Grave Vengeance (12 page)

With obvious annoyance, Dmitri dug his phone from his back pocket and tapped on the screen. “Can you pick up a signal?”

Gwen reached back to her own pocket, only to find it empty. “Crap, I left it on the seat. Hold on.”

Carefully, she crawled through the open space where the windshield used to be. After a couple minutes of searching the cab, she found her phone by the glove box. Spiderweb patterns covered half of the screen, but it still turned on when she pressed the power button.

“Damn, no reception,” she muttered a few seconds later. They were truly on their own until they reached civilization.

“In that case, we better get moving. I doubt Pierce and his buddies will give up easily.”

“Works for me.” Gwen switched off her phone and stuffed it in her back pocket. “Which way?”

Dmitri peered up at the cloud-covered sky before settling his gaze on her duffel. “Got a compass in there?”

“I think so. Hold on.” Digging through the bag, she found the compass in one of the side compartments. She’d bought it at an Army surplus store when she got assigned to the Mexican border. In the harsh desert environment, without the aid of street signs or GPS, a simple map and compass were often the most reliable tools for locating her clients. “Here you go.” She tossed it to Dmitri.

Holding the compass flat on his palm, he twisted the degree dial to gain their bearings. He looked up a few times, eyes slitted as he studied their surroundings. The clearing was about the size of a football field, with dense forest bordering three sides. No visible trails led into the woods, giving the land an untouched, untamed feel.

Lightning streaked across the sky, followed by a clap of thunder so loud it vibrated through her body. She really hated getting wet, and the cool air would make soggy clothes even more uncomfortable. “Well?” she asked, her foot tapping with impatience.

Dmitri ignored the question. Silence stretched out for a few more minutes until he picked up his bag and slung it over his shoulder. Nodding toward the left side of the field, he said, “This way.”

T
he storm cut loose about an hour later, drenching them both to the skin. In silence, they hiked through the forest until the sun sank below the horizon and Dmitri’s stomach began to audibly growl.

“How much longer do you want to walk?” Gwen asked, sounding as tired as he felt.

“Until it’s too dark to see.”

She sighed but didn’t argue, which really surprised him, and so they walked until it was too dark to see.

“Now?” Gwen asked a while later, after she tripped over something and cursed. A sliver of moonlight peeked through the cloud cover and illuminated her feminine profile.

He’d planned on walking for at least two more hours to make sure they put enough distance between themselves and the other reapers. But the lack of light made it difficult to navigate, and since she sounded exhausted, he relented. “Yes,” he said as they reached a small clearing. “Now.”

The last time he’d hiked so far for so long was during his time in the Red Army. His feet were killing him, his lower back ached, and the bullet wound to his arm still stung. But the hope of finding civilization—and a decent place to eat—had kept him marching long after his boots rubbed his heels raw.

Dropping her bag, Gwen plopped on the ground and rested her back against a tall, sturdy pine. She covered her mouth to stifle a yawn. Keeping her voice low, she asked, “Think they’re still following?”

“Count on it.” He dumped his weapons bag on the dirt beside her duffel. The long nylon case contained his M24 sniper rifle, a .357 revolver, and a dozen boxes of ammo. Just in case trouble managed to find them, he kept the shotgun slung over his shoulder. He unlaced his boots and pried them off. The cool night air felt so good against his bare feet he nearly groaned out loud. “You know how Pierce is.”

He didn’t say more. Didn’t need to. She knew Pierce better than he did. Back in the day they’d worked in the same unit, but she refused to talk about the experience.

His empty stomach rumbled again, and he regretted not eating a bigger breakfast.

“Hungry?” she asked.

Famished. “A little.”

“Sounds like more than just a little.” Reaching down, she grabbed the strap of her bag and dragged it closer. She pulled open the zipper and rooted around until she found whatever she was searching for. “Here, hold this.”

She placed a cool metal tin in his hand.

“What is it?” He brought it close enough to make out the label in the dark. “Spam?”

“It’s not
tushonka
, but it’ll have to do.” She retrieved something else from her bag. “I only have one spoon, so we’ll have to take turns.”

Her willingness to share her limited supplies touched a part of him he’d long considered dead. He pulled open the top of the tin and set it down beside her. “You eat it. I’ll be fine.”

