Freefall (9 page)

Beside her, Sam made an urgent gesture. He pointed at the single dry sack, and then showed her his open hands.

They’d left the other bag near the entrance.

Oh God.

“Now what?” one of the men said.

“We wait.”

“Del Norte is long gone. You know he never got over...her.”

“How many times have I told you not to talk about that?”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“Just shut the fuck up.”

They continued smoking. Hope couldn’t remember the last time she’d been so close to a lit cigarette. No one smoked indoors in California, and the Sierras were full of health nuts. Its residents were more likely to spark up a joint.

“Del Norte isn’t the only one who knows where the stuff is,” the first man said. Leather, she surmised.

“What do you mean?”

“There’s some ranger running around here. She took photos of the stash.”

Hope wondered where they got this information. Did they have a mole in park services?

“The next time she checks in on her radio, saying where she is, we’ll go get her. She can guide us to the cargo. Problem solved.”

She glanced at Sam, who was vibrating with tension beside her. The smugglers had been able to intercept her radio signals.

“Rangers have guns,” Poncho said.

They certainly did. She tightened her grip on the weapon, wondering if she should interrupt this conversation right now. These jokers thought they were going to hunt
her
down and push her around?

“So do we,” Leather replied.

The fact that they were also armed, and she had no backup, kept her quiet in the shadows. If they didn’t cooperate—and odds were they wouldn’t—the risk might prove fatal. She had to consider Sam’s safety, as well as Faith’s and her own. A failed attempt to detain them could be disastrous for everyone.

Poncho and Leather discussed the plan, still smoking. They knew everything. They knew the suspect was with a young woman, and that Hope had a male companion. Their priority was to recover the drug stash, but capturing Del Norte was also essential. Apparently this guy was persona non grata since he’d gone AWOL.

Sam caught her attention, hooking his thumb toward the dark recesses. He wanted to creep away, but she shook her head no. She’d only been in this cave once before, and she wasn’t familiar with its layout. There was no guarantee of an escape route. They might hit a wall or a steep drop-off. Any noise they made would draw attention. It wasn’t wise to move out of hiding unless they had no other options.

A moment later, the choice was made for them.

“What the hell is this?” Leather said.

He’d found Sam’s pack.

“Go,” Sam whispered, grabbing her by the arm and shoving her in front of him.

It was all wrong. She had the gun, so she should bring up the rear. But there was no time to argue or switch places, and they didn’t have the luxury of stealth. Heart pounding, she crept down the dark corridor, praying for a throughway.

If they reached a dead end, they’d be screwed.

Leather and Poncho heard their frantic motions, of course. The men entered the passage, turning on their flashlight. Its beam illuminated a dip in the cave floor. Hope cried out as she tripped over it and almost lost her footing.

Sam grasped the back of her jacket to jerk her upright.

“Hey!” Leather yelled.

“Go,” Sam repeated, pushing her forward but keeping a firm grip on her hood.

She started running, her chest tight with panic. They could hurtle off a sharp precipice or tumble into a well of echoes at any moment. She pictured herself broken and muddy, wrestling skeletons in the muck. The men behind them closed the distance in crashing bounds.

Hope came to a fork in the cavern. She went right, into nothingness, and the path dissolved under her feet. Sam fell with her, unable to fight gravity or forward momentum. Luckily, it was a short drop to the cavern floor. They landed in a jumbled heap. The air whooshed from her lungs and the gun flew out of her hand. While she struggled for oxygen, Sam looked over her shoulder.

“Oh, fuck,” he said, staring into the abyss.

She gaped like a fish out of water, her mouth open in a silent scream. Poncho arrived at the entryway, shining a flashlight on the scene. Leather halted beside him, frozen.

Sam heaved her toward a pocket in the cave wall and crammed in next to her. She inhaled a deep breath to clear her head. As the fog lifted, she was struck by a number of disturbing sensory details. The room they’d stumbled into smelled of scat and wet fur. She felt the presence of something...big.

A massive shape lumbered from its depths, emitting a fierce roar.

Bear.

CHAPTER NINE

H
OPE
CLUNG
TO
Sam as the bear came closer.

