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“No, I can’t guarantee anything. But I won’t let anything happen to you, Sam. Not while I’m alive.”
“Great. So you’ll go down in a hail of gunfire, and then I’ll die.” Or worse. Listening to the attack on the bakery, her friends, and her office killed all her illusions. These people trafficked children and dealt drugs. They’d make sure she suffered while making them money.
“Not gonna happen, Sam. I’m not some action-movie hero or SEAL team member. But I can follow the money, and that’s what really matters to these people. Money is power, and that’s what they live and die for. I’ll just make sure they understand killing you will cost them a lot of both.” He nodded sharply.
Exhausted, Sam closed her eyes. Trevor had been refreshingly honest and blunt with her earlier, but he hadn’t entirely changed. He was making promises he couldn’t keep and working on plans that had no prospect of success.
But she’d survive and thrive on her own. She might not have law enforcement on her side, but she had smart friends. Even if Wiz couldn’t help Sam access her bank account, she’d loan her money. And she’d do it smartly, like gift cards or an electronic transfer that no one could trace.
She glanced at Trevor. He stared at the dark road ahead, his lips clamped, brows lowered. Some things didn’t change. He was making plans, telling her nothing, and he was worried.
Trevor didn’t matter, though. She’d make herself safe. With a little help from friends, Erin, Wiz, and Deb had proven they could, so she could. Even without help, she’d make it. She had a lot of friends from college and law school. One way or another, she’d make it.
Chapter four
Sam was right; Trevor was making promises he couldn’t keep. He’d changed, but old habits were the hardest to break. Still, he’d told the truth, too—he’d die for her.
Which was stupid. He had to live for her and keep her alive, which meant smart planning. But after weeks of tension, fruitless research, and too many sleepless nights, his brain was fried. Sleep was scarce on a normal night; throw in the danger to Sam, and it was almost impossible. He had to find a safe place for a day or two so they could rest and recover. But the Bitterroot Valley was a small area, and Missoula wasn’t much better, especially in early summer before the tourists swarmed. They needed a hunting cabin like Michael and Deb had used, but one with a back road escape.
A vacation rental wouldn’t work; they’d be tracked by his official supervisors and the Bratva. And he couldn’t get caught by either. He also couldn’t go too far because he still had a mission, an important one. Normally, he’d have Sam contact Wiz, but Wiz was overwhelmed with the bakery, plus Sam’s phone was certainly compromised. Well, Sam wouldn’t be happy, and it wouldn’t work for more than one or maybe two nights, but he had camping gear for a reason.
The police scanner spat details of the battle. They’d gotten the fires out, arrested multiple people at Deb’s Bakery and a few heavily armed thugs on the Borde ranch, plus found a few dead men. He’d be getting an earful over that tomorrow, but since he wasn’t the one with influence over the Russian mob, he’d tell his official boss to go pound sand. His real boss would back him up. He hoped.
At the next opportunity, he turned east, heading toward the Sapphire Mountains. “Turn my phone off and take out the battery, please.” She did. After they crossed the Eastside Highway, the road turned to dirt, potholes slowing him.
“Where are we?” Sam leaned forward, trying to peer into the darkness.
Reaching the tiny campground, he pulled in and drove through but saw no one. It was early in the season, so that wasn’t surprising. He found a site out of sight from the road and backed in.
“Oh, you’re kidding me, right?” Sam frowned. “I don’t camp. You know that.”
“Beggars and choosers, Sam. It’s only for a night, maybe two. You can survive that.” They’d camped a lot in high school. With no money, they drove to the woods, sleeping and eating out in the open. They’d star gazed and shared their dreams of escape and success. Looking back, those dreams had been his—she’d never told him of hers because he’d been a selfish idiot.
But he didn’t have time for memory lane. He got out of the SUV and opened the back, finding the solar lanterns immediately. It took him ten minutes to set up the green and beige tent and five more to arrange the sleeping pads and bags, plus inflatable pillows. “If you’re hungry, there’s snacks in here.” He tapped a plastic tote full of energy bars, nuts, jerky, candy, and other high-calorie, portable snacks. “Don’t worry. I’ve got real meals for tomorrow, but tonight, we’ll keep it simple. You saw the toilet down the road, right?” He pointed at the campground’s vault toilet fifty yards away.
She nodded, frowning. “I’m not blind.”
“There’s toilet paper, sanitizer, and wipes in this bag.” He lifted the small yellow bag. “They might not have the toilets stocked yet.”
Sam shuddered but snatched the bag and a lantern from his hands and stomped away. He watched her for a moment, then got ready, changing into sweatpants, T-shirt, and a hoodie. Putting his weapon in the hoodie pocket, he took a few steps into the woods, did his business, and sanitized his hands. When he returned, he grabbed bottles of water for both of them and brushed his teeth.
Sam came back. Silently, she retrieved her bag and brushed her teeth. “Thanks for the water.”
“Of course. The tent’s pretty small, so if you want to change out here, I’ll go down the road. Or you can do it in the tent and hand me your bag when you’re done.”
Sam looked down her body and then at her bag. “Hmm. Just turn your back.” He did and fabric rustled. “I didn’t bring clothing for camping.” Elastic snapped. “Okay, you can turn around.”
She wore the same running tights and lightweight jacket. Sweat broke out across Trevor’s lower back. She must have slipped off her bra—nope, he couldn’t think about that. He held out a hand for her bag, put it in the car, and locked the vehicle. “I know it’s early, but I’m running on fumes. I’m going to sleep. If you have an e-reader or something, make sure the wi-fi is off. I’ve got a couple of paperbacks if you want one.” He’d brought the new Lightwave novel, plus his favorite comfort read by Julia Huni. Sam might like reading the Space Janitor series.
Sam shook her head. “If I can’t use my phone, I’m going to bed, too. It’s been a wild couple of days.”
“That’s true.” He pointed at the tent. If she hadn’t noticed his missing leg, he didn’t want to tell her tonight. But he had to protect her, too. “Take the bag on the right side, please. I’ll get in after you’re ready. It’s a tight space.”
“Thanks.” She crouched, opened the zipper, turned to sit on the bag, and took off her shoes, leaving them near the entrance, under the rain fly. Then she crawled inside. “I’m in.”
He grabbed both solar lanterns and turned them off. The fading twilight was enough for him. Then he crawled in, leaving his bag unzipped so he could move fast. He’d leave his shoe—and prosthetic—on for the same reason. He placed the car keys on the far side of his weapon, next to the tent wall. “I left a lantern on each side near our feet. Let me know if you get cold. I’ve got hand and foot warmers, and an extra hat. Extra blanket in the car, too.” Even with a three-person tent, their bags were very close. He longed to reach out and pull Sam into his arms, nestle his face into her hair, and never let her go. But he couldn’t—he’d broken her trust too many times. The first move had to be hers, but it would never happen. He’d been terrible.
“I’ll be fine. Good night, Trevor. Thanks for the rescue.” Sam sighed.
