72 Hours

  “And I walked in,” I whisper.

  “You walked in. It was one of those moments you see in a movie, or read about. You picked that exact moment to walk in and see her on my lap kissing me. I wasn’t kissing her back, Lara. I might be a lot of things, but I’d never, not fucking ever, cheat on you.”

  A tear rolls down my cheek.

  I screwed up.

  I lost the love of my life, because of my own insecurity.

  “I’m sorry, Noah,” I manage. “That’ll never be enough, I know that. I was so fucked up. So sure I didn’t deserve you after what happened with Nan. I was in such a bad place. You saw me at my worst. You saw me being ripped open and stuffed back together all wrong. When I saw that woman on your lap, I felt like that was my punishment, like I deserved that, like you deserved that. I just didn’t think I was enough for you. That’s the damned truth. So I ran, without thought, without waiting. I just ran. It was easier.”

  “Fuck,” he mutters. “Fuck, Lara. Do you think I would have gone through all that with you after your nan if I didn’t think you were everything I needed? I fucking loved you. I deserved a chance to explain.”

  He was so incredible after Nan died. How could I forget how wonderful he was? If it weren’t for him, I don’t think I would have gotten through those months.

  I’m sitting by the window, staring out, tears running down my face. I cry more than anything these days, but every single time I think of Nan, I can’t stop the flow of emotion that runs down my face. A strong hand curls around my shoulder and I turn, looking up to see Noah staring down at me, his expression soft.

  “I hate seeing you cry, baby.”

  He sits down, pulling me onto his lap. I tuck myself into him, the only comfort I have left. I don’t deserve someone as good as him. I don’t deserve anyone.

  “It hurts so much,” I sob. “I can’t make it go away.”

  “You have to let it go, Lara. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

  “I killed her!”

  “No, a bunch of teenagers high on drugs did.”

  “If it weren’t for my smart mouth, we would have never even gotten into that mess. You know that. Nothing you can say will change that.”

  “Right now, I know that’s what you believe so I’m not going to give you words to try to change it. Instead I’m going to tell you I love you, I believe in you, and I think you’re a good person. One mistake does not define you, beautiful girl.”

  “I’m not beautiful, Noah. I’m a monster.”

  He holds me close. “You’ll never be anything but beautiful to me. I won’t give up on you, Lara. I’m going to get you through this. I swear it.”

  “I know,” I whisper, fighting back the emotion from the memory. “I know you did.”

  It’s not enough, it’ll never be enough, but it’s the only thing I can think to say.

  “That man you were with,” he says, changing the subject. “The night we got taken … it fuckin’ killed me.”

  “What man?” I ask, shuffling through my memories to try to figure out what he’s talking about. It’s all a blur. I recall meeting a man at the bar, but it’s all hazy and I don’t recall what we even spoke about.

  “The one you were kissing.”

  I blink. “Pardon me?”

  “You don’t remember?”

  I shake my head. “I remember meeting a man while I was waiting for Rachel and having a drink with him, but I still can’t remember anything from after that point. I honestly don’t.”

  He curses under his breath. “I thought something was off with you. Fuck, you must’ve been drugged even before the psycho came along.”

  “What?” I squeak, voice rising.

  “The night we got taken, you were with a guy claiming to be your man. You were playing along, and fuck, I believed it and it hurt.”

  I can’t remember anything about that, and frustration bubbles in my chest.

  “I don’t … remember.”

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  I go quiet, still digging through my memories to try to figure out what the hell happened. It’s blank.

  “That’s why you’re so angry at me.”

  It’s not a question, but a statement.

  “It wasn’t just that. You disappeared on me. It took me months to find you. When I finally did, you nearly got me arrested. You hurt me, Lara.”

  I close my eyes, even though he can’t see it. “You hurt me, too.”

  He grunts.

  “If we’d had this conversation earlier, we might not be here,” I say, with full understanding that my stubbornness and insecurity quite possibly put us in this situation.

