She nudged her mare and the tired animal responded. Chry patted her neck. “You are a tough girl, aren’t you?” Her body ached like hell, but she gritted her teeth. Getting away was more important, and she could relax and heal once they were safe.
She and Neo hadn’t spoken much except for snippets of conversation here and there about where to go or logistical stuff. Their captivity, weeks of it, had taken its toll on their bodies and minds. She could tell by the stiff lines of his body he was still angry with her…or was it just that he was angry?
2-Stroke was the type of man who did the protecting, not the other way around. She knew that firsthand. She could almost feel his frustration at leaving Alek behind. But there seemed to be something else eating at him. They had been so close until his freshman year in high school, then something had changed. Even after he’d come to live with them, he had maintained his distance.
She pulled up, and he reined in his horse and turned to look at her. “We need to rest the animals and catch a quick nap. That clearing looks good.”
2-Stroke gave her an unreadable look, then reached out and patted his horse’s neck.
A shot of apprehension made her stomach drop. She took a breath and asked, “What?”
Not sure what to make of his silence, her horse stamped impatiently as he shot her another quick look.
By his expression, she wasn’t sure if he was amused or ticked off at her. She gave him a taunting look. “Really, what is the problem, Teller? Cat got your tongue.”
That made his eyes lighten up, amusement tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Should I address you as Commander Steele? You sure know how to give orders.” He leaned on the saddle, his body close to hers. “Am I just one of your…troops?”
The tone of his voice made her think about how wonderful it would be to show him who was boss. “I don’t know. Are you any good at following them?”
2-Stroke’s hands stilled on the reins, and his eyes narrowed dangerously, a glint of reprisal appearing. He continued to watch her with that dark, heavy-lidded look. Then the husky timbre of his voice broke the silence. “Why don’t you give me some orders and see how I perform.”
Her stomach dropped again for entirely different reasons, her mouth going dry and a giddy weakness sizzling through her. For an instant, she thought she might slide right out of the saddle. Hot and cold and decidedly light-headed, she dredged up a mildly rebuking look and kicked her horse into motion. “Try to keep up, Teller.”
She caught the flash of color out of the corner of her eye, and she heard the squeak of the saddle as he came alongside again. She glanced over, laughter bubbling up in her, and he gave her a bad-boy grin that was going to get her into trouble.
Okay, more trouble. The heart kind of trouble.
She hadn’t forgotten what he said in the SUV before that psycho bitch had rammed them. But that seemed like light-years in the past.
“I can keep up as long as you don’t catch the wind like you used to.”
She shook her head.
“What? You used to fly like the wind, like a dancing kite playing with the sunshine. Nothing’s changed.”
She shook her head. “Maybe when I was young, but now, not so much,” she whispered. She had grounded herself, weighted herself down with a sense of duty, with feelings of accountability, with uncertainty—and she had simply ceased to fly. She wondered when it had happened, when she had lost the wind. 2-Stroke’s mount moved against hers, and she looked up, and got a jolt of realization. She had lost the wind when she had lost him.
2-Stroke was watching her with an odd, contemplative look in his eyes. He reached out and caught her by the back of the neck, giving her a little shake. “Maybe we’ve both lost the wind.”
She stared at him, suddenly dangerously close to tears. She remembered how close they had been and how hard it had been to lose him piece by piece. It seemed as if he decided that going it alone somehow made everything more manageable.
But she remembered how alone she’d felt in that cell, hoping and praying that he was alive. They would forever be bound by what happened to them when they were children, teenagers, and now as young adults. They shared a common experience here in the wilds of Croatia and Bosnia. Torture, fear, holding onto her last shred of herself, fighting against the insanity that screamed at her to let go, let her mind break and maybe somewhere in the madness she could find some peace.
Maybe if they talked to each other, shared everything, they could find some peace together. His solid presence went a long way to shore up the holes in her.
“Let me tell you something about wind, Neo. It’s always blowing even if we can’t see it.”
He smiled at that and moved his hand from her neck, but his palm trailed like fire along her skin until he released her. “We’re losing the light,” he said, looking up. “It gets awful dark, awful fast out here.”
She urged her horse toward the clearing, dismounting and pulling off the saddlebags. She opened them to find a blanket and several sandwiches. With another silent prayer, she hoped the boy was all right. She unsaddled her horse, removing the bit and clipping on a lead rope. Drawing her to the stream, Chry let her drink her fill. When she was finished, the mare started cropping grass, and Chry staked her by tying the rope around a solid log near the edge of the stream. 2-Stroke did the same, using the log as well.
She headed back toward the cover of trees wishing for a fire but knowing that was impossible. Something hot to drink would be a nice boost. As the sun started to set, the temperature would drop. She shivered in the warm coat.
She went to her saddlebags and stopped, peering at the side of a hill. That looked like…a cave. If they had a cave, they could have a fire. She dropped the bags and headed toward the outline in the twilight. She pushed away vines and some brush, and sure enough, it was a small cave only big enough for two people.
She used the flashlight Alek had thoughtfully added to the pack and shined the beam inside. The walls were rock, the floor dirt, and no wild animals. Maybe it had once been a wolf mama’s den, but she and the cubs were long gone.
“Hey. What did you find?”
She turned toward 2-Stroke’s voice. “A cave. We can have a small fire and warm up some water so we can have tea. If we cover the entrance with brush, they won’t be able to see it from the air when they come searching for us.
And they would. It was just a matter of time. “Bring the saddlebags and blankets,” she called.
“Aye, aye, Commander,” he said with a salute.
“Very funny.”
She cleared more brush as the light continued to fade. “It looks like it’s going to rain in the near future,” he murmured from behind her. She jumped. He’d been so quiet she hadn’t heard him. SEALs and their stealthing abilities.
She turned, the last of the light lining that beautiful, strong, bristly jaw of his. Against the jagged outline of the mountains, the water-laden thunderclouds rolled up against the peaks in dark banks, trapped against the rocky barrier, unable to move east to the dry land. And to the north, she could hear thunder rolling across the heavens. There would be no rain tonight.
But tomorrow. Maybe.
She took the saddlebags from him.
“I’ll search for wood and get some water. Why don’t you settle in and make us a bed for the night?”