Gray, Ginna (8 page)

For the moment, they were safe—from the elements and from
Giovessi's men. Lauren knew that, as well. Which was why she had relaxed so
completely and succumbed to her body's demand for sleep.

However, what she didn't know, what he hadn't told her was, once
the storm cleared that could change, and change rapidly.

She assumed the engine trouble that had caused their plane to
crash had merely been an unfortunate twist of fate, and he hadn't bothered to
tell her otherwise. But he didn't think so.

Bob had been a fanatic about safety checks and maintenance, and he
had kept his aircraft in tip-top condition at all times. Both engines blowing
within minutes of each other, almost an hour into the flight when they were
over the most rugged mountain range in the state, was no accident.

And if someone had gotten close enough to sabotage the plane, they
would have also planted a tracking device. It was a dead certainty that as soon
as weather permitted, someone would come looking for the wreckage to confirm
their deaths.

He had no intention of telling Lauren what he suspected, however.
That knowledge would merely add to her anxiety and serve no useful purpose. For
now, at any rate, what she didn't know, wouldn't hurt her.

Unconsciously Sam rubbed his chin back and forth against the top
of Lauren's head. Catching in his beard stubble, the clean strands of her hair
slid back and forth against her scalp like slippery silk. As soon as the storm
cleared he had to hike back to the plane and find and destroy that bug before
Giovessi's men could locate the crash site. If he didn't beat them to it, when
they found only two charred bodies in the wreckage they would know that he and
Lauren had survived. And they would come after them.

The next morning, as always, Sam awoke before dawn. Before he
opened his eyes he became aware of a weight pressing on his chest. Sam frowned.
Had the roof caved in and crushed them while they slept, pinning them to the floor?

Not daring to move in case he was badly injured, he cracked one
eye open a slit—and sucked in a sharp breath.

He lay on his back and, with the total abandon of a child, Lauren
lay sprawled on top of him, sound asleep.

With her cheek snuggled over his heart, her head rested on his
shoulder and her hair spread out all around them. One of her arms curved around
his opposite shoulder and the other lay limp against his side. Crooked at the
knee, her left leg hooked around his right hip. The other nestled intimately
between his.

And he had the granddaddy of all morning erections.

"Jesus."

Anger, disgust and unwanted desire twisted inside Sam. He tried to
will away the arousal, but given the woman's provocative position, he knew that
wasn't going to happen. "So be it," he snarled. "You play sex
kitten, and you can't complain about the results."

Deep inside Sam knew that Lauren hadn't snuggled on top of him
intentionally. She was exhausted and still sleeping like a log and wasn't aware
of her actions. Either way, though, the result was the same, and he refused to
feel guilty for his uncharitable thoughts.

Removing her arm from around his shoulder, he gave it a shake.

"Hey! Wake up!"

He could have been talking to the wall, for all the response he
got. Spitting out a curse, he rolled onto his side and dumped her onto her
back. Lauren sighed, curled into a new position and went right on sleeping.

Sam unzipped the bag, rolled out and sprang to his feet. He stared
down at the sleeping woman with dislike, then swung away and stalked to the
backpack, hunkering down to rummage through the contents.

Briefly he considered whipping up some scrambled eggs from the
powdered mix, but another glance at Lauren changed his mind. He gathered the
supplies he needed, then threw a couple more branches on the fire. When he had
the blaze going again he shot another look at Lauren. She slept on with the
innocence of a baby.

An hour later the fire had burned down to ashy embers and Lauren
woke in a freezing cabin. Sitting up, she yawned and cast a sleepy look around,
but there was no sign of Sam. She stretched hugely then brushed the tumbled
hair off her face and glanced at her wristwatch. Her eyes widened.

Good Lord. She'd been sleeping for thirteen hours.

Lauren climbed out of the sleeping bag and pulled on her boots.
She poked the embers with the iron rod the way she'd seen Sam do the night
before, praying that she could stir the fire to life, because she hadn't the
slightest idea of how to go about starting one from scratch.

