Page 5 of Raven's Hunt
She struck off, moving faster than before as she crossed over to a better line, then started up.
Buck adjusted his hold, still feeding her more rope as he cursed under his breath, watching as she practically sprinted up the cliff. He just wasn’t sure if he’d pissed her off or if her renewed motivation stemmed from the sexual tension straining between them. The line they’d been skirting for months. Ever since he’d started asking her to help on more than just his investigative missions for Raven’s Security.
Since she’d become an unofficial member of the group.
What he wouldn’t do to make it official. To move beyond the safe zone they’d been circling — finally get a chance to show her how much he cared.
They’d grown closer, and she’d been throwing him the occasional signal that his persistence wasn’t wasted. But thinking about taking the next step and actually taking her in his arms, kissing her… Those were distinctly different.
Not that he didn’t understand her apprehension. She’d been captured, held — had god knew what done to her before finally escaping, which based on the few details she’d inadvertently shared, sounded horrific. All of which translated into ghosts and demons who, he knew firsthand, weren’t easy to vanquish.
It wasn’t like he didn’t have his own. Hadn’t spent years lost in his own trauma. And he knew, given the right circumstances, he was only one bad day away from breaking apart — reverting to the guy who hadn’t been able to separate fact from fiction.
From retreating back into the shadows.
He’d worked hard to get his head straight. To get the rest of the town to see him as anything other than the local conspiracy nut. And if she needed another month, another year, to join him in the light, he’d wait. Because he knew, without a doubt, she’d be worth it.
Tierney crested the last section, set up a couple bottom anchors, then belayed him up, packing everything away once she’d taken a few notes — talked over some alternate routes for the group she’d been hired to guide next month. The one Buck hoped she’d need his help with. Another excuse to spend more time with her.
Not that he needed any. Just breathing was enough of a reason to spend the day with her.
The sun dipped low as they arranged their packs, then headed off, transitioning onto a rugged, coastal path that wove along the rocky bench then into the dense timber. Towering, old-growth Sitka spruce blocked out half of the light, a mix of sword fern and salal covering any available space between the trees. The roar of the ocean gradually faded, replaced by bird song and the humid, evening air.
Tierney walked in front, vaulting over deadfall and around bramble like water over stone. She didn’t pull out her map, following a line only she saw.
Buck trailed behind, admiring the easy sway of her hips. How she read the terrain with a simple glance. He watched her navigate a rough section, noting the branching deer paths and animal tracks in the mud before pausing, staring at a patch of moss that had been scuffed off a tree, waist high.
He crouched, tracing the line on the bark, noting the sharp edges. Maybe a tool from a belt or the side of a pack. Nearby, a couple salmonberry branches had been snapped off, though the cuts looked too clean, too precise to be natural.
Knife, no doubt.
He checked his GPS, but as usual for Tierney, they were miles from any kind of marked trail. The hairs on the back of his neck prickled, and he swept the tree line, his hand hovering over his holster. Due to their activity, he hadn’t been able to bring an arsenal, but he had his Sig, a Havak rifle, and some creative countermeasures for perimeter security that night. Just enough he’d be able to relax — maybe get a few hours of sleep instead of standing guard the entire time.
The wind rustled the branches, a bunch of dead leaves twirling in the breeze, but nothing else moved within the shadows. He filed away the intel, then hurried after her, falling back a half-step to cover any blind spots.
Tierney continued for another forty minutes before she stopped at a sheltered depression surrounded by massive stumps. Though they’d veered back toward the coastline, he couldn’t see the ocean, just heard the muffled echo of the pounding surf far off in the distance. Smelled the hint of brine in the cool air.
She shuffled off her pack, leaning it against a trunk as she unpacked their supplies. Buck followed suit, pitching a tarp between two trees before making a few rounds of the perimeter — stringing tripwires armed with percussive caps and magnesium strips. Nothing lethal, just some light and sound in case anyone got curious.
By the time he’d circled the encampment, a small fire crackled in the middle of the clearing, the golden glow chasing away the encroaching night as they settled next to each other on a large log, the wavering flames casting dancing shadows across the spongy carpet of pine needles and moss.
Tierney handed him some cocoa, nudging his shoulder. “We secure?”
He took a sip, warming his hands on the mug. “I know what you’re thinking, but you’ll thank me when Bigfoot tries to steal your boots in the middle of the night.”
She rolled her eyes. “First, he’d take your boots, not mine. Second, I would have set up the lines, myself, if you hadn’t. You know I can’t sleep if the area’s not secure.”
“You barely sleep when it is, and never more than a few hours at a time.”
Her smile faltered, her bottom lip trembling for a moment before she sighed. “Old habits.”
He reached over, squeezed her hand. “Maybe it’s time you made some new ones.”
She merely nodded, drinking her hot chocolate as night fell around them, the damp air rolling in off the ocean, bringing a layer of fog through the timber. It wove through the branches, lifting about twenty feet off the ground before flattening out, trapping a bit of the heat from the fire as the misty vapor curled around them.
Tierney inched closer, pressing her thigh against his, the crickets kicking up a rhythmic beat as all the adrenaline from the hike and climb faded into weary exhaustion. She studied him for a moment, smiling when he arched a brow before resting her head on his shoulder, the gentle weight kicking him hard in the chest.
He closed his eyes, drank in the scent of wood smoke and that unique aroma that lingered around her like a half-forgotten memory before placing his hand over hers, threading their fingers together. He’d been waiting months to get this close, and he’d be damned if he did anything to break the intimate atmosphere.
