Page 47
Story: Conceal (Eagle Tactical 3)
Chapter Fifteen
Harper
How dare he!
I stormed across the plowed field for my car and high-tailed it out of the lot. I rolled down the windows and belted out a scream, my hands gripped the steering wheel in tight fists.
“What a jerk!” I couldn’t believe he tricked me into thinking he had shown up on set last night for me.
Is that all I’d been to him, just another assignment?
I hit the gas hard. My foot pressed tight on the pedal as I headed for the dusty mountain road.
I’d heard the stream last night when we’d been camping out under the stars. While I wanted nothing to do with Lincoln, the thought of rafting felt good, taking control, with no one else around for miles in solitude.
The only problem where the hell was I going to get a raft?
I raced up the mountain before I eventually pulled over on a gravel road and dug out my cell phone.
I had shitty service in the woods, and the internet was slow, but it worked.
I pulled up rental facilities and clicked on the information for a nearby location, letting GPS lead me where I needed to go.
Twenty minutes later, I had parked the car, paid for a rental raft, foregoing the opportunity to ride with a guide.
The attendant on duty went on and on about the danger of the river and his recommendation on hiring a guide.
It wasn’t that I couldn’t afford a guide, I preferred to be alone. Apparently he had trouble grasping that fact.
Finally he handed me the paperwork and I signed the legal waiver with a lot of jargon about injuries and death that I didn’t bother to read thoroughly.
“Be sure to grab a helmet and life vest outside. Those items are hanging just on the other side of that wall.”
“Thanks.”
I headed outside, showed my receipt to the attendant on duty, and was handed a small raft, made to comfortably hold two guests, along with a paddle.
“Make sure you grab a helmet and vest,” the gentleman said.
I pretended not to hear him. I carried the raft and placed it at the edge of the launch pad, a cement pathway that led to the river on a steep decline. I didn’t see any boats, and the river was quiet, at least in terms of rentals.
It was, after all, a Tuesday morning, and I was probably their first customer for the day.
“Ariella!” Lincoln’s voice carried with the wind as I regrettably glanced back toward the voice.
He slammed the truck door shut and came jogging in my direction.
Oh hell, no.
He wasn’t going to talk me out of this.
I pushed the raft farther into the water, my feet and knees getting wet as I made sure to push away from the cement. The last thing I wanted was for Lincoln to follow me.
I jumped onto the raft and used the paddle to hurry away from the river’s edge. I didn’t get far.
Lincoln chased after me, forging into the water, splashing, and then launching his body entirely in as he began swimming over toward me.
“Everything okay, ma’am?” the attendant shouted toward me.
Harper
How dare he!
I stormed across the plowed field for my car and high-tailed it out of the lot. I rolled down the windows and belted out a scream, my hands gripped the steering wheel in tight fists.
“What a jerk!” I couldn’t believe he tricked me into thinking he had shown up on set last night for me.
Is that all I’d been to him, just another assignment?
I hit the gas hard. My foot pressed tight on the pedal as I headed for the dusty mountain road.
I’d heard the stream last night when we’d been camping out under the stars. While I wanted nothing to do with Lincoln, the thought of rafting felt good, taking control, with no one else around for miles in solitude.
The only problem where the hell was I going to get a raft?
I raced up the mountain before I eventually pulled over on a gravel road and dug out my cell phone.
I had shitty service in the woods, and the internet was slow, but it worked.
I pulled up rental facilities and clicked on the information for a nearby location, letting GPS lead me where I needed to go.
Twenty minutes later, I had parked the car, paid for a rental raft, foregoing the opportunity to ride with a guide.
The attendant on duty went on and on about the danger of the river and his recommendation on hiring a guide.
It wasn’t that I couldn’t afford a guide, I preferred to be alone. Apparently he had trouble grasping that fact.
Finally he handed me the paperwork and I signed the legal waiver with a lot of jargon about injuries and death that I didn’t bother to read thoroughly.
“Be sure to grab a helmet and life vest outside. Those items are hanging just on the other side of that wall.”
“Thanks.”
I headed outside, showed my receipt to the attendant on duty, and was handed a small raft, made to comfortably hold two guests, along with a paddle.
“Make sure you grab a helmet and vest,” the gentleman said.
I pretended not to hear him. I carried the raft and placed it at the edge of the launch pad, a cement pathway that led to the river on a steep decline. I didn’t see any boats, and the river was quiet, at least in terms of rentals.
It was, after all, a Tuesday morning, and I was probably their first customer for the day.
“Ariella!” Lincoln’s voice carried with the wind as I regrettably glanced back toward the voice.
He slammed the truck door shut and came jogging in my direction.
Oh hell, no.
He wasn’t going to talk me out of this.
I pushed the raft farther into the water, my feet and knees getting wet as I made sure to push away from the cement. The last thing I wanted was for Lincoln to follow me.
I jumped onto the raft and used the paddle to hurry away from the river’s edge. I didn’t get far.
Lincoln chased after me, forging into the water, splashing, and then launching his body entirely in as he began swimming over toward me.
“Everything okay, ma’am?” the attendant shouted toward me.
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