A daring CIA agent and a risk-averse I.T. expert

need to combine forces—like it or not.

Ryan Carr’s mission is to deliver top secret intel—not guard I.T. expert Haley Nobel, the unsuspecting woman who saved him while he was in a shoot-out. But with bullets flying, Ryan and Haley have no choice except to rely on each other and their survival instincts. With both of their lives on the line, will they find the best defensive action is total engagement?

JENNA KERNAN has penned over two dozen novels and received two RITA® Award nominations. Jenna is every bit as adventurous as her heroines. Her hobbies include recreational gold prospecting, scuba diving and gem hunting. Jenna grew up in the Catskills and currently lives in the Hudson Valley in New York State with her husband. Follow Jenna on Twitter, @jennakernan, on Facebook or at jennakernan.com

Also by Jenna Kernan

Surrogate Escape

Tribal Blood

Undercover Scout

Black Rock Guardian

Turquoise Guardian

Eagle Warrior

Firewolf

The Warrior’s Way

Shadow Wolf

Hunter Moon

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk

Defensive Action

Jenna Kernan

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-1-474-09411-5

DEFENSIVE ACTION

© 2019 Jeannette H. Monaco

Published in Great Britain 2019

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.

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Version: 2020-03-02

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For Jim, always.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

About the Author

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Note to Readers

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

About the Publisher

Chapter One

“Turn around or keep going?” Haley Nobel muttered to the car’s empty interior. There was no one in the rental with her to answer and she realized it was the first time she had been outside alone, all alone, in years.

The GPS app had taken a holiday during her drive in the Adirondack Mountains of New York State and the darkness had fallen like a curtain outside her shadow-blue 2018 Ford Taurus. Beyond the windshield there were no twinkling stars. No bright moon. No mystical glimmer of the aurora borealis. Just blackness with the only sign of life being the deer that had darted across the road a few miles back and nearly given her a heart attack.

Adult adventure camp was looking increasingly like the colossal mistake she’d expected it to be. She had about as much business being back here as that deer would have on the Number 7 Subway.

“Where am I?” she asked the silence about her as she peered at the gas gauge that had dipped below a quarter-tank of fuel.

She shivered against the chill, trying again to adjust to the heat on a night that was forecast to dip into the thirties. She’d forgotten that summer nights were so much colder up here in the mountains.

Her light L.L.Bean jacket looked rugged in the catalog but it was designed for wind and rain, not cold. There wasn’t even a fleece liner. Inside one of the front pockets was her impulse buy, offered at checkout for 25 percent off, a Victorinox Rambler pocketknife including scissors, file, two screwdrivers, bottle opener, toothpick, wire-stripper, tweezers, key ring and a blade long enough to use to slit her own throat for being stupid enough to let her father convince her to leave her upstairs apartment in the building she owned in Williamsburg, Brooklyn, to redeem his Hanukkah gift to her.

She’d been planning the specifics of this week for six months and it was already here. Back in December, she’d thought her father had a point. She did need to get back out there. But rocketing down zip lines was a little too out there. Besides, her job furnished all the thrills and chills she needed, strictly virtual, of course.

She’d tried to get him to take the gift back but he’d said it was nonrefundable and then told her that she needed to stop acting like she was the one who had died.

That cut deep, but the more she thought about it, the more she felt he might be right. But perhaps going out with friends for drinks would have been a better start than kayaking in white water.

Haley had told her father that her life held plenty of risks, which wasn’t exactly true. Hacking wasn’t dangerous if you were paid by the company you were hacking, which she always was. Her father thought she was paid by local businesses to build websites and manage social media accounts.

Her dad also thought she sat alone in her room all day taking customer service calls and playing video games. The video games part was true. But she had adventures in the real world. She’d recently gotten highlights in her light brown hair, which no one noticed as the color she picked was so close to her original shade.

You’re not the one who died, Haley.

As if she could just flip a switch and make herself like she had been, bring her sister back and go on bumbling along doing stupid stuff as if there would never be any consequences for either of them. She could not go back to that girl, not after losing Maggie. And if that were even possible, it would definitely take longer than one week. But when it came to telling her father she was not going, she just couldn’t do it. Maybe she could stay in a hotel near the camp, take a few photos and send them home. Snagging a video of one of the other female campers as she careened down the zip line would be good, too.

Except yesterday dad had pointed out that the camp was technology-free. How had she missed that nugget on the web page?

Maybe her dad was right about her having lost her joy. Was joy tied to doing stupid things, like jumping off a forty-foot cliff into freezing cold lake water?

What was even the point of that anyway?

If anything happened to you, too, it would just kill me. Her mother’s words played in her head along with the declaration that no mother should have to live to see the death of a child—until she had.

Haley blew out a breath. When had she started sweating?

If anything happened to you, too...you two...

Dad wanted her back out there. She saw the gift for what it was: a Hail Mary pass, a last-ditch effort to remind her of what she’d put aside. Meanwhile, Mom sent Haley links to articles on tick bites and how to recognize poisonous snakes.

What was she doing? Rock climbing...hiking...canoeing? Bouldering...which, judging from the website photo, was just risking a fall from an unreasonable height onto a bed of broken shards of jagged rock. She was no longer the adventurous one. Not since losing Maggie made her the only one.

What got her into the rental car in the first place was the thought of having to hide out all week in hopes that no one would notice she had not gone through with it. Having told her coworkers that she’d be offline and in the mountains, it was now impossible to back out without everyone knowing she had done so.

Whose stupid advice was it to declare your intentions publicly?

Oh, right, her dad’s again.

And she somehow felt that working out at her gym and hiking from Midtown to Lower Manhattan failed to prepare her for hiking along ledges while carrying a pack that would make a Sherpa blanch.

The photos of happy, healthy tanned hikers on the singles outing had gotten stuck in her head. She had forgotten the only bugs she managed were virtual and she’d never had a tan in her entire life. Her skin was so white that, under fluorescent lighting, it looked blue.

She peered ahead. Were those taillights? She exhaled her relief.

She glided closer to the other vehicle. It was a biggish car, like a Cadillac or Mercedes sedan. The plates were from Ontario.

“Oh, great. They’re probably as lost as I am.”

The sedan’s brake lights flashed as it slowed at the sharp turn, clearly identified by the road sign of an arrow bent at a ninety-degree angle accompanied by the reduced-speed-warning sign. They’d pulled ahead as she prepared early to make the turn.

Then the side door behind the driver of the sedan flew open and she moved her hand to her horn to alert the driver.

Something tumbled out onto the road. At first she thought it was one of those army duffel bags, the really big ones. But then she realized it was something wrapped in an olive green blanket, rolling along the road. She slammed on her brakes as her mind registered a human form and blood on a pale face.

