Cover Me (Elite Force 1)

“Wade?”

“Yeah?” He looked away and draped his wool socks over a pair of stalagmites.

“I have a blanket in my pack. I assume you have one in yours. We should double up and share.” She clipped out orders like a drill sergeant. “And don’t worry. Your virtue is safe with me.”

“Thanks.” An unexpected smile curved his mouth. Ms. Drill Sergeant had a sense of humor. Who would have thought that? “We can sit on your blanket and wrap up in mine.”

“Actually”—she folded her blanket in half and draped it on the ground—“we should sit on either side of Chewie. He’s a furnace and a mighty protector of virtue.”

Sitting, she whistled once and Chewie lumbered over from his perch by the opening. The dog settled on his haunches beside her.

Wade eyed the alert canine cautiously as he dropped down beside the hairy beast. “It’s not my virtue I’m concerned about.”

“Don’t tell me you’re a cat person.” She reached past to secure the crackling blanket around her shoulders with a shiver.

Warmth from Chewie began to heat up their cocoon. His toes started to burn as circulation sped up, reminding him how not funny, not sexy, this night was. Well trained or not, he couldn’t afford distraction. Having her turn out to be so competent surprised him. And surprise wasn’t good. Her evasiveness began to set off alarms in his head.

He slid a hand free and tossed a small branch onto the fire—their tinder was limited. He didn’t want to start from scratch again. “You weren’t even winded out there. Most people who come here don’t even make it up this far. Work out much?”

“As a matter of fact, I do.” Her head lolled against her dog. “I run a, um, gym.”

“And where’s that gym in California?”

Her mouth snapped shut, her teeth clicking.

“You act like a local, and you have your dog with you. Most everyday folks don’t travel here with their pets.” The pieces began to come together in his mind. He’d probably pissed her off with his assumption she was a part of the group. “I’ll bet you’re a guide rather than a tourist.”

Looking away, she fished in her pack and pulled out a granola bar that appeared homemade. “You’re a regular detective. Maybe I should just stay quiet and you can guess. Yes, in fact, I think that’s a great way to pass the time.”

“Under one condition.”

“That’s rich, considering I don’t have to tell you anything.”

Something was off about this whole discussion. As a teen, he’d quibbled often enough, and his military parents had seen right through it most of the time, not that he’d cleaned up his act until life smacked him upside the head. He’d been hardheaded back in those days too.

Still, he couldn’t pinpoint exactly what about this woman didn’t ring true. His brain must be numbed by the altitude—or testosterone. “I risked my ass to save your life. You can toss me a bone here. At least tell me what I should call you.”

She hesitated for an instant, almost imperceptible. Almost. Her fist clenched around the unopened granola bar. “My name is Sunny.”

“Sunny, huh?” Ironic, given her dark and evasive ways. Pointing that out would be counterproductive. He accepted the victory, even if she hadn’t supplied a last name. “So, Sunny, back to that whole ‘Free Bird’ joke of mine, are you not a big concertgoer or am I just that much older than you?”

And why did he want to know her age? Maybe because he didn’t want to find out he was hanging out under a blanket nearly naked with a teenager—who happened to also be a mountain guide.

“I’m twenty-seven,” she answered simply.

An adult. Thank God. “Chewie’s an interesting name choice. Should I keep my boots out of his reach?”

“Actually, he’s named for Chewbacca in Star Wars.” She combed her fingers through the dog’s coat. “Steven Spielberg patterned Chewbacca’s vocalizing after his malamute. Mine’s an Alaskan malamute and Siberian husky mix, and I can hear it every time he ‘talks.’”

“My boots are safe then.”

Chewie “answered” with a garbled howl.

So she wasn’t into concerts but enjoyed old movies. Interesting.

Sunny peeled away the wrapping on a second granola bar. “Here. My hand should have thawed it some by now. It’s full of peanut butter, so if you have a nut allergy…”>She couldn’t afford—her relatives back in their community couldn’t afford—a single misstep. There were careful procedures for people who left, methods to protect their location. “I’ve had better survival training than the average person.”

And she would need every bit of that training to ditch this hulking big military savior when the time came to escape.