It was immense, at least four hundred pounds, with a thinning summer coat and powerful haunches. While she watched, eyes wide with terror, the bear swiped its claws over the ground and made a loud huffing sound.

She could smell fish on its breath.

The bear was focused on the two men in the passageway. It might have felt challenged because they were standing upright, blocking the path. Maybe it was bothered by the flashlight. Instead of backing away slowly, one of the men drew his gun and fired a warning shot. Not a smart move. The animal went ballistic. In a blur of motion, the bear charged, its roar echoing through the chamber. Both men hollered as they fled down the corridor.

Sam rolled out of his hiding place. “You okay?”

“Yes.”

“Let’s go.”

She didn’t need to be asked twice. After finding her gun and stashing it in the dry pack, she scrambled to her feet. Sam grasped her seeking hand. Staying here wasn’t a good idea, and she sure as hell wasn’t going to follow the bear.

They climbed out of the cavern and headed down the opposite passageway. Hoarse male shouts and low growls reverberated in her ears as they descended into the cave’s bowels. She couldn’t see her hand in front of her face.

Before they went too far, Sam rigged a simple safety line. Removing the lace from his hiking boot, he tied one end to the front of his belt and attached the other to the racer back of her sports top.

“You think that’ll hold?” she whispered.

“It should. It’s rappelling cord.”

This time, when he insisted that she go first, she didn’t mind. She’d rather break a leg than worry about a bear breathing down her neck. Stomach churning, she shuffled through the darkness, arms stretched out before her.

The sounds of bear and man faded. Maybe the smugglers had been mauled and eaten. It was more likely that the bear had scared them off and they’d fled the area. Hope wasn’t heading back to find out. They continued down the serpentine passageway. Every few feet, Sam flicked on his lighter, illuminating the space.

After what seemed like hours, they stopped to rest.

Hope’s emotions overwhelmed her. She sank to a seated position, her face crumpling. He put his arm around her and drew her head to his chest as she began to cry in ragged sobs. She felt embarrassed by her lack of stoicism. Her tears dried up a few moments later, disappearing as suddenly as they’d struck. He continued to stroke her hair and hold her close.

“Do you want to turn back?” she asked.

“No,” he said. “What do you think?”

“I don’t know. I’m not familiar with this cave system. We could get lost.”

They could get
more
lost, rather. As of now, they’d stuck to the right in hopes of discovering an alternative exit. She wasn’t certain she could find her way back to the mouth of the cave, even if she wanted to.

“At least we didn’t get shot,” she said.

“Or eaten by a bear.”

They both burst out laughing, edgy from stress and relief. It was quiet, muffled laughter, impossible to stifle. She clapped a hand over her mouth and rested her forehead on his shoulder, her body quaking with mirth.

“That was close,” she said, wiping the tears from her cheeks.

“Yes.”

They shared a handful of pistachios and drank half of their water. Sam pressed a tiny rectangle into her palm.

“What is it?” she asked.

“Gum.”

“You only have one piece?”

“No, I have a few. I want to save them.”

Having lost one of the packs, they didn’t have enough food or water. Nodding, she tore the piece in half and searched for his mouth in the dark. As he accepted the gum from her, his tongue touched her fingertips, warm and wet.

She brought the other half to her lips, licking the same fingertips. As if he could see her, or sense the action, she flushed and dropped her hand. “I can’t use my radio.”

“No,” he agreed.

“I’m worried about Faith.”

“Do you think she’s being held against her will?”

“I don’t know,” she said, chewing her gum. “According to Ron, she volunteered to hike. That’s not like her.”

“Why not?”

“She’s the indoor type. Shopping is her favorite exercise.”

“Has she been whitewater rafting before?”

“No.”

“The Kaweah is pretty hard-core,” he said. “Some people would rather hike than raft.”

She nodded. “Ron also said she was friendly with the suspect. She might have been flirting with him.”

“Is that typical?”

“Yes. She’s always been boy-crazy.”

“How old is she?”

“Twenty-six.”

“You mother her,” he said.

Although his tone was light, not accusatory, she felt the blood drain from her face. “Do you have sisters?”

