That Summer Night (Callaways #6) (29 page)

She stared at him, as if trying to decipher his words. "I know there's smoke, but I've almost got it going."

"Someone could see the smoke," he got out, his tongue dry and thick.

Awareness dawned in her eyes. "Oh, I didn't think. I'm sorry. I thought it might get cold, and it's going to be really dark in here in about a half hour. I'll put it out." She beat the flames into submission until there was nothing left but smoking ash. "That was a stupid mistake."

"I don't think there was any harm done. It's dark outside. No one is going to come after us until the morning."

"You don't think so?"

"No." He glanced at his watch, realizing it was after eight. He'd slept for several hours. During that time, he'd left Shayla to fend for herself. He should have stayed awake. "You should have woken me," he told her, irritated with himself for falling asleep on the job.

"You needed to rest. I would have woken you if I needed to."

He shifted into a sitting position. He still had pain in his arm, but he felt better.

She got up and walked back to the couch, sitting down beside him. "Robert should have been here by now."

"Yeah," he agreed. "He won't make it up here in the dark." He saw the question in her eyes and wished he had an answer. "I don't know what happened to him, Shayla. Maybe he'll be here tomorrow."

"Do you really believe that? After what happened to us?"

"I'm trying to keep a positive attitude."

"And you call me the optimist."

"At this point, there's nothing we can do but wait until the morning and see what the sun brings."

"Hopefully not more shooting."

"Hopefully," he agreed.

"I've been looking through Robert's sketches. And I made some notes." She picked up the piece of paper she'd torn out of the back of the pad. "I started to play around with the numbers but nothing was grabbing me, then I realized that there were also letters. If you put them together, they kind of make sense, especially when the letters are N, S, and W. I think they're GPS coordinates, Reid."

He stared back at her in surprise and amazement. "Oh, my God. You are brilliant."

"I know," she said with a smug smile. "My phone isn't getting a signal, but I'm going to take a wild guess and say that the GPS coordinates are somewhere around this cabin."

"Of course they are."

"I think Robert either wants us to meet him at those coordinates or that he buried something in the woods," she continued. "Have you ever heard of geocache?"

He frowned. "Is that the game where people bury stuff around the world and other people dig it up?"

"It is, and Robert is a big fan. Now I don't know under what circumstances he'd bury something, but I think we should consider the possibility."

"I think we should, too. Whatever he has, someone is willing to kill for."

Shayla's lips tightened. "And to die for."

Reid met her gaze. "I had to kill him, Shayla. It was him or us."

"I know that, Reid. It was completely self-defense. It's not like I haven't seen people pass away. I'm a doctor. I've worked in the morgue. But it's different when it's violent and it's right in front of you, and that's happened twice in the last two weeks, so I'm a little shaken."

"Understandably so."

Her lips tightened. "When you left me behind that rock and the shots kept coming, I didn't know what was going to happen. I was so afraid that you—"

"Sh-sh." He leaned forward, putting his finger across her beautiful mouth. He could feel her lips tremble under his touch. "Don't think about it."

"I've been trying not to, but it keeps coming back. You could have died, Reid. You could have died because I went to you. I got you involved in all this. If I hadn't taken Robert's call, followed his instructions, you'd still be happily drinking in the Cadillac Lounge."

He saw the moisture gather in her eyes and felt his heart turn over. She was so lovely, so full of heart, and the fact that she cared so much about him made him feel incredibly lucky. "I'm fine, Shayla."

"You're not fine. You have a bullet hole in your arm." She wiped a tear off her cheek.

"And you fixed me up. Don't you see now that all your worrying was for nothing? You're a born doctor. You left cover to find me, to save me. You had no idea if someone was going to start shooting again, but that didn't matter. You saw that I was hurt and you went to work. You didn't even think about it. You're not going to be a hell of a doctor, you already are one."

"I feel like I could have moved earlier."

