The first was heavyset, with a red beard and hair, both going gray at the edges, wearing a brown vest over a blue flannel shirt. The second man was leaner and younger. His army-green parka hung on his thin shoulders, swallowing him up. With his hands tucked in his pockets and his eyes slightly downcast, he seemed more timid than the first man.
“Vic.” Deke acknowledged the heavyset one with a nod.
The lean man he didn’t greet at all.
What was that about?
Deke walked closer and said something low to Vic. The man glanced at us, nodded, and turned around, heading toward the far side of the center tent without a word. The lean man stayed put, his gaze on Deke as his friend disappeared.
Turning around, Deke offered us the sort of smile a hotel clerk would. “Welcome to our camp. Vic is preparing a seat for you. You can give your bags to Toby, here.” He gestured to the lean man. “For the time being, you won’t need them.”
My spine stiffened. I looked at Toren in time to see him run his tongue over his teeth, a hard expression darkening his eyes and bringing his brows down.
He met my gaze. I could tell he didn’t like the idea of giving up our packs, but what choice did we have?
I unbuckled the waist strap on my pack and slid the bag off my shoulders. Rather than comply completely, however, I let it drop to the ground where I stood and crossed my arms. Toby could come get it.
Toren did the same but left his arms at his sides.
Deke huffed a quick laugh and shook his head. “Keep it up. I’ll take great pleasure in extracting fees for all your ill behavior soon enough.”
I just glared at him. He could try. If and when we got to that point, I didn’t plan to go quietly.
Vic reemerged from around the tent. He gave Deke a quick nod.
Deke smiled at us again. “Your accommodations are ready.” He swept an arm toward the tents. “Have a seat by the fire.” The smile faded from his face, his eyes turning cold as stone. It told us now was not the time for snarky quips.
Toren limped toward the space between the center tent and the one on the left. I followed.
I was not prepared for what was on the other side.
Dustin Hale sat against a pine trunk at the edge of camp, wrists loose in his lap. Face gaunt, he had dark circles under his eyes and a cut on his cheekbone that had scabbed over. His jacket was smeared with dried mud and blood.
But holy crap, he was alive.
Relief hit me, hot and immediate, in the chest. The sting of tears built behind my eyes, but I clenched my teeth and willed them away, refusing to let them fall. I couldn’t let on that I knew Deke’s prisoner. The carefully crafted narrative Toren and I spun for him would fall apart in an instant and would put all our lives in immediate danger.
Dustin had looked up at the sound of our approach. His eyes moved over Toren first, then found me, and I watched the recognition cross his face. Not surprise, exactly. More like the confusion of seeing someone completely out of context. His brows drew together.
I widened my eyes, holding his gaze, as I tried to telegraph the need for him to not ask me what I was doing here or indicate in any way, shape, or form that he knew me.
He stared back at me for a long moment.
Then he blinked and the same beaten and downtrodden expression he’d been wearing when we walked around the tents fell over his face again.
A bit of the tension eased from my shoulders. He either understood what I’d been trying to say, had the same idea, or thought it didn’t matter one way or another who was here; he wasn’t getting out of this situation alive.
Deke pointed to the log closest to the fire ring. “Sit.”
Giving Dustin one last glance, I moved to do as he asked.
Toren sat beside me, staying close, our arms nearly touching. Tension rolled off him in waves.
Vic settled in near the fire and poked it, fanning the flames a little higher. Between the tents, I could see Toby pick up our bags and deposit them near the far tent before he came around to the fire.
Deke stepped in front of him. “Why is he still here?” He tipped his head toward Dustin.
The first semblance of a backbone emerged as Toby’s head came up, defiance in his eyes. “I told you, if you want him dead, you can do it. I didn’t sign up for murder.”
