“It’ll be okay, Ranger Rick.” Nimue stepped up beside him. “Once it hits the Colorado, the Bratva will know we either ditched it or whittled a canoe. By the time it washes ashore, it will probably be a week from now in Lake Mead and they’ll know for a fact we ditched it. Some kid will find it, think it’s cool.”
“Which means we need to be far from here when it hits the Colorado.” He shouldered his pack, the familiar weight settling across his shoulders.Time to move.
They hit the trail as sunlight broke over the canyon rim, painting the rocks molten gold. Liam took point, scanning for movement, listening for sounds that didn’t belong.
A hawk’s cry echoed off the canyon walls. Otherwise, a deep silence filled the canyon.
They’d barely covered a mile when the sky went dark.
“Aw, c’mon.” Liam’s stomach dropped as he watched clouds boil up from nowhere, rolling in like some biblical plague. Wind whipped through the canyon, carrying the sharp ozone scent of incoming rain. “Early for monsoon season, but this doesn’t look good.”
Lightning flickered in the distance.
“We need cover. Now.”
“Over there,” Nimue said, pointing to an indent in the canyon wall.
They scrambled for the shallow overhang. It barely qualified as a cave, but it would have to do. The sky split open, dumping sheets of rain that hammered the canyon floor about twenty yards before they reached cover. Liam wiped the water from his face and dropped his pack before peering out at the deluge.
“This slows us down,” he muttered. “But if that phone’s still moving—and moving faster now—it might buy us some time.”
“Or tip them off that we’re not with it.” Nimue’s voice carried a thread of worry. “This much water? That thing’s probably halfway to the Colorado by now.”
She slumped against the cave wall, breath coming in short bursts. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry I dragged you into this mess.”
“Stop.” He turned, softening his tone. “I’m here because I want to be. You didn’t drag me anywhere.”
She searched his face, hunting for lies. The uncertainty that maybe he didn’t mean what he’d said. He met her gaze, conveying all he could in that one look.
She swallowed. Nodded.
“We’ll rest while the rain holds us up.” He set up the water filter beside a puddle forming at the cave’s edge. “Eat something. Recharge.” He opened his pack to look for beef sticks.
Her hands shook as she dug through her pack. She pulled out that small sketchpad and flipped it open.
Then she settled back against the wall and started to draw. Her pencil moved in quick, sure strokes across the page, a look of peace settling over her.
Some of the tension in his chest eased.
Art calmed her.Good to know.
He handed her a beef stick and sat beside her. “Drawing me again?” He couldn’t resist the tease.
She snorted without looking up. “Don’t flatter yourself. It’s the cave.” But she smiled.
Oh, she had a beautiful smile. “Ever think about doing more with these?”
Her pencil paused. “They’re just doodles. Keep my hands busy. Keep the anxiety down.”
“Maybe that’s how they started.” He couldn’t let this go. Something about her art mattered. “Doesn’t mean that’s all they are. You showed me two yesterday, but you have a whole book of them there. Can I see the rest?”
She looked up, something raw and vulnerable flickering in her eyes. “Why?”
“Because they’re part of you.” The truth came more easily than he’d expected. “And if you haven’t noticed, I’m here for all of you. The good parts. The complicated parts. Not just your favorite pictures. Even the doodles.”
Her lips parted. No words came.
The air between them hummed with electricity that had nothing to do with the storm. He wanted to close the distance. Kiss her again. Show her she wasn’t alone in this.