“No.”

She relaxed a little. He didn’t know what he was talking about. “It’s not really her fault. Faith is a guy magnet. Everywhere we go, men stare at her.”

“The same way they stare at you?”

“Men don’t stare at me.”

He made a skeptical noise. “Whatever you say.”

Hope knew she wasn’t as sexy or flamboyant as Faith. In this situation, her sister’s popularity was troubling. Hope tried to think on the bright side. Faith had never met a man she couldn’t manipulate. Except Tom, perhaps.

“He has a dislocated shoulder,” Sam said.

“He’s still a killer.”

“Maybe he acted in self-defense.”

She brought her knees to her chest, shivering. Poncho and Leather were serious criminals. Even if Del Norte wasn’t a rapist or a cold-blooded murderer, he was dangerous. Faith could get caught in the cross fire.

“Is your family religious?” he asked.

“No. Why?”

“Hope and Faith.”

“Oh. No, my parents are just hippie, free-spirit types. They own an organic plant nursery. We could have easily been Daisy and Meadow.”

He laughed softly. “Yours, too? Sam is short for Samson.”

“Samson what?”

“Pax Rutherford.”

She smiled, thinking it had a nice ring.

“There’s no story behind the names?”

“Well, my mother’s name is Joy, and my grandmother’s name is Charity, so it’s kind of a family theme. She also had several miscarriages before we came along. She didn’t think she could carry a child to full term. When she got pregnant with me, I was Hope. Two years later, she had Faith.”

He didn’t respond, and she fell quiet. It was difficult for her to speak about pregnancies and motherhood. Maybe he could hear the yearning in her voice.

“What do your parents think about you working all the way out here?” he asked.

“It’s only a few hours from Ojai.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

She was caught off guard by the question. He’d already offered some uncomfortable insights about her relationship with Faith. After a near-death experience, forty-eight hours of stress and two crying jags, she felt intensely vulnerable. “What do your parents think of your free-soloing?”

“They don’t care for it.”

Of course they didn’t. She wished she hadn’t asked.

“We should keep going,” he said.

She rose to her feet and moved in front of him, taking the lead once again. He couldn’t illuminate the path as often because they needed to conserve lighter fluid. If they managed to escape this hellhole, building a fire would be the first priority. Hope was cold and uncomfortable in her wet clothes. Once she stopped moving, the chill would be unbearable.

They fell into a rhythm of shuffling feet and searching hands. Sam had to keep an arm stretched above his head, because his height demanded greater clearance. She continued to worry about Faith and second-guess her exchanges with Sam.

This wasn’t her style at all. Like a lovesick schoolgirl, she overanalyzed his contradictory words and actions.

He’d made it clear that he didn’t want to sleep with her again. But, before the drug smugglers interrupted, he’d been about to kiss her. He’d scolded her for acting reckless, and seemed critical of her choice to work in a remote area. Was he a hypocrite, or just completely lacking self-awareness?

She was so wrapped up in her own thoughts that she almost didn’t notice the change of ambiance. Most of the passageways were cramped, claustrophobic. They had to crouch down in some areas, crawl on their bellies in others. The path suddenly opened up to a larger space, with different sounds and smells.

Hope sensed the emptiness in front of her and stopped, making a squeak of distress. When she shrank back, Sam bumped into her. The combination of her uneasy footing and his forward motion knocked her off balance. She toppled over an unseen precipice.

* * *

F
AITH
DECIDED
TO
leave her bikini bottoms on.

For now.

She didn’t want Jay to get the wrong idea. If he thought she was a sure thing, he might not try hard enough. Some men tried too hard, which was worse. After a bad experience, she’d learned to avoid overeager types.

Jay wasn’t like that. He was an excellent kisser, which boded well, but first encounters were unpredictable. Bedroom skills and compatibility varied. Sometimes chemistry fizzled. His injured shoulder could put a damper on their fun.

And...maybe she was a little rusty. She hadn’t done this in a while. The last time she’d tried to seduce a man, she’d failed.

Jay wasn’t Tom, however. She had his complete attention. His eyes stayed locked on her bare breasts, and his erection tented the sleeping bag.

