Escape to Morning (30 page)

Instead, she'd run. Based on what? The word of a terrorist? Panic had deceived her, and now it would drive her to her death. Her father's death. Kutsi's death.

For sure, it had killed her mother, Saiba. Saiba had been sent to hide. Only she'd known about the planned massacre and betrayed Hayata, saving thousands of lives but costing her own. The one event that her father had intended to use to enable his wife and daughter to make their escape, and Saiba hadn't been able to stifle the panic or the pain of watching unknowns perish. In the end, she'd fled right back into the unforgiving grasp of Hayata. As if they'd been waiting for her all along.

Papa, I'm sorry
.

She would return to the cabin. Wait until they left, find food.

Despair crashed over Fadima. Then what? She pulled the blanket closer, starting to shake. She wrapped her arms around her waist, hunched over, and tried to quiet the betraying sobs that rushed over her.

Soggy to her bones and hungry enough to eat a sacred white leopard, her options felt as frail as the pale dawn filtering through the forest.

Better to die, however, than to let Hayata find her.

Shivering, she curled again into a ball in the grass. Later. She'd figure out what to do later, after the warm waves of sleep had found her, had run up her legs, covered her with soft swells.

Her eyelids dipped into the sweet abyss.

Another snap.

She froze. Then a hand clamped roughly over her mouth, crushing her lips to her teeth.

She jerked her head, flailed.

The smell of unwashed breath choked her, a body pressed her into the earth, soaking her blanket through.

“Fadima,” said a low voice, “you've been a bad girl.”

Dani startled awake, her heart racing in her ears. Something … she dangled her arm over the bed, felt Kirby on the floor curled in slumber. Early morning pressed through the windows, pouring gold across the wood floor. She felt punky, and sleep tugged at her, like a friend calling her. But she couldn't deny the lurch in her heart, something … amiss.

She pushed herself up. She hadn't slept under the covers—that felt way too invasive and she already felt like a burglar here. Instead, she'd piled her coat over her and tried to stay warm.

She'd obviously slept hard from the way the lines drove across her face. She felt them as she rubbed her cheek, then combed her fingers through her hair. Okay, that was useless. She stood, and Kirby raised his head, searched her actions with his molasses eyes. “Shh,” she said and stepped over him, walked to the window.

She couldn't see the sunrise, but from this angle, she saw the dent of morning against the dome of night in streaks of pale yellow and gray. The trees, which last night seemed to close in and knit together like praying hands, opened their gnarled white fingers in the wan daylight. Dani wondered where the girl was and if she'd found shelter somewhere in their grip.

Micah's warnings and hesitations about her search undulated in the back of her mind. She shook them off, picked up her day pack, and cracked open the door.

A stopover in the bathroom to brush her teeth told her just how terrific she looked. Probably it was time to drag out her bandanna and tuck her hair into a scarf. Oh, well. SAR work wasn't a fashion show, but it would have been nice to look good for Will.

Then again, he'd already seen her at her worst—dragging out Missy, red-eyed, tired. And that hadn't stopped him from … what? Being kind? Perhaps she was reading too much into his friendship.

He hadn't said much to her last night as they'd put together a paltry supper. In fact, if she were to scrutinize his actions, she might have labeled him aloof.

Or … secretive? He had hinted at another agenda. Still, when Conner returned from his stroll around the yard, he'd told her that Will was only trying to do his job. Maybe she should have asked exactly what job that was. Because she didn't know any reporters who dressed like special-ops guys to get a story.

Okay, what about war correspondents?

See, she was letting her curiosity get her into trouble. Just like it had when she was six. Again, she should simply trust him.

Micah had bedded down on the floor, Conner on the ratty sofa. Both men were fully dressed and rolled onto their sides, blanketless. They too had felt more than uneasy about taking up residence in this cabin. The owner was likely to find a large windfall and a thank-you/apology note in his or her mailbox before the week's end.

She patted her leg. Kirby jumped to his feet and eyed her. When she put a finger to her lips, the dog walked obediently to the front door and waited for her.

Conner opened one eye while she tiptoed across the room. She made a walking motion with her fingers. He hesitated, looked around the room, then seemed satisfied, nodded, and closed his eyes again as she cracked open the door.

The morning wind gusted through her coat. She didn't feel quite so grimy when the air smelled like fresh pine and lake water. To the east, over the lake, a brilliant orange sun barely peeked over the horizon, simmering as it consumed the night. She walked down the porch steps, vaguely aware that she hadn't seen Will yet, and trekked down to the beach. Crouching at water's edge, she splashed water over her face, and it dripped off her chin. The cold snap of lake water opened her pores and made her feel as if today might bring mercies.

“Great is his faithfulness; his mercies begin afresh each morning.”
Sarah's words from Scripture sang in her mind, and she let them settle in her heart as she turned to return to the cabin and maybe some grub.

A figure caught her eye. She looked down the shore and saw Will sitting on a large boulder, watching the dawn. He'd washed off his funny face paint and held his gun across his lap. Sitting there like that—quiet, pensive, hidden—he appeared lonely. Even … sad. She saw him as he'd been yesterday on the beach, broken and for a second desperate.

As if he had wanted to sink into her arms. Just like she wanted to dive into his.

“Will makes me feel Safe. ”
Her own words to Micah had startled her. How long had it been since she'd felt safe, all the way to her soul?

Probably never. At least not that she could remember.

Will had listened to her secrets without rushing past them, bearing them as his own. He'd carried her dog to safety, sat with her while she acted like a worried mother. He'd laughed with her, listened to her, held her hand, and been her friend. He'd even revealed his own dark places. Despite his rather iffy exterior—first as a pseudo policeman, then as a sly reporter, and now as a special-ops commando—she felt as if she knew him, at least the man under the masks.

