“It’s normally beautiful around here too. Breathtaking, actually. We don’t usually get weather this bad this late in the summer.”
She sighs. It’s one of the heaviest I’ve ever heard, and it’s strange seeing it come out of such a small, beautiful thing like Naomi. But it’s another positive sign she’s letting me see it. “When it rains, it pours.” Letting the silence ride again, it has the intended effect. "Why did you want to be in the middle of nowhere?"
I shrug as best I can with my hands bound. "Wanted to get away. It's a great place to escape to." I indicate her prison uniform with my eyes, and I get a nugget of a laugh out of her. It comes with a small smile, and it’s glorious. She was beyond pretty when she was scowling and barking orders at me. She is something else when her lips turn up.
"What were you escaping from?" she asks.
"People, same as you."
She shakes her head, but that wonderful smile is still there. "Not the same."
"No, I suppose not." I smile at her. It feels like I'm getting somewhere.
But that momentum is stopped, like our progress, when we clear the hill. What was just a calm stream two days ago is now a churning mass of brown water, debris spinning in its current. My truck is on the other side, and there's no way to walk around—not for miles.
"Shit," she mutters. She’s not hiding her frustration from me. That feels like progress too.
"We could fell a tree," I suggest, nodding toward a slim pine. "Make our own bridge. I've got a hatchet in my pack."
After a moment, she nods and digs through my gear, producing the hatchet. She approaches the tree, studying it, the Glock still in her other hand. Her first swing is tentative, barely biting into the bark. The second is harder, but at the wrong angle, causing the blade to glance off. By the fifth swing, frustration creases her brow.
"I could do it," I say quietly. "If you untie me."
She freezes mid-swing. Her eyes lock with mine. I can almost hear her thoughts. She looks at the rushing water, then back at me. Both of us are threats to her escaping, and she’s trying to decide which one’s bigger.
"Try anything, and I'll shoot you," she says finally, lowering the hatchet.
"Fair enough."
She unties my wrists, her fingers brushing against my skin. The rope falls away, and I flex my hands, blood rushing back into my fingertips.
I take the hatchet from her. I circle the pine, finding the right spot, and begin. She doesn't seem offended that I offered to take over. These are my woods, and I am a big guy after all. But she has no idea just how unnaturally strong and fast I am—so much so that I have to hide it. I don't want to give her another reason to doubt me again. I swing the hatchet, strongand true, but less than half of what I'm capable of. A few minutes later, I make the final notch. The tree groans, then falls perfectly across the rushing water.
For a moment, we stand together, looking at our makeshift bridge. That glorious smile flickers across Naomi's face again. Our eyes meet, and there's a shared moment of triumph.
Then her expression hardens. She levels the gun at me.
"Put the hatchet down."
I feel its weight in my hand. I'm not surprised by her fear of me holding this possible weapon. No. I'm more surprised I never even considered using it against her.
I drop the hatchet.
She quickly retrieves it, sliding it back into the pack. "You first,” she says.
I nod but don't say anything.
I set my boots on the fallen tree to test it. It's solid enough. I walk across steadily, one foot in front of the other, the water churning beneath me.
When I reach the other side, I turn back. Naomi follows, burdened with the pack and both weapons. She's halfway when her foot slips. Her arms pinwheel, and she loses her pistol into the rushing water below. She's going down.
I lunge forward, grabbing her arm. For a moment, she dangles, half over the raging water, her eyes wide with surprise. Then I pull, hauling her to safety beside me on solid ground.
She stares at me, water plastering her hair to her face. "Thank you," she says, sounding genuinely puzzled.
"You're welcome."
She looks around for the gun. "I think it washed away."
