Chapter Five
The shot echoing up the mountain had Mia running at full speed before her brain had interpreted the sound. She was slaloming through a copse of trees when it dawned on her that running away from the sound of the shot would be a wiser plan than moving toward it, but Neville was ahead of her and she couldn’t risk her voice carrying if she called out. She slowed her pace slightly and kept half her attention on the dog so she could give him a hand signal to stop when he turned to check in with her.
Ten minutes later, they were tucked under the drooping boughs of a large pine to shelter from a sudden deluge when Neville went on alert. He lifted his muzzle, and Mia tested the air herself. She could smell only the sharp scent of pine and a hint of rich, loamy earth. Neville’s tail started to wag and without thinking, she grabbed it and tucked it under her arm. She motioned Nev to a down stay and held her breath.
Heavy treads moved toward her and happy anticipation quivered through the dog’s muscles. There was no doubt it was Hudson, but she kept silent until he was well past their little hidey-hole. What was she doing? Was she really going to hike back down to her truck and take off without him? He might be a cop and her worst possible ally, but she knew with a bone-deep certainty that his actions back at the house were the only reason Dipshit and Sidekick hadn’t killed her and dumped her body.
She let her forehead rest on her knees. She knew what they’d found when they had their contact search the police system for Raina Meadows. And despite her vehement independence over the past few years, there was maybe a tiny little part of her that thought if she was able to help Hudson find the drug shipment and close his case, he might help her put Raina Meadows to rest once and for all. But there was still a part of her—the bigger part of her—that wanted to run and never look back.
Neville wiggled free of her restraining arm and bolted. Her mouth dropped open. He had never disobeyed her before. Not since his rambunctious puppy days, anyway. She pressed her lips together and swiped the soaked hair back off her face before crawling forward into the nearly solid sheet of rain. He must have read her indecision about Hudson, lie detector that he was. The dog was less than twenty feet away, with his front paws resting on Hudson’s shoulders and his eyes closed in bliss as the man rubbed his ears.
“Decided to stick with me then?” The thick French accent was gone, but there was no sign of the heavy charm he usually wore in exchange.
She blinked at him. “I can’t imagine you’d really think I wouldn’t.” It was second nature to her now. Redirecting, clouding the issue, going on the offensive instead of accepting an attack. Never failed.
Except this time.
He laughed. She blinked again and he laughed some more. Neville dropped to four paws and wagged happily alongside the cop as he approached her. She refused to give ground, and when he took her arm and tried to turn her back toward the shelter of the tree, she stepped away and tightened the straps of her pack.
“We need to get going. Less than twenty hours left, remember?” Her forward movement was stopped mid-step when he pulled up on her pack from behind. He gave the bag a swift downward yank, and then she was stumbling forward, off kilter from the lack of ballast.
He loosened the straps and swung the gear over his own shoulders, then jerked his chin at the slope before them. “So walk. We can talk on the way, Raina Meadows.”
#
The heavy downpour and the steep grade of their ascent kept the conversation to a minimum as they made their way up the mountain. Hudson had started to ask Mia about Raina Meadows a couple of times. The first time she’d lost her grip on a heavy branch she’d been holding aside, and it had smacked him so hard across the chest that he’d lost his breath and been unable to speak, or move, for several minutes. The second time, Neville had picked up a burr or splinter, and Mia had ignored him to focus all her attention on removing the sharp something-or-other from his paw.
He’d given her the benefit of the doubt earlier, but Hudson knew when he was being played. He’d just never met anyone who was quite so good at it. The branch was a classic and he should have seen it coming a mile away. And would have, if he hadn’t been quite so distracted by her rear view. But he was impressed by the limping dog bit. Sure, she’d taught Neville to work a door handle, but how had she managed to train him to fake an injury?
“Almost there,” Mia said.