Haley yelped as she judged the distance between the figure on the road and her decelerating auto. Too short, she realized and turned the wheel, swerving and squeezing her eyes shut tight. She braced against the wheel and lifted her shoulders to her ears. Her sharp inhalation merged with the sound of her phone tumbling from the cup holder and into the wheel well at her feet. The Taurus shuddered to a halt as the antilock brakes engaged. There had been no thump of tires rolling over a body.

She opened her eyes. The car ahead of her continued on, seemingly oblivious.

The cones of her headlights showed nothing but dry empty pavement. Had she imagined it?

Something thumped against her driver’s door. Haley yelped and glanced out the side window into the face of a man lying on his back inside a blanket that had been secured like a rug with clear tape around his torso and legs.

“Jeepers!” she croaked and opened the door, which thumped against the man’s hiking boots.

The cab light illuminated a rectangle of pavement on which the man lay. He sat up, struggling with the blanket until he released the tape, compromised in his roll. Then he held up his hands, bound together with silver-gray tape. Duct tape, she realized, the kind her dad had in his tool kit. The blanket fell away from him, revealing his shirtless torso streaked with sweat, grime and blood.

Her eyes bulged. Deep brown eyes glittered above the strip of silver duct tape that covered his mouth. For just an instant she thought she might be part of some elaborate practical joke, some “gotcha” reality TV program. But the blood was real and so were the abrasions. He lifted his bound wrists again, insisting.

“Yes,” she said and placed the car in Park before spinning in her seat, leaving the car running. What was she doing?

He was in danger...so she was in danger.

Her new jacket flopped open and something heavy bounced against her hip. The Rambler pocketknife with ten tools, she realized, one of which was a knife blade.

She scrambled to kneel at his side and fumbled with the pocketknife, dropping it on the road. When she retrieved it, her hands were shaking so badly, she could not get her thumbnail into the slot designed to be used to retract the blade.

He was sitting up now, blood streaming from a cut above his eye as he extended his bound hands, silently asking for the knife.

“I can do it,” she said. “I practiced.”

His hands jerked out, adamant.

She deferred. “Fine.”

She place the multi-tool in his cupped palms. He flipped the knife about, flicked open the blade and then tossed the open knife in the air, catching it so that the blade was now up and pointing back toward the tape that secured his wrists. Then he neatly sliced through his bonds.

Haley tottered back on her rump at this display of...what, exactly? Pocketknife proficiency. Who was this guy?

An instant later, he had the tape off his mouth and had ahold of her upper arm in a grip that said he was both strong and dangerous.

“Get in,” he said and shoved her toward the car.

Oh, no way, she thought.

She heard the sound of tires screeching and glanced up to see red brake lights flare on the big shiny sedan now making an illegal U-turn on the double solid. Headlights now blinded her.

They’re coming back!

What was the greater risk? she wondered, trying vainly to analyze the situation as her heart sped with the wheels of the approaching auto.

“What’s happening?” she shouted, hardly recognizing her voice because it was a full octave higher than usual.

Broad hands grabbed her rump and shoved, sending her sprawling across the console and into the passenger seat of her rental.

She was still facedown on the upholstery when he slid under her legs and into the driver’s seat.

“Move!” he shouted at her.

Instantly, she crumpled herself into a ball and contorted herself like a magician’s assistant until she was kneeling backward on the passenger seat.

“What are you doing?” she yelled as he threw the car into Drive.

The momentum caused by his foot slamming down on the accelerator forced her face into the headrest. A moment later, she spun in place and dropped into the bucket seat.

She aimed a finger at him. “This is my car!”

Technically it was a rental, but it sure was her credit card and her signature on the line that said she wanted to buy the optional liability coverage and damage protection, which was voided if she was not the only driver.

He didn’t look at her and a moment later she saw why. They were rocketing through the night at the sedan that sped toward them. It was like a joust at the yearly Renaissance Faire, except instead of horses and wooden lances, these contestants were using two-ton automobiles. Their opponent was riding the modern-day equivalent of a warhorse and they were astride a borrowed mule.

“Look out!” she hollered, as if he could have missed the oncoming vehicle.

“Seat belt,” he said through gritted teeth.

She understood and panic flashed cold on her skin. He was going to crash them on purpose.

Haley drew the belt across herself with trembling hands and somehow clicked it home. She pressed back into the seat as if the inches she gained would somehow protect her. She glanced at the airbag warning on the dash, afraid she was going to feel the impact firsthand. Her gaze flicked back to the oncoming sedan and she thought she saw someone leaning out the window behind the driver.

The stranger beside her grasped her by the neck and forced her head down as if readying her for crash position aboard a doomed 747. She bit her lip and tasted blood as her upper teeth sliced through it. There was a sound like glass breaking and then a cracking noise that reminded her of the sound the ice in an ice-cube tray made when you twisted it. Bits of glass rained down upon her.

He draped his body over hers as the side window exploded.

Someone was shooting at them!

“Who’s driving?” she yelled, knowing he couldn’t simultaneously drive and lie across her like a fire blanket.

He straightened and she did the same. The window before her was now a mosaic of tiny squares of glass. Wind whistled through four holes in the middle of each circular epicenter of disaster. But the sedan was gone.

She pressed a hand to her heart, feeling it jackhammer. Turning in her seat, she saw that the driver’s window had folded in half, as if cleaved by an ax. Her side mirror dangled from a series of wires and the sedan was behind them on the shoulder.

“Ha. Ha!” she crowed, pointing. “They’re stuck!”

Her hysterical elation ebbed as the sedan’s red taillights flared. The vehicle moved back onto the road and turned.

When she next spoke, she was surprised at the deadpan quality of her voice.

“They’re following us.”

Chapter Two

Haley glanced back to the highway and the guardrail that cascaded past her window at dizzying speeds. Then she turned to the shirtless stranger, who was dressed in pants streaked with grease. Blood oozed from the road rash on his shoulder and she wondered if he was staining the upholstery.

The ridiculousness of that worry forced a hysterical laugh from Haley. He glanced from the road to her and she covered her mouth to block out the worrisome sound of her panic-stricken giggle.

He was clean-shaven with dark brown hair cut short enough for her to see the gash on his scalp above his ear. His sooty lashes framed deep brown eyes that took her breath away.

“You okay?” he asked, scanning her with those arresting eyes.

“I don’t think so.” She pointed to the blood that trickled down his forehead. “You’re bleeding.”

His biceps flexed and his pecs strained as he turned the wheel. Haley’s ears buzzed, from fear, she told herself, but the tingling awareness that made her skin pucker was something else altogether.

