“Keep up,” Krypt barks, jerking me from my thoughts.

Evening will fall in about three hours, and that’s a little concerning for me. I pick up my pace, staying close behind him. “What are we supposed to do when it gets dark?” I ask him.

“We find somewhere and we sleep.”

“Out here?” I say, eyes wide.

“Yeah, out here.”

“You said there are cats. Big ones . . . that eat people.”

He nods, trekking forward. “There are.”

“And you want to sleep here?”

“Don’t have a fuckin’ choice. Besides, I got a gun.”

“That makes me feel so much better,” I say, staring around, my eyes scanning the trees. Well shit, now I’m freaked out.

My legs and ribs are aching by the time we’re an hour in, and I desperately want to stop. I’m sore all over and my arm is throbbing. Not to mention I have somewhat of a pounding head from the alcohol I consumed. “Do you have aspirin?” I ask.

Krypt stops, turning around to stare at me. He’s got a fine layer of sweat coating his skin, and God, does he look good. “You hurtin’?”

“Yeah.”

He drops the pack and rummages through it, pulling out a couple of pills. He hands them to me with a bottle of water. I take them gratefully and swallow them down.

“Sit. We’ll eat, and then we’ll keep walkin’ until we find somewhere to pull up.”

I find a large rock and perch on it, watching as he pulls out a couple of granola bars. He hands one to me and I graciously accept it. I’m starving. We eat in silence, and nothing but the sounds of the wilderness can be heard for miles.

“This cabin, is it like your escape house?” I ask him once I’m finished chewing.

He nods, kneeling down and using the water bottle to wash his hands. “The only way in and out is to walk, so it ain’t easy for any cops to find. None have found it yet. Besides, I’d hear them well before they reached us. It’s in a good position.”

“You want to tell me why we’re going there yet?”

“You know why we’re goin’ there. The cops are all over my escape and your disappearance. They’ll raid that clubhouse as soon as they locate it. We can’t be there.”

“That’s not what I meant,” I point out.

He stands, shoving the water back in the bag. “I know what you meant, babe, but I ain’t ready to fuckin’ tell you about it. We got tracks to make, so let’s move.”

With a sigh, I stand, and we begin walking again.

This is going to be fun.

We stop three hours later just as the sun is dropping over the mountaintops, and a cool breeze is trickling through the trees. Krypt finds a large overhanging rock that provides some great shelter. We both drop down underneath it, exhausted and panting. After a bottle of water each, we’re able to catch our breath.

“I’ll make a fire,” he says. “But it has to be small. Don’t want no smoke givin’ us away.”

I point further underneath the rock. “If you do it right back there, no one will see.”

He stares at me, and my cheeks flush under his scrutiny. “You are smart, ain’t ya, Wildcard?”

“Don’t call me Wildcard,” I mutter.

“Why not?” he murmurs, opening the pack. “It suits you.”

I watch him unload a folded blanket, a couple of tins of food, and a flashlight. He lays the blanket out on a softer patch of ground and points to it. “Sit on that. It’ll keep you warm.”

I don’t hesitate. I slide over until I’m on the thick, fleecy material. He joins me, sitting beside me so our legs are touching. I bite my lip, trying to avoid showing how much him being so close affects me. I don’t understand this insta-attraction; I can only put it down to his looks and the fact that I haven’t been laid for a long while.

“You hungry?” he asks.

“Sure.”

Like someone skilled with nature, he creates a small fire and prepares some food in a small dish he had in his pack. I tuck my knees up to my chest and watch him work, the expression on his face is one full of concentration.

“So, are you going to tell me what is going down?”

He sighs, but keeps his eyes on the food. “We’ve got rivals, big ones, and they’re causin’ a problem for our club.”

“Another MC?” I ask.

He raises his brows at my term.

“What? I know a little bit about clubs.”

“Right,” he mutters. “So then you’ll know we take shit very seriously. This club is messin’ with things they shouldn’t be messin’ with. Firstly, they put me in prison.”

“But you shot and killed those people.”

“Wrong,” he says, his eyes hard. “I shot and killed Johan Reed, but it was all a big set-up.”

“They set you up to kill someone?”

He growls, low and throaty. “Let me fuckin’ finish.”

I close my mouth.

“I had every intention of shooting that fucker, but it was set-up that I’d end up in the same place as Johan. I got a call out to there sayin’ shit was goin’ down with another club. Took another one of the boys and went to check it out. When I arrived, I saw nothin’. I went inside the coffee shop to check things out further and he was there, that filthy, motherfucker. I’d been lookin’ for him for a long fuckin’ time, and there he was. I lost my shit, pullin’ out my gun and shovin’ it at him. People freaked out, screaming and causing shit. I told them all to get down and stare at the fuckin’ floor. I couldn’t deal with them. I was wavin’ my gun around like a mad man. It wasn’t my finest moment.”