Chapter Eleven

Day 4

Storm was having the best dream. He was in bed with a woman, who smelled like campfire smoke and floral shampoo. A bulky blanket lay wedged between them, and he needed to remove it to get closer.

Filtered sunlight permeated the lids of his eyes. When the woman at his side moved, he pulled her in tighter. She was soft and warm, a stark difference to the cold air. Storm’s sleepy brain drifted until with some effort, he came to consciousness.

He rested in a tent. Yesterday, he’d traveled to Mammoth Cave in Kentucky. He was competing in The Great American Scavenger Hunt. The woman who he slept next to was—Colleen. He tensed, his eyes popped open, and he focused on the face inches from his own.

“Good morning.” Colleen smiled. The whiteness of her teeth glowed in the dim light. “I enjoy cuddling as much as the next person, but we really should get moving.”

Storm jerked away his arm like he’d been shocked. “What do you think you’re doing?” He looked up at the dividing blanket. “You’re on my side.”

Wiggling out of her sleeping bag, she sat upright. “Your side is over there.” She pointed to the empty portion of the tent. “This side is mine. Until you rolled over here.”

Looking at the zippered door, he ran a hand down his face. Which side had he started on? He’d taken the right side, and Colleen the left. Somehow during the night, he’d moved. Nerves pinged in his gut. “Why didn’t you wake me?” He rose to rest on his elbow. “A swift kick would have sent me back.”

“I was cold and enjoyed your body heat.” She stood, hunched to avoid hitting her head on the roof of the tent, and unzipped her pack. “It’s seven now. We have about an hour and a half to get ready before the Visitors’ Center opens. We should go to the bathhouse and shower.”

She used the pronoun “we” a lot lately. There was Storm, and then there was Colleen. Definitely no “we.” He might be forced to work with her in order to get ahead, but they’d never be a team. “Just because we shared a tent doesn’t mean I need you to tell me what to do.” He kicked out of his own sleeping bag. “Don’t forget, you need to beat me in order to win the prize money.”

With her arms full of clean clothes, plus soap and shampoo, she stared back, blinking. Her short hair stuck up on one side. “In order for either of us to win, we’ll eventually team up with someone. A simple strategy. If you don’t want my help, that’s fine. I’ll see if I can work my way into another group. But I think, despite our history and your bad feelings toward me, we make a good team.”

The knot in his chest tightened. “What I feel toward you is more than a few bad feelings.”

She exhaled a long sigh. “What do you want me to say, Storm? Yes, I was a mean, horrible person when I was younger. But you were no angel either. Remember the time you put glue in my face moisturizer at school?”

One side on his mouth twitched in a grin. “That prank was great.”

“I spent a week scrubbing that junk from my face to feel normal again.” Her mouth twitched with a smile. “Stop laughing.”

He shrugged. Time to admit he could use a partner, especially a smart one. “We can team up temporarily. But if you start dragging me behind, I’m out.”

“Same.” Colleen shuffled the items in her arm, bent down, and then used a free hand to unzip the tent. “And in the end, if we both are still in this thing, all bets are off. We play to win.”

Fresh, cool air rushed inside. The playful curve of her lips had him smiling back. “Winner takes all.”

“Winner takes all.” She nodded before stepping outside the tent.

Last night, cuddled next to Colleen, he’d had the best night’s sleep in a long time. Maybe only a result of his growing exhaustion. Right, he’d been overtired and sought out a warm body. The stress of competition must be getting to his head. He couldn’t let Colleen get to his heart.

****

When she returned from her shower, Storm waited by the tent. He tossed her a protein bar and yelled to hurry up. Somehow, he’d showered while she’d been gone. He looked rugged in hiking boots, shorts, and a flannel shirt—every bit the true naturalist he was at heart.

Colleen grabbed her pack and followed Storm over to the Visitors’ Center. Four other contestants were already there. They formed a semi-organized line.

At eight-thirty, the doors of the building opened. Storm and Colleen rushed inside, and she picked up their next clue.

Take the Violet City tour of Mammoth Cave. Pick up lanterns at the Historical Entrance and follow the flags through the cave system. Stay on the marked path and don’t stray, or you might never find your way out! In Wright’s Rotunda, find the basket filled with reed torches and take one. Reed torches were used by Native Americans to explore the dark cave.

Grabbing a park map, Colleen unfolded it and located the red dot marking the Violet City tour. The Historical Entrance was nearby, but their hike would end some distance from the Visitor’s Center. Once she completed the task, she’d hitch a return ride.

“Come on.” Storm stood by the open door.

“Leave your pack here.” She dropped hers behind the reception counter. “The extra weight will slow us down.”

Once outside, Colleen ran beside Storm toward the cave opening. She grabbed one of the lanterns set out on a table, and she counted three contestants ahead of her.

A long staircase descended into the dim cave. The scents of rock, minerals, and age ladened the dry air. Only a few upward-pointing lights marked the path. She relied mostly on their lanterns to illuminate the twists and turns of the cave.

