Page 30 of Disappearance at Angel's Landing
Lila caught the briefest flash of lightning in her peripheral vision, and soon a backing track of thunder ricocheted off the surrounding cliffs. The hairs along her arms raised on end, driving her up the bowl-like incline of the valley.
Her legs screamed protest with every step, her bruised ribs limiting her breathing. She’d never met a mountain she couldn’t conquer during her reign as a park ranger, but this little molehill would be her undoing. Not to mention the fantastic view of Branch’s backside on the way up. But she had to slow down. Her body had yet to recover its run-in with a landslide and a killer, and it was showing. “What fresh hell is this?”
“Almost there. Come on.” Reaching back for her, Branch intertwined his fingers with hers, pulling her to his side. He kept one hand at her low back, and his warmth instantly assaulted the nerves scraping up her spine. Then it was gone. “I’ve got you.”
“You say that now, but four of the five voices in my head think you’re too good to be true, and the fifth is deciding where to bury you.” She sucked down a deep breath tinged with humidity that hadn’t been there a moment ago. Rain was coming.
She was gifted another one of his laughs, but this one didn’t have any feeling to it. Not like the one back in the tent. Still, she couldn’t help but engrave it into her brain for recall later when he finally realized she wasn’t worth the effort. Or maybe he already had.
Static punctured through the silence between them, right before a low voice sounded over Lila’s radio. “Thompson, Jordan, come in. Over.” Another round of static.
Lila pulled up short, unthreading her arm from one shoulder strap, and pulled her pack forward. They’d reached the rim of the valley, but the mountains and the incoming storm should’ve kept them from contacting headquarters. Unless help was closer than she thought. Pulling her beaten radio from the pack, she clamped down the push-to-talk button as Branch took position in front of her. “Jordan here. Risner, is that you?”
Two seconds. Three.
“Jordan, it’s about time. Where’s Branch?” Cold slithered through her at the district ranger’s instant demand to talk to someone who wasn’t her.
“He’s here. We’re approximately three miles northeast from the base of Angel’s Landing and headed back.” Apart from the very real possibility of not having a job when they returned to headquarters, she couldn’t deny the relief of knowing someone had been searching for them. “Over.”
“Stay put. We’re a mile out from you, and I want answers. Seismometers picked up a reading eighteen hours ago, but the geologists are telling me it wasn’t an earthquake.” Risner’s voice cut out on the last word. “What the hell is going on out there? Over.”
A mile? Another dose of dread prickled in her gut. This was it. Once SAR recovered her and Branch, they’d be separated to give their statements, she’d be dismissed from NPS, and all of this would be over.
Lila struggled to respond. The past twenty-four hours had changed her in ways she couldn’t explain. For better and worse. And Branch had been there through it all, but she’d known—deep down—this fantasy she’d created between them hadn’t ever been a real possibility from the beginning. It was only a matter of time before he realized how much work it would take to put her back together, and he’d barely made it out of his divorce in one piece. His heart couldn’t afford another bond with the wrong soul. And she was…wrong. In every way.
Taking the radio from her, Branch lifted it to his mouth, his attention locked on her. “Ranger Jordan ensured we got out alive. Other than that, we’re going to need additional rangers to aid in the search. Over.”
Lila’s lips parted on a strong inhale. Oh, no. Branch Thompson had taken her entire heart, and she was pretty sure he’d never give it back.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Something had changed. In the span of a mere twenty-four hours, Branch had been cracked wide open all over again. Only this time, the pieces were coming together without the need of isolation, hiding or avoidance. All because of the woman standing in front of him.
She’d washed her face free of makeup, leaving nothing but the imperfect beauty beneath. Hair frizzing free from the ponytail she’d dragged it into, Lila stood against the backdrop of thunder and lightning and the promise of torrential summer rain. And, damn it, she was perfect. Her uniform had worn through over her ribs, revealing her sleep shirt underneath where bruises darkened smooth skin, and in an instant, he recalled the feeling of the fabric between his fingers. Recalled how his palm had fit perfectly against her hip, those little breathy sounds she made in her sleep, the guttural moan as he’d kissed her last night. He’d fallen asleep to the rhythmic rise and fall of her back pressed against his chest, and it’d been the most peaceful night’s sleep he’d gotten in years.
Hell. He could still taste her. A driving, ravenous need to kiss her—to absorb her into his very bones—sucked the oxygen from his lungs, and Branch pushed himself to add another foot of distance between them. He prided himself on discipline, on control, but everything about this woman urged him to discardevery stupid rule he’d set in place to protect himself. The mere thought terrified him beyond facing Sarah Lantos’s killer.
A smile caught at one corner of her mouth, sending an SOS straight to his nervous system as she studied him. But even with as much as she’d revealed about herself last night—the assault, her parents’ reaction, her attempt to take her own life—he couldn’t rid himself of the feeling there was something Lila had left out. That he was being left in the dark.
That same feeling had been there in the days leading up to catching his ex-wife with his best friend, then afterward when his ex had admitted she was going to seek an abortion. It burned low in his stomach, acidic and uncomfortable. But what could Lila possibly have to keep from him? They were rangers, had worked together for a mere four months. They’d only recently crossed the line into something akin to friends—maybe more—and there wasn’t a single cell in his body that believed she owed him a damn thing.
Unless it had something to do with this investigation.
Shit. That thought shot his brain into hyperawareness, assessing every interaction they’d had over the past two days and deconstructing the meaning behind every word out of her perfect mouth. The paranoia and betrayal he’d shoved in a box made of rage burst free, and in an instant, he was in too deep, drowning. On the verge of putting himself right back where he didn’t want to be: at the mercy of someone he trusted.
Lila dragged her ponytail over her shoulder and twisted the ends between slender fingers tipped in that chipping manicure. He wasn’t sure how long she’d been hiding underneath all the pink and rhinestones, but it would take months, if not years, to crawl out from the persona she’d built to shield herself from judgment, hurt and backstabbings. She’d need support. She’d need him with her every step of the way, but she didn’t trust him.“I’m not sure anyone has ever stood up to Risner and lived to tell the tale.”
His mouth dried. Thunder exploded overhead as the clouds moved in. The first rain drops pattered against his scalp and shoulders, and Lila, in all her glory, stared up into the sky as if daring the torrent to do its worst. She closed her eyes against the onslaught without a care in the world.
And wasn’t that kindling to the fire raging inside of him? That she could go through life relying on her impulsiveness, her emotions and meddling without bothering to acknowledge the consequences? How did she get a pass when everyone else had to pay the price for their choices?
Somehow this woman had crawled beneath layers of armor and made herself at home as though she owned the place, and damn it, he was pretty sure she owned him. After everything she’d been through—everything she’d suffered—she’d managed to bury it all with a smile, cheer for her enemies and push back despite the odds.
But it’d all been a lie. A manipulation.
And if he took that step to keep her, she would only end up breaking him completely. Branch fisted both hands to stop himself from reaching for her, to feel her rain-slickened skin and wipe the drops from her lips with his mouth. This resilient creature had shown him what life without pain could look like. Shown him how to feel comfortable in his skin and move on while driving his invisible knife wounds deeper.
The muscles in his jaw ached under the pressure of his back teeth as he surveyed the storm overhead. To keep himself from memorizing her all over again. Or witnessing Lila break from what had to come next. “Why did Sarah Lantos’s killer want you dead?”
