Uncharted by Adriana Anders

Chapter 14

Leo’s gaze remained fixed on Elias’s back as they picked their way along the slippery boulders and geometric ice chunks lining the river. He’d given her one of his poles, which made walking marginally easier, and used the other to test the ground every few steps.

Though visibility was basically nil, Elias walked and climbed as easily as if this were a nice stroll in the woods instead of a constant battle against wind and snow, water and ice and rock formations clearly designed by the devil.

Elias Thorne. His name hit her like a surreal punch to the gut. The whole situation was so out of left field that she wondered if she’d lost her mind. Had she? Was this the fever talking? Was she actually tucked in bed back at Schink’s Station, suffering through an epic flu? If that was the case, wouldn’t her brain have made Bo a blue zebra? Or, hell, her reincarnated mom?

She watched Elias’s sturdy silhouette for a few more minutes, mesmerized by the steadiness of him, his constant, unerring progress. No way she’d invent someone like him, who tromped through the storm with the easy confidence of the local wildlife, in well-used, top-of-the-line boots and a worn mud-colored, fur-lined parka that could have come from another century. His pace was almost mechanical in its constancy, as if he were barely human—or so at home here that neither the terrain nor the weather affected him. Only the occasional glance over his shoulder altered his pace. He was checking on her every hundred feet or so.

None of this was the erratic behavior of the mass-murdering psychopath the media had made him out to be back in the day.

She did a quick gut check and came up with nothing but respect for the man. He’d saved her life after all. And even without that, hell, she kind of liked him.

Except not just kind of.

She took in the world around her. Nothing was visible aside from the flat line of the river to her left and the almost sheer vertical rise they’d spent the last half hour skirting. The storm turned everything, including the now nearly invisible shape of the man in front of her, into an almost uniform gray, flattening distances and tamping down sounds. There could be an army out there and she wouldn’t know it.

She needed to hurry or he’d get swallowed up by the weather, a ghost fading into the landscape.

It wasn’t a comfortable feeling—being entirely dependent on the man.

On they trudged for maybe another fifteen minutes, the snow-sleet mix turning so gradually to rain that Leo didn’t notice the change until her clothes were soaked. Ironically, she shivered with cold now that the atmosphere had warmed. Beneath her feet, the ground was turning to soup, the surface of the river dangerously waterlogged in places and deadly slick. The light was so odd, it was hard to tell if it was day or night.

Stopping to catch her breath, she looked right, where the high rock wall they’d followed had tapered off. Left, as far as she could see, was nothing but flat snow. She squinted through the pelting rain.

Nope. That wasn’t snow. It was ice.

“Hey,” she stage-whispered. “Hang on.”

He turned, his coat completely dark, what features she could see pinched, his eyebrows, nose, and beard dripping water.

Slipping and sliding, she caught up to him. “Isn’t this dangerous?”

“What?” he deadpanned.

“Walking on the river in this downpour.”

“Not a river.”

She blinked. “What?”

“We’re on the lake.”

“But isn’t that…” Whatever she was going to say frittered to nothing on the tip of her tongue as she spun in a slow, dizzying three sixty. Was it just yesterday that she’d considered landing on this lake? “There’s got to be a better way.”

“Fastest way to the other side is across. Going around would take at least two days. This, we can manage in a few hours.” He threw a look back in the direction they’d just come from. “Need to get there before the pea soup clears and that helicopter catches us smack in the middle.”

“But doesn’t rain melt ice? Won’t it accelerate breakup?”

“Yep.” After taking a long, swooping look behind them, he turned, giving her his back again. “Better hurry.”

***

It would take them hours to cross the lake, and even then, it could be too late. Because he’d felt that presence. He knew someone was on their tail, dogging the two of them every step of the way.

He didn’t have to see them to know they were there, somewhere. Didn’t have to smell their alien presence or hear the crunch of feet on ice. He felt it—in his bones, along his spine, his nerves, or wherever these things lived.

There were lessons he’d learned the hard way: not to trust strangers—sometimes even family and friends—not to depend on anyone else for survival, and to listen to that sixth sense that told him trouble was near.

Right now, every one of his internal warning bells was going off.

If nothing else, this woman who’d literally fallen from the sky had pushed the big red button in any number of ways, just by being here.

A little late, as far as warning signals went. And still not entirely to be trusted.

He huffed out a cynical sound.

Trust.

He couldn’t remember how it felt anymore—to really trust a person. Aside from Amka and Daisy, there wasn’t anyone alive who had his back.

One thing was damn sure—judging from the way Leo’d looked at him, she didn’t entirely trust him either, despite what he’d told her. Or maybe because of it. And that was as it should be. Meant she was smart.

He remembered the way she’d sat there and let him work on her head. Okay, so maybe she trusted him a little. Enough to let him stitch her up. Enough to follow him out here.

Enough to sleep against him in the dark.

Up ahead, through the almost horizontal wind-whipped rain, a group of pines slowly appeared, dim and silent, a shadow army emerging from the gloom.

He walked past it, feet splashing through puddles now rather than crunching over freshly fallen snow. His jaw was clenched, teeth gritted against the shocking chill of water soaking through his socks.

Leo was fairly well equipped, but nowhere near ready for this. And with a concussion to boot.

To boot. He huffed out a humorless sound. Since when had he started thinking like an eighty-year-old pioneer man?

Suddenly it felt too close to the truth to be funny.

Had he ever been carefree? No. No, he didn’t think so. Driven, yeah. Goal oriented. Even in college, he’d been hell-bent on success.

Another puddle engulfed his foot, this time with an audible splash.

