Every Step She Takes (Who's Watching Now Book 2) Page 4

  She forced herself to quicken her pace. It wouldn’t do to catch up to Travis too soon, but she didn’t want to get left behind, either. Following the established trail was easy enough, but if Sutton left it, she would need Travis’s tracking skills to find him.

  Who is Travis Barnett, and what’s his business with Sutton?

  When it came to a story, Grace liked to have all her ducks in a row. Knowing half the flock was running willy-nilly around the pond left her with an uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach. Travis was an enigma, and she was dead certain he knew a whole lot more about Casey Sutton than he was pretending.

  She readjusted the pack. “Old friend my ass.”

  The trail climbed more steadily than she did. Grace wiped sweat out of her eyes, pausing occasionally to drink from her water bottle or eat a handful of the trail mix Berta French had provided. Shaking the last of the snack into her hand, the light breeze sent the empty bag sailing off her fingertips. She turned to grab it and saw a streak of brown shoot into the bushes.

  Pressing a hand to her chest, she backed slowly away. The handful of nuts, pretzels, and dried fruit rained down onto the trail. The bush shook, and a long brown snout inched forward.

  If the animal didn’t get her, surely she’d die of fright. After the monster in the bush finished with her, they’d need dental records to identify her remains. Blood roared in her ears as she pictured the headline.

  Careless Journalist Devoured by Rabid Wolf

  Wary brown eyes and long, floppy ears appeared. The giggle that escaped her lips held an edge of hysteria. She clamped a hand over her mouth as the dog froze. Not a vicious woman-killer, after all. Trembling, the stray from the lake belly crawled to the spilled trail mix and gulped it down.

  Mindful of the pack, Grace squatted and held out her hand. “It’s okay, baby. I’m not going to hurt you.”

  The dog sniffed her fingers and backed up a step. Ribs showed beneath matted fur with each breath the poor animal took. Mostly brown with patches of dirty white, the dog was probably some sort of spaniel mix. If it wanted to follow her, she didn’t mind having company. In fact, she welcomed it.

  “Time to get moving, baby. Let’s go.” Standing, she trudged up the trail. Her new companion followed at a cautious distance. “Good boy.” She glanced back at the scrawny animal, tongue hanging, brown gaze focused on her backpack. He reminded her of the coyote in the old roadrunner cartoon. “I’ll call you Wylie. How does that sound?”

  Rolling her eyes, she shrugged her aching shoulders. If someone had told her a week ago she’d be reduced to talking to a stray in the middle of the Alaskan wilderness, she would have said they had more than one screw loose. It just went to show—

  Bright light reflecting off a shiny surface blinded her. She froze in the path then dove for cover behind the nearest tree. The dog disappeared in a flash.

  Less than fifty feet away, Travis tilted his head and lifted an aluminum water bottle to his lips. Setting it on the rock beside him, he took a bite out of a sandwich. His head turned slowly, eyes scanning the trail behind him. Grace stopped breathing. Finally he looked away, a smile curving the edges of his firm lips.

  Drawing much needed air into her lungs, she sagged against the tree as her heartbeat slowed. She’d thought for sure he’d seen her. She almost wished he had. Confronting him would be a relief. Almost. If he didn’t have a sudden personality warp, hack her into pieces and bury her body in a shallow grave.

  Shoving the sandwich wrapper into the backpack, he hefted it onto his shoulders. “If you get tired of crouching behind that tree, feel free to join me.” As he headed up the trail, his cheerful whistle drifted on the breeze.

  * * * *

  It was a freaking three-ring circus, or a scene out of one of those old Three Stooges movies. He lowered the binoculars and climbed back down to the trail. Travis Barnett led the parade with the hot little journalist closing the gap between them and a dog—a dog for Christ’s sake—following her.

  It had been a shock when he’s seen her on the plane, laughing and chatting with Barnett. Grace Hanover—a name from the past. Not his past, exactly, but close enough. The years rolled back, and all the old memories flooded to the surface. The pain of loss hit hard and fresh, but he’d tamped down his shock and got his emotions under control by the time they’d officially met. She didn’t have a clue who he was. Didn’t have a clue he’d followed every step she’d taken for years, knowing one day the time for justice would be right.

