He ran down the bank, worst-case scenarios playing over in his head. That the water had pulled her under. That he’d be too late.
Cool wind snapped over his skin, the pack bouncing on his back. He barely registered any of it. She held his focus. The water. The rhythm of the flow.
Then he spotted her. Air pulled sharply into his chest at the sight of her holding on to an exposed root near the bank.
She was alive. Thank God.
He dropped his pack and lowered beside her. Quickly, he reached through the water, grabbed her forearms, and yanked her out.
“Ethan!” She dropped against his chest, her entire body shaking.
He didn’t feel relief. They weren’t out of danger yet. She was too cold.
“I need to get your wet clothes off.” He helped her tug off her soaking sweatshirt and T-shirt, then tugged his own sweatshirt over his head and pulled it over her. “Can you stand?”
She nodded, legs shaking as she pushed to her feet. He helped her out of her shoes and jeans. Once all her wet clothes were off, he grabbed a blanket from the pack and wrapped it around her waist.
“I’m going to get us out of here.” He threw his pack back on, slipped his arms behind her back and under her legs, and lifted her. Then he was running again. The Glock was still in his grip, but fuck, he hoped he didn’t have to use it, not with Maggie here. He was counting on his team finding the asshole who’d attacked Priya. On finding Priya and this nightmare being over.
“Wait.” Maggie’s voice was so quiet he almost didn’t hear her. “There’s a woman out here.”
“I know. She called us. The guys are searching for her.”
Maggie’s eyes shuttered. “Thank God. I…I was so worried. They’ll find her.”
Hehopedthey’d find her. If anyone could, it was them.
17
Maggie couldn’t stop shaking. It was like the cold had slipped into her bones and was rattling her frame. Part of it was probably shock. It had to be. She was wearing Ethan’s large sweatshirt, had a blanket over her legs, and the heat in the truck was on full power. She was surrounded by warmth. But she didn’t feel any of it.
Ethan pulled up in front of a wooden-framed house.
“Is this where you live?” she asked.
They’d barely spoken the entire drive. But he’d been watching her. His eyes had felt like a physical touch sliding over her skin.
“It is. Wait here.” He climbed out of the truck and jogged to his front door.
The house was surrounded by trees and mountains, but that didn’t surprise her. Ethan had always said he’d be happy to be stuck in the middle of nowhere, with no neighbors and no one to bother him.
When he came back, he opened her door and moved to lift her out, but she shook her head. “I can walk.”
“You don’t have shoes on.” Before she could respond, he scooped her up and carried her to the front door.
There was no arguing with him. He was in that something-bad-happened-and-now-I-need-to-take-charge mood. And it felt good to have someone take care of her, especially when she felt such bone-deep exhaustion. Again, it had to be partially shock.
When he stepped inside the house, she took in the large living area to her right. The stone fireplace. The exposed wooden beams and almost floor-to-ceiling windows. The home smelled like cedar and coffee and felt rustic and homely in the best way.
“It’s beautiful,” she whispered.
“Thanks.” He lowered her to her feet but didn’t step back right away, as if he was scared she’d fall. “We need to get you warm.”
On cue, a shudder ran down her spine. “I’d love a shower.”
He took her hand, and the heat and strength of his fingers around hers made a bit of the cold flow out of her body.
Inside his bedroom, a large bed with a wooden headboard centered the space and an antique dresser sat beside the door. The room was big and masculine and comfortable. They moved through it into an attached bathroom.
