Raw Exposure (6 page)

For so long, his world had revolved around himself. His needs. His own pleasures. Lately, however, the fast lifestyle had left him empty. The wish for something more had been nagging at him for a while now. Pretty much the night he’d told Scott about Marisol claiming pregnancy.

Reeve smiled as he grabbed a bottle of chilled water. That was also the night he’d first met Lex.
Scott almost took my life, too.

Not anything he would ever forget. Sure, growing up with Scott and Godric there had been fights. They were brothers, after all. This had been different on all levels. All because he’d said something stupid about the woman his brother intended to make his wife. The man who had tossed him against the wall and wrapped a hand around his neck had been furious. That night had been his wake-up call. About a lot of things.

“Then, I run into Affrica O’Shea,” he muttered, taking a drink.

There was something about her. And it wasn’t just her looks, which were amazing. Such life sparkled in her eyes, and normally, a grin lingered upon her full, definitely kissable lips as if she knew a joke’s punch line and waited for everyone else to hear it.

She loved life; that much was blatantly obvious. Then there existed this…vibe around her which drew people to her.

“They say nice things, most do. Except me. I tend to say stupid things around her.”

He sighed. Being in Affrica’s presence tended to revert him back to elementary school where if you liked a girl, you were mean to her.

His eyes closed as he leaned back in his recliner. “Affrica,” he whispered, calling to mind his recollection of her.

Where was she? Did she think about him at all? Most importantly, when would he see her next?

He’d not been with a woman intimately since he met her. No one else stirred his interest. But a single thought of one Affrica O’Shea had him harder than concrete, full of craving to sink between her thighs and feel her heat around him, holding him. Cradling him.

Shit!
He opened his eyes and shoved to his feet.
Time for another cold shower.
Leaving his water behind, he made his way to his large shower and soon hissed in discomfort as icy pellets stung his skin. After he finished, he tugged on a pair of sweats and sat to watch Sportscenter. He had it made, truly he did. If he could just manage to get over his teensy obsession with Affrica O’Shea.

* * * *

This sucked. Unrelenting wind blew sand so hard it stung her even through the clothing she wore. Affrica shifted slightly and fought the grimace her protesting muscles gave her. They were close. So close to freedom she could almost taste it. Unfortunately, all she
could
taste was dirt and grit which coated her lips, tongue, and teeth.

She squinted through the remaining light and spied Miles.
At least he’s not comfortable either.
In fact, he appeared more miserable than she felt. And that was a feat in itself.

They’d found the burial site. Sites, actually. She’d snapped so many photos while Miles made his report. They’d also captured some men disposing of more bodies. As well as the vehicles they’d used. All the makings of a “Breaking News” headline…if they could only get out alive. People were hunting them now. She figured the man who’d led them here had given them up. They had a day advantage for when their guide wasn’t where he should have been but armed men were, they’d hauled ass away from their camp. They’d returned early so they knew it would have been later on when they were discovered missing.

So they had the items with them and nothing more. Luckily, for her, all she had left behind was extra clothing and blankets. She ran her hand over her face and sighed at the gritty feel. They had to move. She made her way to Miles and touched his leg. He’d gone in wearing shorts, and she knew he now regretted it.

“We need to go, Miles.”

He stirred. “Already?”

“Aye. We need to put more distance between us and them. Come on, man, dinna be givin’ up on me.”

Miles got up, and together, they pressed on. Their progress wasn’t fast but they kept it consistent. She used a long stick to sweep in front of her, checking for creatures, holes, and anything else.

They reached some caves as the winds ceased. At least their tracks would be hidden. Using her light, she checked for snakes, etc. Once they were in, they sat beside one another to conserve heat.

“Sleep, Miles. I’ll take first watch.”

“Thanks,” he mumbled before his head rested against her shoulder.

She was grateful not to be alone, even if her companion
was
Miles.

As time clicked past, she ran over everything her brother had taught her about survival. It had become second nature to her whenever she went out. Adrian had seen to it. And so she’d always made sure to be aware of her surroundings. Hopefully, the knowledge would serve her—them—well.