A man of honor. God's man, maybe.

Her heart thumped against her ribs as she climbed over the boulders toward him. He looked up at her with red, cracked eyes, as if startled. As if he hadn't slept in about three weeks. Whiskers dotted his face, blending with his goatee.

The wind had learned Dani's weaknesses and wafted his scent toward her. He must have taken a swim because he smelled devastatingly fresh and woodsy. So utterly Will. At least the Rambo Will. The cowboy, dinner-date Will had smelled of cologne and shaving cream. She liked them both.

“Good morning.” He gave her a small, one-sided smile. “You're up early.”

She rubbed her hands on her jacket arms as she came closer and stood in front of him. “I heard something. It was probably a bird. I'm a weird sleeper—when I wake up, that's it.”

He nodded, turned back to the sunrise. “Me too. I have too much whirring around in my brain to sleep a full night. I can't shut off that long.” He gave a self-depreciating laugh. “Whoops, I guess that might have been too much information.”

She ran a finger through the paint still remaining behind his jaw. “You didn't get all your makeup off.” She showed him her green finger.

To her surprise, he reached up, caught her hand. His smile had vanished, and his eyes were on hers. “I'm sorry, Dani,” he said softly.

She frowned at him, not sure if he was serious or what he might be apologizing for. “That's okay. It's not a big deal. It'll come off—”

“No, I mean for … well, for everything. For nearly hitting your dog when we first met, for scaring you twice in the woods, and even for—” he closed his eyes, let go of her hand—“for being a reporter.”

She laughed and put a hand on his shoulder. His muscles twitched beneath her touch. “Oh, that. Well, I've already forgiven you.”

He didn't smile, didn't even look at her. Something felt wrong. She touched his cheek, turned him to face her. From where he was perched, he could look her straight in the eyes. Instead, he looked away … down … anywhere but at her.

“Will, is there something you're not telling me?”

He sighed. “There's so much I wish I could tell you, Dani.” He met her gaze. The pain roaming in his eyes made her heart lurch. He brushed the backs of his fingers across her cheek. “You're so beautiful.” When he said it, however, it sounded more like a groan.

She took his hand, threaded her fingers through his. Then she surprised them both by kissing the back of his hand.

His eyes widened. He opened his mouth slightly, blew out a breath, his gaze still holding hers.

A loon called, a haunting melody across the silent lake.

She saw desire pool in Will's eyes right before he closed them and pulled his hand away. Like the loon, a haunting cry lingered, something so deep it reached out and tugged at her.

Could it be that he was just as afraid as she was? that he needed safety too? Her fingers traced his neck, touching the hair at the nape. Her heart thumped hard, as if just catching up to her intentions, but she ignored the warnings.

Will opened his eyes as she leaned close and touched her lips—gently, sweetly—to his.

He went very, very still.

She closed her eyes, kissed him again.

Then his hands went around her waist, and he pulled her to himself. His lips moved, and he slowly kissed her back. Tenderly, as if he were afraid she might break, or worse, run away.

He tasted like fresh toothpaste, with a hint of coffee, and inside his embrace, she felt his heart beating against hers. She wound her arms around his neck, deepened her kiss, letting herself fall into the moment. Will, her Boy Scout reporter, in her arms … the notion couldn't find footing, so she released her clutch on reality and slid into the dream.

Will, the man who'd been her friend when life seemed to shatter. Will, the one who believed in her hunches. Will, the one who listened to her nightmares and cared. Will, strong Will, holding her as the sunrise crept toward them, as she escaped the nightmares that embedded the night and clung to this moment, this new morning.

Will released her suddenly, taking one deep breath, then another. He kept his eyes averted as he held her upper arms and put her slightly away from him.

Panic spurted into all the warm places in her heart. “Will?”

“I'm sorry.” He shook his head. “I'm sorry, Dani. I shouldn't have—”

“
I
kissed
you
.”

He stared at her, searched her face, and then, while her heartbeat thundered, the barest smile broke through his whiskers. “Yeah, you did, didn't you?”

Yeah. She grinned, waggled her eyebrows. “You looked like you needed a little help to … get something started.”

He reached up, and with something like boyish wonder in his eyes, he touched her hair. “It
is
soft.”

She gave him a teasing frown. “Are you okay?”

He sighed, nodded. Then, with his hands cupping her face, he pulled her close and kissed her again. Devastatingly sweet. Lingering. When he let her go, he seemed to shine. “Are we starting something?” The words had the power to hurt her if it weren't for the hope palpable in his voice.

She ran her hands down his powerful arms—way too powerful for the average reporter—and smiled. “I don't know. But … well, I was thinking about our conversation about Iowa yesterday. You said you'd learn to drive a tractor?”

“I'll learn to drive anything you want, Dani.” But he exhaled as if the idea had him around the throat. He shook his head. “Only you don't want to start anything with a guy like me. I'm just—”

“A nosy reporter? I got that part.”

But he didn't laugh. “Are you sure? I mean, well … I don't know if I'll be any good at—”

She took a step away, feeling sick. Any dummy could see that she'd been stupid. How had she thought that he'd want her in his life? She'd already treated him like the town dog, over and over. No wonder he felt skittish. She wanted to call back to that loon her own cry of defeat. Or maybe just slink back up to the cabin—

He grabbed her hand. “Dani, please don't get me wrong here.” His face wore panic. “I
do
want to start something with you. I can't get you out of my mind—your smile, the way you are with your dogs, even your determination to find this girl. You're
amazing
, and it takes my breath away most of the time. I'm still reeling that God brought you into my life, and more than anything, I want to be that guy who makes you feel safe, who protects you.” His expression twisted, and he wore a pained look. “I'm just afraid that … I just don't want you to get hurt.”