Escape to Morning (15 page)

Unexpected tears filled her eyes, and her voice turned soft before she could stop it. “Oh, Will, I'm sorry.” She had the sudden urge to reach out to him.

But then he grinned and even …
chuckled?

She stared at him. And he met her gaze. Hard, unflinching, but with the slightest upturned mouth. In the horrible second that followed, she realized he was playing her. Playing to her sympathies. Or worse, making her feel like a fool.

And for a second, it had actually worked.

“Good try, Cowboy.” She rose, startling Missy, who jumped up beside her. Dannette stalked a few feet away, then turned, fury gathering in her throat. “We'll be up at dawn. Try not to be late.”

Jerk
.

Will blew out his breath, his heart thundering. He'd hurt her. But what was he supposed to do when he realized he'd accidentally let her into a private sector of his heart? What was he thinking? He hadn't let someone—anyone, especially a woman—inside that dark pocket of his life—
ever
. Laughter was the only thing he could do to mask the vulnerability that radiated from him like an odor.

Good grief. No wonder he couldn't cultivate an authentic, honest relationship with a woman of substance. Every time she got close enough for a good look, he put on camouflage.

Except that was a lot safer, wasn't it? For both of them.

He threw the stick into the fire, watched the sparks spiral upward, aching that he'd somehow stomped out the tendrils of friendship that she'd so gently tended.

Apparently, he hadn't reformed quite as much from the jerk he'd once been.

Five years ago, he would have read her visit to his campsite as some sort of invitation. He would have turned the Masterson charm into overdrive and delivered some heartrending lie that would eventually entice her into his arms.

But he wasn't that man anymore, right?

Oh, how he longed to be that new person God promised to make him. But watching Dannette's stiff and angry retreating form, he knew he hadn't a clue how to be that kind of man.

His past knew how to gnaw at him, to whisper defeat and tempt him with sweet rewards that he knew would turn his heart to ash. But his new desires included discovery and loss and grief. They made him lock up his heart and sent him running.

So, why had he told her the truth about his father? That question rattled around his mind as he unrolled his sleeping bag and climbed inside his shelter. He listened to the forest sounds, the crackle of the campfire, and prayed that God would help him complete his mission before someone got seriously hurt … namely, him.

Chapter 9

“WE HAVE COMPLICATIONS. ” Bakym paced the compound, trying to find the strongest signal for his satellite phone. “Fadima has escaped.”

He held the telephone away from his ear, deciding that this was a strong enough signal to hear his ataman's displeasure. Thankfully the guy lived ten thousand miles away and wasn't likely to actually do any of the things he threatened to Bakym. At least not personally.

No, Bakym would be doing those things to Fadima when he found her. Fadima was practically his property now. Technically he had to wait for Nazar to arrive for the wedding, but by that time … well, Nazar would be attending her funeral. A martyr's funeral.

The ataman finished his discharge. “What are you doing to find her?”

“I sent Gazim and Daniel. They'll track her down. She couldn't have gone far. I told them not to return without her.”

“She could be useful to the wrong people if she succeeds in escaping.”

Bakym nodded into the telephone. In the late twilight, the air felt crisp, damp with the breath of spring. He saw his two other women—Karli and Mara—fetching firewood for the fireplace. Karli wore her new American low-rise jeans and her long black hair loose. He didn't want to sacrifice her—the rules of their
sotnya
on this side of the ocean gave him liberties not embraced back home. Yes, he'd miss Karli, especially now that she'd learned how to please him.

But there were higher goals. Sacrifices to be made by all.

Unless he could find Fadima.

“You have three days. Don't disappoint me, Bakym. And when you find her, shoot her.”

“Konyeshna.”
Of course. Except that shooting Fadima was lower on his list of priorities.

He had greater plans for Nazar's little girl.

Dannette stared at the sky through the screen in her tent, a thousand voices taunting in her head.
See?
they said.
You start to care, and you'll get hurt
.

She rolled over in her bag, thumped the wad of clothing she used as a pillow, and ignored the voices. She wasn't going to let that cowboy under her skin, even if his childhood trauma— probably
false
—dug at her. Okay, it was more than that. It was the flint of pain in his eyes that accompanied his words. It was the fact that, despite his laughter, she wondered if he might be telling the truth.

She thumped her wad of clothing again. Beside her, Missy raised her head, roused from slumber. She stared at Dannette.

“Well, he's not exactly Mr. I-Cannot-Tell-a-Lie, is he?”

Missy wagged her tail.

“At least I can count on you, Missy. Loyal, honest, and warm.” She rubbed Missy behind her ears and smiled.

Stars punctuated the canopy of darkness with bursts of brilliant light. Dannette closed her eyes.
Lord, You know my history with men. You also know that I don't have time or room in my heart for a man. So please help me not to be drawn in by that lazy smile or those chocolate eyes. Please, Lord, protect me
.

She felt the smallest breath of peace filter through her soul and drifted off into a dreamless sleep.

Sunlight had only begun to dapple the ground and skim off the dew as Dannette awoke. She let Missy out, then climbed out of her sleeping bag and, while in the cover of her tent, pulled her Gore-Tex pants, wool socks, and sweatshirt over her cotton undershirt. She opened the flap and pulled her shoes out of the waterproof bag. Lacing them up quickly, she pulled on her jacket, noting movement in Sarah's tent. Birds chirruped in the early morning, and the breeze had died to a mere whimper.

