Gray, Ginna (15 page)

She followed along behind him, her gaze drilling a hole through
the back of his parka. Darn him. He was the most aggravating, enigmatic man.
How could he make such an astounding statement, then turn and walk off?

He hadn't meant it. Of course he hadn't. She'd figured out that
much. He'd just said that to snap her out of the despondent mood she'd sunk
into and get her mind off of those men.

The devil of it was, it had worked.

Lauren narrowed her eyes and glared at his back. Oh, you're good,
Rawlins. Very clever.

Sam set a grueling pace. He broke into a run wherever he could,
eating up the ground with that awkward, side-to-side, rocking hop and making it
look easy.

For Lauren, just keeping up took tremendous effort and concentration.
She had to take three or four steps to every two of his, thanks to the
difference in their sizes.

Added to that, it was bitter cold, and getting colder. Lauren's
breathing quickly grew rough and rapid, her lungs working furiously. With every
raspy breath they burned like fire.

Sam didn't stop. When she gasped that she needed water he merely
passed the canteen back to her and kept going without breaking stride.

Before long Lauren forgot about Sam's stunning statement. She
forgot about the men who were tracking her. She forgot about the cold and the
unforgiving wilderness all around them. Her entire focus centered on putting
one foot in front of the other as quickly as possible without tripping herself.

Lauren had believed that she was in good physical condition, but
after almost two hours of the relentless pace, she was exhausted. Positive she
had reached the end of her rope, she opened her mouth to protest that she
couldn't move another step when they heard the distinctive
whop-whop-whop-whop-whop
of a helicopter approaching.

Halting, Sam swung around and held out his hand to her. "Here
they come! C'mon! C'mon! Hurry!"

It was amazing what fear and adrenaline could do. Lauren trailed
him by about twenty feet, but she shot forward as though she were rocket-powered,
her fatigue forgotten. The instant she was within reach Sam grabbed her hand.
He jerked her to the ground, wrapped his arms around her and rolled them
beneath the low hanging branches of the nearest fir tree.

When they came to a stop against the trunk, Lauren lay on her back
with Sam sprawled on top of her. He raised his head and listened. "Here it
comes!" he shouted in her ear. Then he lowered his head and did his best
to cover her completely with his body.

The helicopter grew steadily closer until it was about a hundred
feet directly above them. The noise was deafening. Overhead the tree they were
under and all the surrounding ones swayed in the rotor wash and dumped snow.

Clutching Sam's back, Lauren closed her eyes and sent up a silent
prayer. It seemed to her that the craft hovered over them for a few seconds.
Expecting to feel bullets ripping through her flesh at any second, she held her
breath.

The impression must have been a trick of nerves, because the
chopper continued on in a zigzagging course, clearly still searching.

Sam and Lauren remained absolutely still, clutching each other
tightly and listening to the engine noise fade into the distance. When it was
no more than a soft rumble, Sam raised his head, listening.

"Do you think they're gone?" Lauren murmured.

"For now." He looked down at her. "You okay?"

"Yes, I...I'm okay. A little shaken, but at least I'm still
alive. We both are."

"Yeah," he agreed in a throaty murmur.

In an instant, everything changed.

Adrenaline ran high, and the taut quiet that surrounded them still
quivered with danger and anxiety, yet with that one word awareness sparked
between them like arcing electricity.

Sam's dark eyes roamed slowly over Lauren's face, and when his
gaze met hers she felt her heart skip a beat. The crackling current sizzled
between them, skipped along her nerve endings, making them jump and tingle.

She became conscious of the intimacy of their position, that Sam
still lay stretched out on top of her, that their faces were so close she could
feel his warm breath on her face, see, for the first time, the slightly darker
pupils at the centers of his black eyes, see each stubby hair of his emerging
beard, each individual eyelash that rimmed his midnight-black eyes.

See the heat in those ebony depths.

A thrilling little shiver rippled through Lauren.

Sam's broad-shouldered torso completely covered her much smaller
one, pressing her deep into the snow. Even through their bulky parkas she
became suddenly, acutely aware of the differences in their bodies—Sam's big,
whipcord lean and tough. And utterly male. Hers small and soft and delicate.

Her heart beat in her chest like a wild thing, and through the
layers of down and padding she could feel his thundering a deep counterpoint
rhythm.

His gaze locked with hers—searching, intense, hot. Lauren could
not have looked away had her life depended on it. Raw desire that he made no
effort to hide tautened his rough-chiseled face beneath the stubble.

Trembling, Lauren stared back. So many emotions tangled inside her,
tightening her chest and clogging her throat. She could barely breathe.

