With a cry, she dashed to the nearest tree and jumped to a low branch, trying to scramble up the rough-barked trunk. It scraped the skin off her knees and flayed a raw patch on her inner thighs, but the snarling below and the snap of sharp teeth blunted everything except her fear.
Laila could all but feel the coyotes nipping at her heels, hungry for their next meal as she hugged the trunk with all her might. Blood ran down her calves and rolled beneath her feet, warm in the bone-chilling cold, as she reached for the branch directly above.
It snapped off in her hands and sent her sliding down. Frantically, she clawed at the trunk, reaching blindly for another branch…and wishing like hell she could go back in time even fifteen minutes. Valeria had always said she was too headstrong and independent, that it would be the death of her.
Laila began to fear her sister was right.
If she failed to save herself, would Valeria ever know what had happened to her? Or would the coyotes consume her so completely that her body would never be identified?
No, she couldn’t think that. She could endure bloody knees and raw fingertips. But she could not give up.
Suddenly, a gunshot rang out. She started and bit back a cry of fear. Who was out there? Why?
At her feet, a coyote yelped. Then two more shots rang out with deafening bangs. The other two animals scattered, fleeing quickly until she heard nothing but her own harsh breathing and runaway heartbeat. Was the shooter looking to kill her next?
“Laila!”
Trees. His footsteps closed in. Clutching the sharp, crumbling trunk in terror, she glanced over her shoulder. He came toward her with long, sure steps, holding a semiautomatic in one hand and a heavy-duty flashlight in the other.
“Laila! Can you see me? Follow the light.”
“Trees.” Her whimper cracked.
He jerked the flashlight her way, and the bright beam landed directly on her. “Son of a bitch!”
In seconds, he was beside her, wrapping his arm around her and lifting her into his embrace.
Laila couldn’t remember ever being happier to see anyone in her life.
She scrambled to face him, throwing her arms around him and clinging to him as if her life depended on it. In truth, it had. If he hadn’t come along and saved her from the coyotes, how much longer could she have dangled before her legs gave out and her fingers bled too much, and she fell to her doom?
He held her tight against him, as if he’d never let her go. “Are you all right? I saw blood…”
“None of them bit me. The tree… I was trying to get away.”
His mouth flattened. “I know you were. Can you walk back?”
“I think so.” Honestly, she wasn’t sure. Adrenaline scorched through her veins as it drained out, and her legs felt like noodles. But she’d already shown weakness. She refused to crumble and fall now, especially after being so stupidly impulsive and impatient to escape.
With a clipped nod, he took her hand in his. She hissed at the contact of his skin against her raw abrasions. He released her immediately, giving her palm a once-over. Then he guided the light down her body, focusing on her legs.
“Fuck. Hold this.” He thrust the flashlight in her hands. “Point it in front of us.”
Before she could ask why, he bent and lifted her into his arms, against his broad chest.
She couldn’t explain why, but when he held her close and searched her face with tight anger, she burst into tears.
Teeth grinding, Trees settled her closer, angling her face toward his shoulder as he stomped away from the coyote bleeding out on the leaf-riddled ground. It wasn’t long before he broke through the trees and onto the campground. He headed straight for the RV and locked them in.
As soon as he set her down, he flipped on a light, surveyed her with a glance, and cursed.
He didn’t have to speak another word to make her feel chastened.
“Trees…” But what could she say that wouldn’t anger him more?
“Take off your shirt and shorts,” he demanded.
Laila didn’t ask why. Did he want to have sex with her now? Likely, and she didn’t kid herself. This time he would punish her. There would be no toe-curling pleasure or explosions of bliss. He would use his body to punish her, and he would think she deserved it. She could only blame her own stubbornness and desperation.
She didn’t fight him, merely peeled the shirt from her skin with a hiss of pain and lifted it over her head. Bark fell from the material onto the vinyl floor with scattered pings. But Trees wasn’t even looking at her, much less like a man who intended to use or humiliate her. Instead, he pulled back the drape over the dining table and peered out as if he searched for trouble while she shimmied out of her denim shorts.