A small flame leaped up, and Lauren quickly tossed a small branch
on top of the glowing embers. The dead wood caught fire at once, and she
exhaled a relieved sigh. She piled on more branches and twigs and in no time
had a roaring blaze going. Feeling immensely proud of herself, Lauren pawed
through her purse and pulled out a packet of tissue and a small bottle of
antibacterial gel, stuffed both into her coat pocket and headed for the door.
Tying the guide rope through a zipper ring on her parka, she wondered where Sam
was, and immediately the same fears she'd experienced the night before
fluttered through her. If something had happened to him—

No. No, she would not let herself worry about that. Sam could take
care of himself. Hadn't he assured her of that? He was probably out doing some outdoorsman
thing necessary to their survival. He would be back soon.

The temperature in the cabin had seemed cold, but it was nothing
compared to the frigid conditions that met her when she stepped outside. The
first slap of icy wind made Lauren catch her breath. Snow fell in a heavy
curtain that made visibility impossible beyond eight or ten feet, and it showed
no signs of letting up. On the flat the drifts came to above Lauren's knees.
She plowed through powdery stuff as far as the rope would allow, looked around,
and slipped behind the dubious protection of a tree to answer nature's urgent
call.

When done she washed her hands as best she could in the snow then
rubbed them with a dab of antibacterial gel and followed the rope back to the
cabin.

The snow she had gathered the previous night had melted, but it
didn't amount to much. She poured it all into the skillet, then took the pot
outside and packed it full of snow.

She made several more trips, and by the time she had a pot full of
simmering water her stomach was growling, and Sam still had not returned.
Determined to fend for herself, Lauren picked up a packet of powdered eggs and
read the instructions.

A short while later, she pulled the skillet from the fire and
grimaced at the runny yellow glob in the bottom. Surely this wasn't right?

Screwing up her courage, she scooped up a spoonful, put it into
her mouth and began to chew, tentatively at first, then with more gusto. It
wasn't half bad. Either that, or she was so hungry her taste buds didn't care.

After eating a small portion of the funny looking eggs and a strip
of jerky, she placed what remained next to the fire to keep them warm for Sam.

She tried to wait patiently for Sam to return, but she couldn't
resist peeking at her wristwatch every few minutes. She scoured the plate she'd
used and went back outside and gathered more snow. She read the directions on
the backs of all the food packs, filed a fingernail she'd broken, neatened the
sleeping bag and other supplies. She told herself over and over not to worry,
but as the minutes ticked by her agitation grew, and by the time Sam finally
returned she was a wreck and pacing the small cabin like a caged lioness. The
instant he shifted the door open and stepped inside she whirled on him and
demanded, "Where have you been?"

Sam paused in the act of shifting the door back in place and shot
her a stony look. "Out setting snares." He looked her over, his dark
eyes narrowing as he took in her fear and agitation. "Why? What's
wrong?"

"Nothing. Everything," she snapped, twisting her hands
together. "I didn't know where you were! You could have told me you were
leaving the cabin and when I could expect you back."

Sam put the door in place and braced it with the chunk of wood.
"You were sleeping like a baby when I left. Anyway, I told you last night
that I was going to set snares this morning." He shrugged and took off his
gloves and stuffed them into the outside pockets of his parka, and with casual
unconcern, walked over to the hearth and stood with his hands outstretched to
the fire.

"But it's still storming out there! You were gone so long I
thought something had happened to you."

He gave her a piercing look. "I see. Your concern wasn't for
my safety so much as your own. You were worried about what would happen to you
if I'd gotten myself badly injured or killed."

Anger and embarrassment brought a flush to her cheeks. Put that
way, he made her feel small and selfish, which she was certain he had intended.

However, after a good night's rest Lauren was sufficiently
recovered from the traumatic events of the previous day to have regained at
least a portion of her spirit.

Ignoring the heat in her cheeks, she lifted her chin and glared at
him. "That's not true. I would have felt terrible for you if that had
happened. Just as I felt terrible for your friends. I feel sad for anyone who
loses their life. But I will not let you make me feel guilty." The longer
she talked the angrier she became. With every word her voice grew harsher and
more clipped, in direct proportion to her building ire.

"Where the devil do you get off, criticizing me, anyway? I
didn't ask to be here, you know. It wasn't my choice to witness a murder, or my
decision to fly over the Rocky Mountains in the dead of winter in an unsafe
small plane. Nor did I make it crash.

"Neither, I might add, did I ask to have my world turned
upside down again and the life I've managed to build for myself snatched away from
me. And I certainly don't want to freeze to death alone in this godforsaken
wilderness! If that makes me selfish, so be it."

