How to Score (38 page)

He put his arm around her. “Hey. It’ll be okay.”

“Oh, right.” She slapped away his arm. It was one thing for her to touch him, and quite another for him to touch her. “Like I’m going to believe anything you tell me.”

He blew out a long sigh. “Sammi—”

“Don’t talk to me. I don’t want to hear any more of your lies.” Sammi pulled away and hugged her knees. She’d skinned them when she’d tripped on the tree root, and they were probably bleeding inside her jeans, but it was impossible to tell, because the denim was wet from crawling on the damp ground. A rock bit into her backside, and another one poked her spine.

But her physical misery was nothing compared to the despair churning inside her. Chase had been her
life coach?
What a lying, sneaky bastard! She’d trusted him, both as her coach and lover, and he’d violated that trust on both ends. Humiliation and anger swirled inside her like steam. She’d told him all the intimate details of her life—all of her insecurities, all of her feelings about men, all of her feelings about
him.
He’d deceived her and given her
advice,
damn it—advice about things he’d had no business even knowing about, much less trying to help her with. He’d known she was trying to get over her lack of trust, and he’d given her all the more reason to never trust a man again.

The thing in the back of the cave rustled again. She shivered.

Chase moved closer. “It’s probably just a raccoon.”

“I hate caves.”

“I’m no fan, either. But I hate getting shot even worse.”

“I also hate men who lie to me,” she whispered hotly, edging way from him. “Especially men I’m supposed to trust.”

“Sammi—I never meant to hurt you.”

Anger flared like a blowtorch. “I confided all my secrets to my life coach, and it was you all along. The more I think about it, the madder I get.”

“I kept meaning to tell you. But I couldn’t find a way to tell you that wouldn’t end with you furious at me.”

“Well, of course I’m furious at you!”

“It started out with the best of intentions.”

“Oh, having me go to the park so you could get a look at me was based on a good intention?”

“Well, I was curious—I admit that. But I also thought it might be helpful. And I never meant to actually meet you. I wouldn’t have, if your dog hadn’t attacked me.”

That was true, but it didn’t let him off the hook.

“After that first time, I wasn’t going to see you again,” he continued. “And if you hadn’t come to the swap meet, I never would have.”

A fresh burst of indignation flared within her. “Oh, so it was my fault?”

“No. It was all mine. I’m not trying to pass the buck here. I’m just explaining how it got started.”

“So why didn’t you stop it? Why did you keep coaching me?”

“Because I thought I was helping.”

Oh, God. How humiliating! Hot tears rolled down her cheeks. “Tell me one thing.” A lump formed in her throat. She hated to ask, but she needed to know the answer. “When you made love to me—was that a form of therapy?”

“Hell, no!” Chase blew out a harsh sigh. “Damn it, Sammi! Why are you trying to turn this into something it’s not?”

“Well, what, exactly, is it?”

“It’s a case of me misjudging the situation.” He blew out another hard breath. “Of me liking you and caring for you and wanting you so badly that I wasn’t thinking straight.” He shifted beside her. “Not that that’s any excuse.”

“You’re damned right it isn’t. And now you’ve screwed up my entire life.”

“Sammi—come here.” His hand touched her leg in the dark.

She scooted away. “Keep your distance.”

“It’s cold and getting colder, and we don’t have a sleeping bag, and you’re not wearing much of a jacket.”

It was true. She was wearing only a red fleece hoodie over a long-sleeved T-shirt. She was shivering, but she wasn’t sure if it was because of the chilly temperature or the icy ball inside of her that now sat where her heart had been.

She heard the rustle of fabric in the dark, then felt something warm wrap around her. He’d pulled off his jacket and put it over her.

“You’re going to freeze,” she said.

“It’s no more than I deserve.”

“That’s true.” Still, she yanked off the jacket and thrust it at him. “Put your damn jacket back on.”

“No. You keep it. But we should probably huddle together for warmth.”

“Oh, right. Like that’s gonna happen.”

Outside the cave, a twig snapped.

She felt him tense beside her. “Shh,” he whispered.

