LOST WITH YOU - Lisa Ann Verge Page 0,49
that conclusion on her own.
“Casey.”
Her shoulders pulled together as if she were ducking his words.
“Hey.” He tugged gently on the back of her head, but she didn’t pull her cheek from his chest. “We can’t stay here. We have to keep moving.”
“I can’t believe,” she said into his shirt, “that you’re worried about the expedition after—”
“We need dry clothes.” He glanced at the swiftly running river. “We have to find the canoe and our gear.”
“It’s all gone.”
“Some of it might have been thrown up on the banks. Your knees need bandaging, Casey. We need the first aid kit.”
Her lashes cast shadows on her cheeks as she eased herself away from him. She wiped her face with the back of her hand and then glanced at his side, which he gripped with one hand.
She frowned. “You’re hurt.”
“It’s just a bruise.” He dropped his hand and turned away so she wouldn’t see him wince. “Let’s focus on the priorities.”
“My notebook.” She drew in a sharp breath. “I need to find my notebook.”
A dark hand closed over his heart. She was coming out of her shock thinking about the article she would have to write. Or perhaps about the next assignment, far away from him.
He tried not to take that as a bad sign.
“We’ll find your notebook.” It was encased in plastic, as were their phones. “Let’s keep moving.”
***
“Hello!”
Casey stopped short on the bank of the river, not quite sure what she’d just heard. For three weeks, the only human voice she’d encountered in these woods had been Dylan’s, and he was standing right beside her.
“Hello!”
“Here!” Her body surged with adrenaline as she bounded up the riverbank toward movement between the trees, in spite of the pull of her scraped knees. “We’re over here!”
“Stay where you are.” The voice drew closer. “I’ll come to you.”
With a gasp, she turned to Dylan, who followed her more slowly. He hadn’t said a word to her about why he still gripped his side as they followed the riverbank in search of their gear. But she’d noticed how he flinched, now and again, when he twisted to look at something, or when he breathed too deeply. He was trying valiantly to hide the pain. Probably so she wouldn’t panic. But her heart dropped with every clench of his jaw.
“Did you hear that?” For his sake, she ignored how he dropped his hand from his side as if this would somehow hide the obvious. “The cavalry is coming.”
“Looks more like a ranger.”
She observed the approach of a man through the trees. Their savior wore the khaki and army green of a forest ranger and raised a hand in greeting. She swooned at the sight of the gear on his belt—a walkie-talkie, a can of bear mace, a bottle of water. For the first time since she’d hauled herself out of the river, she could finally breathe.
The ranger took in the sight of them, damp and dirty and bloody in places, but his expression didn’t flicker.
He squinted at Dylan. “You’re Dylan MacCabe.”
“Worse for wear.” Dylan put a hand on her shoulder, his face tight with suppressed pain. “This is my partner, Casey.”
She managed a smile and a wave.
“Peter Demers, park ranger.” He pulled a bottle of water out of his pack and held it out to her. “You look thirsty.”
“Thank you,” she gasped, twisting off the cap.
“I have food, too, if you need it.” He planted his hands on his hips. “We were warned you might be in distress.”
Dylan stilled. “You were warned?”
“We received a report that you were both missing.”
Casey finished drinking to see irritation cross Dylan’s features.
“I apologize for my family,” Dylan said. “I gave them specific instructions not to bother the state authorities unless we were more than three days off schedule. We can’t be more than a day from the border, right?”
“Two, by canoe, but any delay can be too much for a worried family.” The ranger’s smile twitched. “You were expected over the border by now, so they requested our aid.”
“And thank goodness they did,” Casey piped up, thrusting the bottle at Dylan. “Sounds like perfect timing to me.”
Dylan took the water she offered. “I’ll still be having words with my family.”
“You won’t have to wait long.” The ranger twisted, nodding to some distant horizon. “They’re all waiting for news in a hotel about ten miles from here.”
A hotel? She swayed at the thought of real food, a hot shower, a soft, downy bed, and clean sheets.
“Got a first aid kit in that pack?”