  But that time wasn’t now, despite the fact she’d practically landed in his lap. He had a job to do, and he wouldn’t let personal feelings intrude. Who Grace Hanover had been—what she’d caused all those years ago—didn’t matter at the moment. He forced back the memories and addressed his wandering attention to the situation at hand.

  He was a professional, not some extra in a sitcom. Who would have thought he’d have to get in line to find Sutton? If it wasn’t a matter of pride, he’d turn around and head straight back to the lower forty-eight and screw Estrada. But a contract was a contract, and word would get out damn quick if he failed to close the deal.

  Lifting his pack, he grunted as he shrugged it onto his shoulders. Grace Hanover was a joke, a two-bit reporter, but Barnett wasn’t. A quick internet search on Guthrie French’s computer had turned up plenty about the man. He’d obviously been hired to reel in Sutton. Barnett was good at what he did, but this time he’d fail. He’d let the former SEAL do the work of tracking their quarry before taking out Sutton, Barnett, and Grace. One, two, three—pop, pop, pop. Score settled. Out here in the middle of freaking nowhere, chances were the bodies would never be found.

  Chapter 5

  “How long have you known I was behind you?”

  Travis glanced over as Grace fell into step beside him. “Only the last mile or so. I stopped to eat so you could catch up.”

  She snorted. “Big of you.”

  A grin stretched his lips. “I thought so. Who’s your malnourished friend?”

  Grace shot a look over her shoulder. “That’s Wylie. He seems to like me.”

  Travis stopped and turned to face her. His gaze wandered from the top of her head down across her ribbed tank top and running shorts to the tips of her tennis shoes. Her cheeks heated as the seconds ticked by.

  “The mutt has good taste.”

  “I fed him pretzels.”

  “Then he’s probably yours for life.”

  She didn’t answer, refused to even blink as his laser blue gaze locked onto hers. Just in the last day, his light tan had darkened, emphasizing the startling clarity of his eyes. His jaw was shadowed with dark stubble. When his lips parted, it was more a baring of teeth than a smile.

  “You plan to explain why you’re following me?”

  “I’d rather not.”

  “If I thought for a minute it was because you couldn’t resist my questionable charms, I’d be thrilled.” He shoved his hands in his pockets. “However, I’m not that deluded, so spill it.”

  She thought about going with the excuse he’d handed her. It wouldn’t be a hardship to convince him she suffered from a terminal case of lust. But she drew the line at sleeping with a man, however tempting, just to get a story. “Why don’t you tell me why you’re pretending to be long lost friends with Casey Sutton?”

  Closing his eyes, he swore softly. “I should have known you weren’t up here to write a travel article. I suspected as much but hoped I was wrong.”

  She scowled at his self-pitying expression. “I’m not going to go away and let you write my story.”

  “Jesus, is that what you think, that I’m a rival reporter?”

  “Isn’t it the truth?”

  “Hell, no! I’m here to haul Sutton’s sorry ass back to Seattle and hand him over to the authorities. Since he blew his cover, there could be a dozen newshounds on their way to the lodge. And reporters are the least of my worries.”

  She fisted her hands on her hips. “What do you mea
n by that?”

  “I mean Estrada undoubtedly has a man headed up here to eliminate his problem.”

  Her stomach turned over. “Surely not.”

  “You found out where Sutton was hiding. Don’t kid yourself a Colombian drug lord doesn’t have a few connections.”

  “Why don’t you suspect me of being Estrada’s hit man—er, hit woman?”

  He laughed, a deep throated belly roll that sent tingles down her spine. Even when he was making fun of her, she couldn’t deny the heat sizzling between them. She wasn’t attracted to macho types, but this one pushed all her erogenous buttons.

  “It isn’t that farfetched.”

  “Honey, you stand out like neon on a palette of pastels. Not a desirable trait in a hit—woman.” His shoulders shook.

  “Since being a hit woman isn’t at the top of my wish list for career moves, I’ll take that as a compliment.” Her eyes narrowed. “And don’t call me honey.”

  “Sorry. Look, Grace, I’m going to find Sutton and get him out of here as fast as humanly possible. Hopefully without bloodshed, either his or mine. Your best bet is to turn around and head straight back to the lodge.”