“Howdy.”

She froze, searched for the voice, and found Will on the trail petting Missy, who had obviously forgiven him and had rolled over, letting him scratch her belly. So much for Missy's loyalty.

“Good morning. Can I come onto your site?” Will asked.

Will was already packed for the day, and he looked like a cover model for L.L. Bean/Mercenaries R Us in his hiking boots, black soldier's uniform, and tousled dark brown hair. Oh, she so didn't want to give in to the tug to like him. Even though he was petting her dog and, like a good little Boy Scout, respecting the unspoken camping rule to right of privacy. And he'd risen early, ready to scout, just like she'd asked. As if he truly cared about this mission. But what could she do when he added that cute little smile under his goatee? Scoundrel.

“Sure,” she said, trying to sound rough and angry. “Wipe your feet at the door.”

He let Missy up, then pretended to wipe his feet and open a door. Okay, that was kind of funny.

He set down his pack near their fire ring. “How about I get this going again?”

“Have at it, Eagle Scout. I'll reward you with some dehydrated eggs.”

He smiled.

Will worked the fire while she and Sarah packed up their tents. By the time Dannette had everything tucked into her rucksack and Missy watered and fed, the water had come to a boil.

She crouched beside Will as he prepared the eggs, aware that he must have bathed or something, because his face was clean, his whiskers around his goatee shaved, and he even smelled good, a blend of masculinity and power.

Uh-oh.

“It's going to be a hot one today,” Will said, looking at the sky. “No clouds and only a whisper of breeze.”

Sarah joined them, holding a sierra cup filled with instant coffee crystals. Will filled her cup, and she stirred it. “Beauty of a morning. Better than shopping, don't you think, Dannette?” Sarah asked.

Will glanced up, and Dannette smiled coyly.

“I was reading Lamentations 3 in my Bible this morning.” Sarah blew on her coffee. “ ‘Great is his faithfulness; his mercies begin afresh each morning. I say to myself, “The L
ORD
is my inheritance; therefore, I will hope in him!”

“ ‘The L
ORD
is good to those who depend on him, to those who search for him. So it is good to wait quietly for salvation from the L
ORD
,' ” Will added quietly.

Dannette shot him a look. The guy knew obscure Scripture?

He shrugged. “Vacation Bible school. We learned it in a song. My best friend dragged me every year.”

Was that the morning sun, or had Will actually turned a shade of red? As if, like last night, he'd given out more of himself than he planned? If, in fact, he was telling them the truth … now
or
then.

Dannette spooned eggs into her cup. “My grandmother used to quote that passage. She was a King James woman, and her version said, ‘The L
ORD
is my portion, saith my soul; there-fore will I hope in him.' ”

“I did a word study on that once,” Sarah said, holding out her now empty cup for her helping of eggs. “The word
portion
is used in a lot of different contexts.” She set her cup down, pulled her pack over, and wiggled out a slim-line pocket Bible.

Will helped himself to eggs, but Dannette noticed how he watched Sarah. As if interested in her … or in her Bible study? Dannette shook out the thought. Did she not pray last night and ask God to protect her heart? Perhaps Will
should
be turning his attention to Sarah.

Then again, a gal with Sarah's past needed a guy who didn't play games with her heart. A guy she could
trust
.

Sarah flipped to the back of her Bible. “I keep a list of all the words I study and the allegory references.” She ran a finger down the list. “
Portion
means ‘reward,' ‘influence,' ‘abundance,' ‘sustenance,' and ‘all your worldly possessions.' In other versions, the word also refers to God being our redeemer, our reputation, and our rescuer.”

Will scooted back onto a rock as he poured himself a cup of coffee. “That's a fairly large scope. I just thought it meant God was enough.”

“Or ‘all,' ” Dannette said. She took a bite of eggs. “Ooh, needs salt.”

Will reached into his sweater pocket, handed her a salt packet from his MRE.

“Thanks,” Dannette said and seasoned her meal. “My grand -mother quoted that verse a lot, especially when she was over-whelmed by life. I remember her saying it over my grandpa's grave.” And other graves. She swallowed back a lump that had nothing to do with dry eggs. “I always thought it meant that God filled up all those dark and empty places.”

Her own words rubbed on her heart. She hadn't exactly let God fill up any dark places, had she? She'd basically let them scar over. But letting God inside to heal would mean scraping open scars, exposing her wounds.

No, thanks.

God was enough … for what she needed Him for. A friend. A companion who watched over her from above. She didn't want to have to need Him too much.

“Well, I like the first part of the verse,” Sarah said. “ ‘His mercies begin afresh each morning.' And that's what we have today, a fresh chance.” Her voice fell. “I hope.”

Silence settled among them. Dannette thought of the wind that raked the forest, the frosting of dew on the ground.
Please let Will be right about it being a warm day, Lord
. The warmer the day, the heavier the scent, the easier for Missy to find the girl.

They finished with few words. Will cleaned up quickly by rinsing their cups with water. Dannette tied hers onto her pack to let it dry.

Will doused the fire, then kicked dirt over it. “Ready?” he asked, hoisting his pack.