  “Don’t,” he warns. “Like I said earlier, if it wasn’t us, it would be someone else. We were in the wrong place at the wrong time, and that isn’t going to change. No point dwelling on the past.”

  “I really am sorry I didn’t give you the chance to explain.”

  “You broke me. You moved out of our home and just walked away, shut down and refused to talk to me. It wasn’t even a real breakup. It messed with my head. I needed to talk to you, and I couldn’t. So I went to training and when I came back and had to get a new place, I told myself I had to accept that we were over. But I just couldn’t move on. I needed to try at least one more time.”

  My heart twists.

  “I screwed up. Seems I’m good at that.”

  He reaches over and surprises me by taking my hand. “Wouldn’t be human if you didn’t screw up. Maybe this is your chance to stop blaming yourself for fucked-up shit other people do, and for not being able to change the past. Because guess what, Lara? No one can. Everyone has regrets but you can’t let them destroy you. You just have to learn from them and do better next time.”

  Did it really take us being kidnapped to finally sort through our problems?

  I tremble.

  “You cold?” he asks.

  “No,” I say, my voice low. “I’m terrified.”

  He reaches over and effortlessly lifts me onto his lap, nestling me in, putting me against him where I fit so perfectly. His big arms go around me and I press my cheek to his chest. I love this man. I’ve loved him since the first moment I met him. Charming, gorgeous, a little scary. He was my complete opposite, yet we worked in a way that didn’t make sense to anyone but us.

  “Do you remember when we first met?” I whisper against his shirt.

  His heart beats against my cheek. I love how that feels.

  “Yeah,” he chuckles, low. “Fuck, that was the best night of my life.”

  I close my eyes on a smile, and remember the moment I laid eyes on him.

  “Don’t look now,” Rachel cries. “But there is a super-hot man staring at your booty.”

  I flush. “What?”

  “Yep, he’s giving you a look like he wants to fuck you right here, right now.”

  My cheeks grow pink and I turn, glancing at the man sitting at the bar, eyes on me. I’ve had men look at me in my time, but never like this. His gaze is smoldering and he’s looking at me like he’s about to come over and throw me over his shoulder. He doesn’t hesitate as he drags his gaze down my body. Openly. Without shame.

  I turn back to Rachel. “Why is he looking at me like I’m a piece of meat? How rude!”

  She giggles. “It’s not rude, he thinks you’re hot.”

  “He doesn’t even know me,” I huff. “I’m going to ask him to stop.”

  “Oh, you do that, just let me get a drink and watch this one play out.”

  I take a deep breath and approach the man still staring at me. His mouth twitches when I near and it only makes me angrier. How dare he sit there and openly ogle me. Seriously. I’m not a piece of ass. I could be married, for Christ’s sake. As I get closer, I realize that he is, in fact, extremely good looking. He’s also big, like really big. Muscled and ripped. My throat gets tight as I stop in front of him.

  “Excuse me, I’d appreciate if you’d stop staring at me. It’s making my
friend and me uncomfortable.”

  His lip quirk turns into a grin. “That so?”

  “Yes that’s so. It’s rude to stare at women like you want to take them away and eat them alive.”

  A full-blown smile now. “Eat them alive? Is that what you want me to do with you?”

  I bristle. “It is not. No. I don’t … I don’t…”

  A flash of white teeth. “Do I make you nervous, little one?”

  “No you do n-n-n-not,” I stammer. God, no one ever makes me nervous and this man is making me stammer? What has gotten into me?

  He chuckles. “Cute, aren’t you, honey?”

  I flush. “Just stop … stop staring at me.”

  “I’m enjoying the view. It’s a free country.”

  “It’s rude,” I say, my voice trembling.

  He leans in close. “Admit it,” he says, his breath tickling my ear. “You’re thoroughly enjoying it.”

  “As much as I’d enjoy being poked in the eye with a fork.”

