He leaned closer, his back to the one-way window. “Let’s go off together,” he said softly, low and gravelly with unmistakable desire. “We can forget about everything else except each other, being together.”
His whispered words tempted her as much as his touch. And that was a lot.
She had to strengthen her resolve. There was danger out there threatening her family, her friends, and she couldn’t turn away. “I have to go home.”
One dark eyebrow cranked upward and his hand slid from hers, cool air chilling her skin and deeper.
“Okay,” he said slowly, although his face turned stony again, not offering much encouragement that he’d actually conceded. “You’ll need to stay in contact for the rest of the investigation. Can you do that from your middle-of-nowhere town?”
They had a satellite phone, not that anyone had picked up when she called the number. That happened sometimes, depending on the weather. She would figure that out when she got home, once she talked to her brother, hopefully her sister too. “I can arrange it when I get back.”
“Nuh-uh.” He shook his head. “They’re going to want your contact information. Hell, I wouldn’t mind a little of that myself.” Irritation flashed through his eyes, the first sign of any real emotion since he’d walked through the door. He thumbed up another dry napkin and slid it across the table. “I’ll even settle for your number and address scrawled right here.”
Were there people out there listening to their conversation? Was he acting as some kind of interrogator, in spite of his understated sexual overture? She chilled from the inside out even in the heated air wafting from vents above.
“I know this is getting out of hand.” She plowed her fingers through her loose hair and wished for a hair tie, a way to control something in her out-of-control world. “Can we talk on the way over to see my dog?”
“Of course.” His face relaxed a little for the first time since walking into the room. “Discussion would be a good thing.”
So he could change her mind? Not gonna happen, but it wouldn’t hurt to let him think he had a chance, especially if it would get her out of this white-walled cell.
“Yes, let’s go now, please.” She reached across the table to clasp his hand, to regain some kind of connection, even if it couldn’t last. “Have you heard anything from the vet?”
“As a matter of fact”—his brow furrowed so deeply her gut lurched in fear—“the good news is there are no broken bones. But it appears Chewie has a sprain or a torn ligament.”
Her heart lurched, then settled. No broken bones. No broken bones. No broken bones. Those blessed words kept ringing through her head, easing the knot in her gut enough that she could hear Wade continuing to speak.
“I’m sorry I didn’t do a better job at protecting him from the car and the fall.”
The earnest regret in his voice softened her. “You saved his life. I know that. I just need to see him.” She needed to bury her face in his familiar coat, reassure herself he was all right. She pushed back her chair, metal scraping against tile. “Where exactly is he?”
“The vet here on base is caring for him. I’ll take you there.” Wade stood as well, still towering but not as remote and intimidating as when he’d first stepped in the room, which made it easier for her to say what she needed to tell him.
“Good, then I can collect him on my way out.”
She tamped down the regrets over closing the door on her time with Wade. She didn’t have any choice. Her brother needed her. The whole village needed a warning.
And she needed this man. “Because I am going home, and I want your help getting there.”
Chapter 10
Double-checking, Flynn shuffled through the survival gear packed in the cab of his truck. Even though he knew he hadn’t forgotten anything. But he needed something to occupy himself while Misty said good-bye to her family twenty feet away.
Freeze dried food. Check.
Matches in waterproof container. Check.
He’d never expected a second chance with Misty. He hefted her backpack into his truck cab along with his own while Misty hugged her brother, sister-in-law, and nephew outside their home—her parents’ old house.
Arctic mittens, snowbibs, shoes. Check.
Signal mirror and flares. Check.
His hands slowed on maintenance items for the truck as he peered through the windshield. He couldn’t count how many times he’d walked up those steps to her whitewashed home built into the side of a mountain.
During high school, he’d been as comfortable there as in his own house, until her brother had ordered him never to set foot on their property again. Her brother hadn’t spoken to him once in the four years since then, when he’d forcibly removed him from the porch with a punch that stayed imprinted so firmly on Flynn’s memory he resisted the urge to wince even now.
Tent. Check.