Darius was. And he knew which option he wished for.
“You really know your way around here,” she said.
When Darius had moved them here for a while, he’d insisted that Dare learn the bayou channels backward, forward, light and dark, and Dare had seen the benefits of it, so he did. He practiced then and he’d come here after Katrina to mark the changes, learn the new routes, find the barriers.
He was glad he’d done so, wasn’t sure Powell’s men had been that smart. But Grace had been here since well past Katrina, and Dare still couldn’t get a handle on whether or not Powell had had recent—or any—contact with her.
He was so close to trusting her—and so close to freaking out. “Darius was big on planning for every eventuality. You grow up around that, and it becomes second nature.”
“I guess I should be grateful for that.” She leaned back along the pillow he’d given her, the mosquito netting keeping them comfortable, safe from the swarming bugs she heard buzzing around them. “Where do we go from here?”
“A second safe house.”
“I’m so glad Darius was paranoid.” But Grace didn’t look sure of anything.
He grabbed some water, put it on a clean towel and moved closer to her to wipe the soot off her face and neck. She did the same for him, and his skin cooled under the moonlight. He stripped his shirt off and she continued to cool him down, rubbing the cloth against his chest.
He pulled her closer, to his lap. She grabbed on to him as the boat tipped hard.
“Easy, baby—I’ve got this.”
She straddled him, and he tugged her hips so her sex pressed his cock. They were both covered, but the sensation was still good. He rubbed her to him and she moaned, dropped the cloth. He pulled her T-shirt up and suckled a nipple. She arched to him, grabbed his shoulders, and he wanted to take down their pants, take her right here.
But this was just as hot. Making her come, watching the joy spread across her face, was his goal now. He sucked harder, let her move her hips against him. The boat rocked gently, her moans became a steady hum in the night and right before she came apart, she went so still . . . and then she whispered his name, over and over until her head dropped to his shoulder.
He wasn’t sure how long they stayed like that, with her holding him as much as he was holding her. But eventually, he laid her down on some of the pillows and she curled up and slept—exhausted, yes, but some of the stress was alleviated for the moment.
He was still rock hard, but he’d deal with that. He ate, planned out their next moves. Made a quick call right before the sun came up and they got closer to shore, and then paddled them there.
Chapter Thirty
As dawn approached, Dare steered the boat toward shore and Grace realized they were only half a mile away from the shore and had been the entire night. No doubt Dare had been scoping it out to make sure it hadn’t been compromised.
When they hit shore, Dare dragged the boat up and out with her still in it. He gently set her down, bare feet and all, while he hid the boat under some brush covering.
“Hop on,” he told her, turning his back to her. She did so, her hands on his shoulders as he walked, weapon drawn. She wasn’t sure how far he walked, but it seemed like miles. Finally, they approached a car parked to the side of a trailer. He let her down from his back, opened the car door for her.
“Stay down,” he told her, and she did as he asked as he got into the driver’s seat.
The car rolled silently down the road when he released the brake. When they were more than halfway down the dusty road, Dare bent down and pulled a plastic piece away from the bottom of the steering compartment. He stripped the plastic from the ends of the battery and starter wires and touched them together, and the car started.
“No way we’d be able to walk the rest of this,” he told her. They drove for twenty minutes and then abandoned the car and walked for another ten. In front of her in the soft rising light loomed an old plantation house, still somehow stately despite the disrepair. She wasn’t even sure the porch could hold her.
The flooring