Page 66 of Searching Blind

“One problem.” He looked toward her voice and hated to extinguish the hope he heard there. “The moment we set off that flare—if it works—we pinpoint our location.”

“Isn’t that the point?”

“Yes, but more than Veronica and Connelly will be able to find us.”

“Oh,” she said softly, and he heard her drop onto a nearby boulder as the realization hit. “Oh, shit. The shooter.”

chapter

twenty-three

Lucy studied Sawyer from the corner of her eye as they waited. He seemed back to his old self, all chiseled determination and steady composure, but she kept picturing how he was last night, vulnerable and in pain.

She had been so scared. More scared than she’d ever been in her life, and she’d been kidnapped by a serial killer. But seeing him weak and hurting had triggered something in her, something deep and fierce and utterly terrifying.

Sawyer was one of the strongest people she knew. He was always steady and sure, always joking and laughing in the face of danger or hardship. She’d seen him do things that most people would find impossible. He was blind, but he never let his lack of sight hold him back. And he never complained.

But last night…

Despite his near superhuman ability to remain steady in the face of danger, last night had reminded her he was just a man.

God, she had never felt so helpless.

He sat against a tree with Zelda faithfully at his side, his face raised toward the sun. He looked relaxed, like he was just enjoying a beautiful dawn on the mountain. But she knew better. He was simultaneously listening for the helicopter and focusing on any unusual sounds that might signal the shooter's approach. Every now and then, he would rub his swollen knee and wince.

Lucy shifted nervously, casting worried glances at the sky. Rescue was so close, yet felt a million miles away. She couldn’t make herself believe this nightmare was finally over until she and Sawyer were safely inside the helicopter and headed home.

The silence was eerie, as if the forest itself was holding its breath in anticipation. Dew-drenched leaves glistened under the golden shafts of sunlight. Normally, it would be beautiful, but—and she never thought she’d think this—she’d had more than enough of nature for a while. She pulled her jacket tighter against herself, despite the chill of the fog not really being the reason for her shivers.

"A penny for your thoughts?” Sawyer broke the silence, looking in her direction but not directly at her.

Lucy snorted. "You can't afford my thoughts, Murphy," she said with a forced half-smile. His constant attempts at levity in stressful situations, though irritating, were comforting in a way.

His laughter echoed through the clearing, breaking the heavy tension that had settled. The sound was warm and familiar.

"Fair enough," he conceded while his attention shifted back to the sky above them. “But mine are free, if you’re curious.”

She didn’t want to be. She was already far too close to him. Any closer, and she’d completely lose her heart. She shifted toward him. “Okay. What are you thinking about?”

He grinned. “Getting you naked again.”

She rolled her eyes. “Of course you are.”

“When we get home, I plan to keep you in my bed for days. I want to take my time and explore every inch of you. I want to know what you taste like when you come. I want your smell all over my sheets, my skin.” His grinned turned wicked. “Your breathing changed. Are you wet thinking about it?”

She was, and squeezed her thighs together. “No.”

His head tilted as if he could hear the rush of her pulse. “Liar.”

Damn him. The man had a way of sweeping away her defenses, making her forget for a moment the very real danger lurking in the wilderness around them.

Before she could respond—not that she had any idea what to say to that—the whup-whup-whup of an approaching helicopter snagged her attention. She popped to her feet and exhaled in a rush of giddy relief as the bird appeared over a ridge, its blades chopping through the morning fog. The sight of it, blocky and solidly real and safe, made something tight in her chest loosen.

“Send up the flare,” Sawyer said, getting to his feet with a wince. “We’re getting off this fucking mountain.”

She nodded and reached for the flare gun. As she loaded it, her hands shook from a combination of nerves and relief.

It was over.

---