cigarette and walking around the side of the structure.
Out of sight and maybe moving toward the back where the missing plywood would give away Radley’s escape.
He was behind Honor in seconds.
She faced the clearing, his duffel at her feet, a backpack on her shoulders. She looked vulnerable, her hair a wild mass of flyaway strands, her body seemingly dwarfed by the pack she carried.
He didn’t want to startle a scream out of her, didn’t want a fight. He meant to whisper her name, let her know that he was there, but the guard sprinted around the side of the camper, radio out, yelling into it as he bounded up three steps that led to the door and kicked it open.
Time to go. Now!
Radley grabbed Honor’s arm as she jumped back, apparently startled by the guard’s behavior.
She was startled by his touch, as well.
She yanked away, grabbing the duffel and swinging it in his direction.
He caught it easily, pulling it from her hands.
“It’s me,” he said, but she didn’t seem to hear. She was fighting all-out, swinging her fists and attempting a sideswipe to his knee that would have worked if he weren’t as well-trained in self-defense as she was.
He grabbed her forearm and pulled her into his chest.
She struggled, but he was larger and stronger, one arm on hers, the other wrapped tightly around her waist. Not enough space between them for her to use hands or feet against him.
“It’s me,” he repeated, whispering the words in her ear because the guard had appeared again, sprinting to the back of the camper, his radio buzzing with activity.
Out of sight. Armed. Dangerous.
Backup coming, and Radley didn’t have time to ease into his escape plans or to be gentle in his approach. “How about you stop fighting me, so we can get out of here while we can?”
“Radley?” she whispered, her breath hot through his shirt. She’d stopped struggling, seemed to finally understand who he was.
“Yeah,” he responded.
She nodded, her head bumping his chest, her body suddenly limp.
“Are you okay?” he asked, his heart thundering with the need to get away, his mind screaming that they had to go while they still had the chance.
“Fine,” she murmured, her voice weak.
She was lying, because she had no choice but to be okay.
She knew it.
He knew it.
If they were caught, if they were imprisoned again, it wouldn’t be in a ramshackle camper. If they were imprisoned. The other option was burial in a shallow grave somewhere deep in the forest. By the time Wren realized they were both missing, it would be too late. Even the best-trained cadaver dogs would have difficulty finding remains in a wilderness of this size, and proof of any crime would be long gone.
“All right,” he murmured against her hair, the scent of candle flames and rich earth filling his nose.
He told himself she wasn’t a victim, reminded himself that she was a trained law enforcement officer, a special agent prepared for whatever came.
But she was trembling, and when she stepped away she swayed.
“Honor...” He didn’t know what he would have said, what he could have said.
“I managed to get Absalom’s gun.” She cut off before he could finish. “It’s in your duffel. So at least we’re not unarmed. Let’s go.”
She stepped deeper into the trees, moving nearly silently, the shadowy forest embracing her.
He followed, because there was no other choice.
They had to put distance between themselves and the enemy.
They had to get to a town, find a phone, call for backup.
And once Honor was safe, once she’d been transported back to Boston, he’d return. Because there was no way he was going to let Absalom keep whatever dirty secrets he was hiding.
The thing about life, Honor had learned, was that sometimes you didn’t get a choice in how it played out, but you always had a choice in how you responded to it.
After her parents had died, Uncle Bennett had become her legal guardian. Honor’s mother had been an only child whose parents had moved to Florida a decade prior. Aside from Bennett, Honor’s only other living relative had been Dotty. Her grandmother had lived on a five-hundred-acre farm that had been in her husband’s family for generations. Ninety minutes outside of Boston, the property was far from the Boston suburb where Honor had been living with her parents.
Bennett had been single, childless and focused on building his career as a defense lawyer. Honor figured he’d probably agreed to be her guardian because he’d felt like he had no choice.
Whatever the case, he had agreed and, after her parents’ deaths, he’d moved into their suburban house and done his best to shepherd Honor into adulthood.
But he’d been busy.
She’d been nearing her teen years.
They’d both tried, but it had been Dotty who’d held them together. Every weekend, Bennett had shipped Honor off to the farm. He’d done the same on holidays. Summers were always spent on the lush acreage, helping Dotty with the garden, mucking stalls and riding horses.
Honor had loved that.
She’d loved Dotty.
She and Bennett, on the other hand, had never been close. He’d often made it clear that he’d be happy when she was eighteen and they could go their separate ways.
She’d purposed not to let that change her. She’d studied hard, graduating from high school a year early and attending MIT on full scholarship. She’d worked full-time, attended classes full-time and maintained her GPA by skipping sleep and parties. There’d been no time for other things. Not hobbies. Not vacations.
Not relationships.
She’d tried a few times, dating men she thought were as driven as she was. It always seemed that they asked too much, demanding time and attention she’d wanted to expend on other things.
And, now, she was nearing thirty. Alone.
Her best friend suddenly gone from her life.
She’d been telling herself for months that it was okay. That she would make the best of it the same way she’d made the best of other things in her life.
And, now, she was here: putting one foot in front of the other, trudging through thick forests without any plan beyond getting away.
She’d make it work.
She had to.
She just wasn’t sure how.
Somewhere in the distance, people were charging through the woods, branches breaking, leaves crackling, voices calling. She and Radley moved silently. No discussion. No communication. Just heading away from the danger.
Hopefully, not into something worse than what they were leaving behind.
Vermont was a beautiful state, filled with gorgeous vistas, but the wilderness could be deadly. Getting lost out here could end just as badly as staying at The Sanctuary.
“We should probably have a plan,” she murmured, keeping her voice low because sound carried, and she didn’t want Absalom’s thugs to hear.
“We do,” Radley replied.