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“Here,” he said, taking her hand, guiding it to a thick tangle of gold. “And here…”

He leaned in.

Close.

Too close.

Their eyes met.

The air stilled.

Then he let go of her hand and drew back.

“Ten minutes,” he said, and he turned and got the hell out of there before he did something they would both regret.

CHAPTER FIVE

They’d lucked out.

There was a small stream just downhill from where they were camped. He heard the soft rush of the water before he saw it, all but hidden by a stand of leafy young trees.

It was good news all around.

He’d have to boil whatever water he collected, of course. It looked clear and clean, but water that looked clear and clean had a bad way of harboring nasty stuff too small to be seen by the naked eye. Boiling the water for fifteen minutes would make it potable.

As for the trees…

Tanner shrugged off the sling, let the pot and canteens fall to the ground. He selected several very young, leafy branches and used the machete to cut them down.

Once he got back to the clearing and turned the tarp into a tent, the leaves would provide soft ground cover.

After the branches were stacked, he checked his watch.

He’d told Alessandra he’d be back in five. It would be more like ten, he thought as he collected the pot and the canteens, but he didn’t want to push beyond that.

A tangle of vegetation covered the sloped bank of the stream. The footing was tricky; it was muddy and slippery under the layer of moss and ferns and leaves. It would be easy to fall, and the now almost-constant throbbing in his calf warned him that a fall might not be the best idea.

He moved with exaggerated care, heaved a sigh of relief when he finally made it down to the stream. Working quickly, he filled the canteens and screwed on their tops, filled the pot and secured its cover, laced all the devices back on his improvised carry strap and started to climb the bank…

“Shit!”

His foot connected with something soft. Mud-covered leaves, moss—it didn’t matter. What did matter was that he felt his leg going out from under him.

Tanner tried to stop it from happening. He thrust out a hand, grabbed a tree branch, felt the branch give way…

His leg buckled, his foot twisted, and he started to go down. Blindly, just before he would have hit the ground, he flung out his arms, wrapped them around the s

lender tree trunk and clung to it.

Pain, hot and fierce, shot from his ankle straight up to his hip.

The world blurred.

Nausea roiled in his belly.

He heard himself groan.

Still, he managed to hang onto the tree.