Stella’s gaze moved over Sam’s beloved face. She didn’t know which of them was right, but no matter who it was, Denver wasn’t going to go peacefully. She did know that much.
“He was an officer and he thought his men looked up to him and yet he couldn’t get them out of a tough situation. Along comes a single man— someone they referred to as a ghost, someone with no rank or real education, in his eyes. His men admired that man because he single-handedly saved them. How do you think Denver would really feel no matter what lip service he would pay?”
Sam nodded slowly. “That’s a good question, Stella.”
“And here, when he’s the center of attention, no matter how low-key he is, how do you think he really feels, Sam, when you’re good at everything you do, and you might very well be one of the ghosts who stole his thunder back in the day? You drifted into his town, a dirtbag, one of the ones who just comes to climb and then moves on, but you didn’t move on. You stayed and you’re good at everything, and even though you’re low-key, everyone takes notice. Even Bale and his crew back down around you.”
He leaned down and brushed a kiss over her trembling lips. “I see where you’re going, sweetheart, and in the end, it doesn’t matter what kind of trap Denver is setting. It only matters that I find him. I’ve got my friend Rafe waiting in your rig to take you and Bailey to Shabina’s. The other women will all be there. I’m walking you back to the house, you’re going to pack a bag and I’ll walk you to the 4Runner.”
“Sam.” She wondered if he’d already thought of every one of her points. Probably.
“We’re not arguing about this. You’ve done your part, you have to let me do mine.”
Stella wanted to argue, but she didn’t see any other solution, and she wasn’t the type of woman to argue for argument’s sake. She couldn’t help Sam, and what he was doing was his field of expertise. He obviously had a plan and she didn’t. She could only hope he was as good as he seemed to be.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Denver stood up slowly in the middle of his camp. It was impossible to find him. He had avoided every single place he had ever been. He didn’t go near a hunting, fishing or empty cabin. He’d covered his rig with branches. The paint was special, impossible to see the way it blended into the leaves and brush even from the air, especially when concealed the way he’d done. He hadn’t used a campfire or anything that might draw attention to his position. His clothes blended into the brush around him. Still … his gut told him he wasn’t alone.
He put his hand on the hunting knife in the scabbard at his side. He was more than good with a knife. Very carefully, and very slowly, so as not to draw attention to himself when he was hidden in the circle of brush, he looked around. He had excellent vision. Far better than most people, and also good hearing. The insects were still droning on and on. There had been no break in their incessant noise. Squirrels ran up a tree, fighting with one another, trying to get a few last nuts for storage for winter. Birds flitted from tree to tree. Life went on in the forest even as the needles and leaves fell to the ground in preparation for the coming season.
A frisson of awareness went down his spine. A chill. He’d never had that before. Was it actually fear? He didn’t feel fear. He felt … excitement. He’d entered a game. This was his game. He didn’t feel fear. Still his legs shook. There was a tremor in his hands. He didn’t even know why. If all around him the lizards slid through the rotting vegetation and the insects droned without breaking even for a split second, then nothing was stalking him. Why did he feel as though he had a target centered right between his shoulder blades? Or between his eyes? Or over his heart? Each spot itched for a moment and then that itch moved to his throat. He was going crazy. He refused to accept that diagnosis.
Swearing under his breath, he caught up his two large water bottles and moved to the small entrance of his camp. He had only to wait a couple of hours before he put his plan into action. Right now, he needed to get fresh water. It was the only thing he hadn’t managed to get enough of, but he’d set up camp near the top of the tall waterfall running over rocks. The water fell a good forty feet to a churning pool below. He could purify the water easily.