She went rigid. He crept to the entrance, quiet as a cat, and crouched behind the branches, ready to spring if the shooter entered. Long minutes ticked by. After what seemed like forever, he crept back toward her.

“Was it him?” she whispered.

“I’m not sure.” His voice was little more than breath in her ear. “But the entrance is hidden, so if we’re completely silent, we’ll be okay.”

He put his arm around her. She stiffened. Damn it, she didn’t want to need him. She didn’t want to find his arm reassuring, didn’t want to crave his warmth, didn’t want to feel his heart beat through his shirt when her own heart was breaking.

“Try to go to sleep,” he whispered against her hair. He picked up his jacket and arranged it over her like a blanket.

Fat chance of that. All the same, she didn’t pull away. She leaned against him and listened to his breathing, her own breath synchronizing with his.

She must have dozed off, because when she opened her eyes, light filtered through the leaves in the cave opening.

Chase disentangled his arm from around her. “I’m going after him,” he whispered. “Stay here and wait for me.”

“But—”

“I can’t go if you insist on accompanying me.” His gaze was unwavering, his tone final. “That could mean we’re stuck here for days.”

She blew out a frustrated sigh. “Okay.”

“I’ll be back. Just wait here.” He crept to the entrance and pulled aside a branch. He waited a moment, then pulled aside the others and eased himself out. He replaced the branches in front of the cave, and then he was gone.

Long moments ticked by. She ran her hands up and down her arms, trying to warm herself, but the absence of Chase’s body heat made it seem impossible. She shivered against the cold rock, shifting her bottom and stretching out her legs, unable to find a comfortable position. She was chilled and cramped, and she needed to go to the bathroom. She glanced at her wristwatch: 6:00.

By the time her watch read 7:00, it seemed like days had passed and her bladder was ready to explode. She scrambled to her feet and shuffled, hunched over, to the back of the cave to relieve herself. As she edged her way back toward the light, black clusters of something that looked like bananas caught her eye. She twisted her head and squinted at them, then stepped closer. In the dim light, they looked like giant black cocoons, except…
Oh, dear God—they have big ears and monkey faces!
She let out a yelp, then put her hands over her mouth to squelch it.
Bats
. Chase hadn’t been kidding. The cave was infested with bats!

She’d rather take her chances with the gunman. Her heart pounding, she staggered, Quasimodo-style, toward the opening, then barreled through the branches. Twigs caught in her hair, scraped her face, and stung her hands, but she pushed through them and ran several yards away from the cave. She stopped and looked around, squinting in the sunlight. The leaves wore a white glaze of frost, and her breath looked like chimney puffs. Now what? She didn’t know where Chase or the gunman had gone, didn’t know which direction to go, and had no idea where the hell she was.

Her mind raced along the precipice of panic. A sudden thought halted it:
the phone.
She would try to retrace their steps and find Chase’s dropped phone.

She usually had a really good sense of direction, but she’d been terrified last night, so her memory of their trek wasn’t all that sharp. She seemed to recall that they’d approached the cave from the left, so she set out in that direction. The brown gnarl of a tree root nearly tripped her. Was this the one she’d stumbled over? Yes, she was pretty sure it was; the leaves were scrunched to one side, and the dirt looked all scuffed up. The ravine they’d climbed should be right ahead.

It was. She breathed a sigh of relief, then looked down. Oh, dear; it was a long way down—higher than a second-story window. She walked along the side of it, looking for an easier place to climb down. At length, she found a spot that had a ledge jutting out, with a sapling oak growing on the ledge. Taking a deep breath, she eased herself off the side of the ravine, then dropped four feet to the ledge. So far, so good. She’d hang on to the oak and drop to the bottom. She grabbed the small tree, turned around, and eased herself off the ledge, only to have the roots pull out under her weight.

A sickening sensation of falling later, she opened her eyes. Thank God—a bush at the bottom had broken her fall. She pulled herself out of the branches, dusted herself off, and walked along the bottom of the ravine, back toward the spot they’d climbed the night before.