"I didn't say that."

"You didn't have to. Damn you, I have a right to be concerned
for my own safety. You would be, too, if you were in my shoes. I have no
survival skills. No knowledge of the area. I don't know how to cook or find
food. I don't even know how to build a fire, for heaven's sake. If I had to
strike out on my own I wouldn't have any idea which direction to take."

By the time she finished she was shouting. On some level Lauren
knew that at least part of her anger was a delayed reaction to all that had
happened to her during the last thirty-six hours, but she didn't care. One of
the things she'd learned since the car accident that took away her concert
career was to stand up for herself. And she'd had about all of Agent Rawlins's
rudeness she intended to take.

Lauren had worked up a full head of steam and was braced for a
battle, was half hoping for one, but her outburst seemed to have no effect on
Sam. His expression remained closed. He didn't so much as blink.

"Yeah, well, don't worry about it I'm not going to get
hurt." As though he'd grown bored with the

conversation, he turned away, took two good-size branches from the
dwindling pile of wood and tossed them into the fire, then poked the blaze into
renewed life with the metal rod.

Lauren stared at him. "You can't be certain of that."

"As certain as it's possible to be." He put down the rod
and tamed to her again. This time his face wore a look of mild impatience.
"Look, I was born out here. Since I was a kid I've gone hunting and
fishing in these mountains, camped out for weeks at a time with my dad and with
my mother's people. I know this area and I know how to survive in the
wilderness. Let me worry about getting us out of here, okay? You just do as I
tell you."

The last made Lauren grind her teeth. Arrogant bastard, she
thought. As if she had a choice. Anyway, what did he think she'd
been
doing?

"Fine," she snapped. She plopped down onto the sleeping
bag, dragged her purse near and dug around inside. "Oh, by the way,"
she ground out. "If you're hungry, I made eggs. The leftovers are in the
skillet by the fire."

Sam glanced down at the yellow mess in the skillet, then back at
her.
"You
cooked?"

"Yes, I cooked," she replied in an offended tone. Then
she, too, glanced at the mess and grimaced. "At least I tried. I don't
know what went wrong. I followed the instructions exactly."

Picking up the skillet, Sam examined the pale yellow goop without
a word.

"They taste better than they look. Honestly."

He flicked her a look that clearly said they would have to and
picked up the fork.

Sam ate the runny glob without comment, along with the strips of
jerky she'd left in the pan. Lauren watched him, but it was impossible to tell
by his expression what he thought of her efforts. When done, he poured a small
amount of water into the pan. "Next time, don't use quite so much
water," he commented, as he scoured the pan with the twig bundle.

Lauren glared at his back. She'd already figured that out for
herself. Did he think she was stupid? "Thank you. I'll remember
that," she replied, fuming. She hadn't expected any thanks from him, or
praise for trying, but would it have killed him to be pleasant?

Ignoring her, Sam rummaged through the pile of brush. He tested
several slender limbs for strength and pliability and tossed the most limber
into a pile at the end of the hearth, as far away from where she sat as he
could get and still benefit from the fire's warmth.

Lauren's mouth tightened. Who knew? With a hard-nosed male like
this one perhaps it would have killed him to be polite, after all. The previous
morning he had walked into the interrogation room at the Denver Police Station
looking as though his face had been chiseled from granite, and it had yet to
soften.

With quick, angry movements, Lauren pulled a tube of hand lotion
out of her purse and slathered the moisturizer on her face and hands. Casting
Sam resentful looks out of the corner of her eye, she saw him cut two slender
limbs down to about three and a half foot length and remove the small branches
and twigs. He then placed the stripped stems side by side and bound their ends
together, wrapping them securely with a length of nylon cord. When done, he cut
another stick into two shorter pieces, about eight or ten inches each, and
began to carve shallow notches in each end of both.

Lauren wondered what he was doing, but since he obviously intended
to ignore her, she decided to return the favor.

After leaving the hospital, she had continued her physical therapy
at a health club close to her apartment, and before long, experiencing the
benefits of regular exercise, it had been a natural next step to expand her
therapy into a full-blown regular workout regime. As with everything Lauren
undertook, she applied herself to the fitness routine with the same
determination and all-out dedication that she had to her music. Her entire life
had been about focus and applying herself, and the workouts quickly became a
routine part of her life.