Page 11 of Forest Reed
“Good,” I panted. “Now let’s terrify the rest. We’ll wrap them up and haul all of them to jail.”
He picked up the net, folded it neatly, and tucked it under his arm like laundry.
I blinked at him. “You’re taking it?”
“They wanted us in it.” His gaze swept the treeline. “We’ll flip it back on them.”
The corner of my mouth kicked up. “Mountain Man, remind me never to play board games with you.”
8
Forest
By the time we made it back to the cabin, the adrenaline had simmered into bone-deep awareness. Zoe moved like fire, sharp and fast, and I couldn’t get the image out of my head of her standing on that boulder, hair a mess, shouting threats that made grown men run.
She dropped into a chair, pulled off her jacket, and hissed. A shallow slice streaked her shoulder where the net had cut in.
“Don’t,” she warned as I reached for the med kit.
I ignored her, kneeling close. “It’s not deep, but it’ll sting.”
“You’ll sting,” she muttered, but she didn’t move when I swabbed it clean. Her breath caught, soft and involuntary. My hands wanted to linger, but I forced myself to be clinical.
“Bandage or butterfly?” I asked.
“Whatever makes you shut up faster,” she said, touching my face.
I taped her up. She glanced at me, then at the net folded in the corner. “So what’s the plan, genius?”
I spread the map across the table again. “The Xs weren’t random. They line up with old logging spurs. That ravine? It’sthe midpoint. They’re running goods through here, Harris has his nose in everything.”
“And if we shut the mountain down?” she asked.
“They’ll shift to the city,” I said. “That’s why they wanted you alive. They know you’re the wedge between both.”
Her eyes flicked to mine. “So I’m bait.”
“Partner,” I corrected. “And right now, they don’t know we’ve got their net.”
Her mouth curved, slow and dangerous. “So we set a trap.”
“Exactly.”
For a second, silence stretched between us—her eyes on mine, the weight of the night before still humming between us. She shifted, pulling her knees up, flannel sliding down her shoulder to reveal the bandage I’d just placed.
“You know,” she said, voice lighter now, “city guys usually take me to dinner before springing ambushes in culverts.”
I let out a breath that wasn’t quite a laugh. “Mountain guys usually don’t let anyone close enough to share coffee.”
Her smile softened, and I couldn’t stop myself—I leaned in, kissed her once, slow this time, not wildfire but steady flame.
When I pulled back, her forehead rested against mine. “We’re really doing this, aren’t we?” she whispered.
“Yeah,” I said. “We are.”
But before I could say anything else, the burner phone we’d taken from the crate buzzed against the wood table.
Zoe froze. “We didn’t turn that on.”
