It couldn’t last. The gold, the lies, the danger—everything would catch up eventually.
But for now, she leaned in, held on, wondering if she’d ever find the strength to let go.
ELEVEN
Phantom Ranch.
That’s where they needed to be. Where Emberly’s backup could find them, help them figure out this nightmare.
Nimue’s warmth pressed against Liam’s chest, the emergency blanket crinkling around them. Her steady breathing eased the knot that had taken permanent residence behind his ribs. This—her closeness, the way she fit against him like she belonged there—this was what mattered.
After Christiana’s fall, he’d become obsessed with safety protocols. Checked and double-checked every piece of gear, every route, every decision. But how did you plan for the Russian mafia? There wasn’t exactly a ranger handbook for outrunning international criminals.
The urge to stay here forever crashed over him. Hide away in this stone shelter where nothing existed except her heartbeat against his chest. Kiss her until they both forgot there was a world outside. But she needed him sharp, focused. Not drowning in feelings he couldn’t afford.
The rain was letting up.
He eased out from under the blanket, cool air slicing through his thermal shirt. “We need to move soon.”
Nimue shivered, hands trembling as she pulled the blanket tighter. Nerves probably as much as the cold.
He grabbed his mini stove from his pack. “Hot drink first. Maybe some soup. Then we push hard for Phantom Ranch.” The words came out steadier than he felt. “We should make it in a few hours if we don’t hit complications.”
She stayed quiet while he filled the small pot with filtered water. The propane lighter flicked, blue flame hissing to life. He set the mini pot on to boil. And pulled out his collapsible pour-over drip coffee maker.
Everything was going to be fine.
Keep telling yourself that, Kingsley.
“You have all the backpacking toys, don’t you?” There was a teasing lilt in her voice, but he caught the tremor underneath.
“Not all.” He forced a half smile as he set the orange funnel on one of the mugs, dropped in a paper filter and filled it with some grounds, then poured the hot water through it. “Just the essentials.”
“Coffee’s essential?”
“Never doubt the power of a strong cup of joe.” Their fingers brushed as he handed her the steaming mug, sending a warm thread through him. “It won’t win any awards, but it’s hot and loaded with motivation.”
“And the cardinal-red pack? Doesn’t feel very ranger-like.” She sipped at the hot liquid.
“That’s my private pack.” Laughter laced his words as he readied his own cup. “I was a hiker long before I was a ranger. And I like red.”
Thirty minutes later, they’d finished the coffee and soup, the rain slowing to a drizzle. Time to face whatever the canyon had thrown at them.
He stepped outside and his stomach dropped.
Water flowed everywhere. Cascading down canyon walls like a thousand tiny rivers, turning the ground into a mud pit that would slow them to a crawl. And between them and their route?—
“Shoot.”
A brand-new wash cut straight across their path. Ten feet of churning brown water that hadn’t existed an hour ago.
He ducked back into the cave. “We have a problem. There’s a new river right where we need to go.”
She blinked. Waited for him to produce a solution he didn’t have.
“I guess we skirt the edge until we can find a place to cross. It is adding water with every foot as it moves toward the Colorado, gathering all these streams, so if we follow it upstream, it should eventually be small enough to cross.”
Her nod was tight. He didn’t need mind-reading skills to know what she was thinking. If the Bratva hadn’t bought their phone decoy, every minute away from the direct route to Phantom Ranch put them deeper in the crosshairs.