Faith.
That illusive thing that she clung to with both fists, but that always seemed to slip from her grasp when the going got tough. She’d beg for help but instead of waiting for an answer, she’d jump in to solve the problem herself. Headfirst, not even looking to see where she might land.
She’d learned her lesson about depending on others early, and she’d learned well. A drug-addicted mother, an alcoholic father, no one she could really trust to help her when she’d needed it—those things had made her the person she was. Maybe that’s why she constantly struggled for control, tried to call the shots when she should really be allowing God to lead the way. Jumped into things without a firm plan in mind.
Any way she cut it, the results were always the same. Trouble.
And she was in it again.
This time, she had no choice but to depend on God.
Depend on Jonas.
A stranger who’d stepped in and offered help she desperately needed.
A stranger she could trust with her life?
She hoped so, because the darkness she’d been holding at bay was closing in, her hold on the world was slipping and she was falling into dreams and nightmares and memories.
She jerked upright, afraid to let go, afraid of what it would mean if she woke and Jonas was gone and she was there, alone in a cave a hundred feet above the ground.
“Hey, calm down, everything is okay.” He was at her side, pressing her back before she could stand.
“No. It’s not. I’m out in the middle of nowhere, running for my life with a man I don’t know.”
“You know Kane, and you know the kinds of friends he keeps. Isn’t that enough?” The question seeped in, eased her frantic thoughts.
He was right.
She did know Kane.
She did know the kind of friends he kept.
Good people, all of them.
But she still didn’t want to let go, didn’t want to give in.
She tracked Jonas’s movement as he walked back to the mouth of the cave, watched as he settled there, cross-legged, watching the desert floor, doing what she should be doing herself.
What she couldn’t do herself.
She didn’t like it.
She didn’t like it at all, but darkness edged in anyway, stole her thoughts, her fears, her need for control, and she couldn’t fight it, couldn’t stop it as it swept her away.
FOUR
Jonas had been prepared for a lot of things when he’d headed out to find Skylar. Days trekking through the desert, nights in subfreezing temperatures, an injury victim, maybe even a body. What he hadn’t prepared for was a posse of armed men.
But that’s what he’d gotten.
He’d have a few words to say to Kane when he made it back to civilization.
If he made it back.
The way things were looking, he might not.
Rain still fell heavy and constant, the thick clouds and poor weather preventing Phoenix Search and Rescue from coming to their aid. That left Jonas and Skylar to find their own way out of the trouble they were in. He was up to the task. He wasn’t so sure about his companion. She hadn’t moved in the past hour, her body curled into a fetal position, her head resting on his backpack.
She was tough, he’d give her that.
As tough as Kane had said.
But even the toughest people had their breaking point, and he thought Skylar might have reached hers. Feverish and weak, she’d barely managed to make it to the cave. Sheer grit had carried her the last dozen feet. Maybe sheer grit would see her the rest of the way out of this mess.
Maybe.
He couldn’t count on it, though.
And he wouldn’t leave her behind.
He’d come to the desert with a mission—find Skylar Grady and bring her back to civilization.
He’d leave the desert with her, or he wouldn’t leave it at all.
In the first weeks and months and even years following Gabriella’s murder, the thought of failing might have had a tantalizing ring. Death seemed like a friend when life became the enemy. He’d survived that first wave of grief and self-loathing. Slowly, he’d come to accept that life could go on without his wife and son.
Could go on. Did go on. But it could never be the same again. He couldn’t be the same, couldn’t be the man he once was.
So, he went on with it, drifting from old house to old house, refinishing, rebuilding, creating beauty from decay.
Too bad he hadn’t been able to do that with his life. Create something new from the ruins of what had been. Something meaningful out of something senseless.
“Are they on the move?” Skylar’s voice carried through the darkness, scratchy and raw, breaking through thoughts that were just as raw, just as scratchy.
“You’re supposed to be sleeping.” He glanced her way, saw that she was moving toward him, the blanket crinkling as she pulled it close.
“It’s hard to sleep when death is knocking on your door.”
“He’s not knocking, yet. Go back to sleep.” He turned his attention back to the desert floor. Dark and empty of life, it was shadowed with night, the thick winter foliage offering shelter to anything or anyone who might want to hide there.
“You know I’m not going to do that, right?” Skylar dropped down beside him, Mylar crunching and crackling.
“I guess I do.”
“And I guess you know I’m going to ask until I get an answer. Are they on the move?“
“Things look quiet.”
“But?”
“They don’t feel quiet. My gut is saying that company is coming.”
“A person should never ignore his gut. I think we need to get out of here. Come on.” She rose, but he grabbed her hand, holding her in place.
“Moving quickly and without a plan won’t do either of us any good.”
“Sitting around waiting to be killed won’t, either.” But she settled down beside him again.
“That was easy.” Surprised, he studied her face, tried to read her expression.
“Lately, I’ve been thinking that I should spend a little more time planning before I jump into things. Now is as good a time as any to start.”
“Glad to hear it.”
“Yeah, well, when a life is on the line, I can’t afford to make foolish mistakes.”
“Lives. Last time I checked, there were two of us in this cave.”
“True, but your life is the one I’m worried about. I made my own mess. If I die because of it, it’ll be my own fault. If you die …” Her voice trailed off, but she didn’t need to continue for him to understand.
He knew all about guilt. Had felt it every minute of every day for four years.
“It won’t be your fault. It will be the fault of the men who are after us.” “The men who are after me. You’re an innocent bystander in this.”
“I’m a willing participant, and I assume all risk and responsibility for myself.”
“You wouldn’t be here if I’d