They were stretched out in deep snow, and the thin mountain air
around them was so cold it was almost crystalline, yet her body felt flushed
and hot, feverish.

Sam's gaze dropped to her parted lips. She saw the pulse in his
temple jump, and so did her heart.

"Sa-Sam...we...that is...."

"You're so beautiful," he whispered.

Surprise shot through her, and immediately her brain scrambled.
"I..." Staring at him, wide-eyed, she exhaled a shuddering breath and
circled her dry lips with the tip of her tongue.

His gaze zeroed in on the tiny action, and she saw his pupils
flare. Then his eyelids grew heavy, and his head tilted to one side.

Lauren's heart took off on a snare drumroll, and as his head began
a slow descent her own eyelids fluttered shut and a sigh fluttered through her
parted lips.

Sam's mouth had barely touched hers when his head jerked back and
he went taut and still.

"What—?" Lauren began, but before she could express her
shock and hurt she heard the ominous sound. "Oh dear God. They're coming
back! They
did
see us."

"Be still," he ordered when she tried to scramble out
from under him in full-blown panic. Raising up on one elbow, he flattened his
other hand across her chest to hold her in place and looked up, his head
cocked, listening.

The noise came closer and the trees began to sway, and Lauren
cringed, but the chopper passed overhead without pause.

Sam looked down at her, his face stern and commanding. "Don't
move until I tell you." He waited for her agreement, and when she merely
continued to stare up at him, he raised both eyebrows. "Understand?"

She nodded and swallowed hard. "Ye-yes."

He studied her a moment longer, then nodded. He rolled off of her
and shrugged off the backpack.

Squirming on his belly, he moved to the outer edge of the
overhanging, pulled the rifle off his shoulder and peered out through the
branches. He raised the binoculars he still wore around his neck and tracked
the craft. "It's okay. They're just searching in a crisscross grid. When
they found our trail, they probably calculated approximately how far ahead of
them we were, and they're searching a radius of that distance in every
direction. They can't keep it up for long, though. Soon they'll be too low on
fuel and have to head back to base. All we have to do is sit tight and wait
them out."

"Thank God." Lauren closed her eyes with heartfelt
relief. "If they have to give up the search we'll be safe. There won't be
anyone hunting us down to kill us."

"Not quite." Sam lowered the binoculars and looked over
his shoulder at her. "There are only two men in that chopper."

"Two? But you saw..."

"Right. There were five men at the wreckage. That means there
are now three tracking us on foot."

Lauren felt her face blanch. Sam turned back and focused the
binoculars on the helicopter again, slowly moving the glasses from side to side
as he followed the craft's zigzagging sweep. "I suggest you start praying
that chopper pilot is the cautious type and will head back to base pretty damn
quick. For every minute we're pinned under this tree, those three hired guns
are getting closer."

Every second that ticked by seemed an eternity. After twenty
minutes Lauren was wound so tight she thought she would surely fly apart at any
second. She could barely restrain herself from bursting out from under the
cover of the tree and running for her life.

The helicopter was far enough away now that its engine noise was
no more than a distant buzz, but Sam still tracked the craft with the
binoculars.

"There they go. They're packing it in and heading back."

"At last." She closed her eyes and exhaled a long
breath.

"Let's go." Sam grabbed the backpack and scrambled out
from beneath the branches. Needing no second urging, Lauren wriggled out right
behind him.

How long had they been hiding? she wondered, falling into step
behind him. Thirty minutes? Forty-five? She had no idea. It had seemed like
forever.

And the whole time the men on their trail had been gaining on
them.

As they tramped across the snow she could not stop herself from
checking over her shoulder every few minutes.

They broke out of the trees into a clear area. "Let's go!
Let's go!" Sam took off at double-time. Lauren didn't object, although she
had to hustle just to keep him in sight. Nor did she complain when the slope
became steeper. Better to risk her neck in a fall than to take a bullet.

For hours they trekked over rough terrain. At times they were
forced to remove their snowshoes to negotiate drop-offs and rocky outcrops, then
stop and put them back on to cross patches of fresh powder over three feet
deep.

Lauren had never attempted anything so strenuous. She panted and
gasped every step. Her lungs burned and her breathing grew so rough and raspy
it hurt her throat. Her shoulders and back ached from carrying the duffle bag
and her legs felt like lead. Still, she ignored the pain and fatigue and forged
on. Somewhere behind them were three assassins.

They ate their noonday meal of jerky and an energy bar on the go.
Sam kept the same grueling pace for hours, stopping only rarely to take a
compass reading or peer through the binoculars. Lauren took advantage of the
infrequent stops to take a drink of water and catch her breath, leaning against
a tree or rock, whichever was handy. She didn't dare sit down. She wasn't sure
she would have the strength to get back up.