"I didn't want you to do anything but what you did. And what you did was strip off your bra and wrap it around my arm without a second thought."

"It was all I could think of," she said giving him a teary smile.

"It was smart. It stopped the bleeding."

"It did. But you were lucky, Reid. If that bullet had hit an artery or anywhere else on your body—"

"It didn't. I don't deal hypotheticals, Shayla, only reality."

"How does your arm feel?"

"It hurts," he admitted. "But it's better now."

"You look better. There's more color in your cheeks. There's some food. Do you want something?"

"Not right now," he said, settling back on to the couch.

"How do you think that guy found us? No one was on the road behind us, not for miles, and we were a mile into our hike."

He thought about that. "The helicopter. It must have tracked us. We were looking on the road. They were following us from the sky."

"How? Do we have something on us?"

"Maybe one of our phones or the truck, although I did look the truck over before we started driving. All I know for certain is that whoever sent that guy into the woods after us is probably the same guy who bought the mercenaries in Colombia. That someone has a lot of money and maybe even a lot of power."

She raised an eyebrow. "You think someone in the FBI or the State Department…"

He shrugged. "Anything is possible. I'm beginning to understand now why Robert called you, why he was insistent you speak to no one, including Lisa." He stopped abruptly. "Damn."

"What?" she asked with alarm. "What's wrong now?"

"We were at Lisa's house yesterday. She must have told Hal we were there, that we were together. He probably tracked me to the boat." He shook his head. "She screwed me over again."

"I don't know that we gave her any new information," Shayla put in. "She already knew Robert and I were friends. And if anyone was following me, then they saw us together, probably that first night when we left the bar."

"You're right. Well, there's nothing we can do about any of that now."

"So, what's next?"

He picked up the piece of paper and studied the series of numbers that Shayla had pulled out of Robert's illustrations. "We follow the clue you found."

"Even if those are GPS coordinates, we're not going to be able to find the location if your phone doesn't work."

He gave her a smile as the numbers running around in his brain settled into a familiar pattern. "Actually, I don't need a phone to find this location."

"What do you mean?"

"I know where Robert buried his cache. My grandfather taught us all about latitude and longitude and how to use a compass."

"I didn't see a compass in the backpack."

"No, but I know where these numbers lead, because Grandpa used to send Robert and I on treasure hunts. He used it as a way to test our knowledge of the wilderness and use our skills to get the treasure and return home. Funny, I never thought Robert was paying attention during those games. He was always complaining about bugs and having to walk too far. But I guess some of my grandfather's lessons stuck."

"Do you think when we get there, we'll also find Robert?"

He wished he could say yes. "I don’t know."

She stared back at him. "If you remember the GPS coordinates, then I'm thinking that Robert knows them, too. So why would he need this notebook to refresh his memory? He wouldn't need the crutch."

"Nope." He could see exactly where she was going, and as usual she got there quickly.

"He was never going to meet you," she said slowly. "He wanted you to find whatever he buried. That's why he wanted you to have the notebook."

"Lucky for me you figured it out. I might still be putting numbers together and looking for a bank account somewhere."

"You would have figured it out eventually." She let out a sigh and shook her head. "You were right to wonder if Robert was luring you into trouble."

"And you were right when you told me that I'd never be able to walk away from Robert, because he's my brother, and blood counts."

"Maybe it shouldn’t count when your life is at risk."

"It always counts," he said quietly. "The past few days I've had a chance to reconnect with my parents and even with Robert through these ridiculous drawings. And coming here to these woods reminds me of where I come from. Family is important. I forgot that for a while. I shouldn't have."

"You're a pretty good guy." She looked at him with a love that made his heart skip a beat. "Do you know that?"

"Of course I know that. I've been telling you that all along," he joked.

"Right. I almost forgot that the size of your ego is as big as your heart." She paused. "Actually, I don't believe that's true at all. You just like to joke when things get a little serious or uncomfortable."

She knew him far too well.