He had glanced at her for only an instant, yet she was breathless. His attention now on the road, she forced herself to look away from his athletic figure and the skin that glowed a healthy golden-bronze. Her attention landed on the speedometer. Was he going ninety miles an hour on this crummy, poorly maintained stretch of lonely highway?

They spoke in unison.

“That’s too fast,” she said, pointing at the dash.

“Thanks for stopping,” he said, glancing to the rearview mirror. “Do you have something to clear away this glass?”

Only then did Haley glance forward. How could he even see? The front windshield was a web of tiny bits of shatter-resistant glass held together by some clear film.

“I don’t know. Golf umbrella?” She’d gotten it free when opening a bank account despite the fact that she did not golf and that it was miles too big for use on a city street. She had lots of bank accounts now, all over town.

“Great.” He held out his hand. Duct tape still clung to the dark hairs on his forearm.

She scrambled in the seat behind her, past the bags of groceries to the umbrella wedged beneath.

“Is that food?” he asked.

“Yes.” As if she’d travel four to six hours without food, a first-aid kit and a mobile-phone charger.

“Do you have anything to drink?”

She thought of the thermos half full of cold coffee and instead opted for something unopened. A moment later, she returned her backside to the seat holding the golf umbrella in one hand and a bottle of Snapple Grapeade in the other.

He grasped the umbrella first in one hand and used the handle to pound. His muscles corded and relaxed again and again until he’d punched a hole the size of a basketball from the windshield before him. Now wind whistled through the cab.

She held out the Snapple. He lay the umbrella between the seats and took the bottle, holding it for her to open.

Haley tried one-handed, but of course couldn’t make the cap come loose. So she gripped his hand with hers and twisted, feeling immediately sorry because the heat of his hand and the long elegance of his cupped fingers made her insides tighten. The cap popped.

The stranger brought the bottle to his lips and drank, draining the contents in three long swallows. Haley blinked in astonishment. Liquid clung to his lips and a droplet trickled over the shadow of a beard. He captured the escaping fluid with his pink tongue.

A flame of unwanted desire flashed to life inside her. Haley swallowed hard and sat back in her seat clutching one arm around her quivering stomach.

“Would you please tell me what is happening?” Had she just said please to the man who had hijacked her and her car? She squeezed her eyes shut. She had.

“Kidnapped,” he said.

Her hands went to her mouth. Her mother’s fears coming true. She was being abducted. “Oh, my goodness.”

“Not you. Me.”

She nodded, unable to speak.

“I’m an undercover detective and those guys are the ones I’m investigating. They made me. Now they’re bringing me out here to kill me and dump my body. That’s after they tortured me to find out what we know. Said they’d tear my teeth out one by one with a pair of pliers.”

Her skin went clammy. She glanced behind them. They were being pursued by mobsters.

“You have a phone?” he asked.

She pointed to the wheel well at his feet. “No reception.”

He made a scoop and captured the mobile, checking for a signal and then dropping the useless thing into the cup holder.

“What’s your name?”

“Haley Nobel.”

“Well, Haley, I’m Detective Howard Insbrook.”

What did she say now? Certainly not a pleasure because this was anything but.

“Nice to... Hi.”

He cast her an odd look.

“Where you from?” he asked.

“Born in Albany, NY, now living in Brooklyn.” She answered as if under investigation.

“I work on a joint task force on organized crime out of Glens Falls,” he said. “What is it you do?”

She hesitated. “Uh, I’m a computer programmer.”

“Who for?”

“Independent. I take on contract work, here and there. Work from home. You know.”

Her latest gig was an important client, the US Department of Homeland Security, but she wasn’t telling him that. She had a clearance level and everything. Unfortunately the job included not telling friends and family exactly what she was up to.

“Hmm,” he said and his gazed flicked to the rearview.

The sedan was just behind them. He swerved and braked, causing the other vehicle to appear to rocket up beside them. She glimpsed the passenger clearly through the collapsed window. He was pointing a handgun at them but their pursuers zipped forward until Haley’s front fender came parallel with the mobster’s rear door.

Detective Insbrook turned hard into the side of the opposite car as he punched the gas.

She pressed both palms to the ceiling upholstery and screamed but the sound was lost over the shriek of metal raking over metal.

The sedan turned before her rental car, pushed into an involuntary spin that sent the opposite vehicle careening by her passenger-side window and into the guardrail as they whizzed on.

“Where did you learn to do that?”

“The academy,” he said.

She craned her neck to see the pursuit vehicle piled against the guardrail, the hood crumpled like a crushed aluminum can.

They wouldn’t be able to see over that hood, even if the car was drivable. She turned back to him.

“I don’t think they can come after us now,” she said.

“But they will. And soon.”

The relief sizzled away like fat dropped on a skillet and she pressed herself back into the seat. Her stomach hurt.

He drove with one hand now, and she saw the other was black and blue, as if someone had beaten him with a stick or a pipe or a sock with a roll of quarters or one of those...

Her phone chirped as it came back online.

“Rerouting,” said her phone’s navigation program. She snatched it up and saw she still had no service, but the GPS system was working.

“Huh. We’re only five miles from the camp,” she said. She had been heading in the right direction after all.

“You own a place up here?”

“No.” She stared at her phone. “I’m enrolled in adventure camp for a week.”

She glanced from the screen to him. He squinted at her, as if trying to determine if she was kidding.

Her dad thought the wilderness experience would stir her emotions and bring back the girl he had known, but that girl was gone. Dead gone.

“We can’t go there,” he said.

“Why not?”

“They have your plates.”

“It’s not my car. I rented it.”

“Doesn’t matter. These men can trace it to you.”

Fear filled her belly like chips of ice. If her work hacking systems taught her anything, it was how ridiculously easy it was to gain useful information.

His gaze flashed to the rearview and his jaw clenched, making the muscles there bulge. She knew what he saw. A turn of her head confirmed her fear. Behind them was a pair of halogen headlights.

“Is that them?”

He inclined his head and scowled at the road ahead.

“They’re gaining,” she said.

“Four cylinders,” he grumbled.

She’d been offered an upgrade but she’d turned it down.

The lights blinded her, illuminating the cab as the sedan closed the distance between them. The impact of the sedan slamming into their bumper sent Haley heaving forward. She was prevented from striking the dashboard by the cinching of her shoulder restraint. The Taurus skidded off the road, pushed by the sedan. Headlights skittered over a wall of pine-tree trunks. She had one instant to hold her breath and close her eyes before impact. The metal pounded the solid wood, collapsing as both front and side airbags exploded against her.