  He laughs, deep and sexy. Damn. Damn him.

  “We’re done here,” I say, stepping back. “Knock it off and learn some manners.”

  “Or what?”

  “Or, I’ll … be unhappy.”

  There’s that grin again.

  “Whatever,” I mutter, turning and attempting to rush off, but I trip and stumble into the bar, catching it to steady myself.

  The man stands and walks over, leaning down and helping me up, a grin on his smug face. “I’m taking you on a date,” he says, slipping his number into my palm. “Call me, or I’ll find you.”

  I open my mouth to argue, but his big hand is so warm against my arm that I can’t concentrate. When I’m safely back on my feet, he leans in and brushes his lips against my cheek before whispering, “Make sure you call me. I’m very good at tracking down what I want.”

  Oh boy.

  “You were so fucking flustered, it was adorable,” he says, snapping me out of my memory. “When you told me to stop because you’d be unhappy, I knew I had to have you. I could tell that you normally had all the confidence. I knew I’d gotten to you when you stammered.”

  My cheeks heat.

  “God, I embarrassed myself so hard that night.”

  “Cutest thing I ever saw. This little gorgeous woman trying to tell a big guy like me to stop looking at her. You were trying so hard to sound serious.”

  “I was serious,” I protest.

  “You loved every second of it.”

  I huff. “I did not like being ogled like that. Women don’t like that.”

  He puts a hand on my knee and squeezes gently. “No, you loved it but didn’t want to admit it, and that’s exactly why I knew I was going to chase you. You were so different from all the other women I’d met, who all threw themselves at me. You had confidence and an independent spirit. You just came over there and gave me a piece of your mind in the fuckin’ cutest way. I was hooked.”

  “I’m not cute.”

  He squeezes me. “Try as you might, you’ll always be cute, baby.”

  Baby.

  I shiver.

  “Imagine what he’s thinking right now,” I whisper into Noah’s ear. “Seeing us like this?”

  Noah turns and presses his mouth to my ear. “I think he’s crapping himself, because he’s betting on us working against each other.”

  “We’ll show him.”

  “Yeah, Lara, we’ll show him.”

  I hope he’s right.

  No.

  What’s happening? What the hell is happening?

  They’re not meant to make up.

  They’re not meant to work with each other. He’s supposed to hate her. She’s supposed to cower.

  Frustration and desperation battle in my chest. This is my game, goddammit. My fucking game. They don’t choose how this goes.

  She leans in and says something to him. Why can’t I hear her? What’s she saying? Why is he smiling?

  I launch out of my chair and take my keys. I’m going to find out. I know they have a few more hours to go, but nobody is going to ruin this plan.

  I’ve worked my entire life for this. If those fuckers think they can get away with turning it around on me, they’re wrong.

  So very wrong.

  NINE

  I wish I could say it’s the cold that wakes me, or even the sun shining through the trees, but it isn’t either of those. It’s dark, so dark I can’t see much, but I can hear just fine. It’s the rustling that rouses me. I quickly realize that it isn’t Noah, because I’m still tucked into his side and I can hear his soft breathing beside me.

  Someone else is here.

  My body is frozen. I can’t move. I don’t even want to. Footsteps come close, close enough to make my breath seize in my lungs, refusing to escape. I have to act like I’m asleep. I have to pretend. Noah starts snoring softly. He has no idea that someone is standing right next to us. Is this it? Is he going to kill us? No, it hasn’t been seventy-two hours yet. No. He wants the game, he does.

  So why is he here?

  I keep my eyes closed and try to appear asleep even though my entire body is screaming in fear. Don’t tremble. Stay still. Try to breathe. A few seconds pass. It feels like minutes, but eventually the footsteps move away. I open my eyes just enough to see a soft light near the tree to my left. I can see it without moving from Noah’s chest.

