Page 14 of Defiant Hearts

Whoever she was, she hadn’t had an easy time of it up here.

But under the tough façade, she was striking, her face fine-boned and pretty in a way that dirt, exhaustion and fear couldn’t quite bury. And her eyes, catching the moonlight, were sharp and intelligent, studying him and tracking the terrain as she walked.

Smart eyes. Scared eyes. Both at once.

When the scent of woodsmoke trickled through the trees, she stopped. Even though they were well short of the camp, Wyatt turned to face her.

“Stay here.” He pitched his voice low. “You’ll be safe, and nobody will see you from the trail.”

She didn’t argue, and that alone told him how much pain she was in. Since he’d only seen her wince when she moved, he suspected she had an injured shoulder or arm. Maybe painkillers wouldn’t be enough.

As he walked into camp alone, his mind worked over what he’d do if he had to evacuate this woman in the middle of his first night of the expedition.

The guys were exactly where he’d left them, sprawled in various poses around the dying fire. They didn’t stop talking as he neared the clearing, indicating they probably didn’t hear him approach.

He stepped hard on a stick to alert them of his presence, mentally shaking his head that he was up here with men whose skills were so far from honed when they should be.

He walked into the ring of light, and Bradley glanced up. “How’s it looking out there?”

“Easy night. Why don’t you let me take a second shift? I’m not tired yet.” He crouched by the supply pack and dug through it for the first aid kit. He’d hidden the woman out of the path of any of the men, but he didn’t want them poking around in the woods either.

Bradley considered the offer. After a minute, he nodded. “I’ll take you up on that.”

He continued sifting through supplies, careful not to give away anything on his face.

“You good?” Silva gave him a once-over, looking for injury.

“Yeah. Just have a headache.” He found the ibuprofen and shook a bunch into his hand. Then he grabbed a bottle of water and a pack of beef jerky along with an MRE food ration.

“I’ll be on the ridge,” he told his teammates. No one stopped him on his way out of camp.

The woman—Jolene, she called herself—was sitting where he’d left her, knees drawn up and her back stiff.

A back injury.

She tensed more as he approached, far from trusting even though she’d followed him here. When he handed her the water, she took it with a murmur of thanks. Then he held out his hand and dropped the ibuprofen into her palm.

She picked out a few and swallowed them with one sip of water. Suddenly, her whole face changed.

He’d seen a lot of expressions cross a person’s face in his years of finding people—relief, shame, even anger at being discovered committing some crime. This wasn’t any of those.

This was pure joy.

She reached for the bag of beef jerky with a soft noise and tore at the package. When she yanked out a strip of dried meat, Wyatt edged closer to her.

She tore into the food like she hadn’t eaten in a long time and let out another pleased sound.

Keeping a respectful distance from her the way he would a wary animal, he leaned his back against a tree, hoping his relaxed pose helped her let down her guard.

“How long have you been out here?”

She chewed for a minute. “I don’t know. What’s the date?”

He told her.

Jaw working around a bite of jerky, she got a faraway look, and he could practically see her doing the math in her head.

“It’s been a while,” she said quietly at last.