Chapter Three

Haley blinked her eyes open. Everything was white. She punched at the inflated airbag that gradually deflated. A fine dust swirled about the cabin, bright as chalk dust in the glow of the overhead cab light. She turned her head toward the driver’s seat and her neck gave a sharp pang.

“Ouch,” she whispered to no one. She blinked at the empty seat beside her and the open door. Where was Detective Insbrook?

She couldn’t open her door. Finally, she unfastened her safety belt and wiggled across the console to the driver’s seat. For once it was an advantage to be only five feet tall.

Haley pressed the starter button but heard only a click. The smell of gasoline aroused her dulled senses. She had to get out of the vehicle. She planted one foot on the floor mat and it rolled off something metallic. Glancing down she found her thermos. She gathered it up and then thought to collect her purse. Her mobile phone was no longer connected to the charger and her initial search yielded nothing. That was when she heard the first gunshot.

She hunched and half fell, half crawled out of the compartment, landing on hands and knees. The wet loam of pine needles immediately soaked the denim of her jeans and the ground felt soft and prickly, all at once. She scented moist earth and pine. Her voluminous purse fell forward, sliding under her chest and dragging on the ground before her.

What was happening?

She saw him then, the detective, crouching at the front fender holding her golf umbrella in two fists like a batter waiting for a pitch. Into her view stepped a pair of legs draped in cuffed trousers. The person wore the sort of expensive lace-up leather shoes she associated with Wall Street types and politicians. The fine brown leather was never intended for this sort of terrain.

She glimpsed the bottom of a dark wool overcoat and then Insbrook straightened and swung the umbrella. The blow hit the man’s arm as he fired a shot into the side of the Ford near Haley’s head. As the two locked together and grappled for the weapon, Haley scuttled on all fours in the opposite direction.

From behind the tangle of pine and crumpled front fender came the men grunting, coupled with the thud of them falling against the mangled auto and then the ground. She pressed her hands to her ears and then realized she still had her index finger looped in the handle of the cup fixed to the top of the metal thermos. A quick glance back showed her that the detective held her knife in a hand clasped by his attacker, who held a pistol in a hand captured by the detective. What neither of them saw was the third man, who made his way forward from the sedan to stand behind the wrestling pair with a raised handgun. He was similarly dressed to Insbrook’s opponent, had light brown skin and seemed to be waiting until he could get a clean shot at the detective, currently on his back on the ground. He sidestepped the grappling pair until he stood just beyond the pine tree where she crouched.

Haley’s heart seemed to have moved to her throat and each beat ached. She pressed herself to the tree trunk, using its solid support to help her rise. Then she weighed her options. If the second man turned now, he’d shoot her dead. She glanced to the forest. She could just run into the woods. Find a place to hide. He might hear her and come after her. That thought made her throat ache even worse. Could she hide in the darkness until the men were dead or gone?

She closed her eyes as she fought against the urge to help Insbrook.

Don’t be stupid. You’re not a cop. You’ve never even seen a gun.

But they were going to kill him. She knew it in her heart. They would shoot him down and then they would find her. What if he had a family, children? What would happen to her mom if she lost her only surviving child?

Haley drew in a deep breath and clamped her jaw tight. Her sister had fought for her life. Haley would do the same.

She gripped the thermos in two sweating hands and crept along the opposite side of the rear bumper, inching toward the tall brown-skinned man still trying for a shot at the detective.

The metal exterior of the thermos felt cold in her hand as she hoisted it high. She had a moment’s hesitation as she stared at the stubble of his shaved head and the large shiny patch at the crown where hair no longer grew. It was enough time for the man to sense her there. He turned his head. She was out of time. Haley rose up on her tiptoes and swung. Her right hand clutched the thermos and her left gripped her opposite wrist. The sound at contact and the reverberation hit her simultaneously. Blood spurted from the gash she created in his scalp with the bottom edge of the bludgeon.

“Oh, gosh!” she said as the man completed his turn and sank to one knee. He used his free hand to reach up to the top of his head and pressed it over the wound. Then he drew it away and stared silently at the blood that smeared his palm. He never looked at her. The gun dropped from his hand and she snatched it up by the barrel.

She glanced toward the detective to find he had his legs wrapped around his opponent’s neck and held one of his own ankles to increase the force of the choke hold. The man gasped and struggled, his purple face illuminated in terrifying color by the cab light.

Haley staggered back two steps as the man went limp.

“Get their keys,” said the detective.

She shook her head and continued to look between the bleeding man, now on hands and knees, and the big one who lay motionless beside the car.

“Is he...?”

“Choked out. Now hurry.” The detective was already searching his opponent, coming up with a wallet but no keys.

The amount of blood issuing from the head wound she had caused made her queasy. But she tucked the thermos under her arm, crept forward and used her free hand to reach into one of the large side pockets. She felt a wallet and reached past in search of the keys but found nothing. Withdrawing her hand, the wallet fell to the ground and flopped open. The badge and ID were unmistakable. DEA was printed in large blue letters and the gold shield looked very official. Not a wallet, she realized. It was the identification of a representative from the Drug Enforcement Agency of the United States. And she had just clobbered him over the head and taken his gun.

She gaped up at the detective, if he were a detective.

“Let’s go.” He grabbed her arm and hustled them toward the agents’ car.

She pulled back and shook her head. What if they were trying to apprehend a criminal and she’d brained one of them?

“There’s one more,” he said, pressing her down behind the front of the car. “Wait here.” He pointed at the ground and, as if she were his hound, she sank to her knees.

He gripped his enemy’s gun and disappeared from her sight.

Haley heard the sedan door chime and then gunfire. Four rapid discharges. Pop-pop-pop-pop, like a string of firecrackers. Then came a thud.

She bit down on her fist and waited.

Run, you idiot.

But her legs would not lift her and her knees clanked together like the Tin Man’s in The Wizard of Oz.

“Come up,” he called.

Haley lowered her hand and rose. Then she ran in the opposite direction toward the woods. He had her around the waist before she reached the beckoning darkness of the tree line. He hauled her off her feet. One iron arm gripped her about the waist.

He ignored her struggles as he carried her past the two still figures. A third lay beside the open passenger door that now held four bullet holes. The driver lay facedown, red head turned to the side. One eye stared vacantly out and his mouth gaped. There were four holes in the back of his jacket.

The door chime had ceased and all she could hear was the blood pounding in her eardrums.

“Is he...?”

“Get in,” he ordered and set her on her feet.

She took a step away from him. He captured her wrist, the one holding the bloody thermos. There could be no mistake now. He’d killed this man. Detectives did not shoot people down and then run.

