Untraceable

Survival Skill #13

Just as I surrender to the sheer panic, someone clamps a hand over my mouth and drags me backward into a dark cave. A mixture of fear and adrenaline pump through me. Instinctively, I fight back against the hold, determined to get free. Scratching. Punching. Kicking.

My arms are pinned down, and the cute guy from earlier whispers in my ear. “It’s me. Calm down.” My body sags into him. He catches me and lowers me to the ground.

I stare blankly and struggle to find words. “I … I … I’m sorry. I … didn’t know it was you.”

He plucks a string of soggy hair off my cheek. “Don’t worry. Those blokes aren’t getting out of those binds any time soon. Knot tying is one of my specialties. Trust me, you’re safe.”

“Says the mysterious stranger who fishes with a gun.”

He pats my shoulder. “Sit tight. We’ll stay here until the storm passes.”

My hero shuffles around the small, dry cave, collecting sticks and clumps of dry moss. In a few seconds, a cozy fire lights up the cramped space. The flames offer warmth, but I continue to shiver from the mixture of cold and fear. Every now and then, droplets of sap pop in the fire, mimicking gunfire, causing me to jerk with each bang. I hope the rain is hiding the smell of smoke from the fire.

“Cold?” The guy slings his thin jacket over me like a cape. When his hands brush against my neck, I flinch. He gives me some space and speaks in a calm tone. “Guess I should introduce myself. My name’s Mo.”

I answer in a hoarse, raspy voice that I don’t even recognize as my own. “Grace.”

Mo flashes me a look of concern. “You all right?”

“Never better,” I mumble, watching the raindrops drip off his dark, wavy hair. His cheeks are flushed from running. I force my mind to focus on something else for fear I’m staring.

He tugs on his longish, unkempt hair. “How’d a pretty girl like you get mixed up with those blokes?”

He called me pretty. I choke on the compliment. “Long story.”

Mo gestures outside with his thumb in a hitchhiking motion. Only then do I notice the sheets of rain blanketing the entrance. He smirks. “I think we have some time.”

I lie back against the stone wall, my body stiff like a corpse, and fixate on the ashes as they glow a reddish orange. Eventually, I muster up the energy to talk. “I overheard those two guys talking about hunting bears and wanted to check it out.”

His eyebrow arches. “Are you a secret agent or something?”

I shake my head. “No. Just curious.”

“Right. I seem to remember that about you.” His dark eyes swirl in the firelight. “Little Nosey Parker.”

I frown. “Excuse me?”

“Sorry, English expression.” His face flips serious again. “You almost got in a load of trouble back there.”

“Thanks. I think I got that part.” I sweep the damp hair away from my eyes and think for a second. “How did you find me, anyway?”

He shrugs and rakes his hands through his black hair. “Lucky, I guess.” He smiles, and I can’t help but notice how one tooth sits forward a little. I find his slightly misaligned front teeth kind of cute. Matches the gap between mine.

Outside the storm intensifies with loud cracks and booms. I focus away from the explosions. “What’s up with the weapons? Are you a secret agent?”

“Protection. The Appalachians attract a bunch of nutters. Can’t be too careful.”

I nod in understanding. Dad always carried a gun, like an executive does a pen. It’s the way of the woods. “Fair enough.”

Mo eyes my swelling cheek and lightly touches a sore spot on my neck. I jerk away when his flesh skims mine. “What are you doing?”

He holds up his finger, smeared with blood. “You’re cut.” He pours water out of his canteen and soaks a cloth before holding it a few inches from my face. “May I?” I cover my wound with one hand as he speaks softly, trying to reassure me. “I’m not going to hurt you, Grace.”

At first, I stiffen. Wyn said that to me after my dad went missing. For some reason, I couldn’t take a chance then, but for some reason this guy relaxes me. My body sags and my hand drops, allowing Mo to dab my neck with the cloth. His face is only a breath away. The whole time he tends to me, I’m pretending to study the stalactites on the ceiling.

When Mo’s done, he wraps my hand around the cloth and holds it to my lips. “Keep this here.” Little pulses of electricity tickle the place where our skin briefly made contact. I’ve just been attacked and now lusting after my hero? What’s wrong with me?

I clutch the cloth and nurse my wound as Mo lines more sticks across the fire. Flames spark a few times before dancing to life again. The longer I stare, the more the burning embers resemble little red worms wiggling through charred mounds of ashes. The scene with Al and Billy replays in my mind. A chill travels through me, and I hug my knees to my chest, determined not to shed any tears in front of this guy.

“You want to tell me what happened?” He doesn’t look at me when he asks, but his voice is low and serious.

Licking the cut on my lip, I force my voice past the huge lump forming in my throat. A quick image of Al flashing his knife in my face makes me flinch. “Not with a stranger.”

“Thought I already introduced myself.” He raises one eyebrow. “Weren’t you paying attention?”

I can’t help but smirk a bit. “That doesn’t matter. I don’t know anything about you.”

“Fine. Ask me a question.”