Hunter's Heart (Alpha Pack #4)(59)

Branches and vines tore at their faces and clothing, scratched their arms. Wouldn't matter much with a bullet in each of their backs, though, especially if the men were using silver. But that paled in comparison to the horrors August was capable of should they be captured alive.

Ryon pushed harder. Taking a detour south, he hoped to throw the men off the trail. They would look for him to stay close to the river, so he'd do the opposite. After a while, the shouts and curses disappeared, so it seemed to have worked.

He stopped, holding fast to her arm, and listened.

Time stretched out and the whistles of the colorful birds all around them resumed. Ryon let out the breath he'd been holding. Thank God, they'd lost the goons.

Daria tugged her hand free of his and put her hands on her hips, shooting him an annoyed look. The stance made her the very picture of a perturbed dark angel and he had to resist the urge to grin.

"Well, I hope you're happy with yourself."

Ryon's jaw dropped. "Me? You're the one who-"

She stepped close and touched his right arm. "You're bleeding."

Ryon glanced at himself. A gouge marred his biceps where one of the bullets had grazed him. Blood trailed in a thin line down his arm and dripped off his fingers. He shrugged. "I'll heal. Let's get moving."

Giving her a quick kiss, Ryon caught a glimpse of the exasperation that flashed across her face before he took her hand, turned, and strode through the trees.

Ryon pushed them east as fast as he could hack through the dense undergrowth. Daria had been silent for several hours, holding her own without complaint or asking him again to consider turning back. They'd stopped only twice for a quick drink of water and a brief rest.

By the second break, he could see exhaustion taking its toll on her. Long strands of dark hair had escaped from her ponytail, and floated around her face in disarray. She sat on the spongy earth, legs drawn up to her chest, and hugged her knees, staring into the forest with an expression that had taken his breath away. The look went deeper than grief, more eloquent than tears, and it had cut Ryon to the bone.

She hated to give up. He was forcing her to abandon finding the cure for Ben, at least temporarily.

"When are we going to turn north?" Daria asked.

"Tomorrow we'll head that way gradually, and make our way toward the rendezvous point at an angle. If we push hard, we can still reach the team before August intercepts us."

"How long will it take us, at this rate?"

"By the afternoon, maybe sooner. Provided you don't lead me on any more wild-goose chases."

A soft groan sounded at his back. They'd have to haul ass to stay one step ahead of August and reach the Pack that fast. Still, she offered no complaint.

Ryon had to admire her courage, and he understood her need to bring down August all too well. Yeah, he'd get the sonofabitch even if he had to come back here alone to do it. The last few years had been about healing, then starting his new job with the Pack.

He'd tried to keep his mind off the nightmare of his past by diving into one dangerous assignment after another. Rebuilding his life, securing his future. Then disaster had blindsided him yet again when his team had been ambushed months ago, and he'd driven himself even harder.

"When will we make camp?"

"As soon as I find a good spot. It'll be dark shortly."

She muttered, "About time." He couldn't help smiling to himself. That his mate allowed the smallest gripe to pass her lips testified to how wiped out she must be.

He wasted no time finding a secluded area similar to where he'd pitched the tent last night. Working to beat the coming darkness, he quickly erected the shelter, making certain the material couldn't be seen easily.

"Looks good," Daria approved. "I don't think anyone passing by could spot it."

"Let's hope we don't have to find out."

"Yeah. Hungry?" She waved a hand at the ground behind her. The two metal bowls had been placed on a blanket, along with a strip of jerky for each of them. "Instant beef stew. I'm starving and somehow getting less picky by the hour."

"Me, too," he admitted. His stomach grumbled as he joined her. "I appreciate it."

They sat cross-legged on the blanket facing each other. Daria picked up her bowl, sniffed, and wrinkled her nose.

"You know, this stuff isn't that bad and I'm used to it, but there's something mildly disturbing about food that poofs out when you add water. How do they do that?"

Ryon laughed, and she smiled back. His heart did a funny leap in his chest. "One of life's great mysteries, I suppose."

"I'd say you're one of those mysteries," she retorted, waggling her spoon at him. "Every bit as interesting as old, dried up beef, and twice as tough."

He barked another laugh, nearly choking on his stew. "Gee, you'd better stop with the compliments before my ego explodes my brain."

"Sorry. Guess I'm getting punchy." She hesitated, then observed him thoughtfully. "Tell me about you, or your family."

"What's to know?" He stared, admiring the way the corners of her eyes crinkled with tiny crow's-feet when she smiled. Her full lips, the graceful curve of her jaw.

"Where did you grow up?"

"Atlanta, Georgia, armpit of the South." He didn't offer more, and she put down her bowl, throwing him an exasperated look.