Untraceable (12 page)

Damsel? I take the gun and hold it in my hand. The barrel is shaking as Al practically kills me with his eyes. The guy ties Al’s and Billy’s hands together. “There. That should do it long enough for us to get out of here.”

Billy whimpers as Al growls. “You know we’re gonna get you back, don’t yah?”

The guy ignores them and takes back the gun. He picks up my bag and shoves all the contents back in before offering his hand to me. “I believe we’ve worn out our welcome here.”

“Hold on, I lost something!” I drop to my knees and scower the ground, frantically searching for my bracelet. I can’t lose the only thing I have left of Dad. Thankfully, I find it tucked under some brambles and slip it on my wrist, sighing a breath of relief.

Cute guy is standing there staring at me. “Any time you’re ready?” I move close to him and clutch his hand. He bows toward Al. “Thank you, sir, for a lovely evening.” Then he takes off into the trees, towing me close behind.

I stumble every few steps because my legs keeping curling underneath me like limp, wet noodles, but the guy keeps me on my feet. About a mile or so down the trail, a few drops of water sprinkle my face. Within moments, the sky cracks open and dumps a wetload.

The guy races ahead of me, slopping through the soggy underbrush and yells over his shoulder. “Come on. This way!”

I scramble after him, trying to track his fuzzy figure through the downpour. Squinting through wet bangs and waterlogged contacts, I catch sight of him way ahead, slithering along a rock wall. I race after him to try and catch up.

What if Al and Billy get loose? What if they’re already following us? What if they were right behind me? By the time I reach the wall, the guy’s gone.

Once again, I’m alone.

I scan the ground to find some sign of where he went but the water was coming down so hard and fast, it was hard to see. A few yards away, something crashes through the thick foliage. I frantically hunt for a place to hide. Hysteria gurgles below the surface and my nerves begin to fray. It takes me a second to realize I’m mumbling to myself. “Oh God, please.”

Just as I surrender to the sheer panic, someone clamps a hand over my mouth and drags me backwards into a dark cave. A mixture of fear and adrenaline pump through me. Instinctively, I fight back against the hold, determined to get free. Scratching. Punching.

My arms are pinned to my sides, and the cute guy from earlier whispers in my ear. “It’s me. Calm down.” My body sags into him. He catches me and lowers me to the ground.

I stare blankly and struggle to find words. “I … I … I’m sorry. I … didn’t know it was you.”

He plucks a string of soggy hair off my cheek. “Don’t worry. Those blokes aren’t getting out of those binds any time soon. Knot tying is one of my specialties. Trust me, you’re safe.”

“Says the mysterious stranger who fishes with a gun.”

He pats my shoulder. “Sit tight. We’ll stay here until the storm passes.”

My hero shuffles around the small, dry cave, collecting sticks and clumps of dry moss. In a few seconds, a cozy fire lights up the cramped space. The flames offer warmth, but I continue to shiver from the mixture of cold and fear. Every now and then, droplets of sap pop in the fire, mimicking gunfire, causing me to jerk back with each bang. I hoped the rain would hide the smell of smoke from the fire.

“Cold?” The guy slings his thin jacket over me like a cape. When his hands brush against my neck, I flinch. He gives me some space and speaks in a calm tone as if he’s merely ordering food. “Guess I should introduce myself. My name’s Mo.”

I answer in a hoarse, raspy voice that I don’t even recognize as my own. “Grace.”

Mo flashes me a look of concern. “You all right?”

“Never better,” I mumble, watching the raindrops drip off his dark, wavy hair. His cheeks are flushed from running. I force my mind to focus on something else for fear I’m staring.

He tugs on his longish, unkempt hair. “How’d a pretty girl like you get mixed up with those blokes?”

He called me pretty. I choke on the compliment. “Long story.”

Mo gestures outside with his thumb in a hitchhiking motion. Only then do I notice the sheets of rain blanketing the entrance. He smirks. “I think we have some time.”

I lie back against the stone wall, my body stiff like a corpse, and fixate on the ashes as they glow a reddish orange. Eventually, I muster up the energy to talk. “I overheard those two guys talking about hunting bears and wanted to check it out.”

His eyebrow arches. “Are you a secret agent or something?”

I shake my head. “No. Just curious.”

“Right. I seem to remember that about you.” His dark eyes swirl in the firelight. “Little Nosey Parker.”

I frown. “Excuse me?”

“Sorry, English expression.” His face flips serious again. “You almost got in a load of trouble back there.”

“Thanks. I think I got that part.” I sweep the damp hair away from my eyes and think for a second. “How did you find me, anyway?”

He shrugs and rakes his hands through his black hair. “Lucky, I guess.” He smiles, and I can’t help but notice how one tooth sits forward a little. I find his slightly misaligned front teeth kind of cute. Matches the gap between mine.

Outside the storm intensifies with loud cracks and booms. I focus away from the explosions. “What’s up with the weapons? Are
you
a secret agent?”

 
“Protection. The Appalachians attract a bunch of nutters. Can’t be too careful.”

I nod in understanding. Dad always carried a gun, like an executive does a pen. It’s the way of the woods. “Fair enough.”

Mo eyes my swelling cheek and lightly touches a sore spot on my neck. I jerk away when his flesh skims mine. “What are you doing?”