“Oh, good.” He stopped for a moment to arch his back. Mia had offered to take the bag back, but he’d waved her off. He’d known full well she and Nev had been hiding under the tree, but rather than hauling her out and forcing her to guide him up the mountain, he had decided to give her a chance to make up her own mind to do the right thing. Unfortunately for her, it had taken her so long to do it he’d had enough time to decide the right thing for him to do was to continue up to the helicopter and get the evidence he needed to close out his case.
The cautious expression on her face when she’d finally followed Neville out from the bole had given him a twinge of conscience. But he rationalized his decision with the knowledge that they still had her truck as a way off the mountain if they couldn’t find the drugs. But until she started giving him the truth, he’d just keep that in his back pocket. Holding on to the pack was just a small insurance policy against her obvious inclination to rabbit.
“And ‘there’ is where, again?” He asked.
They had no map, but Mia’s small GPS unit had been one of the items she’d stowed in her pockets. As she’d explained her plan to reach the small cabin, she’d tried to orient him to the picture on the tiny screen. But his lack of familiarity with the area made it almost impossible to figure out what he was looking at through the constant sheeting of rain. He didn’t trust easily at the best of times. Having to follow the lead of someone he knew was better at folding the truth than an origami expert was at folding paper was riding heavy on his nerves.
She shot him a look over her shoulder, eyebrows drawn together, lips tight. “The way hut. Like I said.”
Her distraction on the steep slope was nearly disastrous. She put her full weight on a slick piece of slate and, almost before he could reach out, her foot was flying out behind her and her face was headed straight for the rock.
He lunged forward, taking a glancing blow from her foot off his thigh, and managed to somehow grab her at the hips and haul her upright. Her muscles were locked tight, freezing her in place for a moment, and then she turned and leaned against him with a gasping breath. His arms tightened around her, and he twisted so his back was taking the worst of the driving rain. Neville bounded over and pressed himself against their legs, whining until Mia dropped her hand to his head.
“Okay?” he murmured. She nodded and moved away from him without meeting his eyes. She skirted the rock this time and continued up.
He’d known where they were headed, just wanted to see if she’d remembered what she’d told him. But that fall could have been a bad one. If they were to stand any chance of getting out of this situation alive, they’d have to figure out a way to trust each other. The sight of a weather-beaten shack tucked among a stand of trees just ahead was a good start.
“Wait!” he called to Mia.
Mia’s shoulders hunched, just a bit, but she turned with one foot still on the bottom step. Hudson took the three stairs in one long step and made a cursory survey of the structure. The narrow porch was littered with forest debris, but his muddy footsteps were clearly the only human ones that had been here for a month or two. Mia had said the small hut was a stopover location for the fire lookouts that kept watch over the precious woodlands during the summer season. They hiked their way into the forests and took up lonely residence in fire towers for weeks or months at a time. The trip was far too long a hike for one day, so small huts were stationed along the way to provide shelter, and act as a cache for emergency supplies.
The handle sank easily and he pushed open the door. The structure hadn’t been used since the end of the fire season and a slight musty smell was settling in already, but the small room was dry and out of the rain. A potbelly stove stood in a corner for the cooler nights, and Hudson could see a sturdy cabinet against the far wall. A single, built-in bunk, stripped bare, projected from the other wall.
“Is it safe? Can I come in now?” She was leaning her shoulder against the doorjamb. Her arms were crossed over her chest, one hip jutted out and her expression seemed to have one eyebrow in amusement, and one in exasperation.
“Be my guest.” He made a ridiculous flourishing bow and she rolled her eyes. He let the pack slide down his arms. He placed it in the corner, not missing the way Mia’s gaze flashed to it, then away.
“If there are any cut logs left, they’ll be under the porch,” she said. He looked at her and smiled. She shifted her weight. “They keep them there so it’ll be dry for the next person to use.”
He tucked his cheeks back and let the dimples loose. “Great. Why don’t you check that out while I see what’s here for supplies?”