  She marched up the trail then glanced over her shoulder. “Not going to happen.”

  He grabbed her arm. With a low warning growl, the dog shot forward and clamped onto his leg. Travis yelled and released her. “Call him off!”

  “Let go, Wylie. That’s it. Good boy.”

  The dog crouched on the trail, his attention focused on Travis. Kneeling beside him, Grace stroked his quivering back.

  “Jesus, he ripped my jeans.”

  “Are you okay?”

  Pushing the heavy denim up over his calf, he prodded the muscle. “It’s sore, but thanks to my boot, the skin isn’t broken.” He glared at the dog. “A good thing, since God only knows if he’s had his rabies shots.”

  “I’m glad you aren’t hurt, but it isn’t his fault. You shouldn’t have grabbed me.”

  Travis straightened and ran a hand through his short hair. “You’re right. I apologize.” He stared down at her. “I’m concerned about your welfare. Estrada and his hired thugs aren’t people you want to mess with.”

  “You don’t even know for sure he sent someone up here.” The dog’s coat was rough beneath her hand. She buried her fingers in his fur, the weight of uncertainty pressing down on her. “Of course I don’t want to put my life on the line for a story, but the risk here is fifty-fifty at best.”

  “More like eighty-twenty, and not in our favor. You’ll slow me down.”

  She stood. “If I do, just leave me in the dust. I can manage on my own.”

  “Then that’s what you’ll have to do. I’m not taking you with me.”

  Her heart plummeted to her sneakers. She’d been counting on traveling with Travis. Maybe if she showed him she wasn’t a liability… “I won’t go back.”

  He stared at her for so long she squirmed uncomfortably. She had no idea what he was thinking. Probably weighing his chances with the dog if he leaves me tied to a tree.

  “Suit yourself. See you, Grace.”

  Damn right he’d see her. Behind him every step of the way.

  Two hours later, she was beginning to wonder how long she could maintain the pace. Every time he glanced back, he walked a little bit faster. Gasping for breath and wiping sweat from her eyes, she forced herself into a run as the distance between them increased. The pack slapped against her back with every jarring step.

  Is he trying to kill me?

  When her toe hit a rock, she went down with a cry. Dirt and gravel embedded in her scraped knees. Rising on shaking legs, she ignored the blood running down her legs and stumbled forward.

  Wylie whined and pressed close. Grace resisted the urge to whimper right along with him.

  Ahead, Travis stopped and turned. His eyes darkened as he stared at her.

  Biting her lip, Grace kept coming.

  His shoulders lifted and fell on an exhaled breath. “Stop. Just stop.”

  Her fists clenched. “No.”

  “You win.” His eyes closed for a moment as he pressed fingers to his temples. “We’ll clean out those abrasions then move on together.”

  She swallowed and blinked back tears. “Thank you. I swear I won’t get in your way. I won’t be any trouble.”

  His pack hit the ground with a thump. After digging inside, he pulled out a first aid kit. His expression was closed when his gaze met hers.

  “You’re nothing but trouble. Let’s hope we both live to regret this. It sure as hell beats the alternative.”

  * * * *

  Hunger forced Travis to stop for the night. He’d set a grueling pace, hoping Grace would give up and go back to the lodge. Instead, she’d stuck with him step for step, and she hadn’t complained. Not once. Not even after she’d fallen. She was probably sorer than hell, and he felt like a bastard for pushing her. Knowing he was the reason she’d shredded the skin off her knees made him sick to his stomach. Despite the very real danger they’d come face to face with a killer before he located Sutton, Grace was safer with him than she would be alone. At the end of the day, he didn’t really have a choice.

  “Let me get that.” He grabbed the backpack and eased it off her shoulders then leaned it against a towering cedar tree in the small clearing about fifty feet from the trail. Nearby, the creek they’d followed pooled at the base of a short waterfall before tumbling down the hillside toward the valley below.

  Grace stretched from side to side, grimacing. “I don’t know what has more appeal, a quick dip in the stream to wash off the filth or something to eat.”

  “We can clean up while the food cooks.” His hand stilled on the strap of his pack. “You do have food, don’t you?”

  She nodded. “Berta gave me packets of freeze-dried stuff. I didn’t bring a stove. I wanted to travel light, and I figured I could share yours.”

