Prey: A Novel Read online

  “I set the bucket so it caught what’s coming off the roof. I did that thinking about getting water for washing up tonight, but then it occurred to me you could be soaking that ankle. There’ll be time enough to catch more fresh water for later.” While she soaked her ankle, he settled down again with the evidently fascinating subject of plate tectonics.

  She propped her chin on her knee, watching the way he furrowed his brow as he read, liking that he sometimes turned the book sideways to look at charts and maps. She wouldn’t have figured him for a reader, but then what had she really known about him? She’d resented him so much, been so angry, that she hadn’t let herself see him as anything other than a thorn in her side.

  Oh, she’d known from the beginning—those damn butterflies were a dead giveaway—that on a sexual basis she was deeply affected by him, which was why she’d given him such a wide berth. But she hadn’t known that he could make her laugh. She hadn’t known that just being with him would give her this sense of comfort, of lightness, as if things that had weighed her down were no longer quite as heavy.

  Did she love him? She didn’t trust the suddenness of her emotional flip-flop—if it was indeed a flip-flop, considering the presence of the butterflies. Still, she couldn’t make a decision like that based on roughly thirty-six hours of close acquaintance, no matter how momentous those thirty-six hours had been, or that she’d spent about half that time sleeping in his arms. Survival had forged lifelong bonds between them, so she understood exactly what he meant about having friends in the army who would be his friends until the day he died. She felt the same about him, now.

  “Why’re you looking at me that way?” he asked absently, proving that no matter how absorbed he seemed to be in something, he was still aware of his surroundings.

  “Thinking.”

  “Reached any decisions yet?”

  “Not yet.”

  “I could shave,” he offered.

  “Wouldn’t matter.”

  “Good, because I’d have to use my knife. I didn’t bring a razor on this trip.”

  And there it was again, the smile that wasn’t just on her face, but in her heart.

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Late that afternoon, the rain slackened to a drizzle, then after a few minutes died completely away. After hearing the sound for so long, the sudden silence was almost as jarring as the storm had been. Dare lifted his head, listening, then said, “I might as well bring the bucket in, because that’s all the water we’ll be collecting.”

  Angie breathed a sigh of relief. She hadn’t let it get to her, but the rain had been oppressive, and she was glad it was over. The temperature might drop now, as it usually did this time of year after a front moved through, but she had ample clothing to stay warm. Unless a surprise snowstorm set in, they would soon be able to travel.

  They would have to be very cautious, because the rush of water down the mountain would make for some treacherous going, but the flash floods would rapidly disappear. The creeks and rivers would stay swollen for days, but between the two of them, she and Dare probably knew every place where it would be possible to ford them.

  “If we have to, we can go due south until we hit Badger Road,” he said, startling her because their thoughts once again had been so closely aligned. “You know where I’m talking about, don’t you?”

  “I think so. It’s a dirt road, right?”

  “That’s it. Definitely the long way around. I hope we don’t have to go that far out of the way.”

  The big question, though, was if her ankle would hold up for that long of a walk, or any walk at all. She wouldn’t know until tomorrow. The cold water soak had helped; the joint wasn’t as sore, and she could flex her foot a little. Whether or not she could get a sock on, and her boot, was something she wouldn’t know until the time came.

  The state police needed to be notified about Chad Krugman as soon as possible, plus there was the matter of the bear, but—“If I can’t get my boot on tomorrow, or walk enough to get by, I don’t want you trying to walk out of here by yourself.” She said it fast, before she could talk herself out of it. “The ground is too unstable for you to try it alone; if you got hurt, or—”

  “Don’t worry, there’s no way in hell I’d leave you behind. If you can’t walk, then we’ll stay here another fu—day.” He gave her a hooded look, and that slight smile curved his lips. “You’re worried about me.”

  She felt her face getting hot, which was ridiculous when she considered everything that had already happened between them, but physical stuff was one thing and emotions were something else entirely. Well, she’d known when she opened her mouth exactly what his reaction would be, and she’d said it anyway. She couldn’t even deny it. The best she could do at this point was cross her arms and say, “So?”

  He shook his head, still smiling.

  She wasn’t fooling him, and she certainly wasn’t fooling herself. She couldn’t bear the thought of him setting out by himself, even though logic said that he was wilderness-savvy, smart, well-armed, in excellent condition, and all sorts of other things that should have reassured her but didn’t. She simply didn’t want him to take the risk of setting out alone, on foot.

  On the other hand, they both knew she would be perfectly fine waiting here; there was food and water, she could keep warm, she was armed. She knew what it said about her that she wanted to stay with him, but it also said a lot about his self-confidence that he was certain he could keep her safe, even though taking her along was the more risky course for her. That was fine with her, so long as she got what she wanted.

  Taking the last trip outside that night was definitely easier without having to don a slicker first. When Dare carried her outside, she looked up and actually saw stars peeking through the scudding clouds. The wind was picking up, though, signaling an approaching cold front. They might wake up to below-freezing temperatures, but the clearing sky meant there wouldn’t be any snow. Yay!

  He carried her back in and they began getting ready for sleep: heating the water a little and washing off—she on the upper level, Dare down below—brushing teeth, changing out of her jeans into the much more comfortable thermal bottoms.

  As she got comfortable on the mattress and spread out the sleeping bag, she was swamped by a sudden sadness. They would be leaving soon, and she didn’t want to go. These two days had, weirdly, been … somehow enriching, and she was reluctant to leave. The enforced closeness with Dare had turned her world upside down. She wasn’t certain yet if that was good, but she definitely knew it had been enjoyable.

  They had been safe, here in Dare’s cabin. The improving weather meant they would soon be leaving that safety, either tomorrow or the next day for certain, and the real world loomed. Abruptly she felt the danger of what they didn’t know, such as what Chad Krugman had done, or where he was. The bear was still out there, too, but she thought they were far enough from its territory that they were fairly safe. Chad, however, had proven himself to be surprisingly dangerous. Had he tried to get off the mountain that first night, or had he found shelter somewhere and waited out the storm? There was a possibility he’d even gone back to the campsite and finished off the bear—a slim possibility, because she hadn’t heard another shot, and he would have had to retrieve his rifle from his tent first. The shot could have coincided with a blast of thunder and lightning that covered the sound, but that was asking a lot of coincidence.

  She wouldn’t bet her life on coincidence. He could have done the same thing they’d done, wait out the storm, and start out tomorrow now that better weather was here. He was on horseback, unless he’d somehow managed to lose her horse, so he’d make better time than they would. Would he come this far south, or try to follow the same general path she’d used taking the hunting party up into the mountains? If he did that, he’d run into a lot of difficulty. She knew that land, knew the creeks he’d have to cross, creeks that had been ankle-deep on the horses when they’d gone up, but would now be raging torrent