She glared at him, turned on her heel and left the cabin. He stretched his neck and saw Neville still collapsed where he’d dropped on the porch. The dog swung his head around as though he could feel Hudson’s attention and his tail thumped against the wood boards. Despite experiencing Mia’s miserliness with information, and her obvious desire to be anywhere but on this mountain with him, Hudson was confident she wasn’t going to ditch him without supplies— or Nev. He turned his back to the door and started to work out the curious locking mechanism on the cabinet. Press, twist, and lift, and the doors popped open to the hiker’s equivalent of Ali Baba’s cave.
He was comparing an inventory of the contents of Mia’s pack and the cabinet when she returned with an armload of logs. He suppressed the urge to leap up and take them from her, and instead gestured to the spread of items in front of him. “I got it open. It was tricky there for a minute, but I worked it out.”
Her eyes rested on the cabinet for less than a second before she dumped the logs and started building a fire in the stove. “It’s a bear latch.”
He put a smile on his face and charm in his eyes. “There you go, proof positive that I am, in fact, smarter than the average bear.”
He got nothing. She didn’t laugh, smile, or even give him a look. Just continued to stack kindling into a pyramid.
“Are there any matches?”
He snagged the box and walked the few short steps to pass it to her.
“Get the flue?”
He reached up and pushed the lever that would allow the smoke to travel up the metal chimney, rather than polluting the small room. He dropped to a crouch and pretended not to notice when she shuffled an inch or two away. The flame was steady between her fingers, but the damp kindling didn’t catch on the first try, or the second.
“Let me help.” He held out his hand and she silently dropped the matchbox into it, from enough of a height to guarantee there would be no accidental touching.
He struck the match, and she rose to her feet. He tucked the match into a little nest of shavings, right under the twigs she’d dried out with her first two attempts. The thin wood caught and flames started licking at the larger, damper logs. Smoke eddied into the room in loose curls, and he swung the metal door shut and made sure the intake vents on the side were open.
Mia was standing over the small spread of their equipment. “We can’t stay long.”
Hudson peeled out of his jacket. Waterproof or not, it was soaked through. He draped it over one of the conveniently placed hooks above the stove. Dripping water immediately started to hiss on the hot metal. The cabin was warming quickly and the sky was turning darker by the second.
Mia walked to the door and stood looking out for a moment. Then she crouched to strip off Neville’s waterproof panniers and started rubbing him with a dry cloth. He groaned in appreciation and rolled over for her to get his other side.
“He’d dry faster by the fire.”
She shrugged. “He likes it better here. He’ll let us know if he wants to come in.”
She got to her feet and draped the cloth over another peg near the stove. The smell of wet dog filtered through the cabin. Neville’s nose came up when she started unwrapping some patties from his pack. She tossed them to him and placed a pop-up water bowl under a downspout. The small room shook gently with the percussive beat of the dog’s tail against the outside wall, and Mia’s mouth was tipped up on one side as she pushed the door closed.
#
He just stood there, watching her. She’d done everything she could to dodge his questions—spectacularly so, in her opinion—but it was obvious he wasn’t going to let it go. She’d considered continuing on to where she thought the helicopter might have gone down, but even Neville was showing signs of fatigue from the near marathon sprint up the mountain. The close call had decided her. If she’d cracked her head open on that rock, she might very well have died before Hudson was able to get back with help.
“You’re dripping on the floor,” he said, dimples flashing.
She looked down to hide her reaction. His constant attempts to charm her reminded Mia of every mistake she’d like to forget. He was an absolute fool if he thought playing the smooth ladies’ man was the key to getting her to talk.
He wasn’t lying, though. She was standing in a puddle. She unzipped her jacket and hung it near the stove. When she turned back, his eyes were roaming her body and the smarmy expression had been chased from his face by something much more primal.
As much as his charm act repelled her, the blatant honesty in his expression attracted her. She saw the desire in his eyes and it ignited her own. She should be drained. The emotional storm they’d been through dwarfed the weather outside. Her nerves had been stretched, plucked, and snapped, and she wanted relief.
She wanted Hudson.
In the rare moments he wasn’t in character, she even liked the guy. More than she wanted to, if she was being honest with herself.