  I can make out the outline of a man. He’s tall, not overly bulky. I can’t see his hair color, or even his features, but he doesn’t look threatening from here. I suppose anyone can be a threat with a weapon, but alone not many people are actually that terrifying. A scary thought. I blink a few times, keeping my breathing even, and watch as the man reaches into a tree.

  What the hell is he doing?

  He fiddles around for a few minutes and then comes out with something in his hand. Goddammit, I can’t see what he’s got. I squint. Nothing. He does something else then returns the item to the tree, high enough that whatever it is can’t be seen at normal eye level. What the hell would someone put on a tree? What could he be checking?

  Then it clicks.

  A camera.

  My body stiffens and I’m forced to take a few stuttering breaths to relax myself again. It makes perfect sense: He’s got cameras in the trees. He needs to be able to see us wherever we are and so he’s created a situation where we’ve been forced to stay on his path, because going into the dense underbrush would simply be too hard. It would take hours to move even half a mile, plus it would be impossible to see snakes and other venomous creatures. So we’ve been following his predetermined route this whole time. Playing right into his hands. God, how long would it have taken him to wire up cameras in the trees?

  I watch for a few more seconds as he looks back at us. I shut my eyes, praying he didn’t see me with them open. The flashlight moves past our heads. I don’t move. I don’t even breathe. A second later it’s gone, and I can hear retreating footsteps.

  I lie like that for well over an hour, needing to be sure he’s gone before gently turning my body as if I’m just moving in my sleep. I move my mouth to Noah’s ear and whisper, “Noah, wake up.”

  He doesn’t move.

  “Noah,” I whisper again.

  He shifts and groans, then his voice comes out husky. “Lara?”

  “Don’t speak out loud,” I whisper frantically. “Pretend I’m asleep.”

  “Lara, are you awake?” he says.

  I don’t move.

  He shifts into position so we’re face-to-face. Neither of us moves.

  “What’s going on?” he whispers.

  “He was here.”

  His entire body stiffens. “What?”

  “I woke up, and he was here. I didn’t move. He didn’t know I was awake, but I saw him doing something to a tree. Noah, I think he has cameras in them.”

  Noah curses under his breath. “Fuck, of course he does. I’ve been trying to figure out how he’d find us after the seventy-two hou
rs are up. I thought he must be watching from a distance. Setting up a massive network of cameras seemed too involved.”

  “It took him a while to get the camera out. He fiddled with it then put it back.”

  “If he’s watching us from those cameras, then we need to be out of range,” Noah whispers, squeezing me closer.

  “So we go off his path?”

  Noah shakes his head. “No. We’ll never get far in there; it’s so overgrown, we’ll barely be able to move, let alone run. He’s not stupid. He’s cleared only the areas he wants us to use because he knows we’re not going to get far in the interior.”

  “So what now?”

  “I don’t know yet,” he whispers, frustrated.

  “We’ve walked for miles. How many cameras could he have put in?”

  “We’ve also re-trekked a lot of the same ground because of those fences. He must have us blocked in a certain area. He’s been planning this for so long, he’s probably got cameras everywhere.”

  “That’s a lot of cameras.”

  “Don’t underestimate the mind of a killer, Lara.”

  “So what do we do?”

  “We can’t go into the forest, so that leaves only one choice,” he whispers, pressing his mouth to my ear. “We go higher than them.”

  Higher than them.

  We climb the trees.

  Could it truly be that simple?

  TEN

  Morning comes like a nightmare.

  Our last day before he comes after us. We both know it.

  Even after the events of last night, we’re both very aware that by this time tomorrow we’re going to be running like hunted animals. I can’t eat. I can’t even drink. Fear has lodged itself into my body and I can’t shake it. Gone is the nausea, the crying, the terrified chatter. I’m just silent, legs tucked to my chest, back to the tree, unable to make my body function.

  I don’t want to die.

  I don’t want to be hunted.

  My chest clenches and my skin prickles at the very thought.

  “Hey,” Noah says, squatting down in front of me, studying my face.