ChapterThirty-One
Audrey felt Xavier slide from the bed after a few short hours of sleep. She wanted to grab his hand, pull him back to bed, and make love to him again. Maybe even say the words back to him that he’d given her. But deep down, she knew their respite was over. He was back on duty and wouldn’t permit any more deviation from his role as special forces operator.
She wasn’t sure if she regretted not saying the words back to him when she’d had the chance. She’d been caught off guard and had yet to explore her emotions given the distance they’d traveled in the last two days.
Two days.
It had only been—she glanced at her watch—thirty-eight hours since she’d approached the basement door of the lodge. In that time, her entire world had changed. But not just hers. There was a platoon of SEALs who were missing team members. One was missing a finger, and another might yet die from a gunshot wound to the shoulder—so much like Xavier’s wound.
She heard him pull on his clothes on the other side of the bed-curtains, then pad quietly into the bathroom. A few moments later, the hall door closed behind her favorite SEAL, and she was alone again in the honeymoon suite.
Making love with Xavier had been exactly what she needed. It had bolstered her. Given her hope. Made her feel connected to him on a level she’d never experienced.
They’d been partners these last two days, and they would be again today as they set out on a hike that would be difficult under the best of circumstances.
The intimacy of the last few hours would sustain her in the coming journey.
Now she rose from the bed and used a washcloth to wash up in the bathroom. The water was icy cold and bracing, just what she needed after less than four hours’ sleep.
It would be enough, though. It had to be. And she wouldn’t trade the time she’d spent making love with Xavier for anything—certainly not sleep.
She donned clean clothing she’d borrowed from Danielle Baldwin, again vowing to make sure the woman knew that the items they’d taken from their home had been lifesaving.
All traces of Xavier’s scent had been washed away by the time she descended the stairs to the great room, where yet another meeting between the operatives was taking place.
Four men had gathered around the coffee table where the framed map from the wall now lay.
Xavier turned, presenting his back to the others. Only she was able to see his face as he smiled at her in the dim light. She felt his gaze as the caress it was meant to be. His features shuttered, and he turned back to the team.
When she reached the table, he said, “You should still be sleeping. I wasn’t going to wake you for another half hour.”
“We should go soon. While it’s still full dark. Put some distance between us and the lodge before the sun rises.”
“You sure you’re up for it?” His gaze probed her face, and she knew he was worried about her pushing too hard. He was probably worried about the baby, but she was in good physical shape, so there was little risk as far as the pregnancy was concerned.
“I can do it.”
He gave a sharp nod. He was in professional mode in front of the others. She was glad for it.
It took less than ten minutes to go over their plans once again and to receive a full debriefing on intel gathered during the hours they slept.
A thorough search of the boathouse, shop, and other buildings in the lodge complex had been conducted, turning up no trace of the missing SEALs or the mercenary team’s refuge.
In her absence, they’d come up with an estimate of the number of mercenaries unaccounted for. They guessed that the leader—who, she now learned, had remained masked in front of the hostages—and five minions remained at large.
The general consensus was they were holed up in one of the inholding cabins, but that search would take an entire day and could be a moving target if the mercs had divided and were on the run.
No one believed they’d left the forest. They’d had an end goal that wasn’t met. They’d taken hostages instead of killing them, and for some reason, they wanted Xavier and her.
The men were still in the forest somewhere, and they had three SEAL hostages with them.
The alternative—that the SEALs had been killed instead of taken hostage—was unfathomable and not discussed as an option.
They were alive until proven otherwise.
The trainer who was a medic—Smith—was now resting upstairs in the same room with the wounded SEAL. It was unlikely the injured man would wake and be coherent enough to share his story, but if he did, the medic would be there to find out what happened to the team.
The meeting adjourned, and they prepared for the hike. They needed enough supplies to see them through a few days in the forest, just in case. First, they headed to the lodge storage room in hopes of finding better outdoor gear. They traded out their bigger, car camping tent for a small, lightweight four-season backpacking tent.