Primal Obsession (26 page)

THIRTY-TWO

One glance at Annie’s rigid shoulders and tight mouth told Sam she was held together with little else but grit and knotted nerves.

So was he.

A good warm-up always soothed his jitters before a key game. Getting to work on some traps would help them both.

Her brow as furrowed as hemlock bark, she continued to stare at the ground.

“Or doesn’t the story describe the traps?” he prompted.

“The author describes them, all right.” She wagged her head and finally looked up. “I’m not sure how much I can remember. Or how we can manage. Except for the first day’s ploy, which I think we accomplished. Rainsford makes a false trail that sends the general off in the wrong direction.”

“We hid our trail. We did damned well on instinct. Go on.”

She hesitated. “In the story, Rainsford is the bait. The general follows his trail. We could force the Hunter’s hand, like in the story, by setting me up as bait.”

“No way, sweetheart. Instead of forcing his hand, we’d play right into it.”

“No, it could work. You could hide or pretend to leave me, or I could leave and you follow and jump him.”

Sam scratched his nape. “You’ve seen too many movies. Separating us is exactly what he’d like. We still don’t know for sure he doesn’t have a gun. No, we stick together. Do you trust me?” He might not merit her trust in other ways, but he needed it for this.

“I trust you, but—”

“Then tell me about the story’s traps.”

She sighed, yielding. For now. But she never gave in completely. Most of the time he liked it, but in this case stubbornness could get her killed.

“The second day,” she said, “he makes what he calls a ‘Malay Man-Catcher,’ something like a dead tree meant to fall on the unsuspecting prey.”

“Sounds like the standard deadfall trap. Size and hiding the trip release are what matter. Especially when trying to trap a human. You want the weight to fall on his head or shoulders.”

Plenty of deadfall around, saplings three or four-inches in diameter. Strong enough but not too hard to cut to the right lengths. No problem gathering supplies. Only in keeping the traps hidden from someone who knew all the tricks.

And in luring him to walk into one.

He handed her the wire spool, hooked the saw and hatchet from the canoe and set off toward a fallen cedar. “When you’re trapping small game like rabbits, you bait the trap or set it up along their usual route.”

She followed with the canvas bag of tools and the saw. “Like the tracks worn to the river?”

“Or regular paths they follow to find food. But this is different. The Hunter might approach from any direction. And our bait—” he turned to kiss her nose “—will be protected.”

“So don’t you see how we need bait—
me
—to direct him where you can jump him?”

“And have him sneak up behind me and slit my throat?” He made a slashing motion across his Adam’s apple.

“If it’s Ray, you’re bigger and stronger.”

“
If
it’s Ray. Maybe the Hunter did away with Ray and hid the body.” He waved off the issue. “Who knows what he has for weapons. Whoever he is, he has more experience at slinking through the woods. Forget it. You and I are joined with Super Glue.”

Annie huffed, apparently acknowledging his logic.

He attacked the cedar trunk with his hatchet, then with the saw. After he freed a six-foot length, he moved along the trunk and started again. The earthen scents of the forest would cover the smell of fresh-cut cedar. They’d better.

“Since this trap will have no bait, can we arrange three or four of them around the clearing?”

“Good plan.” He stopped his hatchet in mid-air and grinned, gratified at their ease of communication. “We think alike on this, sweetheart. He might be on the lookout for traps. We’ll overwhelm him with their sheer number. Surround ourselves with defenses.”

“And hope if he notices one, he missed another. Then—whammo!” she said.

“Sorta like a pitcher lulling a batter with a couple of low balls. Then he lobs a change-up.” He finished severing the second log. With lengths of rope, he tied them together, and they carried the logs toward the sturdy tree that would anchor the trap.

While he measured the rope and wire needed, he described the overall workings of the deadfall trap. With the logs held overhead and the tripwire anchored below, it worked as a simple pulley that, when released, dropped its load on whoever walked below.

“We ought to use something natural like a vine to secure the logs overhead,” Sam said, peering up at the branches. He tossed the loose rope end over the sturdiest. “But since we’re not in Rainsford’s tropical jungle, this will have to do. I’ll make sure it’s out of sight.”

Annie jogged to him with the other equipment she’d just retrieved. “What about the wire you need me to fasten?”

He pounded one sharpened stake into the ground on the far side of the target area and two more at the base of the tree. “If you hadn’t already trashed that fancy manicure, this job would finish it.” He handed her the thin wire and the pliers.

She held onto his hand for a moment before accepting the tools. Her gray eyes were resolute, serious. “Before this trip, I prized a lot of things—like manicures—that now seem mere superficial trappings. Not important. Maybe that’s one reason Emma was so hot on my coming.”

He nodded. “Wind one end of the wire around and twist it tight on itself with the pliers. Keep it low to the ground.” He pantomimed the twisting maneuver. “Your friend was smart. You like some luxuries. So what. That’s part of living. Your pursuit of the Hunter was—
is
—important, our present situation notwithstanding.”

“The single exception.”

“A life-or-death fight clarifies a lot of things. Like what’s important in life,
who’
s important.” He quirked an eyebrow to punctuate his point, but she gave only a tiny smile without averting her gaze from her task.

Handling the tools with surprising dexterity, she attached the wire to the stake in the ground.

“Good job. Your fingers are more suited to that job than mine, even before my injury. Must be all that keyboard work.”

“That and fly tying. I may not have gone fishing with Dad and my brothers, but I learned to tie all those pretty feathers and bobbles together in fish-tempting shapes.” She pointed to her completed wire knots.

“Fly tying. Who’d a thunk it?” She was full of surprises. More facets than a diamond. “Now run the wire along the ground to the tree. Try not to mash the ground cover. We don’t want it to reveal our handiwork.”