“I don’t have time to argue.” He opened the passenger door and shoved her inside. It was then she realized she had the DEA officer’s gun, but was still holding it upside down.

When he got into the driver’s side, she had it the right way around, at her side between the passenger-side door and the bucket seat. She was no longer defenseless.

Haley found herself inside the stolen sedan as they rocketed backward onto the road. The man she had brained with the thermos was now standing. He hunched with one hand on the trunk and the other holding his gashed head, illuminated in a perfect still image in the sweep of the headlights before they raced past the pair.

She’d seen the badge of the DEA agent and she was fairly certain the ID was a counterfeit. She cast a glance at the bleeding, dirty man who had represented himself as a detective. Her gut told her that had also been a lie. So did she challenge this stranger or keep quiet?

He’d forced her into this car and what had started as an act of mercy on her part now seemed a mistake so grand that adventure camp paled in comparison.

This was a kidnapping—her kidnapping.

She looked down at her hands, one holding the thermos and the other gripping the agent’s gun.

* * *

RYAN CARR CLENCHED the wheel and headed down the open road. He’d taken these goons on a wild-goose chase, ending with him rolling out of a car moving way faster than he’d realized. He’d skipped along the asphalt like a rock and had road-burn all over his shoulder and back. It would be a while before his skin would heal and he was sure he’d have scars.

It didn’t matter. The pain helped him focus on getting back. He’d acted as the rabbit to draw away the hounds. Now he needed to find out if his contact, Takashi Tanaka, had succeeded in making the drop, as promised.

The woman beside him cleared her throat. He glanced in her direction.

“Where are we going?” she asked.

“Gotta check on a friend.”

“Could you drop me somewhere?”

The local authorities were already after him, thanks to the job his enemies had done impersonating federal law enforcement. It was a good long way to Lake George Village and every trooper between here and there was looking for him. If Takashi had gotten through, it would be simple, he could pick up the intel from the drop and return to base. If not, he needed to stay ahead of the law and the sleeper cell he knew would be after him just as soon as his captors failed to report in. Were they members of the organization Takashi had mentioned—Siming’s Army, the Deathbringers?

“You still have your phone, Haley?” he asked. He already knew the answer. She didn’t. “Maybe you can call the police for us?”

She hesitated at that, her mouth pursing. The woman was not only his savior, she was beautiful, and smart enough not to automatically believe him. Haley had light brown hair and intelligent blue eyes that were trying to work this out. Her brows arched as he debated if it was her full, tempting lips, the heart-shaped face or the widely spaced eyes that made her such a knockout. The sum of her parts, he decided, and the fact that she had literally picked him up off the road and taken out a spy with years of military training with a thermos. The man made a classic blunder, underestimating his opponent or perhaps not even recognizing that she was an opponent. Ryan knew that she was deciding her next move and she still had Needle’s handgun.

If she pulled that gun on him, he’d have to kill her.

It was doubtful she still believed his detective bullshit and a second lie would be harder to believe. He’d put her in danger, but really, could she be in more trouble than she was now? If he left her, she was dead. And it would be a terrible, messy and painful death. If he took her, she might reduce his chances of reaching Lake George Village.

She deserved better but he had a mission to complete. Ryan had a bigger problem. The pain was no longer focusing him. It was blurring his vision.

Chapter Four

Ryan swiped at his eyes, but they failed to snap back into focus. In fact, the dark central tunnel in his field of vision was expanding,

“Where’s that camp?”

“A...a ways. It’s a hotel, lodge really.”

A lie, he thought. The hesitation was a tell. He’d have to speak to her about that. Also she wouldn’t meet his gaze, preferring to look at her now empty hands. The thermos lay in her lap, the bottom rim stained red. The handgun was likely in her pocket or purse. It seemed the thermos was her weapon of choice.

There were no hotels on this lake. He knew the terrain and his exact location. This Schroon Lake was connected to a larger one which bordered several small communities, but her GPS had said she was a few miles from her destination. The adventure camp was here, close by. But they couldn’t stay there and he needed to ditch this car, fast.

What could he tell her that would keep them both alive?

He was mulling over if he should tell her another lie or the truth. And if he told her the truth, how much did he need to reveal? She was going to live or die with him regardless of what he told her.

The important thing was that he do the best he could for her because she’d stopped for him. She’d saved him. And that made it hard to follow the directive to recover at all costs the flash drive containing the stolen intelligence on Siming’s Army. His supervisors would tell him to leave her behind. She was a liability and her death meant nothing compared to the deaths of thousands.

But it meant something to him. He knew what Hornet and Needle would do to her. They’d never believe she wasn’t involved. So they’d torture her and learn nothing. Collateral damage. The part of his heart that did not follow orders decided to bring her along. At least until he knew about Takashi. If Takashi had not succeeded in making the drop, Ryan needed to find him before their pursuers did.

“Hey!” she yelled.

He jerked his head up. Had he dozed off or passed out? Didn’t matter. His vision was blurry and shaking his head did no good.

“Hold the wheel,” he said.

The tension vibrated in her voice. “Why?”

“Because I’m going to pass out.”

* * *

HALEY’S ABDUCTOR PROCEEDED to do just that, slumping backward and against the open window.

She lunged for the wheel but his foot remained on the gas, the dead weight of his leg propelling them along too fast for this winding road.

Now what?

She didn’t know but the upcoming turn in the road told her that she needed his foot off the gas or they were going off the road.

Again.

Haley imagined the federal agents following on foot and finding them wrapped around a tree. She used her opposite hand to shove for all she was worth, pushing until his foot slid from the gas pedal.

They glided easily around the turn, which required two hands on the wheel. Then they coasted to a stop on the dark road.

The heater blew and the engine rumbled. Through the vacant place where the rear window had been and broken windshield came the sound of the wind in the pine trees.

Why wasn’t there anyone else on this blasted road?

She’d wanted to please her dad and so she’d done what he asked her, hoping she wouldn’t disappoint him, wishing she could find the courage to step back into the stream of life, but knowing that was where the danger lay. Didn’t this just prove her point?

Human wolves preyed on the weak and old, on drunk coeds. Police investigations revealed that her older sister spent as much time in bars as in the classroom. But her mother would not hear this. It went counter to her picture of her eldest daughter. In four days, Haley went from younger to only daughter. Of course she hadn’t known that for five months. Five long, terrible months of worry over the missing.

She glanced over at the unconscious man beside her, illuminated only by the dashboard light. Blood oozed from the abrasions on his chest and shoulders, glistening in the blue glow from the dash. His head slumped down. She’d only seen this kind of musculature in action-adventure movies, when the hero somehow managed to lose his shirt or remove it for the female audience’s sake. But this was real. He was real. She released her seat belt and placed a hand on his chest. His ribs rose and fell beneath her palm. His skin was too warm and damp with sweat.

