Page 15 of Manhunt in the Narrows
He had an argument ready but remembered he hadn’t been able to get a good visual of the wound along his inner thigh. Which meant exposing himself—boxer briefs and all—to her again. “Yeah, sure.”
The ranger seemed to make an effort to avoid looking at him directly, focusing instead on a fresh section of gauze and medical tape. The hairs on his thigh protested as she pulled at the tape already in place, but her touch soothed the stinging almost as quickly as it’d arrived. Despite the hard exterior she presented to the world, she swapped out his bandage with consideration and a care he hadn’t expected. “I’m done.”
Her coyness was cute but unnecessary. He wanted that fire back, the one that gave him reason to laugh and kept him guessing what she’d do next.
“Stop looking at me like anything has changed between us. It hasn’t.” She broke down the tent in a matter of seconds, wrangling it back into its packable form. Practiced, with a swiftness he couldn’t help but admire.
“If you say so.” Elias hauled his pack over his shoulders.
In less than ten minutes, they’d cleared their impromptu campsite and geared up. Sayles took the lead stepping back into the Virgin River’s depths. “Mystery Corridor is around this next bend. There won’t be any flash flood escape for about a quarter mile. I’m not seeing any incoming storms that would put us in danger for now, but we need to keep the possibility in mind at all times.”
Cold worked through his boots and hydro bib—colder than yesterday’s temperatures—but he remained dry thanks to Sayles’s gear recommendations. “Would you tell me if you did?”
“I’d consider it, but only after reminding myself the paperwork wasn’t worth it.” There she was. The woman who fought like hell to hold her ground and remind people what she was capable of. Her attention locked on something ahead. A flash of red in a brown, green and white landscape. “You see that?”
Elias didn’t hesitate, hauling himself to the center of the river to grab whatever’d escaped downstream. He caught it at the last second and brought the lightweight material back to her position. “What is it?”
“It’s a dry sack. Something campers use to keep their gear waterproof.” She took it from him, turning it over, then raised her gaze upstream. “This river moves around seven miles an hour, which means someone dropped this recently. Looks like your killer might be alive, after all.”
Chapter Eleven
The killer couldn’t be that far ahead.
Sayles ignored the exhausted burn in her legs, pushing one foot in front of the other. They hadn’t made it far but already she could feel the intensity of Elias’s attention between her shoulder blades. The same sensation she’d experienced when she’d woken on his chest this morning.
Her body had absorbed his warmth more efficiently than that of the hand and toe warmers, and for the first time in…a long time she’d slept through the night. No panicking sense of survival. No urge to reach for the multipurpose tool she kept stashed under her pillow. She didn’t even remember dreaming. The same sense of freedom she found on the trails these past few months had filled the tent last night. And she was already craving more. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.
It wasn’t because of him. No. It’d been the stress of chasing after a killer. That was all this was. She’d been exhausted. She’d survived drowning, and her body had crashed the moment she’d let it. Elias Broyles had nothing to do with it. Well, except for the fact that he’d kept her from drowning and the effects of hypothermia.
“So are we going to be completely awkward around each other now, or are you just not a morning person?” Elias’s shift through the water hadn’t stumbled or slowed in the past thirtyminutes since they’d left their small island of rock. The gauze and medical tape was doing its job.
Sayles closed her eyes against that calming balm of his voice. How did he do that? What the hell kind of witchcraft convinced her nervous system he was safe? Nobody else had managed to get under her skin since she’d escaped to Zion, especially not Risner. Not that she was interested in him or any other man, but a woman couldn’t isolate herself—or her libido—forever. Her heart rate descended as though she’d sunk into a hot bath, and she gripped her pack straps tighter. “I’m usually on the trails when the sun comes up.”
“Awkward it is.” His laugh surrounded her, closed in by the canyon walls until there was no escape for its effects. Damn him and his voodoo. “You don’t have anything to be embarrassed about. So you cuddled your sworn enemy in the tent last night. I’m sure you were just looking for a heat source last night when the warmers stopped working.”
A flare of prickling cascaded across the back of her neck, almost pulling her to a stop. If she turned around, she might shove him into the river, and that was not very ranger-like. “It’s awfully presumptuous of you to believe you made the list of people I consider enemies.”
“There’s a list?” His resulting smile bled into his voice.
Detach. Detach. Detach. She didn’t like him—didn’t like what he stood for—and had no reason to trust him. No reason to smile back. But her mind supplied the retort and made the decision for her. Traitor. “There is. And you’re slowly working your way to the top.”
“Who do I have to beat out on this list?” This was a game to him, and she couldn’t help but fall right into Elias’s hands. It was the distraction she hadn’t expected to enjoy. “Ex-husband? Wait, no. That’s a hard position to hold on to if you’re dead.”
Sayles craned her head over one shoulder to put the agent in her sights. “Who says he’s dead?”
“I imagine a lot of people, considering you were arrested for his murder.” He picked up his pace to keep in stride with her, slightly deeper into the river at her right. “Unless… He faked his murder just to have you arrested. How?”
Was she really doing this? Trusting a man like Elias with the secrets she’d held on to all this time. For what? Because he made her laugh? Because her body was convinced of the safety he radiated? She’d fallen for that once before.
Her ex had been everything she’d ever wanted. They’d dated for years during high school and college. He’d convinced her and her family he’d love and take care of her forever. But the moment she’d said “I do,” everything had changed. The man behind the mask had started appearing in small ways at first. Commenting on her clothing choices, suggesting she avoid that second lemon bar. Bypassing her password on her phone to look something up when he had a perfectly good device provided by the government. The control had only tightened from there. Banning her from reaching out to her parents to apologize after a particularly hateful fight at the last family dinner ended in tears. Detailing who she was allowed to text, what she was allowed to wear, portioning meals, watching what she spent. No more coffee dates with friends. No more movie nights with her sisters. No more going to school. Sure as hell no more contact with male colleagues or friends. She didn’t need to finish her art history degree when he was more than capable of providing for their every need.
For years, the noose tightened around her neck. Inch by inch, and she hadn’t even noticed. At least, not until it’d been too late. That was when the calls started. The ones he answered in the middle of the night and left their bed to take. When he started coming home later and later. Working a case, he’d toldher. He couldn’t talk about it. Lies. All of it had been a lie she’d voluntarily swallowed to avoid facing the hard truth.
In the end, she’d been the one to pay the price for his crimes. Still was.
“He had help.” Sayles diverted her gaze above, distracting herself from the tightness in her chest, to the dark cloud that’d slipped overhead without her notice. It was heavy and gray. Full of dangerous potential that could force them to go back. “Friends he recruited from his office.”
“You mean federal agents.” Elias’s words barely registered over the lighter crash of falling water as they approached one of the seasonal waterfalls—in full effect—ahead.
