Page 36 of Aviator
If I were another, more insecure man, that statement would have had me feeling rejected. But no. I know we’ll get out of here, and she’ll think she can go back to her life the way it was, but she’s wrong. She just hasn’t realized things have changed, but that’s okay. I’m pretty patient and persuasive when it comes to reaching an objective.
Finally, I let go and say, “Still got a ways to go, princess. Let’s keep up the pace while we’ve got the light.”
She rolls her eyes, and my hands ball into fists at my sides to keep from slapping her on the ass in a gentle rebuke. “Yeah, yeah. That mocha is calling my name, so I’m not going to argue. In fact, if your leg wasn’t hurt, I’d race you the rest of the way.”
“Sure you would.” I have no doubt she would, too. That dipshit she’d been with had dulled her shine a little, but the Kenna I’d come to know? She could handle anything that came at her or anything she put her mind to. Even a giant asshole like me.
My energy is rapidly waning, and my leg is still screaming at me, but we have no choice but to keep going. I haven’t forgotten the assholes at Jamie’s place, so I keep an ear out for danger. But I’m hoping they wrote us off for dead and won’t come looking.
An hour later, we’ve made it a good distance. We’ve just finished polishing off the last of our granola bars and drinking from the water bottles when that listening pays off. I hear the soft crunch of snow underfoot, followed by thecrackof a twig snapping.
Kenna either doesn’t notice or hear, but she’s so distracted by the last bite of her granola bar she probably wouldn’t notice a car driving straight at her. Careful to not freak her out unnecessarily, I slowly get to my feet and move closer to the tree line where the sound came from.
“I’m so sick of granola, I swear to God. If I never have trail mix or granola bars again, it’ll be too soon.”
“Mm-hmm,” I say, my ears straining to hear over the sound of the wind.
“It’s not even the good granola either. It’s the dry kind that tastes like dust and doesn’t even have crappy chocolate chips to improve the taste.”
I take another step to the woods, my heart beating so hard I can feel it in the aching of my broken leg. “Right,” I murmur.
When I’ve convinced myself I’m starting to imagine things, I hear another sound. Another snapped twig. Fuck, but the one time I don’t have a gun on me is when I need it the most. All I can think about is being cornered by those guys, defenseless and with no way to protect Kenna.
“Dean?” Her voice sounds worried.
“Stay there,” I tell her.
“What’s wrong?” she asks, her voice notably lower. “Why are you looking at the woods like that?”
“Probably nothing. Heard something.”
Of course, the damn woman doesn’t stay put like I asked. She moves close to my back and grips my jacket in her hand. “What did you hear?”
Before I can answer, there’s a loud grunting sound, and Kenna’s hand tightens in my jacket.
“What the hell is that?” she whispers.
“More than likely, it’s a deer.” But I still reach down for a fallen limb.
Shadows shift in the depths of the woods. Kenna’s body inches impossibly closer until she’s pressed almost completely against my back. I can feel her trembling against me.
For a few long, tense moments we wait, barely breathing. Then, the figure gets close enough to the edge of the woods that we can see the protruding antlers and lithe body of a deer.
We both let out a collective breath. I let the stick lower to the ground, and my shoulders relax. Kenna lets out a burst of laughter.
“Man, we really need to get off this mountain. I think I’m starting to go crazy.”
“You’re not kidding.”
The deer stares at us with watchful eyes for a few more minutes and then ambles on, retreating into the shadows of the forest. Kenna’s hand stays twined in my jacket until the deer is completely gone from view.
“Come on, let’s keep going. It can’t be too much longer.”
“You know,” she says as she starts back down the road, “I’m starting to think you have no idea how long it’s going to take. Because I’m pretty sure it’s not the first time you’ve said that.”
“Well, I don’t have my GPS on me, so I can’t tell you for sure, princess.”
I can practically hear her roll her eyes. “I wish you’d stop calling me that,” she grumbles.