Shock? The condition rose from her memory along with a list of symptoms and the emergency treatment for it.

Why she had ever thought premed was her life’s passion was beyond her. She didn’t even recognize that girl, the one who’d wanted the excitement of being a physician’s assistant in a busy NYC emergency room. Being called to identify her sister’s body had made it impossible to ever voluntarily visit a hospital again. Haley shuddered as sweat beaded cold on her forehead. No. Life-and-death situations were definitely not in her wheelhouse. At least not the death part.

Her heart beat painfully against her ribs and her throat burned.

“Oh, no you don’t, Haley. You are not going to cry.”

* * *

RYAN FELT THE pressure of someone’s touch on his chest, the contact light and tentative. His eyes snapped open and he clamped his hand around the woman’s wrist. She jumped and tugged in a vain effort to retrieve her captured appendage.

She could have shot him.

She could have left the car and made a run for it.

But she’d decided to check his condition instead. It wasn’t wise. But it was kind. How long since he’d seen this sort of compassion?

“Haley,” he whispered.

He released her. She rubbed her wrist with her opposite hand, not using either to hold the gun, which he knew she still had.

“What happened?”

“You fainted, I think.”

“Passed out,” he said and stretched backwards until his neck pressed to the headrest. “Marines don’t faint.”

“Is that what you are now? A Marine? Not a detective?”

He blew out a breath. “Once a Marine...”

She lifted her chin and gave him an appraising stare with those bright, intelligent eyes.

“Look, if I tell you the truth, chances are good you won’t believe me. But if you are captured, you’ll know that you died protecting your country.”

“Um, I can’t die. It will kill my mother.”

“Then we have to get off the road.”

She said nothing, but slipped her hand into her purse, leaving it there on what he suspected was the handle of the gun. He’d need to take that from her soon. But for now it seemed to make her feel safe. Chances were good that she’d make her escape attempt just as soon as she got out of the car.

“I have a cabin reserved close to here.”

“They have your car.”

“So?”

“So they’ll find you there.”

“That’s impossible.”

“By now they have your social media posts for the last decade. You didn’t mention your plans there, did you?”

She said nothing. Of course she had.

“They know your home address because it is on the car rental agreement.”

“How do you know it’s a rental?”

“Bar code. Rear window.”

“Who are they?”

“Mercenaries.”

“Not mobsters or DEA. Now they are mercenaries?”

“Hired by a terrorist cell working within the US. Chinese, we think.”

“They didn’t look Chinese.”

“Did they look like DEA agents?”

She dragged her white upper teeth over her lower lip and something inside him stirred with interest. He pushed it down.

“They shot at us. They didn’t identify themselves. And they sure as hell didn’t try to apprehend us.”

She pressed her fist to her mouth and glanced out the ruined front window.

“They didn’t do those things because they planned to kill you and take me.” He rubbed his tired eyes with a thumb and index finger. “Tell me where you are staying.”

She explained about an adventure camp that her father had planned for her to try to get her to do something new and have a technology-free, screen-free adventure in nature.

“Mission accomplished. You’ve had an adventure. What did you think?”

“As expected. Hated it.”

“How many cabins at the camp?”

“No idea.”

“More than twelve?”

“Yes, I think so.”

“All right. We’ll start there. Resupply and then head out.”

He counted the seconds during the long pause that followed. She was not planning to accompany him. Letting her slip away, thinking she’d escaped, would be best for one of them, but it wasn’t her.

She spoke at last. “Out where?”

“I have to collect some intel left by my contact.”

“I think I’d prefer to try the zip line.”

He dropped his hand to his lap and faced her. “They’re coming for us, Haley. And this time they will kill you.”

Ryan drove to the entrance of the adventure camp.

“Registration is tomorrow but if you were arriving after eight, they said they’d leave the key inside on the kitchen counter.”

They followed the signage to Adirondacks Adventures and drove down a rutted dirt road, sighting the lake through the trees, glistening pale in the starlight.

“What number is your cabin?”

“They don’t have numbers. I’m in Muskrat.”

His brows lifted but he said nothing to this.

Two large poles flanked the road. Between them was a sign carved into a solid plank of varnished pine, each letter painted black. It read Welcome to Adirondacks Adventures!

They cruised past a series of metal frames encircling a grouping of four trampolines, a low rock-climbing wall and an open pavilion.

The lights were still on in the lodge, which sat at the top of the hill facing the glittering dark lake and the cabins that faced a large central grassy area. Ryan drove around the circular road that took him past four large log cabins with covered porches, identical except for the signage. They rolled past Moose, an accessible cabin complete with a wheelchair ramp in place of stairs. Then came Black Bear, Elk and Wolf. He continued on past the lake, dock and boat ramp. Beside the ramp, rows of overturned kayaks and canoes lay on the grass, awaiting the adventure campers.

On the opposite side sat the smaller single cabins. First was Muskrat.

“That’s it,” she said.

But Ryan continued to roll by, passing Possum, Rabbit, Otter, Beaver, Ermine, Red Squirrel and finally Raccoon, which was also an accessible cabin.

Ryan drove around a second time as Haley stared into the darkness beyond the porch of Cabin Muskrat. It was doubtful they had found her location this quickly. But they’d be along.

“Detective Howard Insbrook?”

He didn’t look at her as he spoke. “I’m no more a detective than you are. My name is Ryan Carr. I’m a government operative.”

“Operative? You mean like in the Central Intelligence Agency?”

“That’s the one.”

“A spy?” she squeaked.

He shrugged. “I’m advising you not to run and not to scream when we leave this vehicle. Do you understand?” He turned his head and she nodded solemnly.

Ryan drew the stolen vehicle before the cabin designated Muskrat. When he left the auto his ribs were aching and the blanket he’d come away with was sticking to his skin. He got out and was on his way around to her, surprised that she hadn’t already started her run or screamed for help. When he got to her side of the vehicle, he saw why.

Haley pointed a pistol at him.

Chapter Five

He had no time for Haley’s shenanigans.

“Stop right there,” she ordered. Her gun hand was unnervingly steady.

“You ever shot a gun?”

“Yes.”

“Pistol?”

She shook her head.

“Back away,” she ordered.

“You ever shoot a man, Haley?”

She pressed her lips together, looking determined. From somewhere across the way came the sound of conversation and then a woman’s laughter. The other adventure campers were settling in.

“You have to flip the safety off or it won’t shoot. It’s right there.” He extended his hand to point, never taking his eyes off her. But she took her eyes off him.

Haley’s gaze dropped to the gun, turning it slightly in search of the safety.

