companies or individuals to find the weak spots in their physical and network security.”
“Huh, okay.” She sat with that for several minutes, her hip chafing his stomach with every step. “Why didn’t you keep the guys’ guns or radios?”
“There was no way to know if those weapons have been involved in anything illegal. I’d rather not possess one without knowing its provenance.”
“Ah,” she said. “Makes sense.”
“As for the radios, the cops don’t usually monitor short-wave frequencies, so we couldn’t call for help anyway. And I didn’t want those two to be able to call anyone to come after us.”
“I never would have thought of that.”
“I wish no one ever had to.” Todd set her gently on her feet before the cave that had turned out to be nothing more than a shallow depression. “Well, shit.”
CHAPTER THREE
TODD GAVE LINDSEY a sheepish grin. “So, not a cave.”
The warm imprint of his arms across her back and legs had already dissipated now that the sun eased toward the horizon and the wind had picked up. She shivered. “Back on the trail?” she asked, trying to fake an enthusiasm she didn’t feel.
Her muscles had begun to stiffen, and pretty much everything throbbed. Sleep tugged at her, an inescapable anchor.
He glanced around, maybe picking up on her distress. “We could make a spot here between the rock and the pine trees. It’ll provide concealment and give us some shelter from the wind.” He dropped his pack and rummaged around before producing a zippered fleece. “Here. This’ll keep you warm until I can get the tent set up.”
“Thank you.” She slid her arms into the jacket, letting the heat soak into her bones, and sank onto a log. “Do you need help?” Her words slurred a little.
He shook his head and gave her an indulgent smile that made her stomach flutter. “Nope. Just give me five minutes.”
True to his words, he had a one-person tent with arcing aluminum poles set up with practically the snap of his fingers. He rolled out a sleeping pad and bag and gestured her inside the shelter. “Leave your boots in the vestibule on the tarp.”
The tent had an overlay that extended beyond the door to create a “covered porch” effect that could zip closed for extra protection. Just being out of the wind felt like a miracle. She removed the pilfered boots from her ravaged feet.
Todd said something about checking her bandages, but she lay on top of the slick sleeping bag and closed her eyes with a sigh.
In her entire life, no mattress had ever felt so wonderful.
Hours later, she awoke in the dark, still groggy, but refreshed. Outside, insects buzzed and chirped. Or were those frogs? She’d never camped before and didn’t know much about Montana’s fauna. Her stomach growled and her mouth tasted like tar. She sat up, ribs protesting. How long had she slept?
She tried to run a hand through her hair, but her fingers tangled in the wild mass. Little particles of what felt like twigs and leaves fell into her lap. And she didn’t smell too great either.
Not that she needed to impress anyone. Nor was she particularly bothered by sweat or dirt. And her highest priority was getting to Megan. But since that was off the table until daylight, maybe she could take a minute to clean up and feel more human than wild animal.
Unzipping the tent flap, she peered out into the dark vestibule—as Todd had called it—and felt around for the boots. Loosening the shoes as much as possible, she slipped them on, unzipped the outer cover, and crawled into the faint moonlight.
Frigid, damp air quickly infiltrated the gaps in her clothing, but nothing stirred.
She found Todd sitting up against the rock wall on the lee side of the tent, eyes closed, barely visible beneath a knit cap and a shimmery blanket.
Her heart plummeted. Was he warm enough? What if he got hypothermia and died?
Careful to keep her distance, she called out softly, “Todd.”
He didn’t startle, or lash out, or any of the other responses she’d worried about. His eyes opened and he watched her serenely for a second before speaking. “Everything okay?”
“I think so.” The unforgiving air cut right through her fleece jacket and jeans. “Aren’t you cold?”
“Probably not as cold as you.” His words were thick, tinged with sleep.
“The tent was perfectly comfortable. I feel bad that I took the whole thing for myself.”
“Hog-em-all.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about. Did the cold go to your head?” Her