Even with the limited light, he could see the impatience on her face. “Now’s not the time to get chivalrous, Red. Eat the damn Spam. I need you sharp if we run into trouble.”

He considered arguing, but what was the point? It served no purpose other than to make him hungry
and
annoyed. He took the spoon, scooped out a chunk of canned meat from the tin, and shoveled it into his mouth.

Salty. Fatty.
Delicious.
“I don’t remember it ever tasting this good,” he said after he swallowed. He passed the spoon, and she dug out a bite for herself.

“That’s just because you’re hungry.” Eyes closed, she chewed with a look of such bliss he couldn’t help but wonder what else would put that look on her face. He forced his gaze away.

“Trust me,” he said, “I’ve eaten it hungry before. During the war.”

There were times the men in his battalion got so hungry they ate the bark off the trees. Soviet supply lines were constantly disrupted or destroyed by the relentless Nazi war machine. Often, food inventories ran so low the cooks mixed sawdust and cardboard in with the bread to make it last a few days longer.

“They had Spam in Russia?”

With a nod, he wolfed down another spoonful before handing the utensil back. “Courtesy of the American Lend-Lease program. We usually got at least two cases of Spam with each delivery of fuel and munitions.”

They ate the rest of the can in silence. When it was empty, Gwen wiped the spoon with the hem of her shirt and put both the spoon and the tin back in her bag.

“Got any more food?”

“Some granola bars, but I was saving them for breakfast tomorrow morning.”

Made sense. Who knew how long they’d be stuck in the wilderness, and it was wise to ration what little food they possessed. So he refused to acknowledge the lingering hunger and focused instead on securing their position.

“Be right back,” he said as he rose to his feet. He retrieved the Glock from the waistband of his jeans and flipped off the safety.

“Where are you going?”

“To check the perimeter.”

“I’ll help.”

She started to stand, but he waved her off. “No, stay here and rest. I’ll be back in a couple minutes.”

Actually, it took closer to ten, but he felt better knowing the area was secure. The night was quiet, save for sound of the wind in the trees and the occasional hoot of an owl. In the distance, a coyote howled. If anything came within a hundred yards of their position, he’d hear it well in advance.

With the sun down, temperatures had dropped, leaving the air cold and crisp. Not cold enough to see his breath, but it probably would be by morning. He didn’t see much weather like this in sunny Florida, and that suited him just fine. Cooler temperatures reminded him of home and how much he missed Mother Russia. He’d go back in a second if Samuel allowed it, but the asshole insisted that Dmitri’s destiny awaited him in the U.S.

When he returned to the clearing, he found Gwen still sitting against the pine, hugging her knees to her chest. Motionless, silent, she stared out at the darkness. Was she searching for something or lost in thought? He didn’t know, so he coughed to announce his presence.

Every muscle in her body jumped. She let out a tiny gasp of surprise, and in an instant the muzzle of her revolver swung in his direction.

“It’s me! Don’t shoot.” He raised his hands in the air.

A moment’s hesitation, and then relief slumped her shoulders. She lowered her weapon and went back to hugging her knees. “Sorry. I guess I’m more tired than I thought.”

“And cold. You don’t have a parka in that bag?”

Even though she was shivering, a bitter smile tugged at her mouth. “Didn’t think I’d need one in Florida.”

He hadn’t packed a jacket either, but at least his shirt had long sleeves. “Move up.”

“Why?” she asked, but scooted forward a couple feet anyway.

“Because it’s going to be a long, cold night and we can’t risk a fire.” He stepped behind her, lowered himself to the ground, and stretched his long legs out beside hers. When he wrapped his arms around her torso and pulled her back against his chest, she tensed but didn’t try to pull away. “You shared your food. I’ll share my warmth.”

Gwen didn’t say anything right away. Over the space of a minute her muscles gradually relaxed, until she finally leaned all the way back and the top of her head rested right under his chin. “Thanks. As long as you’re okay with this.”

To his astonishment, he was more than just okay with it. Honestly, his body downright enjoyed the feel of her pressed against him. The feminine curves, the scent of her skin, combined it was making every muscle in his body ache with awareness.

And arousal.

Closing his eyes, he recited multiplication tables in his head until the craving cooled from a boil to a simmer.

“Are you all right?” She twisted her neck to look up at him. “You’re awful quiet back there.”

“I’m fine.”
Fourteen times seventeen equals two hundred thirty-eight.
“Just listening to the night.”