Ryan did not even bother to strike her a blow. Instead, he captured her wrist and redirected the aim of the pistol skyward with one hand and removed it from her grip with the other.

He kept a hold on her as she made a vain effort to regain custody of the pistol, now well out of reach. Had she been a man, he would have punched her in the stomach or throat to make his point but, as Haley was female, tiny and his savior, he simply dragged her forward until she collided with his chest.

He meant the move as a way to get her attention and highlight that he was stronger, faster and more experienced. But when her soft body collided with his chest, stomach and hips, something unexpected happened.

The warning died on his lips as he took in the feel of her pressed up against him. She smelled wonderful, clean and floral. He inclined his head to inhale the sweetness of her hair and felt the stirring of attraction rippling through him.

Ryan’s body’s reaction caused him both dismay and irritation. He would never have sought out a little Good Samaritan with hair the color of a field mouse. Yet here he was, and his body definitely liked her well enough to become fully aroused. She must have felt it, his erection growing by the second, because she squeaked and tried to step back.

Little mouse, he thought again.

He wanted to press his opposite hand to her lower back and melt her closer to him, but the pistol in that hand and the clinking of wineglasses to his left drew him back to business.

Ryan dipped his head until his jaw was pressed to her forehead. His voice was a low growl as his lips moved close to the shell of her ear.

“We are leaving the vehicle and heading to the lodge. If you try to run, I’ll catch you. If you call for help, I’ll have to kill whoever you involve. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” she whispered, trembling.

He drew her under his arm, stooped to retrieve the blanket and wrapped it about them both. Her purse thumped against her hip as he guided her along the lakeshore, where he discovered that the canoes did not have paddles. He fixed his attention on the lodge, taking them past the dock and uphill behind the larger cabins. The area was neatly mown and each cabin had a large propane tank. There were lights from lanterns in both Wolf and Elk but the other residences appeared empty. A good place to sleep if not for the possible interruption by late arrivals and the fact that this was where Haley Nobel was expected to be. It was just a matter of time before his pursuers arrived to discover that car and set up perimeters accordingly.

As they reached the top of the hill, the lights flicked off in the lodge. This structure at least had electricity. A moment later a young man emerged wearing baggy pants gathered at the ankle, sandals and a T-shirt with the Sanskrit for namaste on his chest. He was white with an athletic build and his hair was styled in sun-bleached dreadlocks.

Ryan tugged Haley beside the Moose cabin. Just beyond, a group of people continued drinking and laughing. They were a poor choice for help, but if Haley planned to run or scream, now would be a great time.

He followed the direction of her gaze. She watched the young man as he swung along with a loose, carefree stride. With each step he moved farther from their position. Ryan tugged her close to his side and whispered, “Do you really want to be the cause of that young man’s death?”

Haley made a sound in her throat that he interpreted as alarm but she did not cry out as they moved across the road and alongside the main lodge. He used the blanket to muffle the sound of his elbow breaking the windowpane that allowed him access to the lock. Once the window was open he lifted Haley through the gap and maintained control of her arm as he stepped inside behind her.

Either by design or accident, the young man had left a light on in the hallway that flanked the large fireplace on the right. So Ryan could see that they’d entered into the main meeting area, judging from the rows of folding chairs and a large central stone fireplace. To the left of the fireplace was a return station for trays and food, indicating a cafeteria beyond the closed double doors. To the right lay the lighted hallway. He assumed this led to restrooms and possibly an equipment storage facility.

He headed for the kitchen. He had not eaten since shortly before his capture earlier in the day and he was dehydrated and low on fuel. The kitchen door was flimsy and burst open with one kick. He dragged Haley along inside, closed the door behind them and then risked turning on the light.

“Food,” he said and quickly located supplies. He filled his stomach with water straight from the tap of the large stainless steel sink. Next he located a tray of muffins, corn, blueberry and bran, along with a variety of breads.

He set the loaves of bread aside and ate two blueberry muffins in rapid succession. When he looked up it was to find Haley staring at him in stunned silence.

“What?” he asked.

“When did you last eat?”

“Early this morning.”

Her response was a sharp intake of breath. Then his little captive began scouring the walk-in refrigerator and brought him milk and orange juice. Kindness again. She was unexpected as sunshine in a cave.

“See if you can find portable food. Cereal, soup.”

“Granola bars,” she said, now standing before the stainless steel shelving. “Two kinds. Oh, and graham crackers. Hershey bars! And marshmallows. I remember these!”

He started putting supplies in a nylon bag he located hanging on a peg on the back wall beside some aprons. When the bag was full he moved on. He grabbed several dish towels and a carving knife, which he tucked into his rear pocket.

She had something in her hand, a white plastic case. “First-aid kit,” she said.

“Take it and let’s go.”

He flicked off the light and they returned the way they had come. As predicted, the hallway yielded both a men’s and women’s bathroom.

“Um, I have to go,” said Haley.

He motioned her toward the women’s bathroom and surprised her by following her inside. Then he shut and locked the door and then flicked on the light.

“I can’t go with you here.”

“Your choice,” said Ryan as he turned on both faucets in the sink. He used liquid soap to wash his face, hair and torso. Abrasions burned at the contact of the water. He did the best he could to scrub out the gravel and succeeded in making most of the abrasions bleed again.

Haley had decided to use the toilet after all and then joined him at the sink to wash her hands.

“Would you like me to wash the wounds on your back?”

In answer, he turned, presenting her with his back. Her touch was tentative at first. He flinched as she picked away pieces of gravel that tinged against the porcelain in the sink.

“Your back is covered with bruises,” said Haley.

“Not the sort of treatment you’d expect from an agent from Federal Drug Enforcement,” he replied.

He heard her pull of breath. Was she beginning to believe him?

“All they have is a hand dryer.”

He rummaged in the supply bag and handed her a dish towel.

“You’re bleeding,” she said.

“I’d imagine so.” He glanced at her in the mirror. Her brow was furrowed as she dabbed at his back.

“Ready?” he asked.

“For what?” She met his gaze in the mirror. “Are they really the bad guys?”

“I’m not letting you hang around to find out.” He turned to face her, taking hold of her free hand. “I should leave you right here, Haley. It would increase my chances of getting back to the drop. But I have absolutely zero doubt that, if I do that, you will be picked up and tortured and killed.”

Her eyes went wide at that. She shook her head.

“Seems a poor thank-you. The thing is, I can drag you along with me. But I can’t be on the lookout to keep you from sneaking off. I’m going to need to sleep soon and I can’t take the risk of you giving away my position. So you have a choice. Stay here and take your chances or I’ll bring you along and, if you don’t slow me down, I’ll do my best to see you live through this.”

