim under Dad’s watchful eye, throwing and throwing until my arm grew tired and I could hit all of the cans he’d lined up on the first try.”

  “That sounds like a lot of fun,” he said, and she could hear the smile in his voice.

  “It was,” she said dreamily. She still missed her parents every day. For a long time, it had been the three of them, a unit. Then, suddenly, it was only her, and she still hadn’t entirely adjusted to that after all these years.

  “Have you been out there since you were a kid?” Aaron said, interrupting her thoughts before they could fully coalesce. “On an overnight hike, I mean.”

  Unexpected tears sprang to her eyes. “No. That was always something me and my dad did together. The idea didn’t appeal so much once I had no one to share it with.”

  He paused and turned to study her face. Sara stilled, watching him back. What did he see when he looked at her? Hardy mountain girl or desirable woman? Or both? Or neither? In this light, she couldn’t imagine he saw much at all.

  His expression was intense. What had she said to make him look at her like that? Was it mention of her father, or that she’d admitted how chronically single she was?

  Eventually, he turned back to the shoe shelves, and Sara still had no idea what went through his mind.

  “It’s good you had that time with your parents,” was all he said.

  “Did you do similar things?” she asked. “Is that how you got your love of nature?”

  “No,” he said shortly, cutting off that line of questioning. Curiosity ate at her, but she wasn’t rude enough to pry.

  “You know a lot about all this stuff,” she commented, hoping he might be more forthcoming about a topic he actually liked.

  He made a non-committal sound at her comment, so Sara tried again.

  “Did you grow up near the mountains?”

  “No,” he said. For a long moment, Sara thought that was all she’d get, but then he continued. “I was a farm boy. Flat land as far as the eye could see and then some.”

  Sara blinked. “How did I not know that about you? You seem to know everything about the mountains around here.”

  He shrugged and turned, holding up a pair of boots. “I read a lot before I came. I like to study. And then I made sure to learn every inch of this mountain before I could dream of taking others out there.”

  “Huh,” she said. Then, she hesitated, not sure if the next topic would make him clam up again like the last time she’d brought it up. “Did your military training help?”

  She held her breath as she waited for an answer. His expression darkened and her stomach sank. She shouldn’t have risked it again. But she was curious by nature, and even more so about him. He’d always fascinated her with his still, silent presence in her diner. She’d always wondered what his story was, and she’d been too afraid to ask. Now, she was glad she hadn’t, since it clearly upset him so much.

 

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