She woke Miles after four hours. Not sure she could totally trust him to stay awake, she told him to wake her in two hours. Then, and only then, did she succumb to the exhaustion hounding her body.

“Wake up.” A harsh whisper accompanied the shoulder shake.

She struggled to open her eyes, the grit lining them felt more like an adhesive now.

“What?” she asked back, keeping her voice low and hushed.

“It’s been two and a half hours.” He shifted closer. “I would have let you sleep longer but there are voices threading through the rocks. I can’t see anyone but they’re coming.”

Shit. “Let’s get moving.”

“We’re low on water, too.”

“We just have to conserve what’s left until we locate another source.” She made sure to keep her fear out of her voice. Shouldering her pack, she got up. Unease slithered up her spine. Food wasn’t an issue; she had plenty of MREs—Meals Ready-to-Eat—in her pack, but water…they needed that to survive.

They crept from their hiding place and inched their way along until it widened out a bit then they began to run. They stopped when they reached a copse of trees, the trunks held her up. Morning’s light broke through and chased away the night.

She scanned for anyone else’s presence before slipping quietly through, deeper in. A loud snap from behind her had her spinning.

“Sorry,” Miles said.

Affrica didn’t speak, just listened. Animals and birds continued to make noise, so she pressed on. There was no reason to try and hide her tracks for she wasn’t that good. Eventually, they came to a small body of water. Her relief was short lived. She was well aware of crocs living around the water.

“Miles.”

“God, I want to jump in.” He spoke near her ear.

So did she. “Don’t.”

“Why not?”

“Ever see the movie
Crocodile Dundee
?”

He gave a half laugh. “Of course. Why?”

“Remember when she went to fill her canteen at the edge?”

“Yes, she had it around her neck and…” he trailed off.

“And?” she prompted, glancing at him.

Miles paled beneath his dirt-smudged face. “The croc.”

“Exactly. Since I’m no Dundee, you’d be on your own.”

“So what do we do?”

Hell if she knew. “Fill our canteens and maybe dampen our shirts just to see if we can’t get a bit cleaner. Just…be careful.”

“Right. I’ll fill them for us.” He beckoned for hers and made his way to the edge.

Christ! Her mind roared at mach ten with images of him being dragged under. Crocs, sharks, piranhas.
Damn mah overactive imagination.

Nothing happened, and soon, he returned to her side. “I’m going back down to clean off some dirt.”

She kept watch while he did then they switched positions. The water did wonders in giving her a second wind. Refreshed, she rejoined Miles and pulled out her map. She opened and stared at it while making some calculations. Her heart pounded, and she rubbed her eyes. They were being driven—like the early hunters had done to the mammoth, what evil men had done to Aborigines.

“We have to circle back.”

“What? Are you insane, Affrica? You want to head
toward
them?”

Apparently, she was. She tapped the map’s plastic cover which shielded it from the elements. “They want us to head this direction.”

“You’re being ridiculous.”

“No, I’m not, Miles,” she said. “If we keep going this way, we’ll be trapped. Once we’re unable to go anywhere, they will kill us.”

He seemed to think it over for a bit, and he nodded. “Okay. What do you propose?”

A quick glance back to the map before she peered up at him, she frowned when she noticed him fiddling with a pin on his vest.

“What?” he asked.

Thinking fast, she shrugged. “Just realizing I don’t know. I’m not an expert at running from killers.” She wasn’t her brother.

He messed with the pin again. “Do you think we can rest a bit more here? Surely they’re still looking in the rocks.”

More unease hit her, and she gave a sharp nod, unwilling to trust her tongue. She took another look at the map before folding it and setting it beside her. Miles moved to sit by her pack and leaned against a tree trunk.

“I’ll take first watch,” she said.

He crossed his arms and closed his eyes. She moved closer, noting his eyes opening to watch her briefly before they closed again. Once she was sure he slept, she stuffed the map in a pant leg pocket and sighed. She had to go. Or sure as her name was Affrica O’Shea, she would be dead. And the man sleeping there would be part of the reason.

