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“I’m going to cut you free. Your hands. Then your feet.” He tugged at the rope around her wrists. “This is tightly tied. That means you’ll feel the knife right against your skin. Do.Not.Move. I don’t want the blade going through flesh. Understood?”

She nodded again and felt the cool kiss of steel between her wrists and the rope.

The rope gave way.

The man edged forward in a tight crouch. She could see the back of his head, the broad shoulders encased in a camouflage shirt as he bent over her feet and severed the rope that bound them.

He scooted backwards and stood up. “I’m going to cut the rope around your neck. Once I do, I want you to stand. Slowly. No fast moves. Okay?”

She nodded.

The blade slid between her neck and the trunk of the tree. She swallowed a sob of relief as the rope fell away.

“Up,” he whispered.

She rose. A combination of fatigue, thirst, pain and fear made her knees buckle.

He grasped her elbow. “Easy,” he whispered. “Take a breath. Let it out. Good. Now, step back. I’ve got you.”

He certainly did.

He’d snaked his arm around her waist. She was in front of him now, pressed to the length of his hard body.

Ridiculous.

She didn’t know who he was or even if she should trust him, but the feel of him against her, the feel of his hand splayed over her belly, gave her strength.

He bent his head so his mouth was at her ear again.

“Another few steps and…”

The snoring from across the clearing stopped. It was as if a giant had hit a switch and silenced the universe.

Her rescuer froze. He put his hand over her mouth, lightly this time, but the message was clear.

Do.Not.Make.A.Sound.

Did the drumming of her heart count, or was she the only one who could hear it? She nodded frantically to let him know she understood. He took his hand from her mouth and drew her even closer.

She was shaking.

Both his arms closed around her.

Instinctively, she turned her head and pressed her face against his shoulder.

He was tall. Six one, six two at least. His body was lean and hard. He smelled faintly of sweat, but it was a clean male smell, nothing like the stink of cheap whiskey, rancid grease and days-old body odor that oozed from the pores of her kidnappers.

An eternity seemed to pass. Then, finally, the snoring started again. It was the most beautiful sound imaginable.

Her rescuer touched her hair, as if to assure her that everything was going to be okay. Then he let go of her. She choked back a whimper. Silly, she knew, but she wanted him to keep holding her.

“Time to move,” he whispered.

She nodded. He took her hand. It all but swallowed hers.

She could feel the tension in his body.

She began to tremble.