Cannon

8

Her rescuer had already started hiking, and she hurried to catch up. She guessed they were headed east. She looked up to see stars through the leaves but didn’t know any of the constellations here. Back home, she knew them by sight.

“You like the stars?” He asked.

“My dad spent many a night in a tent with me in the backyard, flashlight in hand along with a book showing me all the star groupings.” She smiled and then sighed. “That was back when everything was good. When the only worries in the world were what daddy was cooking for supper.” She snorted a giggle. “Usually, the meal included mac and cheese,” she grinned at him. “My favorite.”

“I like mac and cheese too. The cheesier the better.”

She grinned. “Same.” Then her smile fell from her lips. She missed her dad. When this was all over, she’d go home for a long visit. Her inner desire to help others had been satisfied for the time being. Now it was time to take care of herself and those she loved.

Ryver glanced up at the man in front of her. She marveled at how gracefully his body moved through the trees and over fallen logs. It was as if he floated while she made enough noise to rival a herd of elephants.

Now that her adrenaline had started to drain, the pains in her body began to register. Her shoulders ached from being chained, her wrists from the rough cuffs. And now… “Ow, shit.” She hopped on one foot, trying to pull out whatever was stuck in the other sole.

Cannon stopped and looked back at her. “Damn. You don’t have any shoes.”

She shrugged. “Boy, aren’t you observant?”

He scowled. “I had to keep us alive, which was much more important. He pointed to a downed log. “Sit there and rest a moment.”

She wasn’t about to argue with that order. With a sigh, she plopped down. When she looked up, Cannon was nowhere in sight, though the darkness didn’t allow her to see far. She heard a branch snap not far in the distance. Her heart leaped into her throat. Had the kidnappers caught up already?

“Cannon?” she whisper-shouted. He didn’t reply. Feeling like a sitting duck, literally, she crouched and scooted toward a thick tree. In the same direction came the sounds of thrashing leaves and breaking limbs. What the hell was going on? Was Cannon fighting one of her abductors? “Cannon!”

“Hush, woman,” he replied, appearing from the darkness like he stepped out of a dark room. “We aren’t that far yet.” In his hands, he held several small sticks broken from little branches and a fist full of vines. “I told you to sit. What are you doing up?”

She shook her head and sat, watching Cannon layout several sticks side by side. Then he stripped the leaves from a vine and weaved it over and under the sticks like making a wicker basket. When he’d bound a flat six-inch rectangle, he wrapped the middle of a piece of vine toward the top and tied the two strands to the side of the rectangle. What was he doing?

He held the flat weave next to her foot. “Slide your toes here.”

Then she saw it. “Oh my god, you made me a pair of wooden flip-flops?” She glided her toes under the strap. “That’s so thoughtful of you.”

He scowled up at her. “Yeah, don’t tell anyone. I have a reputation to uphold.”

She couldn’t help the way the side of her mouth quirked up. He was a tough guy with a melted chocolate center. And now, for the first time in forever, her hormones decided to wake up and take notice. Like, really notice. She shook her head, wondering what the hell was wrong with her. She was drooling over some highly skilled military guy whose goal was to get her out and say good-bye. Not to mention, with his looks, he had to have a dozen women knocking his door down.

“Come on,” he said, standing. “We have a long way to go before we can stop.”

By the time Cannon finally called a halt to the march through hell, Ryver was numb emotionally and mentally. The sun hadn’t made an appearance yet, but the area had begun to lighten.

Cannon raised his nose and sniffed the air. “We’ll camp here for the day. Get some rest and start out again when it’s dark.” She couldn’t do anything but agree with him.

She watched him as he removed the tent from his pack and built it between two small trees. It was also surrounded by bushes, so they would be less likely to get caught. He tossed branches and excess bushes on top of it. She wondered exactly who this man was and why he was chosen to save her.

Ryver wondered what kind of training this guy had because he did not slow down or even falter at any point. And when he carried her, he barely slowed down. It’s like he was some super soldier or something. She shook her head. For all she knew this guy was just a very well trained mercenary.

At that moment, though, it didn’t matter. Ryver had a splitting headache that she wanted to sleep away. The fact she could do it with this man seemed all the more comforting.

“All done,” Cannon said as he stood with his hands on his hips, admiring his handiwork. “It’s no Hilton, but it will do.”

Ryver did not react to his jokes. She merely walked to the tent. She noticed it was small, probably meant for only one. But that didn’t bother her one bit.

“You can get in first. I’ll be okay out here for a bit.”

Ryver turned toward him. “You should rest too. I’m hopeful they won’t be able to find us.”

She honestly just wanted him close to her body. He stood silently for a moment, perhaps picking up the subtext, perhaps not. “All right. If you are comfortable with that, of course.”