Page 48 of The Heat is On

Tucker was lacing up his boots, so Skye grabbed his pack.

“Skye—”

“Stop. Let me do something. I know you think you have to shield me, but I made this team just like everyone else. I can carry a PG pack and keep up with you, boss.”

He looked like he wanted to argue with her—even himself, his face grim. “I don’t have to tell you that March is dangerous—”

“Listen. Like I said, there’s more going on here than you realize, and I have to find Rio and warn him about something I heard. He’s in real danger.”

“Yeah, from getting apprehended. Skye, he’s a criminal!”

She cinched the waist strap down. “Let’s go.” She hiked down the trail she’d taken earlier, almost hearing Rio’s voice in her ear…When I tell you…

She’d so thought his escape plan included him, them, together.

Had thought him kissing her—twice—had meant something.

She gritted her jaw, forcing down the rush of regret. She hadn’t said goodbye. Or told him how she felt or—

How she felt? She’d only known him for twenty-four hours…and most of that under duress. She had simply fallen for the hero, the adrenaline ramping up her feelings.

Except, those emotions felt big and unescapable and impossibly right despite the craziness of it all.

So yes, maybe she was following her heart. But she didn’t know what else to do.

She crossed the bridge a second time, not looking at the rapids, and nearly ran down the path, Tucker behind her. He was grunting a little, and maybe she shouldn’t have set such a brutal pace. But he didn’t complain and all she could think was how much March wanted to kill Rio.

And how much trouble Rio might be in if he lived and walked into an ambush at Darryl’s house.

“Do you know where March was taking you?” Tucker said.

“I heard him talking with Archer. He said he had a campsite and a truck we could take.”

Tucker glanced over his shoulder. She was keeping up, hardly breaking a sweat.

“Did anyone ever mention that Archer was a…cop?”

A cop? “No.”Seriously?

“Was he in on the escape?”

“I don’t know. He was on March like glue, though. So maybe.”

Except, he had stepped in at least twice when March had a gun to Rio’s head, so…

And it occurred to her then that maybe March had caught up to Rio—that Rio was already dead.

She refused to let the thought take hold of her, freeze her on the spot.

The path widened and angled away from the river. Blue through the thinning trees suggested a lake, shiny under the morning sunlight. The wind from the mountains eased the sweat from her neck.

Please let them be running the right direction.

Tucker slowed to a walk when they reached a campground. A dirt road circled the camp, and tucked into berths were orange and blue tents, pop-ups, a few RVs. An early morning quiet had descended on the place. Tucker caught up to Skye and grabbed her arm.

“Wait.”

What? She listened, but nothing—