“It’s not just this—” a wave of her hand indicated their predicament “—but the whole wilderness experience that gave me a new perspective. Rather than expect only the worst from Mother Nature, I’ve come to appreciate her beauty as well as her danger. You’ve played a huge part in that.”

“Good to know I’ve accomplished something on this expedition.” Maybe he helped her overcome her mental block about the woods, but in return she showed him truths about himself.

An ache tightened within his chest. She’d been right saying it was up to him whether he was a loser or not, that he was hiding in the woods. He’d always mourn losing his major league career. At some point, Father Time would’ve ended that anyway.

But his future wasn’t in these woods any more than hers was. This expedition had demonstrated that.

If they survived this threat, she’d return to the city, and he’d return to the woods—for the time being. Eventually he’d find a new compass. What direction he’d take was a mystery.

Whatever, his path was too tangled to lead to her.

He directed her to connect the wire to the rope. “Make it tight. The line has to be strong enough to hold, and the tripwire anchor has to be weak enough so the weight falls fast and hard.”

“I see. Like life, with a give and take of strength and weakness.” Finished, she sat back on her heels.

Her words held veiled meaning, but her expression held no guile. Did she mean herself or him?

“Or like us. Opposites working together.” He snipped the wire in two with wire cutters, then hauled back on the rope to lift the logs up into the foliage.

“Opposites who have borrowed each other’s strengths,” she said quietly. “As much as you claim to be an action man, you’re no stranger to game plans and strategies. You’ve thought this out and explained it in detail. You have me tackling physical challenges I never would have dreamed. You made me believe I could do it.”

Maybe they did make a good team. But could anything long term work? They were so different, wanted different things in life.

Did he even know what he wanted?

Kneeling beneath the tree, she wound the wire and rope together. The sun filtering through the leaves lent a glow to her mink-brown hair and to the angle of her cheekbone. Scrapes and bruises marred her skin, and fear darkened her eyes. Vulnerable and beautiful and so brave she made him ache.

If only he could snatch her up and run, race away from the killer who tracked her. But without an intact canoe, they couldn’t escape. Once they left the stream, a lake lay between them and the take-out where Ben should be waiting. If they didn’t stop him, the Hunter would catch them then. If not now.

They had to make a stand, one of their choosing, not his.

He shook himself back to the job at hand. “Get that other stick. While I hold the rope, jam it horizontally under the pegs.”

She shoved the pencil-sized stick into place. “Okay. It seems secure enough.” She stepped away from the log load.

Sam released his grip on the rope. The structure held. “That stick is the retaining bar that controls the entire contraption. It has to hold the wire parallel and the logs overhead. When the wire is tripped, it flips away and releases the whole shebang.”

Annie peered at their trap and chewed her lower lip. “The logs and the wire are hidden. I can’t see a thing. Should we try it out?”

“You bet. Balance is critical. More often than not, it doesn’t work the first time.”

She smiled. “Trapping contains all kinds of lessons. Like in life, balance is crucial.”

Ignoring her, he used a dead branch to poke at the tripwire. “Here goes.”

He heard her sharp intake of breath.

Nothing happened.

“Why didn’t it work? Do you have to hit it harder?”

Shaking his head, he checked the rig. “It’s the anchor pegs. They’re too long. They don’t release the retaining bar.”

She gripped his arm. “Sam, we have to make this work. If it doesn’t, we’ll die. If he reaches me, he’s not going to let you live.” Tears shimmered in her eyes. “I’ve put your life in mortal danger, and—”

He pressed a finger to her lips. “We’ve been all through this. The damned
Hunter
put our lives in peril. He’s the villain, not you. And I’m here because I want to be.”

She kissed the pad of his finger. “Thank you is inadequate, but it’s all I have.”

“Don’t thank me yet. Now shut up and follow my directions so we can fix this sucker.” With a gentle shove, he sent her toward the tree.

“Yes, Coach.” She gave him a shaky grin.

He handed her the small saw, then put his weight on the rope to give it slack. “I think a half-inch will do it.”

She knelt and applied the saw.

When they tried the trap again, the logs fell to about four feet above the ground. “Perfect. Low enough to fell a man, but too high to harm an unwary deer.” He treated himself to a quick hug, savoring the zing he always felt when he touched her. If only they could afford more. “Like the piano in that old Laurel and Hardy movie. Did you ever see that one?”

“I love those old movies. Slapstick with an underlying current of innuendo.”

“Like now. You’re just full of parallels today.”

“Keeps my mind occupied.” She hugged him back. “Or else I might curl up in a ball and suck my thumb.”

He lifted her chin and brushed a kiss on her soft lips. “I’m afraid, too. But remember it’s two against one. He’s never had to face two people before. As you reminded me before, he’s basically a coward who’s always taken the easy route.”

“If I believed that completely, I wouldn’t be so frightened.” She nodded toward their completed trap. “We have to remember where each trap is so we don’t knock ourselves out. It’s hidden from us. I hope it’s hidden from him.”

After resetting the deadfall, Sam picked up the remaining rope and the bag of tools. “Now what’s another trap this Rainsford builds?”

Annie carried the wire and hatchet as they hurried to another spot. “The next trap is a ‘Burmese Tiger Pit,’ a hole lined with—”

“Wait, don’t tell me. Lined with pointed sticks called pungi stakes. It’s covered over with thin branches and pine needles or leaves. An old-fashioned bear trap. Forget that one. If we had a shovel, it would take until midnight to dig a hole big enough. Too fucking bad. We’d have a better chance of disabling the guy with a pit for him to fall in. What’s next?”