  Pulling out the ultra-light, single burner stove and an aluminum pan, he set them on a flat rock. “You were so sure I’d share?”

  Her smile looked tired. “I can be fairly convincing when I try.”

  His gut clenched. “I bet. I’ll start some water boiling.” He eyed her drooping shoulders. “Why don’t you just relax. After that marathon hike, you deserve a break.”

  “If you’re sure I can’t help, I’ll go clean up. Take whatever food you want out of my pack.”

  Travis filled the pan with water and lit the stove. When he pulled a packet of beef stew out of her backpack, he couldn’t help noticing she wasn’t carrying a tent. Does she expect to share mine? Just thinking about snuggling up with Grace in the one-man tent he’d brought gave him an instant hard on.

  “Jesus.” He rubbed the back of his neck and tried to will his body into submission. He was up here to find Sutton and get the man out of Alaska, not to have a vacation romp in the sack with the most tantalizing woman he’d met in a very long time. Even if the timing didn’t suck, he was positive Grace Hanover would turn him inside out and leave him hanging out to dry when their fling ended. Best not to even think about the possibility. Best to keep their relationship strictly casual.

  With the stew heating, he grabbed a bar of soap and a towel and headed down to the creek—and rocked to a stop. Grace floated in the pool, eyes closed, a tiny smile curving her lips. She wore nothing but a pair of purple panties and a matching jog bra. The underwear covered more than your average bathing suit, but his body wasn’t convinced. His erection returned in full force. Terrific.

  The dog gave him a narrow eyed look when he sat down on a rock and removed his boots, followed by his socks and T-shirt.

  Grace’s eyes opened. “Come on in. The water’s cold but invigorating.”

  In his present condition, cold was good. Frigid would be better. Now what the hell should he do? He wanted to jump in, but he didn’t dare take off his jeans. Crouching by the edge of the pool, he splashed his chest and arms. Cold was an understatement. The freezing water d
eflated his ardor to the point where he could safely remove his pants. Chucking them onto the rock, he waded in wearing nothing but a pair of plaid boxers.

  Gritting his teeth, he stopped waist deep and lathered up. “How long have you been in there? You’re going to turn into a Popsicle.”

  Long, dark lashes fluttered against her cheeks. “I have a high tolerance for cold.”

  “Lucky you.” Travis finished his makeshift bath, dipped in to wash off the soap then waded back to shore. He was covered in so many goose bumps, he looked like plucked poultry. Not exactly the manly image he wanted to project. Rubbing briskly with a towel to get the blood flowing, he glanced over at Grace. “Dinner should be about ready.”

  She ducked under the surface and came up laughing. Water streamed from her long hair and ran in rivulets down smooth skin, flowing over the slopes of her breasts. She was so beautiful his breath seized in his chest. But her perfection made it easier to take a step back. Normal guys like him didn’t belong with women like Grace Hanover.

  He pulled on his jeans and draped the towel around his neck. “The stew will stay warm so don’t feel you have to rush.”

  She blinked wet eyelashes, and her lips tightened. “I don’t bite, Travis.”

  “You sure?”

  The frown disappeared. “Not hard, anyway.”

  “That’s what they all say.” Taking a deep breath, he let it out slowly. “I’ll go set up the tent while you dress. Then we’ll eat.”

  “Travis.”

  He paused and looked over his shoulder. Her green eyes were as soft and vulnerable as the first buds of spring.

  “Thanks for being a good sport. I’m pretty self-sufficient, but camping alone would have scared the crap out of me.”

  His heart fluttered. “Not a problem.” With his control stretched to the limit, he bolted up the short incline to the campsite. Away from temptation.

  * * * *

  Grace stretched her hands out to the campfire’s blaze, welcoming the steady heat. Temperatures had plummeted as the sun lowered behind the mountains. Her knees hurt, but thankfully the scrapes hadn’t been deep. Her whole body ached, though not in a bad way. More like the tired satisfaction of a good workout. If only she had a nice firm mattress to stretch out on instead of the thin pad waiting for her in the tent. The tent she’d be sharing with Travis. Thinking about it sent an uneasy mixture of anticipation and wariness racing through her veins.