Page 17 of Disappearance at Angel’s Landing (Red Rock Murders #2)

Her body had stopped obeying her commands a couple hours ago.

Lila rolled over on the sleeping bag, the material sticking to every inch of her back.

The tent Branch had set up once they’d left the canyon wore its age well.

The bright orange dye had faded from use in the sun, but the mesh windows, canvas and zippers all did their jobs.

She wasn’t sure how long she’d been asleep. Couldn’t really remember anything past the cave. Of being in Branch’s arms. He must’ve brought her here, but after a cursory search, she realized she’d woken alone.

Her skin felt too tight and sticky. What she wouldn’t give for her crappy, stained shower in her crappy little rented house with her crappy twin bed. Never again would she take it for granted.

A low rumble of a voice drew her attention to the zippered tent flap. She couldn’t make out the words, but the cadence and tenor soothed all the aches and stings after a few seconds. Branch. The tent itself didn’t fit much more than two sleeping bags with some space at the foot for her pack.

Wait. How did…

A headache speared through her brain at the thought of all the events that’d led to the cave: the landslide, barely escaping being pulverized by those boulders, leaving her pack for Branch to find…

He’d come for her. He hadn’t given up.

Dragging herself from the now-soaked sleeping bag, Lila reached for the zipper and maneuvered it around the curve of the door.

Blistering pain seeped down her arm from where the killer’s first bullet had grazed her.

She’d been lucky. One inch to the left, and she might not have made it out of that cave alive. “Oh, hell. That hurts.”

Footsteps ricocheted through her head a split second before the rest of the tent flap was ripped back, revealing the dark-eyed mountain of a man on the other side. “You should be resting.”

She didn’t have the energy to keep her arm up, even with the fresh bandage secured around the wound.

Had Branch patched her up? Well, that was a stupid question.

Sarah Lantos’s killer certainly hadn’t done it.

Despite the fact the sun had begun its descent behind the surrounding cliffs, bruising the sky to a deep purple, she blinked against the sensory onslaught, squinting one eye as she looked up at him. “How long was I out?”

“A few hours.” His expression refused to give her anything of substance. He’d locked himself up nice and tight. “How do you feel?”

“You remember that skunk that got hit by a car at the visitor’s center, and none of the rangers wanted to go near it because the stink sack had exploded?” Using the tent frame, she pulled herself to her feet. Her head swam. Mistake. She’d made a mistake. “Like that.”

She practically stumbled into the campsite he’d built while she’d been unconscious.

Rangers didn’t believe in campfires, so while the killer had arranged a ring of stones to contain the flames and stay warm back at his site, Branch had set up an electric lantern in the center of theirs.

He’d emptied his pack, lining his food and supplies out in the open. “You’ve been busy.”

Looking at him—really looking at him—she noted the dried blood at the side of his face, the dark circles beneath his eyes.

White crystals clung to the underside of his chin.

It happened when the body sweated too much salt.

Bruising took shape around his jaw. He was standing, but barely.

And had apparently lost a shoe somewhere along the way.

“Figured it’ll take a day for us to get back to headquarters.

I needed to see what we had left in supplies. ”

“And?” She cataloged what he’d gathered. It wasn’t enough between them.

“You should eat something.” His shoulders bunched as though expecting an argument, but her stomach was basically eating itself as they stood here and talked about food.

Accepting a protein bar and a banana, she nearly collapsed at the edge of the campsite. Her fingers ached as she peeled the banana skin away, and while she’d never been a fan of the overly sweet—sometimes mushy—fruit, it was possibly the best thing she’d ever eaten in her life.

The pressure of being watched raised the hairs on the back of her neck, and she looked up to see Branch studying her. As though ensuring she got everything she needed before he dared take care of himself. “Have you slept?” she asked.

“No.” He moved around the campsite, taking up position opposite. As far from her as he could get.

Well, that hurt. Hadn’t they just survived a killer together?

Hadn’t they moved past one-word answers and growls?

Or did she really smell that bad? Lila made an attempt to casually check her underarms and cringed at the bitter odor clinging to her uniform…

and other parts of her body. But he couldn’t be any better.

She shuddered at the physical distance he’d set between them, still feeling his arms around her as he’d carried her out of that cave.

He’d saved her. Fought a killer for her.

And now… Lila focused on one bite after another.

She’d survived the landslide, a kidnapping, a gunshot wound and the crushing hopelessness that came with all of it.

At some point exhaustion had won out, and right now, she didn’t have the energy to chase Branch’s affection.

“The killer knew Sarah Lantos. Said he was punishing her for making him suffer.”

Branch kept his attention on his metal water bottle, the light from the lantern carving deeper shadows along his handsome face. And, damn it, her ovaries had donned war paint and started metaphorically chucking eggs at the man after everything he must’ve faced to get to her. “What else?”

“What do you mean?” She had to snap herself out of this haze.

Being in Branch’s thrall was far more dangerous than having been taken hostage by a killer in a lot of ways.

Sure, Sarah Lantos’s killer could do physical damage, but her partner had so many weapons at his disposal to destroy her in every other way.

