Lara Lacombe - Ranger's Justice

Quinn got to his feet and she rose as well. He handed her the smaller backpack and she slipped it over her shoulders, surprised to find he was right—it wasn’t too heavy.

“Wow,” she said, tugging a bit on the straps to adjust the fit. “It really isn’t that bad.”

A corner of his mouth lifted in a crooked smile. “Is this where I get to say ‘told you so’?”

“If you must,” she replied, smiling a little.

He stepped to the side, checking how the bag sat on her back. When he faced her again, his eyes burned with a naked longing that nearly stole her breath. Then he blinked and the emotion was gone, snuffed out like a candle.

Rebecca swallowed, unsure of what to say to break the silence between them. Quinn studied her face, as if comparing her features to a memory. Rebecca bore his scrutiny silently, part of her not wanting to interrupt this strange moment. There was an undercurrent of sexual tension between them, but there was something else, too, something she couldn’t quite identify buzzing under the surface. How long would this last? How would it be resolved?

Finally, Quinn bent and picked up the larger bag, slipping it onto his back. His movement broke the spell, and Rebecca let out her breath in a quiet sigh. “How long do you think this hike will take?”

He shrugged. “It’s about seven miles, round-trip. A few hours at least, depending on our pace.” He slipped into the kitchen and returned a few seconds later, his arms laden with more water bottles. “Here, let me get you loaded up.”

She turned away from him, offering him access to the bag. The pack grew heavier as he inserted the water bottles, but it was still bearable.

“Want me to put yours in?”

Quinn shook his head. “That’s okay. I’ve got it.” He slipped off the bag and added the water. “Ready?” A flash of sadness crossed his features, and Rebecca realized with a jolt that she must be wearing his dead wife’s bag. They must have gone through these preparations countless times before setting off together; no wonder Quinn seemed a little off. Seeing another woman wear his wife’s gear must be difficult for him. Rebecca could only imagine how she’d feel if she saw someone wearing Brandon’s jacket or favorite tie.

She swallowed hard, her mouth dry. “Quinn, take me back to the feed store. I can buy my own bag.” She didn’t want to torture the man, for God’s sake.

He shook his head with a small, sad smile. “It’s okay. Really,” he added, after seeing her face. “That’s silly for you to spend money on something you’ll never use again. Besides, Ashley would be glad to know her gear is getting used.”

“Are you sure?”

“I am.”

Rebecca reached out and placed her hand on his forearm, wanting to comfort him in some small way. “I’ll be careful with it,” she promised. It humbled her to know he was entrusting her with this memento of his wife. She wasn’t sure she’d be able to do the same with something that had belonged to Brandon.

“I know.” He jerked up one shoulder and emitted a short laugh. “I trust you. I don’t know why, but I do.”

Rebecca swallowed. “I’ll earn it,” she promised. She wanted him to know she understood the magnitude of his gesture, knew how hard this must be for him. “My fiancé was murdered almost two years ago,” she blurted, the words tumbling out before she could think better of it.

Quinn’s eyes widened and his mouth softened. “My God,” he said softly. “I’m so sorry to hear that.”

She shook her head, tears pricking her eyes. “It’s okay. I just wanted you to know I get it—I know how hard it is to lose someone. And you’re stronger than I am. I don’t think I could let someone else use Brandon’s things. Not yet.”

Quinn hesitated, then reached out to pull her close. Rebecca didn’t resist, and some small part of her brain was shocked at how willingly she moved into his arms. He held her in a loose hug, his broad chest warm against her cheek.

“Grief is a funny thing,” he said quietly. “And I still have bad days, believe me.”

She sniffed and nodded and he released her. She took a quick swipe at her eyes and tried for a smile. “Ready?” If Quinn kept looking at her like that, his eyes full of warm sympathy and understanding, she was liable to throw herself back into his arms and beg him to hold her again. His touch had been comforting, despite the fact they were practically strangers. There was something about making contact with a man who had no ulterior motive that soothed her heart and made her feel safe.

It was a revelation, and now that Rebecca knew what it felt like to be held by Quinn, she was going to have a hard time not thinking about it. She knew she was taking a risk, setting off on a remote hike with a man who was somehow tied to these murders. But there was no better way to test him than to take him back to the scene of the crime. His reaction, or lack thereof, would tell her everything she needed to know.

“Let’s go,” he said, apparently sensing her need to change the subject. “Do you need to pick up anything from your room before we set out? A camera or anything like that?”

Rebecca shook her head. “I’ve got my phone if I need to take pictures. I mostly just want to get a feel for the place, if that makes any sense.”

He nodded. “It does,” he said shortly. He sounded apprehensive, and she figured he wasn’t looking forward to going back to the site. It was a normal reaction for a civilian to have, but she forced herself to consider another possibility: did Quinn want to avoid the area because he was afraid his reaction might give something away? She believed he wasn’t the killer, but she still wasn’t convinced he didn’t know the murderer somehow. And if the two men were working together to choose victims, or even stage the bodies, it was possible Quinn’s excitement would bleed through his innocent facade and give him away.

Rebecca glanced down, making sure her ankle holster was sufficiently hidden by the flare of her pant leg. As far as she knew, Quinn had no idea she was armed. She intended to keep it that way.

“After you,” she said.

* * *

He let her set the pace, shortening his stride so he didn’t push her to go too fast. It was clear Rebecca wasn’t an experienced hiker, but she was in good shape, which worked to her advantage. They made decent time, despite the increasingly rugged terrain.

Seeing Rebecca wearing Ashley’s gear had thrown him more than he cared to admit. It shouldn’t have—it was just a backpack, for crying out loud. But seeing the familiar green bag bobbing ahead of him on the trail made it far too easy to remember all the times he and Ashley had set off to explore the trails together.

It didn’t help that he felt drawn to Rebecca, either. She wasn’t Ashley—his mind and body knew that. Rebecca had Ashley’s red hair, but that was about it. Still, there was something about Rebecca that intrigued him and made him want to know more. At first glance, she was a walking paradox—a delicate-looking woman who spent her days staring down serial killers and other psychos. He knew better than to trust a first impression, though. In the short time he’d known her, he’d seen that Rebecca had a core of steel. She was much tougher than she looked, and he guessed she probably used her appearance to her advantage.

What other tricks did she have up her sleeve? The urge to learn about a woman was unfamiliar and he wasn’t quite sure what to do with the feelings. Ignore them and hope they went away? Or indulge his curiosity in the hopes his interest would wane the way it normally did?

Time enough to decide. For now, he needed to keep his eyes on the goal: get her to the site and back safely.