She arched her back slightly, giving him a show. In addition to being easily aroused—always a turn-on—he was crazy-hot. She liked him in his vintage clothes and nerd glasses. She liked him in his boxer briefs. He had an amazing physique, taut and toned and bronzed all over. With his dark coloring, he might have been Greek or Italian. She’d always loved foreign men. Even the dyed hair was growing on her.

There was something odd about him, a mysterious edge she found exciting. He hadn’t reacted to Caleb’s gibes. He seemed impervious to pain. The fact that he responded strongly to
her
made her feel very feminine and powerful.

Her nipples pebbled in the cool air.

“Do you want to touch me?” she asked.

“Yes,” he said, his voice hoarse.

When he lifted his hand to her breast, she covered it with hers, encouraging him. As he cradled her soft flesh, teasing her nipple with his thumb, she inhaled a sharp breath. His eyes rose to her face. He cared about pleasing her.

She fell on him with a breathless moan. His erection nudged her belly, hard and hot. Squirming with excitement, she nibbled his lower lip and flicked her tongue against his. He kissed her back in bold strokes, filling her eager mouth. After several steamy seconds, she pulled away, licking the side of his neck.

He let her toy with him. Then again, he didn’t have much choice. He couldn’t roll on top of her or take control. He was prostrate, sort of...at her mercy.

She liked it.

He’d scared her earlier. When he’d popped his shoulder back into place like an automaton. And later, when he’d hauled her into the woods, crushing his hand over her mouth. Logically, she knew he was still very capable of hurting her.

But he wouldn’t.

“How long has it been?” she asked, sliding her palms down his chest. He felt even better than he looked, all smooth muscle and warm skin.

“Since what?”

“Your breakup.”

“Years.”

“And there hasn’t been anyone since?”

“No one...special.”

When she trailed her fingertips over his clenched abdomen, he sucked in a sharp breath. She reached underneath the sleeping bag and curled her hand around his erection. He surged against her palm, raring to go. He wasn’t circumcised, which was interesting. She could feel the slight difference as she stroked him. “Perfect,” she said.

“Perfect?”

“Not too small. Not too big.”

His throat worked in agitation.

Giggling, she pressed a kiss to the center of his chest and ventured lower. He had a sexy whorl of hair around his belly button. Biting him there gently, she tugged down his boxer briefs. He was larger than average, straight and stiff, with a slight ridge around the head of his penis.

She moistened her lips in anticipation.

“Could you pretend...it’s too big?”

Ah, men. In this regard, they were all the same. She preferred a happy medium, especially when performing this task. But she humored him, widening her eyes. “Oh my! I don’t think I can get my mouth around you.”

He laughed at her exaggeration.

She gripped him in her hand and touched her tongue to his taut skin. His amusement cut off like a switch. But she continued the ruse, feeling mischievous. She licked and nibbled at him, dragging her tongue along his shaft, kissing the ultrasensitive tip. Basically she did everything but take him in her mouth.

He groaned, cupping the back of her head.

She parted her lips, frowning as if he didn’t fit. She made another feigned attempt, not opening her mouth wide enough.

“You’re too big,” she said. “I give up.”

“Please,” he said, too pained to laugh.

She sat back on her knees to study her work. He was damp from her tongue, throbbing with need. She felt a matching sensation between her legs. Torturing him had gotten her hot. With a glance at his tense face, she untied the strings at her hips. Her bikini bottoms slipped off, baring her lower half.

He stared at her smooth flesh, his eyes dark with lust. “Jesus.”

She caressed the slick folds. “I don’t think you’ll fit here, either. Guess I’ll just have to take care of myself.”

“No,” he said. “I’ll fit.”

Unable to resist, she widened her thighs and dipped a finger inside. His nostrils flared as he watched her touch herself. She circled her fingers, shuddering with pleasure. With a low growl, he grasped her wrist, bringing her slippery fingertips to his mouth. He sucked them as if she tasted like candy.

Suddenly she was desperate for him. Dropping all pretence, she bent her head and took him deep into her mouth. As she moved up and down, she studied his face, letting him press against the inside of her cheek.