Deadly Promises (Tracers #2.5)(49)

She nodded, then whispered, “Yes,” when she realized he probably couldn’t see her.

A big hand squeezed her knee. “Good girl. Can you carry this?” A bulky weight landed on her thighs.

His backpack.

“I pilfered some of the bottled water stocked in this tent, so it’s heavy.”

“I can do it.” She figured that he needed her to carry the pack because he would need his hands free for other things. Things she didn’t want to think about but knew would be necessary to get them out of here.

“Let’s get the straps fitted.”

She stood and slipped the pack onto her back. His big hands were deft and steady as he stood behind her and helped her adjust them.

Helped her.

An overwhelming flood of gratitude swept her right to the edge of control, and she had to fight to keep her knees from buckling.

“Hey.” Strong hands gripped her shoulders, steadying her. “Hey,” he repeated gently and turned her around to face him. “What’s happening?”

She blinked back a damning rush of tears. “It’s… it’s just… I thought I was going to die here.”

She swallowed hard, made herself meet his eyes. Even in the dark she could see the compassion and the strength and the promises there. “Thank you.”

He squeezed her shoulders, then leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Don’t thank me yet, sweetheart. We’re a long way from gone.”

And she was a long way from grasping exactly what it was about this man that had her wanting to throw herself into his arms one instant and back away the next. Both of their lives were on the line here, and she so did not have it together.

“What’s the plan?” she asked abruptly. If she didn’t inject something concrete into this very tense, very intimate situation, she was going to do something very, very stupid. Like fall into his arms again.

“Stealth,” he said simply.

She blinked. “That’s it?”

“That’s what you need to know,” he said evasively. “For now.”

“Fine. What about the dogs?” Even more than the guns, those dogs terrified her.

“They’re more for intimidation than for tracking.”

“Yeah, well, the intimidation part is definitely working.”

“Even if they’re trackers,” he assured her, “both of us have left our scents all over this place. It’ll take them forever to figure out where to start looking. In the meantime, we’re steering way clear of them on the way out.”

She shivered involuntarily, remembering one day when the dogs had mauled a man who had attempted to escape.

“The generator shut off two hours ago,” he went on, “so unfortunately we don’t have that noise to help provide cover. On the plus side, at this time of night the guards are fighting sleep, if they aren’t sleeping already. No perimeter fences, either, which tells me they’re not too worried about anyone trying to slip away.”

“It’s a little difficult to run when you don’t have the strength to put one foot in front of the other,” she whispered in agreement.

“This isn’t going to be pretty.” His voice was hard, all business. “I’m going to have to take out your favorite guard first. He drew watch outside the tent.”

She swallowed, understanding that “take out” had nothing to do with dating or Chinese food, and was most likely a permanent resolution. Oh, God. For the first time in her life she truly understood gallows humor. She’d wished the guard dead a hundred times since she’d been brought here at gunpoint. Faced with the probability of it actually happening, however, she felt a fissure of regret. She had dedicated her career to saving lives. The thought of someone dying because of her…

“Don’t think about it,” Cavanaugh said softly.

He not only rescued women, he read minds. And he was right. She needed to remember only one thing: this was life or death. Better the guard’s death than hers.

“I’m okay.” If she said it often enough, maybe that would make it true.

“Yes. You are.” It was as much an order as a statement. “Don’t move. I’ll be right back.”

She nodded and he ducked under the tent flap.

She stared at the spot where he’d been, heart pounding, adrenaline rushing.

Before she could reconcile herself to the fact that the sound she’d just heard was most likely the sound of a neck being snapped he was back.

She couldn’t make out his expression, but she could smell the adrenaline on him. Could feel violence crackle around him like electricity.

He handed her a pair of sandals, the soles still warm to the touch.

Oh, God.

She put them on.

When she straightened, she realized he was carrying a rifle. Of course. He’d taken it from the guard.

“You stay on my six.” He reached for her hand and dragged it to his belt. “Hang on, you got it? From this point on, we are officially connected at the hip. It’s all about running now. No questions. Just follow me and keep as quiet as you possibly can.”

She could run. She could be quiet. She could do anything he told her. What she couldn’t do was keep herself from stopping him when he turned to lead her out into the night.