"I should take a look at your wound again," she said, changing the subject. "I want to change the bandage, make sure everything is clean."

"It's okay. You don’t need to bother."

"You're probably going to have another scar."

He grinned. "But it's sexy, right?"

"You don't need another scar to be sexy, Reid. You've got it all going on."

"So do you." He paused. "You know, we have quite a few hours until morning."

Pink colored her cheeks. "Reid, you're injured."

"Just my arm. The other parts of my body are feeling pretty good. They'd feel even better with some tender, loving care from my personal physician. What is it that doctors say—you need to treat the whole patient, not just the injury?"

"That does not include sex."

"But if sex is what the patient needs…" He leaned forward until his mouth was a breath away from hers. "Shouldn't the doctor prescribe the right treatment?" He pressed his mouth against hers. "God, you taste good."

"It's the chocolate I had earlier," she murmured.

"No, it's you, babe, sexy and sweet. It's the perfect combination."

"I like sexy. Sweet I'm not sure about. I think I'd rather be hot."

"You're definitely hot, but you are sweet, Shayla. You're kind, compassionate, generous, loyal—maybe even when you shouldn't be." He paused. "I've never met anyone like you."

"Really? I'm not that special."

"You are that special, even more so because you don't know it. You have no idea how beautiful you are."

She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "You know how to turn it on to get what you want."

"I mean every word. You need to learn how to take a compliment."

"I've just never been the beautiful one. I was always the smart one."

"You're both."

"I'd like to be both," she said candidly. "But it's funny that you can see dimensions in me but none in yourself. You think you're just the brawn, the physical guy, the man of action, but you're smart, too, Reid. Like I said before, you have it all going on."

"Not all. I'm still a man without a career."

"Once you finally realize that being a soldier is not who you are, just what you did, you'll be able to move on."

Her words resonated deep within him, because he'd finally come to the same realization. He'd been afraid to let go of who he was, but whether he was afraid or not, he had to let go. The past was done and the future was already here.

"I've got a move I want to make right now," he said.

"No way. You need to rest. But…"

"But?" he asked hopefully.

"I do have a treatment in mind that you might like."

"What's that, Doc?"

"Just lay back," she said, a mischievous gleam in her eyes. "And let the doctor take care of you."

He closed his eyes and let her do just that.

Chapter Twenty-Two

"Shayla, wake up," Reid said.

She blinked her eyes open, sleep still heavy on her lids. Reid was standing by the window and she could see the sun coming through the trees.

She sat up, wrapping the sleeping bag around her as she became aware of the cold. "Is it time to go?"

He nodded, a light of determination in his eyes. Reid was back in battle mode, and she was a little sorry to see her charming lover disappear. Their passion during the night had been tender and loving, and they'd fallen asleep in each other's arms. But while their nights together seemed to border on perfection, every morning brought a new challenge.

She got dressed, adding a sweater over her t-shirt and jeans, then used the bathroom. When she returned to the living room, Reid had changed into a clean shirt and thrown on a hooded zipped sweatshirt. "I should check your wound," she said.

"Let's wait until we get back to civilization."

She frowned at his words. "Who's the doctor here?"

He made a face back at her. "You are."

"Then let me take a look at your arm. I want to change the bandage and apply more antibiotic cream. You don't want an infection, Reid."

He sighed, then unzipped his sweatshirt and sat on the couch while she got the first aid kit. She unwrapped her bandage from the night before, relieved to see the bleeding had stopped, and there were no signs of infection in the wound. She put on a new dressing and bandaged him up, trying not to cause him any more pain while she did so.

"What's the prognosis?" he asked.

"You'll live," she said briskly.

"Glad to hear it." He paused. "You have a great touch, Shayla, tender but competent and quick."

"I've been putting on bandages since I was a little girl. First my dolls, then the family dog and the neighborhood kids. Anyone who came near me with a scratch got a bandage. My brothers used to run when they saw me coming with my kid-sized first-aid kit."