Although she wished to leave right this second, she waited a bit longer for him to be even more deeply asleep. While she waited, she mulled over her very disturbing realization that Miles had sold her out. Why? What was his gain? And did it really matter? All she needed to do was get the fuck out. She grabbed two of the canteens—leaving the third since it was around him—her pack, and slipped away, moving as fast and as silently as she could.

She ran on, checking her watch’s compass to ensure the right destination.
Great! Hell of a time to realize just how right your brother is about Miles,
she reprimanded herself.
So where does this leave me? Oh, right. Alone in the Australian Outback with murderers on mah trail.

She ran harder, until her lungs burned and the already present blisters on her heels screamed in agony. Once again, among the rocks, she did her best to hop from flat surface to flat surface, avoiding the chance of leaving any footprints.

Collapsing in some shade, she drank a fair amount of water then dug through her pack for her cell. She flipped it open and saw one bar. And roaming. She didn’t care. In her estimation, she had one chance to get this off. Moving to type her text, she swore when the signal died. She typed it anyway and pressed send. No signal flashed at her. Ignoring the pain leeching through her, Affrica scrambled upwards. Four rocks later, she got the break needed and, with a prayer, sent the message.

Her relief turned to anguish when she lost her precarious hold and fell backwards. The world went black, and later when she came to, she gingerly sat up. Blood trickled from her arm and head. She used her bandanna to hide the one on her head and wrapped a second one around her arm. It didn’t feel like anything was broken.

“Great,” she muttered. “Just fucking great.” Her phone lay in pieces.

Flicking through the pieces, she retrieved her SIM card and stored it. “Get moving,” she instructed herself.

But to where?

For, as fast as the sun went down, her options were dwindling. She fumbled for the map and gazed at her necessary trek.

“Over the river and through the woods…”

Twenty klicks. Could she do it?

“Hell yeah. Or die trying.”

A weapon would be nice, but why wish for what one couldn’t have? She ate a protein bar and got back to it. Moving as cautiously as she could.

She heard her brother in her head with each step she took.

No, Affrica. Not like that. Yer making too much noise. I heard ya coming a mile away. If you dinna want the animals to hear ya and bolt before ya get your shot, pay attention. Do it over, and this time, do it right.

Who knew, it could be saving her life? How she wished him with her now. Hell, any of his SEAL brethren; she wasn’t picky. Just one.

It wasn’t to be. She was on her own. People trying to block her in. Her only chance that Miles hadn’t woken for a while to give them a head’s up.

Anger grew in her gut. Miles. The fucking traitor. One day, he would pay. First, she had to get free and clear. So she pressed on, pushing her exhausted body to its physical limit.

That night, she hunkered down and ate an MRE to provide nourishment. Covering up as much as she could, she used the light on her watch to check coordinates.

She had a bit less than ten klicks to go. It wasn’t happening. Not right now. So she sat against a rock and drew her knees to her chest and dozed. It wasn’t restful, for every little sound woke her. Bugs skittering across the rocks, cries of animals, and occasionally, one screeched before silence reigned. Death was all around her.

Still, she felt a wee bit better when she woke and readied to continue on. The splinters of dawn’s first light informed her, despite how exhausted she still remained, she’d rested longer than first planned.

She drank a bit, finishing off the first canteen, and ate another MRE. Feeling better, she checked her supply. Not many meals left either, but in her defense, she’d not counted on running for her life…what was it now…four days? There was water there. Or there had been.

On her feet, Affrica grabbed her stick and set out, ignoring each and every one of her aches and pains. Of which there were quite a few. She checked her compass and got moving, knowing exactly where she needed to go.

She passed snakes, spiders, and more as she—as her brother referred to it—humped it the remaining distance. It wasn’t easy, moving fast and trying to remain invisible.
I’m getting Adrian to teach me more if I make it. When,
when
, I make it out of here.

The sun burned high in the sky as she struggled to put one foot in front of the other. She could see the trees she’d been aiming for—they were about five hundred yards away. Seconds later, shots rang out, and she bit back her scream as a bolt of fire streaked across her arm.