Page 47 of Risk It All
Making a wordless sound that managed to convey all of his disgust, he returned it to the closet.
“Oh no,” she said, still trying to control her amusement. “You need to wear that. I need to be the only person in the universe who has seen wild and dangerous Henry Kavenski wearing a fanny pack.” Just saying the words made her crack up again.
“No. My pockets will hold more than that thing.” The gleam in his eyes made Cara stop laughing. She didn’t trust that wicked look of his. “You should wear it.”
“Nope.” She held up her wet, soapy hands as if to ward off the pack. “You know I’m already going to be the anchor around your albatross’s neck. You don’t want to be weighing me down any more.”
He blinked, still looking more amused than she felt comfortable with. “Anchor around my albatross? I don’t think that’s the saying.”
Waving a hand in dismissal, she turned back to the sink and drained the water. “The albatross thing never made any sense to me. They’re birds. They can fly. Why would they hold you back? An anchor, now, that makes sense. That would definitely slow a bird down.”
She heard his snort behind her but focused on wiping the cast-iron pan. When that was done, she cleaned the rest of the kitchen and then moved to scrubbing the bathroom. By the time she came out, Henry had extinguished the fire in the woodstove and was sweeping the floors. The pile of supplies was gone except for their two water bottles, but the fanny pack was nowhere in sight, so Cara assumed that he’d managed to get everything to fit in his pockets after all.
“Put those on,” he said, pointing toward a pile of clothes next to the closet.
“I don’t know if I’ll be able to move if I add even one more layer.” Despite her words, she stepped into the bright-pink insulated coveralls. They were slightly long and baggy on her, but, like all of the other clothes she’d borrowed—well, taken—they’d work until she had access to her own closet again. The boots were especially welcome after her trek in Henry’s coat sleeves the day before.
“Will these fit in your pockets?” he asked, holding out the water bottles. She tried, skeptical that they’d be deep enough. To her surprise, the bottles slid right in, with only the caps poking out of her side pockets. She pulled on a hat and gloves that he’d set out for her, and then waited for him to do a final sweep of the cabin. In all her heavy layers, she was warm enough that sweat made her scalp prickle. When he placed some bills on the counter, she pulled off her gloves and hurried over to write a quick note on a paper towel with a pen she’d found in a catch-all drawer. She hesitated, trying to think of what information to reveal and what to keep hidden. Finally, she decided to just keep it short and sweet.
Thank you, cabin owners! Your place saved our lives during a snowstorm.
Best wishes from two lost hikers
As she set the note by the cash, she noticed that the bills were all large and there were several of them. It would more than cover the clothes, food, and other items they’d taken, with enough left over to have the place professionally cleaned. She slid a sideways look at Henry as he pulled on a pair of borrowed gloves, torn between approving his generosity and suspicion about why he was carrying so much cash and how he’d gotten it.
“Is that money from the envelope of cash Layla gave you at the bus stop?”
His head whipped around as he fixed her with a sharp stare. “How’d you know she gave me cash?”
Cara couldn’t keep her smugness from showing. “I didn’t…until now.”
The corner of his mouth twitched, but she didn’t know if it was from irritation or amusement. “No, that money isn’t from Layla.” He waved her toward the door, his expression set in a way that made it clear she wasn’t going to get any more information out of him. Making a mental vow to press him for more details later, she hurried out of the cabin.
As she stepped outside, Cara turned and gave the interior a final glance. As much as the first cabin had been a place of budding nightmares, this one had been a welcoming safe haven, the place where she and Henry had kissed for the first time. It had given them an escape from the storm, and she knew she’d always remember it fondly, as she would a treasured vacation spot. Knowing what dangers lurked outside its walls, she was sorry to leave the cozy little place. She’d definitely miss the bathroom.
Henry shifted his weight, and she took the hint, closing the locked cabin door behind them just as the sharp crack of a gunshot echoed through the trees.
Chapter 15
Cara ducked automatically as shards of wood and bark exploded from the aspen tree a few feet from her. Henry grabbed her arm and yanked her toward him. Wrapping an arm around her shoulders, he hustled her along the path toward the trees. Hunched over, Cara ran, trying to keep up with Henry’s longer legs.
Another shot rang out as they reached the tree line. Pulling her behind him, he took cover behind a pine and crouched. She followed him down, huddling as close to the ground as she could, hoping to present the smallest target possible. A loud blast made her jerk back. Only then did she realize that Henry had a pistol in his hand and was returning fire.
Clamping her hands over her ears, she moved as close to his back as possible. As much as she didn’t want to be in the line of fire, she hated that he was using his body to protect her. The thought of him getting shot made her jerk in horrified reaction. He must have felt it, since he reached behind him to pat the side of her leg in reassurance.
Resisting the urge to grab that hand and squeeze it tightly, she stayed still, not wanting to distract him or throw off his aim. There was a pause in the shooting, and the silence that fell over them was so deep it made Cara uneasy.
Henry picked up something off the ground and held it back behind him, offering it to her. Confused, she accepted the rock with shaking fingers, not sure what he wanted until he made a throwing motion. Comprehension dawned, and she rose slightly to steady her base of support. Using every ounce of skill she’d honed during four years of high-school softball, she chucked the rock as far as she could throw it.
It clunked faintly against a tree trunk before dropping to the ground in a rustle of dead leaves. Immediately, a hail of bullets peppered the area where the rock had landed, and Henry held a fist behind him without taking his attention off where the gunfire had originated. Despite the terrifying situation, she couldn’t hold back a tiny, proud grin as she soundlessly bumped his fist with hers.
She found the next rock by her feet, slightly smaller than the first one, but heavy enough to travel some distance. Cocking back her arm, she hurled it in the same direction, trying to send it even farther away from them than the last one had gone. It made it only a few feet past the first stone before it landed in a clump of brush, but it spooked two sage grouse. The birds exploded from the undergrowth in a flurry of wings, moving so suddenly that Cara flinched back.
Turning, Henry grabbed her hand and took off through the trees. She followed, moving as quietly as possible, dropping behind him whenever the path narrowed, but never releasing her grip. Behind them, the gunfire grew gradually quieter and more distant, and Cara hoped that the sage grouse hadn’t been hit.
The snow was thin on the ground in the more heavily wooded area, and Cara was grateful that they weren’t leaving clear prints for Abbott to follow. She was also very thankful that she had decent boots to run in rather than the jacket sleeves from the day before. The trees thinned too soon, and the snow lay thicker on the ground. Dropping her hand, Henry led the way toward the edge of the trail, where the wind had blown the rocky surface clear. Trying very hard not to peek over the edge to the steep incline below, Cara kept her gaze locked on the back of Henry’s jacket, pretending as if nothing could happen to her when he was there.
As if to mock that illusion, a bullet pinged off the rocky ledge by her feet, right as the distant bang echoed in her ears. With a yelp, she jumped over the next section of path, startled by the closeness of the unexpected shot.
