It had taken forever for her to get any kind of a figure, a butt and breasts. They came late in her teens, very late. Now, she couldn’t complain, but she’d been lying in the dirt on her belly, partially covered with debris and plants. She could lie still for hours, so still, the surrounding wildlife eventually crawled or slithered over her as well. Creepy, crawly things normally left her alone and very few spooked her.
“I’m ready. Let’s go get some sleep,” Draden announced, before she could reply to his compliment.
She didn’t really know what to say. Being attracted to him was out of her field of expertise. He held out his hand to her as they went out the door and without thinking she took it. His fingers instantly closed around hers. He was strong, but careful. He didn’t crush her, but instead, folded her hand with his snug around it, to his chest. He held it as if her hand was the most treasured thing he possessed.
It was silly to feel a thrill just at hand-holding, but it was a new experience for her. It was clear Draden liked taking her hand and walking close to her. She hadn’t thought she would like it; before no one ever touched her, or they’d find themselves on the floor, but it was totally different with Draden.
“I love the night.” She looked around her. So much of the day had already passed. She should have forced him to go to sleep earlier. He looked very tired, and his skin color was off and he was very clammy. Tiny beads of sweat dotted his forehead. She had the feeling he was standing from sheer will. Alarm skittered down her spine. She didn’t want to lose him. More, she didn’t want to be the one to put a bullet in his head. She would—for mercy—but everything in her rebelled against it. She forced air through her lungs. “Darkness falls fast in the forest.”
Night creatures were beginning to stir. Owls flitted from tree to tree, looking for a perfect place to wait out their prey. Rodents and lizards scurried in the thick vegetation, rustling leaves as they sought food. The frogs called, and the cicadas sang. To Shylah, there was harmony in the forest’s song—it was rich and teeming with life.
“I believe you’d like where I live,” Draden said. “Louisiana is beautiful. I don’t think a lot of people appreciate it for what it is. The people have had to carve out their livings under difficult conditions, but for most of them, it’s been worth it.”
She glanced up at his face. Ordinarily, when Draden spoke, he sounded matter-of-fact. Casual even, no matter the subject. Without him being aware, animation had slipped in. His face lit up. That face that was unbelievably handsome was even more so.
“You obviously love the swamp.”
He nodded. “I have real freedom there. I can run when I have to, and I can just take a boat on the river and there’s peace, Shylah. Such peace. I could see us there. A house, the pier. Right on the river. Which means we’d have to contend with flooding, but every day we’d have that beauty.”
Her heart turned over. He’d included her, and he didn’t make a thing of it. He just made her feel like she was that important to him.
“What’s the weather like there?”
“Like this, actually. Hot and humid. Thunderstorms. Wild lightning. The occasional hurricane.” He grinned down at her, and for the first time, he looked very young. A mischievous boy up to no good, inviting her to participate with him.
“I do like storms. And hot and humid. I’ve never actually been near a hurricane and I think I’d prefer to keep it that way. I’m going to make a run for it if one comes our way.” She entered into the fun of sharing his world. She’d never be there in person, but she’d have this with him. It would have to be enough. She refused to feel sorry for herself when she’d made the choice.
They walked up the stairs to the ranger’s cabin together. Brushing up against Draden as he lifted his foot to take the next stair, she felt a tremor run through his body. It was barely there, but she was acutely tuned to him, aware of his every movement, his every response.
She slipped her arm around his waist. She didn’t look it, but she was incredibly strong, strong enough to lend a little of that strength to him without being obvious about it. She did it casually and leaned into him just a little, gripping his belt as if it were the most natural thing in the world to do. Draden did small things that tipped her off to the fact that he was protective of her. He wouldn’t like her to see weakness in him.
“I know what you’re doing.”
She burst out laughing. “So much for being sneaky. And I thought I was so clever.” But she didn’t let go of his belt and she didn’t pull away.
He tugged open the door and indicated for her to go ahead of him. She did what she always did. She scented the air and checked to make certain the few lines of silk hadn’t been broken. She had them at each window, the front door and back. Those were her alarms. No one would notice a few random spiderwebs.
While she ascertained the webs were intact, she took advantage of the genetic code of a large cat Whitney had edited into her DNA to ensure no one had gotten past her first alarm. The fine hairs on her body read the air, sending her information the way the whiskers on a cat would. It was habit to check and recheck. That was what kept her alive. She used every sense to try to discover an enemy. Only when she was positive no one had entered the ranger’s cabin in their absence, did she step inside and help him over to the bed.
Draden sank down onto it. “Thanks. My head is hurting like a son of a bitch.”
Shylah frowned. “What does that mean? ‘Hurting like a son of a bitch.’ I don’t understand. That’s like saying ‘break a leg’ to someone about to perform. It doesn’t make sense.” Her frown instantly turned to laughter. “I drove Whitney so crazy when he would try to explain that kind of thing to me. If it didn’t make sense, there was no explanation.” She tried hard not to see that he was running a temperature. She didn’t want him to be sick.
Draden started to untie his boots, and Shylah, heart pounding, crouched down to do it for him. She ignored his resistance and kept talking, acting like they were an old married couple and she’d been taking his boots on and off for years.
“When I realized it made him nuts that I couldn’t get it when he used idiotic sayings, I really refused to understand them. He goes ballistic if you challenge him. I did on more than one occasion.”
Draden gave up trying to push her hands away. He sat straight and stared down at her. His blue eyes were vivid and seemed to see right through her. She kept her head down after the initial glance up. She was feeling too warm. Her body not quite her own. That made her uneasy and very nervous. She could handle any enemy, no matter what form it might take, but the things she felt for Draden were new and unsettling.
Shylah concentrated on removing the boo
ts. Like her, he carried numerous weapons on him. She handed them to him without looking up. Each time his fingers brushed hers, a small wave of heat slid through her bloodstream.
“I’m going to lower the shades so it’s darker in here and if, later, we light the lamp, no one can see in.” She could tell his eyes hurt in spite of night falling. “Not that I think anyone’s out there. Most people avoid the station. There were poachers, but I made certain they left and didn’t come near this place again.”
“That surprises me.”
“What does?”
“That you engaged with them. You know better.”
She did. There was no reprimand in his voice, merely curiosity. He was so right. She was on an extremely important mission—one that had to succeed—and yet she’d done things outside the constraints of her job. She should never have exposed herself to the terrorists by diving into the river and saving Draden. She certainly shouldn’t have gone anywhere near the poachers. For one, they were dangerous.
“Did they see you? Did they know they were fighting a woman?”
“No.” She’d been careful not to be seen. “I wanted them to think the ranger was in residence, so they’d clear out. It worked.”
“How?”
“I made it clear I was using lethal force, that my bullets could kill. The poachers ran, but two were caught in traps. The others helped to free them and by the time they got into dense forest, they ran right into spiderwebs, great thick funnels of sticky silk. They had to wonder what kind of spider would weave a web of that size.”
A slow smile formed on his face and took every drop of air out of the room. “I wish I could have seen that.”
She hadn’t realized she’d been waiting for him to chastise her. Yell. Call her stupid the way Whitney always did. Instead, he looked as if he would have enjoyed watching the results of her little antics.
“I am enjoying seeing your antics,” he said, confirming he was also picking the images out of her mind. “Why did you choose to let the terrorists see you? That was a massive risk.”