“Hey,” Leo called. “Is that land?”

“Island.” The one word obviously dashed her hopes. But this was no time for hope. No place for it either. He could survive on his own, but unless this plan of his worked, the two of them, together, probably had about a five percent chance of making it out of this alive.

She drew up alongside him, her face turned away to look at the tiny, pine-spiked land mass. With longing, he imagined. And, sure, it would be good to stop and build a shelter. Get a fire going, warm up their toes.

“Nowhere near the other side yet.” Better to crush the hope now. No point letting it linger. Like trust, hope was pointless bullshit that only led to disappointment.

And death.

Geez. Morose much?

He swiped a hand over his face to clear the water from his eyes. Had the rain slowed?

It had better not. It was too early. As long as it continued, keeping the helicopter from joining in the manhunt, he and Leo could outpace the enemy. He glanced back. Where there’d been nothing only a short while ago, the other bank now appeared as a dark, hazy mass, the mountain like something out of one of those Japanese pen-and-ink drawings. The weather was improving. Dammit. “Come on. Gotta hurry.”

Instead of following his gaze and looking over her shoulder to confirm whatever he’d seen, she picked up her pace. As if she believed him. Trusted him.

He shivered and tried to shake off the extra weight on his shoulders. Damn word again.

“What is it?” She glanced up at him.

“Rain’s slowing down.”

After a few minutes fighting the headwind, bent almost double, she spoke again, her voice barely audible. “You’re worried about the aircraft returning.”

He nodded.

“So, what? You think they’ll hunt us down across the ice? And when the sun comes out, pick us off from above like…”

“Alaskan wolves?”

Unless he was mistaken, they’d shoot her on sight. She was expendable. More collateral damage in a senseless war. He sped up. Pushed himself faster, harder.

Hewas a different story. They needed what he had.

Or they thought they did. Either way, they’d stop at nothing.

He knew this from experience.

“Guess we’d better hurry across, then, huh?”

“Yeah. And once we make it, pray the ice cracks.” He forced a grim smirk to his lips. “With them on it.”

She stumbled, righted herself, and nodded. “Will do.”

***

Leo was not used to being the ball and chain in situations like this. She was used to speeding ahead, her body strong, her mind clear.

Right now, neither was true. But if she focused on a far-off object, she could keep up. The second she turned to the side or slowed or looked at the ground, she lost her steam.

Then again, even without the head injury and a body that felt beaten and broken, she would have had difficulty matching Elias’s pace. It wasn’t just that he was fast either. It was that he was fast in a place that wasn’t meant for humans. It was made for wolves and bears. Leo eyed the man’s wide back. And yetis, oh my.

Elias’s hand lifted, the movement sharp and sudden, and Leo froze instantly, eyes wide-open in the drizzle, poised for whatever came next.

Her eyes dipped to take in what she could see of his solid, muscle-bound form. He had the sure, careful gait of a man who’d definitely seen action. Of all kinds, whispered a lascivious little inner voice.

She blinked. What the hell was that? Had the bump to her head damaged her brain?

No, she reasoned. The action, the fatigue, and the stress of this situation felt like being back on deployment, where shit-talking was the norm. Except here she was having dirty, trash-talking conversations in her head instead of with her guys.

She flicked a look around, searching for whatever had made him freeze, and instantly regretted it when the world spun out of control.

The protein bar he’d foisted on her burned its way out of her belly and up her throat as her knees tried to give out.

Oh, hell. Not again.

She straightened her knees, swallowed to keep from gagging, and blinked fast and hard to keep the world right side up. Bile down. Air in. Bile down. Air out.

Her vision blurred, darkened. She shut her eyes and waited for the wave to pass.

When she opened them, Elias squatted beside her and leaned in, hand outstretched.

Whoa. Had she fallen?

“I…I’m fine. I can get up.” Maybe. If she concentrated really hard. Ignoring his hand—not to be a jerk, but because depending on him seemed like a long, slippery slope in a world of slippery slopes—she shifted back, steadied herself, and shoved up to standing, eyes screwed tight until the spins went away. Mostly. The ringing in her ears continued. Not a good sign.

“You walk?”

No.“Yes.” Definitely maybe. She put as much certainty into the word as she could. Sometimes confidence was all a girl had.

He pulled away, then returned with a curse when she started another slow slide earthward. Iceward.

“It’s fine,” she tried, but the words slurred together to make a sibilant mess in her mouth. “I’m fine. Don’t carry me. I can…”

He didn’t release her. Didn’t even look her way. Just trudged on, lugging her with him. The two of them a sodden, limping mass of humanity, with the happy dog leading.

Oh God. “Hang on.” She managed to pull away and yank her ski mask up just before throwing up on the ice. The pressure made her head feel close to exploding. Once she caught her breath, she breathed deep.

“Sorry.” Groaning, she put her hands to her streaming eyes. “I’m sorry.”

He didn’t respond.

When she looked up, it was to find him staring back in the direction from which they’d come.

“Let’s go.” The words were staccato quick. She grabbed the hand he offered this time and let him help her to standing just as a sharp bark burst through the quiet, so loud that she didn’t know where it had come from at first. Then another and another, the echoes pinging from one side of the lake to the other until the dueling retorts sounded more like rolling thunder than individual gunshots.

Gunshots.

Adrenaline was already pouring into her system by the time she recognized the sound. And this guy, superhuman machine that he was, didn’t even flinch when a bullet hit the ice inches from his foot—sending crystal in all directions, the shards sticking to his dog’s fur like minuscule chunks of glass. Aside from a grunt, his only response was to grab Leo, throw her over his shoulder, and run.