In Strange Woods - Claire Cray Page 0,34

up the busted old road, straight into the woods.

Hunter let out an aggravated sigh, freaked out and strangely pissed off. He recalled mentioning that Camp Five would be about two miles from here. But he didn’t imagine James would be stupid enough to just hike out there. Onto an abandoned piece of property in the middle of the woods. Blowing right past what Hunter could clearly see was a No Trespassing sign up ahead—and after everything he’d told him!

Awful possibilities flickered at the back of his mind as he glared up the road. What could he do? He couldn’t just sit here and wait. Swearing under his breath, he went back to his truck to grab a compass out of the glovebox, just in case. Then, following James’s footsteps, he stalked irritably up Pike Creek.

But he didn’t get far before a loud rustling stopped him in his tracks. Something big was racing through the forest up ahead, getting closer. It was making a ruckus in the greenery, too loud for a cougar and too heavy-footed for a deer.

The shrubs beside the road trembled—and James himself came bursting out of the woods just ten feet ahead.

They both froze, gawking at each other. James was panting raggedly, covered in bloody scratches, bits of forest sticking out of his hair. Hunter’s explosion of relief at finding him alive was quickly drowned out by horror at the blood on his face and the panic in his eyes.

Alarmed, Hunter started toward him. “Jesus, what—”

“We have to go,” James blurted, and sprang into motion again. He reached Hunter in a few strides and grabbed his arm, hauling him toward the main road. “Run.”

“From what?”

“Guns. Patrol.” James half collapsed against the hood of the car and fumbled in his pockets, pulling out his keys with a shaking hand. His hair was sweaty, his cheeks bright red, and his voice was hoarse. How long had he been running? “You were right. We have to go now.”

“What the hell, dude?” Hunter asked, even as he stepped back and pulled out his keys. “Can you even drive right now?”

“Yes. Please go.” James yanked open the door of his car and fell behind the wheel, fumbling to get the key in the ignition. “Seriously, we need to go.”

“Fine,” Hunter said as he turned away. “Come to my place, then.”

“Okay, just go!” James slammed the door and started the car.

Hunter jumped into his truck and started the engine, aggravated. Did James do anything but dive headfirst into danger? Goddammit, this was getting ridiculous, and he was getting more worked up than he had a right to be. After all, this wasn’t really his business, was it?

But…shit. Damned if it didn’t feel like it was.

Damned if he didn’t want James to be his business.

Chapter 15: Sobered Up

After his sprint through the woods, James was surprised he had enough strength to make it into the trailer. Hunter’s hand on his back helped, though the tense look on his handsome face wasn’t anywhere near as gentle. He looked equally concerned and frustrated, and James realized with immediate dismay that he had just barged in and ruined yet another day in the life of Hunter Quaid.

Hunter made him sit on the sofa and brought him a large mason jar of water. When he’d gulped half of it down, Hunter set it aside and sat down beside him, reaching out to gently touch his chin. “C’mere.”

“It was a bush,” James said hoarsely, his hands curling into fists on his thighs as Hunter turned his face from side to side. “I jumped into a bush with thorns.”

“Jumped into a bush?” Hunter let go of his chin. “Why? You had to hide?”

James watched Hunter’s hand drop, wishing like an idiot that it would stay on his face. The urge to collapse against him was so powerful he seriously considered it. But that serious expression demanded an explanation, so James sucked it up and told him everything that had happened.

Hunter listened silently, his brow creased and his eyes disturbed. When the story was over, he gave a curt shake of his head and stood up, walking slowly to the kitchen. “Jesus,” he muttered under his breath, raking a hand through his hair, and then turned back around to fix James with a look of angry despair. “Man, I don’t know where to fuckin’ start.”

James froze. Suddenly Hunter reminded him of Robin.

One night back in his late teens, partying in some underground club with a bunch of graffiti artists, James had