“What else did he say to you?”

Her throat dried. Emotion lodged where she was pretty sure she’d killed it off years ago, but she just couldn’t tell him the truth.

Not without risking him looking at her like every other ranger had over the years.

And she couldn’t go back to that. Not with him.

Not after everything they’d survived together.

“I don’t remember a whole lot, but the little I do, it seems our victim isn’t who we thought she was.

This is also coming from the man who stabbed her, so take that with a grain of salt. ”

Branch let that sit between them, and she hated his silence.

His distance. It made the grime coating her skin burn and itch, but there was nothing she could do to wash it away.

After a few minutes and seeing that she’d finished her dinner, Branch shoved to stand, tossing his water bottle at his feet. “I need to assess your injuries.”

It was easy to paste her practiced smile back on and slip into that protective layer she’d created to block out all the bad.

Spreading her arms wide, Lila leaned back to get a better view of his face in the last offering of sunset.

“Have your way with me, Ranger Thompson. I promise not to bite. Unless you’re into that. ”

“You were nearly killed.” A scowl contorted his face, a sucker punch straight to the gut. Ah, there he was. The grizzly bear had returned, and everything they’d been through together suddenly didn’t seem so bad.

That was okay. She was used to people running the other direction once they realized she was more than they’d bargained for. She’d just wanted things to be different with him. “In my defense, I was left unsupervised.”

His fingers splayed across her skin, right over the ring of gauze on her arm, but he was careful not to prod or poke anywhere that might hurt.

The lines between his brows deepened as he unwrapped her like a delicate piece of china.

Or the way she unwrapped her first helping of Cherry Garcia.

Either way, heat spread under her skin at his touch.

“Did you pick up anything that might identify the killer?”

Right. This wasn’t personal. He’d made that very clear by keeping his distance unless absolutely necessary.

Like making sure she didn’t bleed out in the middle of the desert on his shift.

“Does his astrological sign count? Because that man is definitely a Sagittarius. Egotistical, impatient, boastful. Pretty sure him and Ted Bundy would’ve gotten along well together. ”

He didn’t have an answer for that. Pain flared up her arm, and she tried to drag herself out of his touch, but Branch held on tight.

“He didn’t really introduce himself, but in my head, I called him Covid.” Lila tried to even her breathing, but it was so much harder when a six-plus mountain of eye candy insisted on groping her.

Branch’s mouth twitched at one corner. So…

he wasn’t entirely as unaffected as he was trying to be, which only pissed her off more.

The break in his composure didn’t last long as he raised his gaze to her throat.

To the ugly, thick scar she couldn’t bear to look at in the mirror.

He brought his hand up, his thumb brushing the underside of her neck. “The kerchiefs.”

It took her a second to realize he was talking about her attempt to hide her shame from him and the rest of the world.

“Who hurt you?” Those three words again. That was all it took to shake the dragging haze of exhaustion free.

Her skin boiled under his touch, and Lila couldn’t take much more.

She pulled free of his hand, not bothering to rewrap her wound.

Probably a stupid choice, but her choice all the same.

Her poor heart slammed against her ribs at the concern in his voice.

The anger on her behalf. Compared to the bruises on her ribs and the massive headache telling her she hadn’t had enough to drink while running for her life, she’d take another bullet graze than face this conversation.

She headed back for the tent, not really sure where else to go.

It wasn’t as though she could just run for the hills.

Those hills had a killer in them. One who’d already gotten too close. “No one.”

“Lila.” Her name on his lips pulled her up short. Had he ever called her that?

As much as she hated the idea of him joining in the other rangers’ Barbie games, she wasn’t sure her heart could handle him seeing past the persona she’d designed.

Through the smiles and the makeup and the pink kerchiefs.

There was a reason she felt safer as Ranger Barbie.

Most people—Risner, Sayles and all the other rangers, hikers even—made their assumptions and avoided taking the time to look deeper.

Like the glitter she’d applied on her cheeks would infect them. Herpes of the craft world, for the win.

But Branch said her name as though he intended to do just that.

Become infected. Dig deeper. And she was scared of what he might find.

Would he still want to meet her for coffee after this investigation was over?

Would he be able to look her in the eye when he learned the truth? How truly broken she really was.

“Barbies don’t feel pain, remember?” If only that were true. The memories that had held her captive more so than the man with the gun threatened to resurface.

A hand clasped over her mouth. Threats in her ear.

The weight of her attacker in a room where she should’ve been safe.

It wasn’t that night that gave her nightmares or had led her to pasting on the smiles Branch seemed to see right through.

It was everything that happened afterward, and at the lowest point in her life, stripped of everything and everyone she’d ever loved, she’d stretched out a hand to find something to hold onto.

In a mess of blood and hopelessness in the very room where she’d been made a victim over and over again, her fingers had folded around a Barbie doll from her childhood.

And she’d felt…happy. For the first time in years, she had something good in her hands.

It only made sense to carry that feeling with her to fight back the demons closing in. “Nobody hurt me, Branch. I did it to myself.”