Where, exactly, was it? Leaves crunched under her sneakers as she roamed the ravine bottom, her heart sinking. The leaves were at least a foot thick. Even if she found the exact spot where the phone had fallen, chances were it was covered by leaves.

A branch snapped above her. Her heart stopped. Was it the gunman? A bear? A coyote? A snake?

No, the snakes would be more likely to be down here. Her pulse fluttered madly in her chest.

Stay calm,
she ordered herself.
Stay calm, and look for the phone. Just look for something shiny.

She slowly strode the length of the gulley, doing just that. She saw the glint of something resting against a tiny redbud tree. She bent down, hope rising in her chest like the sun at dawn.

A broken beer bottle. She sat back on her heels, disappointment bitter in her mouth. This was useless. The ravine was huge, the leaves were thick, and the chances of finding the phone were slim to none.

Tears sprang to her eyes. She wiped them away and resolutely rose to her feet. She had to keep going. A branch crackled under her heel, and then she heard something that sounded like a soft, single beep. Her pulse quickened. She stood still and listened, wondering if she’d imagined it.

There it was again! It sounded like the low-on-power warning of a cell phone. She took a few steps toward the sound, then waited. It sounded once more. She moved in, scanning the leaves, then knelt down when something gleamed in the sunlight.

A silver phone lay nestled in the brown leaves like an egg in a nest.

“Thank God!” she breathed, snatching it up and opening it.

The plate over the numbers was dented, the face was covered in grit, and the message window read “Low battery.” Her stomach knotted. She tried to punch in 911. The button stuck on nine. The display window showed nothing but low battery.

No signal—just the warning beep that the battery was about to go out. She turned off the phone, her heart sinking. She’d climb out of the gully and try again.

It took her fifteen minutes to find a place where she could scramble out, and then another fifteen minutes to do so. When she turned on the phone, the display window was blank. Her heart dropped. The phone still beeped a low-battery warning. Saying a prayer, she punched in 911 again. The number didn’t show on the display window, but the phone was ringing. “Come on,” she muttered after the second ring. “Pick up!”

“Hello?” said what sounded like woman’s voice.

“This is an emergency,” Sammi whispered.

“What kind of emergency?”

“Someone is shooting at us.”

“Really?” The voice grew oddly excited. “Where are you?”

“Near Talihina, off Highway 271. Can you get my location from my cell signal?”

“Oh, no. You’ll have to give me directions. Let me get a pencil.”

A long moment of battery-burning silence later, the voice was back. “Okay. Highway 271. Then what?”

She searched her memory for the landmarks they’d passed. “Turn left onto a dirt road called Paradise Valley Pass. Go down the road until you see a big boulder. Turn left, go until the road ends, then right to the cabin at the end.”

The phone beeped another warning.

“Did you get that?”

“I-I think so.” The wavering in the voice did nothing to inspire confidence.

“Hurry. Our lives are in… ” The phone went dead. “… danger,” she whispered to the silence.

Sammi closed the phone, drew a jagged breath, and prayed she’d given the right directions. She needed to believe she had, needed to believe that help was on the way.

What should she do in the interim? She couldn’t go sit in a cave full of bats. Besides, she hated the idea of just sitting around and waiting to be rescued.

Especially by Chase. How could she trust him to even come back? He’d lied to her, misrepresented himself, and used false means to extract the most personal kinds of information, all in the name of helping her. Her fingers curled together in her palms, and her breath huffed out in angry frost clouds. No, she was through following Chase’s advice. From now on, she’d make her own decisions. She’d find her way back to the cabin, locate a hiding place, and wait for help to arrive.

A gunshot cracked the silence. It sounded a long distance away, but fear, thick and nauseating, singed her throat
. Please, dear God, let Chase be okay. Please, please, please be with him and protect him.

Okay. She took it back about not trusting Chase to come back for her. He would. He’d risk his own life to save hers, but not because he loved her. He’d do it for anybody, because that was his job. He’d do it because that was the kind of man he was and that was what he believed in. She could trust him with her life.

Just not, apparently, with her heart.