Page 63 of Damned
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Kruze kept Bree positioned ahead of him, careful to not crowd her, but staying close enough to catch her if she slipped. They needed to hurry and get out of sight, but he refused to push a novice. These basalt columns were sharp and, in places, slick. She didn’t need the added stress.
He’d scoured these forests and hills before he’d bought the property after his mother died. Scarlett’s death had left her three sons filthy rich bastards, but instead of mourning her and letting her death eat at him, like Chance had after he’d quit the Navy, Kruze put his inheritance to good use. This tract of land on the other side of the country gave him space from his brothers. But with each step he climbed, he wondered why he’d ever thought he’d needed this much space.
Kruze kept an eye out for flashes or reflections off a scope or binoculars that might be behind him or off to the side. If he were the hunter today, he’d settle on his belly in a blind built high in one of the trees. He’d take time to sight his scope, and he’d send others to brush his prey toward him. He’d make his prey go where he wanted them. Where he could kill them without being seen.
But Kruze didn’t think anyone from NYC would be familiar enough with this part of Maine or smart enough to track him and Bree. It was more likely Vick had relied on maps to get him here. Problem with that thinking was most maps were one-dimensional images of topography and geological features. Even the computerized versions left out significant details, like this rock face in the middle of nowhere and how steep it was. Real hunters, on the other hand, knew the characteristics of the lands where they hunted, because they’d actually put boots on the ground, followed deer trails and tracked animals. They knew where to look for bear scat, tree bark bruised by moose antlers or raked by bear claws. But now, some guy from New York City thought he could hunt Bree?
We’ll just see about that.Kruze grabbed onto the protruding edge of the rock above her, then settled over her while she clung panting to this vertical face of basalt. Further up, the basalt turned into wider columns with deeper crevices and cracks. It’d be easier to climb. But Bree was wearing out, and they still had a ways to go.
He wrapped a solid arm around her waist and bowed his forehead between her shoulder blades while they rested. He was damned near dead on his feet, and she needed to catch her breath. Not that the altitude was high or thin, but more because she was running scared. She hadn’t planned on rock-climbing or falling out of the sky. He was proud of her. She was so much stronger than he’d realized.
Kruze prayed his stamina held out until he got Bree to safety. The pain in his side had become a nagging brand that lanced all the way through his gut now. When they’d started climbing, he’d been running on adrenaline, pissed that Harvey Lantz had the gawddamned nerve to send an assassin after Bree. And Robin! A three-year-old baby, for fuck sakes! Just thinking about that bastard Vick riled Kruze again.
But the euphoria that came from that initial blast of adrenaline was long gone, and he was hurting. “Slow and steady,” he told Bree, keeping his tone calm. “We’re ahead of the game. Just a couple more miles once we’re over the top, sugar. We can make it.”
She nodded, her fingers dug into the dirt and her knee wedged in the crack between two rocks. “I’ve never rock climbed before,” she admitted.
“Easy, isn’t it?”
She barked out a sarcastic, “Yeah, sure. Easy. Unless we fall.”
“Don’t look down. You’re doing great. Once we get up top, we’ll be home safe.”
“What if Damon catches us before we get there?”
Kruze ignored her question. No sense borrowing trouble. “What’s he look like? Is he tan and rugged, or does he shave his junk every day and drink over-priced mocha latte bullshit out of a paper cup called aventi?” Kruze tweaked that last word with a healthy shot of sarcasm.
“Shave his junk?” Bree chuckled. “Mocha latte bullshit?”
“You know what I mean. Is he a real man or another wannabe tough guy with a big mouth? Has he done any military service? What pictures are on his office walls? Fancy art or—?”
She put her head down.
“Bree, are you okay?” he asked, twisting his upper body to see her face.
“I’m okay,” she murmured breathlessly. But she was still looking down between her and the basalt she was clinging to. “What if I fall?”
His arm tightened around her waist. “Simple. I’ll catch you.” He looked down and to his right, where he suspected Vick would show, if he’d even tracked them this far. Way down there, a deer trail ran along this basalt face for miles. Some parts of that trail were clearings wide enough that a hunter could easily see him and Bree—if he were smart enough to look up. To Kruze’s left, the same trail ran in the opposite direction, but without offering the same visibility.
“But Kruze…” Bree was breathing through pursed lips now. “If I don’t make it, if I die out here—”
“Kee-rist sake. You’re not going to die out here, not with me on your six.” He was damned sure of that.
“Listen to me,” she whispered to the cold, rock wall. She was shaking now. “Please, I need you to hear me. If something happens, if I don’t make it back, promise me you’ll raise Robin. Please. Tell her I never stopped loving her, but I need to know you’ll always be there for her. My mom and dad love her, but she needs her daddy. Please. Never let her forget me.” Bree’s forehead tipped into the stone, and Kruze knew she was crying, that she didn’t want him to see.
Burrowing his nose between that soft fragrant part of her neck and the collar of his leather jacket, he huffed out a warm breath. If she married him or not, he’d always love this woman. “Tell our daughter you love her yourself, sugar. That little girl’s waiting for both of us, not just me. Now get your ass up this hill.” He kneed Bree’s backside very gently to get her moving, also to make it clear he would kick that ass before he’d let her die.
“Okay,” she said a little too quietly.
“Don’t you dare give up on me, Banks,” he growled.
“That’s what I told you yesterday, when you passed out.” Her voice wavered.
And Kruze wanted to kick his own ass. Bree had worked her backside off yesterday, then stayed awake all night guarding him. He’d been driving her too hard. But not once had she complained during this forced march. She’d kept up and, like him, she was carrying a full load. Bree hadn’t lost her nerve. The poor thing was simply worn out.
“Change of plans, sugar,” he whispered into that same warm spot in her neck. “Let’s take a break.”