“Oh. Okay.”

She shifted against him and the swift, sudden urge to nuzzle her neck nearly short-circuited his brain. What the hell was wrong with him? It must be the cold and lack of sleep. He shook his head to clear his thoughts. “How do you know about
tushonka
?”

“Huh? Oh, my Russian language teacher brought in a few cans for the students to sample.” She laughed softly. “I thought it was tasty, but most of my classmates said Spam was better.”

“Your classmates were idiots. Beef
tushonka
is far superior to Spam.”

“Well, it might taste better, but it looks like dog food.” Turning her gaze toward the darkness, she leaned back against him, and his blood hummed with restless energy. “All this talk about food is making me hungry. Can we talk about something else?”

“Like what?”

“Like what we’re going to do tomorrow morning.”

“Get up. Get moving. Eat your granola bars.”

“You’re still talking about food.”

“Walk until we can’t walk any farther, or until we find a house, or a store, or maybe a car we can steal.”

“Sounds like a plan to me.” She yawned. “But what if they find us first?”

“Then we’ll do what we’ve both been trained to do.” Temptation got the better of him, and he bent his head down to inhale her soft, sweet scent. God, she smelled incredible. He almost groaned out loud.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve done what I’ve been trained to do.” There was a hint of uncertainty mixed with her words, as if she questioned her own abilities.

“In our field, we never forget the things we’ve been taught.” Or the things they’d seen and done. Not in a million years. “You drove well this afternoon. I doubt I could have done any better.”

She twisted around again, and on her face was a look of pure shock. “Did you just give me a compliment?”

“No,” he replied with a shake of his head. “I gave an unbiased assessment of your performance. Nothing more.”

“You did!” A sleepy, lopsided grin brightened her face as she nudged his ribs with her elbow. “Thank you.”

If she kept looking at him like that, he was going to do something stupid. “Go to sleep,” he said, forcing his voice to sound brusque.

“What about you?”

“I can go another night without sleeping if I have to.”

“Now that’s just silly, not to mention unnecessary. Wake me in two hours and I’ll take the next shift.”

Like that was going to happen. “Okay.”

Gwen tensed. “All right, you agreed to that way too easily.” She pressed the side button of her watch and the front face lit a small piece of the night. “Promise you’ll wake me at midnight.”

There was a mulish tone to her voice, the one that let him know she was serious. If he didn’t agree, she’d hammer away at him until he did, and if he agreed and didn’t wake her at midnight, he’d never hear the end of it.

“I’ll wake you at two, and you wake me at four.”

“I’ll wake you at five.”

“Deal.” He’d wake her at two thirty and say he lost track of time. “Now get some sleep,
zaika moya
. We have a long day ahead of us tomorrow.”

 

Gwen woke to the feel of Dmitri nudging her shoulder and the light scrape of beard stubble against her temple.

“Your turn at watch,” he murmured, his breath fanning across her forehead. The heat of his body warmed her like a furnace, his muscled arms around her so very comforting.

“Hmm. Five more minutes.”

When she turned and buried her face against his chest, he shook her shoulder again. “Time to wake up, Gwenya. If I let you sleep, you’ll give me a rash of shit about it in the morning.”

She yawned, stretched, as the haze of sleep evaporated. Gradually, her senses sharpened, her ears alert to the sounds of the night. A rustling in the trees drew her attention, and in the dim moonlight she saw the faint outline of a raccoon skittering across the branches. “What time is it?”

“A few minutes before three.”

Eyes narrowed, she craned her neck to see his face. “You promised to wake me at two.”

“I must have lost track of time.”

What a load. The man never missed a thing. Too tired to argue, she let the matter slide. “Okay, I’m awake.”

With a yawn, he leaned his head back against the tree and closed his eyes. “Get me up at five.”

“You got it.”

She let him sleep until six. He scowled the instant he checked his watch but was wise enough not to complain.

The pale light of dawn turned the sky steel blue while they gathered their belongings and walked east. The ground was damp with morning dew, and the air was cool, crisp, and full of the scent of tree sap. After an hour of hiking, Gwen dug into her bag and handed Dmitri one of her granola bars. He accepted it with a nod and devoured it in a matter of seconds.

“Does your phone have reception?” he asked.

She switched it on. The low battery warning flashed on the screen. No signal. “Uh-uh.”