After endless hiking and scrambling over boulders and sidestepping
down steep slopes, often snagging the ends of tree limbs to stop themselves
from tumbling, Lauren was moving like an automaton, numb to everything but the
need to keep going.

When twilight descended she assumed they would soon make camp, but
Sam showed no sign of stopping.

"S-Sam! Wh-when are we go-going to stop for the
n-night?" she panted.

"We're not," he called back. "The moon is close to
being full. The moonlight...reflecting off the snow will provide a lot of
illumination...which means it's unlikely those guys...behind us will
stop," he explained between breaths. "That means we have to keep
going, too."

Lauren looked around at the lengthening shadows. "Isn't that
d-dangerous? Will we...be able to s-see?"

"Not well, but under the circumstances...night travel is a
risk we have to take."

Great, she thought tiredly. One more thing to worry about.

A short time later they reached a thick stand of trees and Sam
announced that they'd take a short break. Bending from the waist, Lauren braced
her hands on her knees and struggled to bring her breathing under control.

"There's a good clump of scrub oak over there you can use for
cover. Better shake a leg and take care of business while you can," Sam
warned.

Lauren didn't have the strength to object to his tone or even to
comment. Without a word, she straightened and trudged for the brush to answer
nature's call.

By the time she returned Sam had built a minuscule fire and melted
enough snow to prepare one of the dehydrated packets. Lauren shot a fearful
look around. "Do we have time for that? Shouldn't we keep going?"

"We need fuel, and a hot meal will warm us up and keep us
going longer. Besides, those guys have to eat, too."

When she met Sam he hadn't shaved in several days. Now, after four
days on the run, he had the beginnings of a thick beard. His hair had grown
also, Lauren realized. A swath of it fell across his forehead, thick and
arrow-straight and shining with the blue-black sheen of a raven's wing. In the
firelight his skin had a golden bronze hue, and as she studied his hawkish
profile she was struck by how obvious it was that he had Native American blood.
Funny. She hadn't noticed that before—not even after he'd told her about his
mother.

There was just something about him, an attitude as much as his
physical appearance, she reasoned. Sam looked natural squatting on his haunches
before the fire—tough and competent, even a little dangerous. A primitive alpha
male. Dominant. Sexy.

A delicate shiver rippled through Lauren. She looked away from his
craggy profile and hugged her arms across her middle.

"It's ready," Sam announced. He pulled two spoons from
the backpack and handed one to her, then he held up the pot between them.
"Dig in. And eat fast. We're outta here in five minutes."

The hot stew tasted delicious, and the warmth of it sliding down
her throat was pure heaven.

Lauren was almost giddy with fatigue, and as she and Sam wolfed
down the contents of the pot she almost giggled when she thought of all the
elegant dinners she'd attended during the course of her career.

"Something funny?"

She glanced up and found that Sam was eyeing her.

"No. Not at all," she denied. Ducking her head again,
she scooped up another bite, and fought down the urge to laugh hysterically as
she pictured how horrified all those posh music patrons would be if they could
see her now, hunkered down in the woods in the snow with a scruffy,
bristly-faced man, gobbling a reconstituted meal out of a metal pot.

They finished off the last few bites and Sam gave the pot and
spoons a cursory rub with snow and stuffed them back into the pack. After
kicking snow over the small fire, he surprised Lauren by helping her to her
feet. Still holding her hand, he studied her face in the fading light.
"You okay?"

The concern in his voice surprised her even more and sent a queer
sensation dancing over her skin and, absurdly, brought tears to her eyes.

Annoyed with herself, she blinked the moisture away and shook her
head. "Yes. I'm fine. I'm ready when you are," she said, reaching for
the duffle bag.

Full darkness descended moments after they set off again. The pale
moonlight reflected off the snow in a bluish glow that was eerily beautiful.

They pressed on at a steady and only somewhat slower pace for the
next few hours. By ten Lauren was nearly asleep on her feet. She followed Sam
like a zombie as they carefully picked their way down a steep slope. Her movements
were so stiff and uncoordinated it took only one small misstep to bring
disaster.

She was so exhausted she barely cried out, but her small yelp
alerted Sam. He stopped and looked back just as Lauren tumbled past him. She
went head-over-heels down the slope, rolling and bouncing, arms and legs
flailing like a rag doll.

"Jesus!" Sam's heart stopped, then took off again like a
rocket.
"Lau-reeen!"

Throwing caution to the wind, he scrambled after her in a loping
sidestep, leaping down the mountainside and sending snow cascading down in
front of him.