He holds up his finger, smeared with blood. “You’re cut.” He pours water out of his canteen and soaks a cloth before holding it a few inches from my face. “May I?” I cover my wound with one hand as he speaks softly, trying to reassure me. “I’m not going to hurt you, Grace.”

At first, I stiffen. Wyn said that to me after my dad went missing. For some reason, I couldn’t take a chance then, but for some reason this guy relaxes me. My body sags and my hand drops, allowing Mo to dab my neck with the cloth. His face is only a breath away. The whole time he tends to me, I’m pretending to study the stalactites on the ceiling.

When Mo’s done, he wraps my hand around the cloth and holds it to my lips. “Keep this here.” Little pulses of electricity tickle the place where our skin briefly made contact. I’ve just been attacked and now lusting after my hero? What’s wrong with me?

I clutch the cloth and nurse my wound as Mo lines more sticks across the fire. Flames spark a few times before dancing to life again. The longer I stare, the more the burning embers resemble little red worms wiggling through charred mounds of ashes. The scene with Al and Billy replays in my mind. A chill travels through me, and I hug my knees to my chest, determined not to shed any tears in front of this guy.

“You want to tell me what happened?” He doesn’t look at me when he asks, but his voice is low and serious.

Licking the cut on my lip, I force my voice past the huge lump forming in my throat. A quick image of Al flashing his knife in my face. “Not with a stranger.”

“Thought I already introduced myself.” He raises one eyebrow. “Weren’t you paying attention?”

I can’t help but smirk a bit. “That doesn’t matter. I don’t know anything about you.”

“Fine. Ask me a question.”

I turn to face him. “Will you answer them this time?” Maybe it can’t hurt to give this guy a chance. Drilling him is much better than being grilled about my encounter. My body tenses as I wait for him to speak.

He plays with his hair in the back. “Abso-bloody-lutely. What do you want to know?”

Immediately, I fire off questions at rocket speed, probably from the nerves and adrenaline raging inside. “How old are you?”

He licks his dry lips. “Seventeen.”

I jerk back, shocked by his answer. “Really? I thought you were like twenty-two or something.”

“Should I take that as a compliment?”

I shrug it off. “You just seem older, that’s all.”

He thinks for a second as a nervous laugh brushes over his lips. “Must be my posh accent.”

I smile a little. “Maybe.” Before he can say anything else, I jump back into my interrogation. “Where are you from?”

Mo seems mesmerized by the firelight. “England, but lived in Australia and France for a stint. Moved to Tennessee a few years ago.” His lips move steadily as he speaks.

I let his sexy voice drown out any recurring visions of Al and Billy threatening to resurface. “How’d you end up here?”

He rests his forearms on his knees and pinches his bottom lip. The t-shirt tightens around his biceps, proving he’s in pretty good shape. “Quite a long story. But to keep it short and sweet, I graduated early and just started a semester in the Geology program at Appalachian State University.”

“So … you study rocks?”

He straightens into a defensive posture. “Not just
rocks
. I’m working on a study that examines ultramafic bodies in the Southern Appalachian Mountains. Supposedly, these mountains have gneiss rock exposures that date back 480 million years ago. You probably know all this since you live here.”

I almost laugh right in his face. “Me? No way. I can tell you anything you want to know about plants and animals. But I’m not the rocker type.”

Mo tugs on the top of his hair again. I wonder if he’s nervous or if it’s just a habit. “Am I boring you?”

“Not at all.” Nevertheless, I’m exhausted and fight hard to suppress a yawn so I don’t appear bored. The day’s events are taking their toll on me as the adrenaline drains from my blood. “So you live out here? In the woods? All the time?”

He nods. “I fancy the outdoors.”

I think about my dad who would rather sleep on a bed of leaves than a mattress. “I get that.” And I do. Nothing is better than being surrounded by nature. I can definitely relate to this guy. But now, as I settle into the warmth, I’m all out of questions.

Mo pulls a brown paper bag out of his rucksack. “Biscuit?”

“Sure.” Careful not to touch his hand, I take one and inspect the treat.

I must look confused, because he explains, “It’s a cookie.”

“Yeah, I guessed that.” When he tends to the fire, I check him out again.

At first glance, his deep-set eyes appear jet black. But if I zoom in, the dark color resembles Dad’s famous chocolate mousse with little swirls of caramel inside.

Pulling myself back, I take a bite of the cookie and cover my mouth with my hand, praying no loose crumbs spray his way. Not attractive.

Mo rests his chin on his fist and looks at me sideways. “Well? What about you?”

“What about me?”

“What’s your story?”

Shifting in my seat, I shrug and nibble at the snack. “I don’t really have one. Not a page-turner anyway.” He laughs but doesn’t press me. For the next few hours, we trade small talk. I don’t reveal anything too personal, and he doesn’t say much more.

Eventually, Mo peeks out the cave entrance. “The rain’s let up. You ready to go?” He holds out his hand to me.

“Sure.” I ignore any trepidation and use him to pull up.

He places his hand on my lower back and returns me to the gray world. “Ladies first. But stay close to me.”

I thought you’d never ask.

Mo remains on high alert as we slosh through the wet leaves. Drops of water jump from the trees and splat on the ground. Each ping sends tremors through my body. Now that I’m out in the open again, Al’s face hovers in my mind. My eyes dart around, searching for any sign the guy might be watching.

Mo must sense my tension, because he leans over and whispers, “It’s safe, Grace. I promise.”