She heaved a deep, shaky breath and Ryon tried not to stare at the ample swell of her creamy breasts. The lacy scrap of material posing as a bra didn’t do much to hide them, and now wasn’t the time to indulge in some afternoon delight. With an effort, he moved his gaze north and kept his attention focused on her face. Mostly.
“Thank you.” She sniffed.
He cleared his throat. “You’re my mate. There’s no way I’d let anything happen to you.”
“I’m sorry I left without telling you.” She stared at the ground, miserable. “But I can’t give up, Ryon. I can’t just leave without getting the information we need.”
Ryon gaped at her. “Are you kidding me? Daria, meeting up with a poisonous snake is only one of a hundred dangers you could’ve run up against. You promised me you wouldn’t run again.”
“And I won’t. But what August is doing is terrible, and stopping him will save lives. I need your help to bring him down.”
“To help Ben, you mean,” he said bitterly. Instantly, he regretted letting out the green-eyed monster, but she took his hand, shaking her head.
“Not just him. Everyone who’s been ruined by him, Bowman, and Malik. This might be our only chance.”
Exasperating woman! “I’ll think about it, but that’s all I’m saying.” Ryon stood and offered her his hand. “Do you have an extra shirt?”
A flush colored her cheeks and anger flashed in her eyes, but she nodded and took his hand, allowing him to help her up.
Daria fished through her pack for the garment. Ryon was disappointed when she brought forth a camouflage T-shirt and slipped it over her head, covering her beautiful skin. He didn’t know what he wanted to do more— strangle her or make love to her. Then she walked the few yards to where her mangled black shirt rested on the ground, poked it with her foot, stooped, and retrieved it.
“Never know when a rag might come in handy,” she speculated, stuffing it into her pack.
Ryon didn’t answer. Had he detected a sound to the west? A movement? The hair on the back of his neck prickled, but it could be his overwrought imagination, nothing more.
A flash of metal through the trees caught the corner of his eye a split second before he spun, bracing the M16 at his shoulder.
“Daria, go!” he shouted.
To her credit, she didn’t hesitate. She swept the pack onto one shoulder and bolted in the opposite direction as the forest came alive with bodies.
The figures seemed to detach themselves from the forest wall like demons from the underworld, come to claim his soul. And he should know.
But not today, dammit. He sprayed the area with a round of ammo to buy them precious seconds. The men fell back, ducking behind cover, giving Ryon an instant to whirl and sprint after Daria before they returned fire.
She negotiated the undergrowth like a swift deer and he had to work to catch up. He barely heard the rhythmic tap of the gunfire over the blood rushing in his ears. He’d almost reached her when she stumbled over a root and went sprawling with a cry. He paused a beat long enough to grab the back of her shirt, yank up hard, and drag her in his wake.
Branches and vines tore at their faces and clothing, scratched their arms. Wouldn’t matter much with a bullet in each of their backs, though, especially if the men were using silver. But that paled in comparison to the horrors August was capable of should they be captured alive.
Ryon pushed harder. Taking a detour south, he hoped to throw the men off the trail. They would look for him to stay close to the river, so he’d do the opposite. After a while, the shouts and curses disappeared, so it seemed to have worked.
He stopped, holding fast to her arm, and listened.
Time stretched out and the whistles of the colorful birds all around them resumed. Ryon let out the breath he’d been holding. Thank God, they’d lost the goons.
Daria tugged her hand free of his and put her hands on her hips, shooting him an annoyed look. The stance made her the very picture of a perturbed dark angel and he had to resist the urge to grin.
“Well, I hope you’re happy with yourself.”
Ryon’s jaw dropped. “Me? You’re the one who—”
She stepped close and touched his right arm. “You’re bleeding.”
Ryon glanced at himself. A gouge marred his biceps where one of the bullets had grazed him. Blood trailed in a thin line down his arm and dripped off his fingers. He shrugged. “I’ll heal. Let’s get moving.”
Giving her a quick kiss, Ryon caught a glimpse of the exasperation that flashed across her face before he took her hand, turned, and strode through the trees.
Ryon pushed them east as fast as he could hack through the dense undergrowth. Daria had been silent for several hours, holding her own without complaint or asking him again to consider turning back. They’d stopped only twice for a quick drink of water and a brief rest.
By the second break, he could see exhaustion taking its toll on her. Long strands of dark hair had escaped from her ponytail, and floated around her face in disarray. She sat on the spongy earth, legs drawn up to her chest, and hugged her knees, staring into the forest with an expression that had taken his breath away. The look went deeper than grief, more eloquent than tears, and it had cut Ryon to the bone.
She hated to give up. He was forcing her to abandon finding the cure for Ben, at least temporarily.
“When are we going to turn north?” Daria asked.
“Tomorrow we’ll head that way gradually, and make our way toward the rendezvous point at an angle. If we push hard, we can still reach the team before August intercepts us.”
“How long will it take us, at this rate?”
“By the afternoon, maybe sooner. Provided you don’t lead me on any more wild-goose chases.”
A soft groan sounded at his back. They’d have to haul ass to stay one step ahead of August and reach the Pack that fast. Still, she offered no complaint.
Ryon had to admire her courage, and he understood her need to bring down August all too well. Yeah, he’d get the sonofabitch even if he had to come back here alone to do it. The last few years had been about healing, then starting his new job with the Pack.
He’d tried to keep his mind off the nightmare of his past by diving into one dangerous assignment after another. Rebuilding his life, securing his future. Then disaster had blindsided him yet again when his team had been ambushed months ago, and he’d driven himself even harder.
“When will we make camp?”
“As soon as I find a good spot. It’ll be dark shortly.”
She muttered, “About time.” He couldn’t help smiling to himself. That his mate allowed the smallest gripe to pass her lips testified to how wiped out she must be.
He wasted no time finding a secluded area similar to where he’d pitched the tent last night. Working to beat the coming darkness, he quickly erected the shelter, making certain the material couldn’t be seen easily.
“Looks good,” Daria approved. “I don’t think anyone passing by could spot it.”
“Let’s hope we don’t have to find out.”
“Yeah. Hungry?” She waved a hand at the ground behind her. The two metal bowls had been placed on a blanket, along with a strip of jerky for each of them. “Instant beef stew. I’m starving and somehow getting less picky by the hour.”
“Me, too,” he admitted. His stomach grumbled as he joined her. “I appreciate it.”
They sat cross-legged on the blanket facing each other. Daria picked up her bowl, sniffed, and wrinkled her nose.
“You know, this stuff isn’t that bad and I’m used to it, but there’s something mildly disturbing about food that poofs out when you add water. How do they
Ryon laughed, and she smiled back. His heart did a funny leap in his chest. “One of life’s great mysteries, I suppose.”
“I’d say you’re one of those mysteries,” she retorted, waggling her spoon at him. “Every bit as interesting as old, dried up beef, and twice as tough.”
