Red on the River - Page 45

“Just to point out,” Zahra added, “we’ll need an Airbnb at first, at least while you’re pregnant. Do you have any idea how many times you have to go to the bathroom?”

Another round of laughter had Vienna feeling so much better. Friends and the outdoors could push away the ugliness of the threats made. She loved these women.

“You’re always so practical, Zahra,” Stella teased.

“Let’s get moving,” Shabina said, glancing at her watch. “We don’t want to be out here too late. We still have to pick up Zale’s truck in the lot, clean it and get it back to the rental place before we can have dinner. We’ve got a few more miles on this trail to go.”

Vienna didn’t want to go back to thinking about cleaning Zale’s truck, but she took comfort in the thought that their injuries couldn’t be that bad if he was returning the vehicle to the rental agency. He wouldn’t ask her to take it back if the truck was riddled with bullet holes or had massive amounts of blood on the seats.

They started out again on the single-file trail, stopping occasionally to take pictures of the various plants and rock formations along the way. They startled a few jackrabbits, but for the most part, they didn’t see any other wildlife. Stella didn’t get her wish to see the elusive tortoise, not that any of them really thought that was a possibility.

Vienna was tired but happy by the time they were back at the 4Runner. Observing all the others as she normally did, she could see the ride had taken a toll on Raine. That always surprised her. Raine was very fit, but the rigors of mountain biking were on a different set of muscles that Raine didn’t use as often and were harder for her. She never complained, but Vienna could see the weariness on her face. She moved slower as she locked her bike in the rack.

“I’m glad we have that hot tub,” Vienna said. “I’m going to be sore after all the riding. I haven’t gone out on a real ride for a long time. For once, Zahra, I’m not going to complain one bit about staying at an Airbnb instead of camping.”

“I’m going to agree,” Harlow said. “I may skip dinner and just soak in the hot tub all night.”

“Skip one of Shabina’s dinners?” Zahra raised an eyebrow.

Harlow relented immediately. “I lost my mind for a minute. I’m a little tired after climbing and then biking, but the reminder was all I needed. I’m definitely eating.”

Shabina laughed. “I’m really not that great of a cook. Honestly, you’d think you would all starve without me.”

They exchanged looks all around. “We probably would,” Vienna answered. “Or we’d eat really bad food.”

“Not junk food,” Harlow said hastily when Shabina gave them her raised eyebrow.

“Junk food.” Raine was honest. “We’d totally eat junk food. Zahra has junk food in her backpack right now.”

“I do not.” Zahra was indignant. “Have you been snooping in my backpack, Raine?” She narrowed her eyes suspiciously.

“I was starving for chocolate. You always have a chocolate bar in your pack.”

“You took my chocolate bar?” Zahra demanded.

“Only the one with peanuts. I left the other one for you.” Raine sounded pious.

“Zahra, you know better than to have any kind of food in your backpack like that,” Stella reprimanded. “You don’t carry it when we’re camping, do you? Bears can smell that stuff miles away. They’ll come into our campsite and go right into your tent.”

Zahra gave a little huff of annoyance. “We were going into the desert, not the forest. There weren’t going to be any bears around, and I knew I could take all the chocolate I wanted to eat as long as I have cold packs, which I do.” Her eyebrows came together again as she narrowed her eyes at Raine. “Unless there was more than one thief.” She looked around at the others. “Was there?”

Vienna looked up at the sky, striving for innocence. The sun had set, and the sky was still streaked with various colors but was on the darker side of purple. “I will admit, I did find the craving for chocolate overwhelming. The scent was wafting from your backpack and I couldn’t stop myself from peeking in to see what you brought with you. You had a salted caramel chocolate bar, which you know is my very favorite. I’ll replace it . . . when we get to the store.”

Zahra put her hands on her hips and turned to face all of them. It was impossible for her to look intimidating with her little pixie face, dark-winged brows and mobile mouth. “Did all of you find the chocolate?”

“Someone had to save you from yourself,” Shabina said. “Seriously, Zahra, if you ate all that chocolate, you’d be in a coma and you know it. You’d be lying on the ground right now moaning and asking us to put you out of your misery. For the next week you’d be looking for imaginary blemishes on your face.”

“Not imaginary,” Zahra protested. “I always break out if I eat chocolate.”

“And you get headaches,” Stella pointed out. “Migraines. You aren’t supposed to eat chocolate.”

“Well . . .” Zahra hedged. “The doctor didn’t prove that yet. He mentioned caffeine might be a cause. I can’t imagine he meant chocolate. I read about how dark chocolate is good for you.” Her lips formed a pout. “Did you eat all of it?”

“No. We left you one candy bar,” Vienna said. “One. You need to be careful. I’m going to start checking to make sure you’re not diabetic.”

“Didn’t you read the article on how good dark chocolate is for you?” Zahra reiterated, digging into her backpack for the last candy bar.

“In moderation. I’m not sure you know what that means,” Vienna said. “Food, chocolate, booze. When you go out, you dance all night.” If Sam wasn’t available, Zahra was always the sober driver. She loved good food, but she ate slowly and very small portions. She wouldn’t have eaten more than one candy bar and most likely brought the rest to share. Zahra was one of the most generous people Vienna had ever met, but it was impossible not to want to tease her. Her face was too expressive and her accent always became more pronounced as she feigned annoyance with them.

“I guess I’ve stalled enough,” Vienna said. “I’m going to take a look at the truck Zale and Rainier rented to see what kind of shape it’s in. Hopefully, it isn’t riddled with bullet holes and the seat cushions aren’t covered in blood. I’m not good at welding, but, Harlow, you are, aren’t you? You can do body work and then paint over any bullet holes we find.”

Tags: Christine Feehan Romance
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