She cocked her head and stared as if he’d sprouted horns.

“How do I know if I can believe you?”

He shook his head. “What you witnessed back there is my proof. Law enforcement officers don’t behave that way. You have to know that. So if they are not who they say, maybe they are who I say. Mercenaries hired by Siming’s Army to recover the intelligence stolen by my contact.”

She was dragging her full lower lip through her teeth again. It was distracting as all get-out.

He growled. “You can admit that they’re dangerous.”

“You’re dangerous, too.”

“True. Uncle Sam spent a lot of money to see that I am...prepared for such situations. So, you coming or staying?”

She glanced about as if the answer would materialize in the small restroom. Confusion blanketed her delicate features. Those eyes looked cobalt blue under the artificial light.

Why had he given her the choice? He knew what his operations commander would tell him. She’d tell him to ditch this woman and never look back.

Haley drew a deep breath and he found himself holding his. Only at this second did he realize that he really wanted to keep her alive and with him. That made no sense. Was it because she had stopped to help him? Or because he wanted to kiss her?

That wasn’t it, or wasn’t all of it. He feared it was more.

“Okay, I’ll come with you. But I have to call my dad.”

He blew away his breath. “Let’s go.”

She handed the dish towel to him and pointed toward the blood running down his shoulder.

“I need to find a shirt.” Ryan flicked off the light and they continued on to a locked room marked Equipment.

The padlock was solid but the connection to the frame and door was not. Ryan was inside in less than thirty seconds. With the door closed and the light on, he found what he was looking for. Climbing ropes, carabineers, chocks, helmets, backpacks, mess kits, flotation vests, archery equipment and paddles.

He paused at an acrylic box designed to sit on a counter and hold brochures. Inside, the bright yellow-and-green banner of the top pamphlet announced: Adventure Camp.

He lifted the brochure and read from the text. “Plenty of adventures await. Outdoors...”

He turned the bullet list to her. “You going to do all this?”

She glanced at the columns that had sent dread down her spine since Hanukkah.

Outdoors:

Hiking

Backpacking

Camping

Sleeping under the stars

Bouldering

Rock Climbing

Zip-lining

Aquatic:

Swimming

Boating

Canoeing

Kayaking

Jet Skis

White-water Rafting

Cliff Jumping

She planned to avoid every last one.

“Of course,” she said, lifting her chin and daring him to refute her bravado.

He snorted and returned to loading a backpack with the food bag, a small camping stove, two fuel tanks and a mess kit. To this, he added two small nylon tents.

“Did you have to provide sleeping bags?” he asked.

“Yes.”

He took two bed pads and tied them on the top of the pack. “Get another pack,” he said.

She selected one and brought it to him. He added rope, headlamps and arrows. To his pack he tied an archery bow. The weapon was meant for recreation but in the right hands it was silent and it could be deadly. He shook out a woolen army blanket and sliced a slit in the center, transforming it into a poncho, which he slipped over his head.

“See if you can find matches or a lighter.” He located hiking maps and a guidebook to the Adirondack hiking trails and added these to his bundle. He tried to find two-way radios but settled for bug spray, sunscreen, a compass and a small folding shovel.

“What are these?” Haley said, lifting bug coils.

“Take those,” he said.

By the time he had the packs ready she had not found matches so they left without them. He used the main entrance to leave the lodge and returned the way they had come. He left both packs and Haley outside the first cabin as he used his blanket to break the back window. Once inside, he found himself in a bedroom that contained two sets of bunk beds. Upon each bunk was a rolled mattress too heavy to bring along and on the box springs sat a pillow, too big to bring along. There were also clean sheets in plastic containers and, bingo, a woolen blanket. He took two blankets and continued on to the kitchen. In the cabinet drawer he found a box of matches. He also purloined a can opener and small paring knife, two spoons, two forks and, from the tinderbox beside the fireplace, a small dull hatchet.

He half expected to find Haley gone when he returned, but she was there, her long neck stretched to full extension and her head swiveling back and forth.

Ryan added his new collection of gear to the second pack and helped Haley shoulder the load. He led her down behind the cabins to the lakeshore.

At the lakefront the water gently lapped the mud and gravel beyond the waiting canoes and kayaks, neatly stored on racks. If he were traveling alone he would have selected a kayak. It was sleeker, faster and required less effort to paddle. However, with Haley along, he instead selected a canoe, rolling it upright and sliding it half into the water. From there he took the pack Haley carried and placed it to the center of the canoe. He added his own pack beside hers so as to balance the load. Then he motioned to Haley.

“Time to go,” he said.

But Haley was backing away.

Ryan released the canoe and took two steps toward her. “Haley?”

She was shaking her head. “I can’t go with you. I can’t... I don’t know what’s happening but I’ll wait until you leave. Totally out of sight before I call the police.”

He lifted a hand toward her in a signal to stop and to come and to not make him responsible for this decision. He knew he was not going to force her into the canoe but he knew equally well that if he left her here on the lakeshore, she was sure to die.

“Haley, you can’t call the police. They’ll turn you over to those men. They’re good. Professionals. You won’t be able to tell the difference between them and the real thing. Neither will the locals. You have to trust me. I know it stinks, but I’m your only chance.”

“Ryan, no offense. But I don’t know you. I don’t know what you’re involved in but I can’t be involved in it. My dad already paid for this camp. He wants me to get out there and try new things. He thinks... He thinks... I just have to go.”

“All right, Haley. I’m sorry for involving you in this. And I’m sorry you won’t come with me.”

She was backing away. Her cautious expression told him that she did not quite believe that he would let her simply leave.

“Take care,” she said.

He pushed the canoe farther into the water so that the front end became buoyant and only the back tip of the canoe was in contact with the shore. Then he added both paddles and pushed off. He held the gunwales and seated himself low on the bottom of the canoe. Making himself a smaller target. He used his fingernails to pop off three of the stick-on numbers that identifed the canoe and then lifted a paddle. He was already ten feet from the shore. Haley was a dark silhouette standing silent and motionless on the shoreline. He looked beyond her up the row of smaller cabins and noticed the glint of starlight on a metal roof. There was a vehicle parked in the gravel lot shared by Muskrat, Possum and Rabbit cabins. The vehicle had not been on-site when they entered the lodge.

Haley was moving now, back toward the cabin she had been assigned.

He could not call back to her and should not return for her. She’d made her choice. A bad choice, but hers, nonetheless. So he was going to paddle away and let the woman who saved his life walk into the jaws of death.

Seemingly of its own volition the paddle cut a clean edge through the lake water, turning the canoe back toward shore.

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