Page 124 of The Unlikely Pair

Toby sends one more glance at the still camp.

“Right. I’m going to go practice my fire-lighting skills,” he says with a quick grin, clutching the multitool in his hand.

My chest suddenly seizes in panic. Because this is it. There might only be three of them, but those men all have guns. If something goes wrong, it could be all over for one or both of us. Permanently.

“Toby…” I urgently whisper.

He turns towards me. “What?”

How can I express everything I want to say to this man? I stare at the familiar lines of Toby’s face.

“Stay safe,” I say instead.

“You too,” he whispers.

Then it’s him closing the distance between us. It’s him who initiates the fervent kiss.

He rests his forehead on mine. “We’re a formidable team, remember?”

A choked, wet laugh boils up from deep in my throat.

“Yes, we are,” I say.

I stay still as Toby creeps away. It’s bitterly cold, reminding me why we’re taking this risk. The odds of us surviving out there without supplies and shelter are remote.

From my vantage point, I see the flicker of Toby’s first fire. Then his second. All the firewood we spent so many hours chopping, Toby spent the afternoon secreting from the lean-to and creating small piles scattered around the forest. It’s nice to know it hasn’t gone completely to waste.

His third fire flickers to life.

That’s my signal. Time for action.

Moving from tree to tree, I slip closer to the camp. Just as I reach the end of the clearing, a dry twig snaps under my foot, and I freeze.

But the sentry doesn’t even flinch from his slumber.

Toby’s right. It is a bit offensive they’ve underrated us so much they haven’t contemplated the idea we might come after them.

Hopefully, they won’t underestimate us for much longer.

I pause behind a tree twenty feet from the dwindling fire, then rummage in my jacket pocket to pull out a pinecone.

This is not any kind of pinecone though. It’s a pinecone coated with pine resin. It was one of the tasks I spent the afternoon doing. Cutting into the trunk of the pine trees to drain the sap.

Arching my arm back, I lob the pinecone straight at the campfire.

It lands with a thud on the ground just to the right.

My breath leaves me.

Bollocks.

I need to do this.

Our whole plan depends on me being able to throw a bloody pinecone into a fire. Surely, we’re not about to be thwarted at the first hurdle.

Luckily, the sentry doesn’t even twitch at the sound of a pinecone landing near him.

What would Toby say if he were here? For a moment, I can almost hear his voice in my head.