Her outer shirt was damp across the shoulders. She unbuttoned it slowly, and his eyes followed her fingers as they travelled downward. She stretched the shirt over a couple of hooks and bent to untie her boots. She peeked at him through a screen of her hair and felt a sudden surge of energy when he twitched uncomfortably at his wet jeans.
Well, why not? She hadn’t had sex in far longer than she’d like to remember, and a prime specimen was standing right in front of her. And if the growing bulge under his waistband was any indication, he was practically begging to volunteer to end her drought
Her socks followed the boots. She set them in front of the stove, then popped the button on her pants and started a slow shimmy to peel the sodden fabric from her skin.
“What…” His voice was a strangled croak, and he cleared his throat with a sound like a falling tree and crossed his arms over his chest. “What are you doing?”
She tipped her head to the side. “My clothes are soaked. I’d like to be warm and dry for a few minutes before we head back out into that.” She gestured to the outside, where the rain had failed to let up.
His hands dropped to his hips, then one hand slid to his top button. His eyes were restless, darting from place to place in the barren shack before being drawn inevitably back to hers. “These clothes are wet.”
She smiled. “They are.” She stepped out of her pants and gave them a flick, sending a spray of droplets over him. “Wetter now.”
His eyes darkened and no longer slid away. He kept them on hers, losing contact only when he pulled his layers of shirts off and over his head in one smooth movement. He tossed them at the wall and they caught, lopsided and crumpled, over a hook.
His brows lowered as her hand slid her undershirt up, touching herself where she’d like to be tracing her fingers over his abs. His jeans came down an inch and then stopped. He tried again, still watching her, then had to focus his attention on the soaked denim. His success meant an instant reveal. He was going commando and was suddenly, blatantly, all there, and any doubts Mia might have had, vanished.
She thought she’d moved to him, but next thing she knew, she was on the bed. His skin was still slightly cool, but his mouth was hot where it touched her, and it touched her everywhere. She lifted her arms and he whisked the soft cotton shirt away. She arched her back and he peeled off her sturdy sports bra, making a small noise in his throat before kissing one of the indentations the tight elastic had left in her skin.
It was only when her panties were clutched in his hand as he stared down at her that she remembered that this was her seduction, not his. She rose to her knees to make room for him on the cot and pushed him down as she took his mouth, but he refused to let her have control of the kiss, leaving her breathless and barely able to think. And then he slid away from her—off the cot and over to the stash of supplies against the wall, where he plucked out a chain of condoms.
“Knew I’d seen these.”
He was back in an instant and reaching for her. She tried again to manoeuvre him onto his back, but lost her focus when he played his fingers over her clit. She stayed on her knees, pinned at that single point of contact until he stopped. It took a moment for reality to reassert itself, and she opened her eyes. He was inches away from her, the hunger so clear on his face she could read it like a book. The Kama Sutra, maybe.
She opened her mouth, and he closed it with a kiss. “We’re going to talk, Mia. We can do it the hard way or the easy way. But we are going to talk.”
The words passed straight into her brain, and with another flick of his fingers she wasn’t thinking anymore. Everything was just sensation—pure, sweet sensation, rising and climbing and twisting through every cell of her body. Until he stopped. Again.
She shoved at his chest, trying to force him down so she could have this her way. But he was solid. Immovable. Implacable. She lowered her mouth to his neck, nipping. His breathing hitched, and she dragged a fingernail over his nipple. He restarted the perfect movement of his hand, and her neck suddenly wasn’t strong enough to support her head. She dug her nails into his shoulders.
When he stopped the next time, an actual sob ripped from her throat. “I’ll tell you. I promise. Whatever you want to know.”
The air was suddenly frigid where he’d moved away and she sagged to the bed, understanding that this had all been a ploy; that she’d been played by a consummate player, just like before. And then he was back, his heat like a blanket, his weight bearing her to the mattress and fulfilment in reach as she rode the crest of his passion to the pinnacle of her own.