Page 47 of Peril in Piney Woods

As if he’d said out loud that her weapon was poking him, her hand slid between her back and his stomach and retrieved the weapon. A few seconds later he understood that the move hadn’t been about his thoughts. The sound of undergrowth brushing fabric and boots crushing wild grass whispered across his senses.

The bad guys were close.

His arms tightened on her waist. She placed a hand on his clasped ones and squeezed reassuringly. He realized then that she had been only too glad for him to climb in first. Of course she had. That way her body shielded his. He locked his jaw and barely resisted the urge to shake his head. He should have thought of that—not that it would have done any good. She didn’t take orders from him. She’d made that clear. If she had her way, she would be long gone and he’d never see her again.

For his protection.

He closed his eyes and focused on controlling his breathing. No need to allow his anger and frustration to show more than it already had. He damned sure didn’t want her mistaking his tension for fear. He wasn’t afraid, damn it. He blinked. Maybe he was. But not for himself. For her.

Given that these people from her past wanted to kill her—at least that was what she’d said, and he had no reason to believe she was lying about that aspect of all this—she would be safer if she could disappear. Rather than selfishly wanting her to stay, he should work harder to help her escape, to disappear. These scumbags would follow. No question about that. Griff and Meg were hiding in a pile of boulders with two or more armed killers tracking them like deer in open season. The intent was undeniable.

He’d been certain if she would only trust Ernie and Sheriff Norwood that they could sort this out. He’d even considered waiting until she fell asleep and using her phone to call his friend but he understood now that wasn’t a gamble he was willing to take.

Urging her to stay, hoping she would, wasn’t the right thing. If he wanted her safe—and he did—he should do everything in his power to help her disappear.

The reality crushed against his chest, made getting a breath nearly impossible.

The hair on the back of his neck stood on end. They were really close now. He reminded himself that unless the bad guys knew about the pile of rocks, there was no reason for them to veer in this direction. The rocks were dozens of steps in the wrong direction, in fact, back toward the cabin. He hoped these bastards assumed he and Meg were heading away from it. The clouds had shifted, so moon-and starlight were minimal. They should be okay. Yet, even knowing the trouble likely wouldn’t come to the rocks, it was near enough for him to understand most of the words being muttered. A new thread of tension tightened inside him.

“They couldn’t have gotten far,” a man said. “Not without flashlights. It’s dark as hell out here.”

A crash followed by a “son of a bitch” had Griff biting back a laugh. Someone had obviously run into a tree. The idea made him inordinately happy.

“I hate the damned woods.” Female voice.

Not the Darlene woman. She was likely still in custody. Someone else.

“We should go back.” Man’s voice. Not the first guy who had spoken. Someone else.

Meg’s body tensed noticeably. Griff’s did the same. She recognized this voice, he suspected.

“If they had gone back to the cabin,” the second man said, “we would’ve heard gunshots. Grayson has orders to shoot on sight. Trying to find them in the dark like this is an exercise in futility. We’ll wait them out. They’ll have to show up someplace, somewhere they feel safe, maybe with someone they can trust.”

“I’m with you,” the woman said.

“We’ll get them,” the first guy commented. “You can’t cover much ground on foot in the dark in terrain like this.”

Unless, Griff thought, you know your way around.

Their noisy departure faded as the group moved farther and farther away. Meg turned her face toward Griff’s and held her finger to his lips.

He was just guessing here, but she apparently suspected the overheard conversation might be a ruse. She didn’t move. He did the same. The natural night sounds enveloped the darkness once more. Now that the danger appeared to have passed—possibly—Griff wrestled with his body’s reaction to her butt being pressed into his lap. He thought about the animals back at his place. He thought about the video he’d watched of her slicing that guy’s throat. None of it alleviated the situation. His body just kept hardening.

He was on the verge of going over the edge, and if she moved, that would be the end of his control for sure.

Rustling grass snapped his thoughts away from the tension building between them.

The beam of a flashlight flickered in the trees.

Griff held his breath.

She had been right to wait. At least one of them was still out there.

The light danced over the rocks.

Holy hell.

The threat moved closer. Grass crushed under footfalls. Fabric rustled against fabric. The beam of light skipped over their location, thankfully not pausing long enough to reveal the crevice in which they remained packed like sardines.

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