She stretched her arms out and waggled her fingers until she felt the solid strength of him, groping in the dark, searching by touch for the magical handgrip of strength that would lock them together.
James pulled. Her shoulders strained in their sockets, the stretch welcome after the eternity of repetitive movements. Head, torso, hips emerged from the tunnel, and she was birthed into a new life with a man she hardly knew.
The tunnel ended—a random hole in the bank of a dry streambed. Starlight shone down on the world, its illumination vast and beautiful to her color-deprived eyes.
James shifted his grip, wrapped both arms around her so her chest pressed to his chest, and backed away from the hole. Finally, her legs fell out of the tunnel, limp, swinging, banging into his shins like they were no longer hers to control.
He settled her weight on her feet, but didn’t let her go. A good thing since she wasn’t certain about her ability to stand just yet.
“I was so scared. No, beyond scared. So far beyond scared that to be scared would’ve been a pleasure.” A deranged giggle tried to gurgle its way up her throat, but she stopped it.
“You’re strong. I knew you could do it.” His arms around her squeezed, infusing her with the truth of his words.
She suddenly felt all I-won proud of herself. A bashful blush warmed her cheeks.
Already quiet with the expectancy of winter, the air around them shifted, almost crackled. Evanee opened her mouth to ask him if he felt it. A dull, serrated explosion startled the hush. All her muscles clenched, rigid, then released. He didn’t even flinch.
“They exploded the door. They’re going to send someone through the tunnel.” He released her from his embrace and stared into her face. “Are you ready to run for it?”
She didn’t know if she had the strength, the stamina for running, but for him she’d try. “Yeah.”
“Liar.” An ornery smile played at the corners of his mouth.
He was teasing her. Teasing. While they were trying to escape the police, the FBI, and Ken doll Gill, who had disliked her from the moment he met her. And yet, somehow James’s lack of worry evaporated her own doubts and fears. He wasn’t devastated at being saddled with a fugitive. He was enjoying himself.
“I know where there’s a car, but it’s two miles away. A gold Honda Accord. I can run to it and get back here in under fifteen minutes.” He pointed out through the trees to a lonely road she hadn’t noticed before. “If anyone comes, run. But stay on the road.” He pointed. “If they catch you, buy time. Fight. Do whatever it takes to stay on the road.” He gripped her face between his hands and stared into her eyes. “I won’t let them take you.”
The intensity in his eyes sealed his words.
Before she could respond, he left her standing alone while he sprinted through the woods. She stared after him, not allowing herself to think until she lost sight of him and lost the sound of his feet pounding against the dried leaves and twigs.
She walked to the edge of the forest, her knees trembling, and leaned against a tree facing the silver strip of freedom. The wait was going to torture her. One one-thousand, two one-thousand, three one-thousand…
At sixty, she marked the minute with a finger like a kid in grade school.
By minute three, cold infiltrated her. Goose bumps stood on her skin. She shivered, she shuddered, her teeth pattered together, filling the serene silence with their sound. Minute four brought alternating numbness and burning cold to her socked feet. Minute five arrived at the same time as a faint, indiscernible sound. She stopped counting and listened.
The car? She cocked her head toward the road, listening, searching for any sign of James’s car, even though the logical part of her knew it was too early. The sound was strongest in the forest. She peered into the dense trees.
Footsteps. Someone ran through the woods. Toward her.
Go away. Go away. Go away. The sound didn’t go away. Didn’t deviate from a seemingly straight line to her.
If she could hear footsteps, he was close. Too close. Each of his footfalls a damning impact upon the earth. She shoved off from the tree, her limbs stiff and gangly, and reached the road in only a few strides. Once on the pavement, she sprinted. Legs and arms pumped, socked feet barely whispered a sound. Maybe he wouldn’t hear her, see her.
“Stop! Evanee! Stop!”
That voice. Lathan’s voice changed everything. Stopped everything. Even her body.
She fell. For the tiniest of moments, she was flying, wishing she could just rocket off down the road like Superman. Knees hit the road, rough stones tearing through the layers, splitting her skin. Hands outstretched, wrists and shoulders absorbed most of the violence of her fall. Torso hit. She lay there. Didn’t move.
All the pain of losing Lathan that she’d forced out of her mind fought a battle with her sanity, until rationality joined the fray.
Lathan was dead. Dead. Dead. And he never called her Evanee. He was her past, and if she wanted a future, she needed to get back on her feet and run.
He was beside her before she even had a chance.
James’s words echoed in her mind. If they catch you, buy time. Fight.
Not even looking at the man, she launched herself at him, punching, clawing, biting. Used her knees to land repeated blows to his testicles, his stomach. He grunted from the impact, but the satisfaction of his pain didn’t register for her. Nothing registered, other than the primal urge to survive long enough to escape.
She beat him until her arms and legs became too heavy to raise anymore. She collapsed onto the road, limp. Exhaustion overtaking her. It was done. She’d fought the fight, and it wasn’t enough.
Chapter 21
Lathan stared up at a sky the same color as Honey’s eyes. Inside his chest, his heart surged, swelled, snuggled up with his ribs, then shattered. He’d found her. Alive. And yet she’d fought him. Hurt him. Rejected him. He wasn’t her savior here. He was the person she’d wanted to escape.