Lauren crashed into a clump of brush about forty feet below where
Sam had stopped and came to an abrupt halt. He kept his gaze on her motionless
form and felt an icy hand squeeze his heart.

"Hold on! I'm coming! I'm coming!" Panting, his heart
pounding, he clambered down the last few feet and dropped to his knees by her
side.

She lay on her back with her eyes closed, her arms outstretched.
Frantically Sam jerked off his gloves and ran his hands over her arms and legs,
her ribs, testing for broken bones. Mercifully she seemed to be in one piece.
The cut she'd received in the plane crash was the only visible injury he could
find.

He unzipped her coat and spread the edges wide, then bent and
pressed his ear against her chest. Relief poured through him when he heard the
slow, strong beat of her heart. "Thank God," he muttered.

"Lauren? Lauren, talk to me." He brushed her tangled
hair away from her face and patted her cheek smartly. "C'mon, open your
eyes."

Her eyelids fluttered. "Wha...what happened?"

"You fell."

"Oh. Right," she mumbled. "I think I caught my
snowshoe on the edge of a rock."

"Try to move and tell me if you hurt anywhere."

Cautiously she obeyed, turning her head slowly from side to side,
rotating her shoulders. "I think I'm just a little shaken and
bruised."

"Well, that's it. We're going to have to stop and get some
rest."

"Oh, but—"

"We don't have a choice, Lauren. You're dead on your feet.
It's too dangerous to keep going." He looked around. "There's a cluster
of boulders over there against a cliff-face. If we camp in among them they'll
probably bide our fire. If they don't, it's at least a defendable spot."

Lauren winced at that, but she held her tongue.

Sam looked at her again with concern. "Can you walk?"

"I...I think so."

When he rose she took hold of his arm and gamely struggled to her
feet. After taking a few cautious steps to test her legs, they headed for the
rocks.

Luck was with them. In the cliff-face behind the boulders Sam
located a small, shallow cave. It was only about five or six feet deep and they
both had to stoop to get inside, but it offered protection from the wind and
would reflect the heat from a fire.

When Sam announced he was going to gather brush and firewood,
Lauren immediately offered to help, but he overruled her. "No. You just
stay here and rest."

"But—"

"Dammit, Lauren, you just took a nasty fall."

She opened her mouth to argue, but he hooked his gloved hand
around her neck and pressed a hard kiss on her cold lips, silencing her. When
he raised his head, he stared deep into her startled eyes, and murmured,
"I know you want to do your share, but this time, humor me. Let me take
care of you. Okay?"

"O-okay," she said meekly. He didn't know whether she
was too stunned or too tired to argue. At the moment, he didn't much care. He
just wanted to get a fire going and let her sleep.

"Good." Sam pulled the flashlight from the backpack and
shined it into the cave. "We're in luck. No critters. Here, you take
this," he said, handing her the flashlight. "Go on in and sit down.
I'll be back before you know it."

It took him close to a half hour to gather the minimum he needed.
When he returned, Lauren was curled on her side at the back of the cave with
the lit flashlight still in her hand, sound asleep.

Kneeling beside her, he studied her pale face, and a strange
sensation curled in his belly. He bent over and brushed a tangled lock of hair
off her forehead and took the flashlight from her limp hand.

Working quickly, Sam arranged the spruce boughs into a mattress
shape. He hadn't gathered as many as he would have liked, but it was imperative
that he get her warm as soon as possible. Besides, he hadn't wanted to leave
her alone any longer than absolutely necessary.

Within minutes he had the bed set up, and he scooped Lauren up and
placed her into the sleeping bag. She didn't stir or make a sound. He would
have been worried if he hadn't felt her breath on his cheek.

He zipped her into the bag, then turned his attention to building
a fire just inside the cave opening within reach of the bed and stacked the
remainder of the wood close by. When he was satisfied with the fire he took the
coil of wire from the pack and left the cave.

The cave could be reached only by winding through the jumble of
boulders. About twenty feet from the entrance, Sam strung a trip wire across
the path, anchoring each end with a stack of small stones.

If the wire was disturbed the pile would come tumbling down. As
security, it wasn't much, but at least the clatter would give them a few
seconds' warning.

"Wake up. Breakfast is ready."

Lauren tried to turn away, but Sam gave her shoulder a shake.

"C'mon. Move it."

She moaned. It seemed as if she'd just closed her eyes. Prying her
eyelids open a slit, she squinted against the light of the fire, then fixed her
bleary gaze on the darkness beyond. "It's still the middle of the
night," she groused.

"It'll be dawn soon. And when it is, our friends will be on
the move."