He laid his hand over mine as the kiss ended and he leaned his forehead onto mine.
“Is this goodbye?” I was tearing up again.
Greer wiped a tear away with the back of his hand. “I won’t leave you. I don’t think I can.”
“But… but that isn’t part of the plan.”
He kissed me once more, much shorter this time. “I don’t have it in me to leave you.”
My heart soared. I had a million questions to ask, a million things I wanted to say. But I didn’t. Because I’d heard the one thing I’d wanted to hear. Greer wasn’t leaving me.
~*~
I was alone when I got up in the morning, but I wasn’t worried. Greer was always making phone calls, so I sat in the tent and replayed the events of last night. I couldn’t stop thinking of Greer, his eyes, the way he’d looked at me last night. It wasn’t one-sided. He liked me too. He had to. People don’t just kiss like that.
Blissful. I was on cloud stinking 9.
I wanted to kiss him again and again and again. When he got back, I’d go out on a limb. I would walk up to him and throw my arms around him and kiss him. As I thought this, I reached for my teeth cleaner. I swirled it around my mouth, feeling the particles from my teeth gather. I needed to spit, and I unzipped the tent and I got out. I wanted to be ready when I saw him.
The morning was hazy with fog. Footsteps tromped the ground, and I looked up hoping to see him, but I only saw the trees.
“Stupid inn!” a voice called, and my heart stopped. “We never should have said yes to Old Philly. He pissed the guy off. If some random man touched my woman, I’d beat the crap out of him.”
“This is a lot of tracking for a two-thousand-dollar payout,” replied another.
Crap. The man at the bar must have paid these people to find us. Greer. I had to get to Greer. No, I had to hide and wait for him. Panicked, I scrambled from the tent and ran under a pine tree. Greer never went far; I had to hide until he saved me because he would not leave me. He said he wouldn’t.
“Over here!” one yelled, and then a shot echoed out into the woods.
Five men ran into our clearing, circling around and looking for me. Tears of panic crept into my eyes. Where was Greer?
One of the Libratiers went into the tent and emerged. “The girl has to be close by.”
“Man, a lot of trouble for some measly payout. Let’s find her and go.”
The tallest of the crew spoke into what I assumed was a phone or walkie talkie. “We found the tent but not the girl. How is the situation down the hill? Over.”
“We found the man.” Static broke through the quiet fog and covered what was coming over the radio. “Captain, he’s dead.”
And I gasped in such pain, I doubled over. Greer, dead. The men heard me and crowded around the tree, moving closer. I was too shocked and scared to move. No. I refused to believe what he said. Greer was not dead, and I’d stay hidden until he attacked them and saved me. Greer always saved me. He’d save me now.
“Come on out,” one of them said. Another leaned under the tree.
Greer would come from the woods at any moment. He’d rescue me like he had so many times. This wasn’t the end; it couldn’t be. We were too close.
“It’s the girl from the paper.” An arm went under the tree. A cubox came near my face, and I swatted at it. No. No. I had to get away. I backed to the other side of the tree, and a pair of hands grabbed for me. I’d have to climb. I pulled myself up the branches of the pine. I just needed to get higher. I’d have to rescue Greer this time. Hands yanked at my feet, and I kicked them away. Higher I climbed until the branches swayed from my weight, higher to nearly the top.
In the distance, I saw a white sheet covering a body. Cold metal touched my temple, followed by a boom, and everything went black.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Thank you to my editors: Beth Balmanno, Andi Cumbo-Floyd, And Kit Duncan.
Thank you to my fantastic cover artist, Carlo Giovani.
Thank you to Kelly Concini. Without you, I would still be stuck in the cheese factory.
Thank you to Melissa Hoobler and Beth Huff. The early drafts were awful but you both understood the importance of dreams and hopes. Thank you.
Thank you to my students for your trust and blind faith. I didn’t deserve it, but it meant a lot.
Thank you to my mother for always listening and keeping me awake.
Thank you to my father for completing one last edit but more importantly, thank you for giving me OZ and Little Women.
Thank you to my wonderful husband and daughters. Your love and imagination kept me going even when surrounded by the darkest shadows. I love you more than words can describe.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Margs Murray was born and raised in Pennsylvania. Reared on a steady diet of shows and
