Ensnared (Brutes of Bristlebrook, #1)(87)

“I’m surprised the two of you didn’t just share her,” Beau mutters, and the bitterness in his tone makes me wince.

After a moment, Dom says, “That was never going to happen.”

There’s an awkward silence as they continue walking for a stretch, and I have to push to keep up.

Beau finally sighs. “I don’t think she would have done this, for what it’s worth. If there was one thing she cared about, it was keeping our people safe. She made the civs feel safe. She managed that better than any of us—it’s why half of them left with her. I agree that she wouldn’t have sold us out.”

Sold them out? I’m missing a key piece of information here, I’m sure of it. I should have known I wasn’t getting the whole truth.

“Thank you,” Dom says.

They fall into silence, and I follow them, wriggling apart every detail from their conversation.

“Should we check C18 as well?” Beau asks, and they both pause.

I stop, suspended mid-step, more startled than I should be when he breaks the silence.

“It’s out of the way,” Dom replies, but he seems to be considering.

“But if they’re taking the canyon pass, that’ll be the way they go. It’s longer to Bristlebrook, but sure as shit easier than this route. There’s a good chance they’ll avoid these cliffs, right?”

I frown. Who is “they”?

“It’s worth a look. I’m not having them sneak around us. If they do take the cliffs, they’ll be here for hours, and they’re not going to take them at night unless they’re taking a run at the Darwin award. We can come back.” Dom’s voice turns grim. “They should pray we don’t find them while they’re hanging from their fingertips.”

My stomach drops. Trip to repair some cameras, my ass. What the hell is going on?

They start to move again and, with a start, I realize they’ve changed directions and are heading right for me. Swallowing a squeak, I swing deeper into the brush, ducking under a low, heavy branch. In just moments, they pass me, close enough that I could reach out my fingers and brush their legs.

I’m debating whether I should ease out of my hiding place and start following again when Dom pauses.

“What is it?” Beau asks.

My breath strangles. Did I leave some trace? Should I just start running now?

“Rock in my shoe.”

As he stops to shake it out, I let out all the air in my lungs. My hand is shaking where it’s pressed against the bark.

I’m okay. I’m safe. I spent years out here perfecting staying undetected in the forest. I’m good at this.

The pep talk helps. When they start moving again, so do I. I try to stay close, wanting to hear them if they start talking again, wanting to hear about this “they” they seem to be tracking. But now, I really don’t want to be caught. It’s one thing to follow after them when they’re making a harmless trip to fix some equipment—it’s another entirely to follow them into a firefight after being “sold out.” So I hang back, just a little, far enough that they’re out of view but still in hearing distance.

As we continue, my momentary panic starts returning to anger.

They lied to me. Again. How many times am I going to fall for this? Dom’s words from last night ring in my ears. “We’ll tell you everything,” he said. He promised.

Actually no, that wasn’t quite it. “Going forward, we’ll tell you everything.” His exact words.

God. Damned. Sneaky. Lying. Son of a—

I burst into the next clearing, not realizing until too late that the slight rustles and crunches ahead of me have gone silent. I only have time to see the flash of a gray, metal muzzle, and then I’m being yanked sideways, and my ears are ringing so, so loudly.

Face down in the dirt, I choke on air. My body aches and stings, and I’m shaking so hard against the ground I wonder if it’s possible for one person to cause an earthquake. There’s heavy pressure on my back and a hand—maybe?—on the back of my head.

I’m too stunned to even try to wriggle away.

Then the pressure eases. I’m flipped over, and Dom crouches over me, glowering down with ferocious fury. Movement draws my eye, and I look over to see Beau, white to his lips, staring down at the pistol in his hand.

Grabbing the front of my jacket, Dom hauls me to my feet. His mouth is moving, and his golden eyes spark like flowing lava. Deaf and numb, I recognize with a detached kind of curiosity that he’s probably yelling at me, but the whining, ringing sound in my ears drowns him out.

I was almost shot.

My teeth start chattering. I try to make them stop—the jolting is annoying—but they won’t obey.

Beau almost shot me.

Dom seems to realize that I can’t hear him or, at least, I’m not listening. I watch interestedly as his brows lower. Scowling, he wraps his long, warm arms around me and holds me tight against his hard chest. One hand grips the back of my hair, pressing my forehead to his chest. The rims of my glasses press into my skin.

Why didn’t I realize I was so cold until he wrapped me up?

His spicy male scent curls inside me like smoke and slowly, so slowly, underneath the almost too-intense pressure of his arms, my uncontrollable shaking fades, then stills completely. Warmth starts seeping back into my limbs.