After an hour of strenuous hiking, her legs shook in exhaustion. “I need to sit and catch my breath.” Thankfully, a wooden bench occupied a niche just up ahead. She lowered onto the seat, and her leg muscles rejoiced. The physical challenges of the last two days were extracting payment from her body.

Storm peered over his shoulder. “I don’t hear anyone behind us. Let’s take a two-minute rest. Drink some water. Then we’ll get back to work.” He sat and took a long drink out of the water bottle in his hand.

“You’re actually sticking with me?” After his speech that morning about not letting anything slow him down, she was surprised he’d wait.

“I’d be stupid to try navigating this cave alone,” Storm said.

The bite of disappointment stung. What did she expect? He wanted to stay because he cared? She was delusional if she thought he’d ever see her as anything but the enemy. The only reason he’d teamed up was for his own advantage. To be honest, she was using him, too. But deep down, she did care. At the end of the contest, she’d beat him and when the time came, the action would break her heart. “Okay, let’s go.” She pushed off the bench. Blisters burned the underside of her feet and backs of her heels.

Storm lifted his lantern and moved along the dark path. “Do you remember seeing Wright’s Rotunda on the map? Are we almost there?”

“We passed the Tuberculosis Hospital Ruins, so it should be up ahead. Hard to judge distance down here.” She squinted to read her map. After she rounded a corner, the warm glow of lights greeted her. As she entered the Rotunda, she raced Storm to the basket.

Of course, he got there first and pulled out a reed. “Let’s go.” He waited while she collected hers, and then pushed on toward the cave exit.

In the low light, Colleen moved as quickly as she could manage without twisting an ankle or tripping. The formations of the cave were amazing, but in her rush, she moved past them like a ghost in the darkness, barely noticing the grandeur. Some of the narrow paths made Colleen fear the dark walls were moving in to surround them. She’d never escape. At the idea of getting lost underground, panic built inside her chest. She struggled to breathe. Her lungs were heavy and thick with anxiety.

Storm moved ahead and disappeared around the corner. “I see stairs,” his voice echoed.

Thank goodness. I need fresh air and sunlight, or I’ll go mad. She rushed up the stairs to freedom. As she pushed open the metal door, she became blinded by the light. She blinked, letting her eyes adjust. Cool, damp air filled her lungs and blew across her face, causing her skin to tingle with joy.

A man stood about twenty feet away with a video camera, waiting to capture the contestants exit the cave.

By now, Colleen barely noticed the cameras, which were as pesky and unwelcome as mosquitoes. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a red flag, and a stack of white envelopes waited.

Hurry to the Birthplace of the Blues. The lion might be the king of the jungle, but this King created his own Jungle Room. Your next clue is there.

“Graceland.” He swayed his hips. “I didn’t pack my blue suede shoes.”

“You can sing and dance later.” She stifled a laugh. “We need to get back to the Visitors’ Center.” For a normal cave tour, a bus would transport the pedestrians, but the show’s contestants weren’t so lucky. Her two-and-a-half-hour hike through the cave had wiped her out. The thought of more walking brought tears to her eyes.

As another two contestants exited the metal door, Colleen grabbed Storm’s hand and pulled him to sit on a small bench. “They’ll take the hiking path. We need to take the road so we can flag down a ride.” She waited another minute, until the others were well out of sight, and then led Storm toward the paved road. By this point, her legs were so tired, her muscles quivered. Driving to Graceland would give her a chance to sit and let her poor body recover.

The sun climbed higher in the sky, heating the crisp October air. Dry leaves crunched under their feet. Besides the bird’s songs coming from the surrounding forest, the world around her was quiet. Storm moved closer and pulled her arm up to rest over his shoulder, helping to support her weight.

Her heart skipped when she heard the distant rumble of a car engine. If they could get a ride, she and Storm would most likely be the first to leave for Graceland.

On the road, a dark green truck approached. She stepped out to wave it down. Thank goodness—a Park Ranger. “Let me handle this,” she whispered as the truck’s passenger window rolled down. “Excuse me, sir,” Colleen said in a sweet-as-sugar southern drawl. “I am so tired. Is there any way you could give my friend and me a ride back to the Visitors’ Center?”

The man’s wide-eyed gaze did not leave Colleen. He gave her a toothy smile and adjusted his beaten, olive-colored baseball cap. “Are you a contestant in that reality show they’re filming here?”

She batted her eyelashes. “Yes, we are. A ride would really help. After the long hike through the cave, my legs are so tired, they’re ready to give out.”

“Well, ma’am, we wouldn’t want that. You and your friend hop on in. I’ll get you back to the Center lickety-split.”

Behind her¸ Storm snorted.

Ignoring him, she climbed into the cab of the truck and scooted over to the middle, placing her next to the driver. In less than a five-minute drive, she was back at the Center. “Thank you for your help,” Colleen said to the Park Ranger as she hopped out of the truck.

“No problemo.” He leaned toward the open passenger door. “I’m always happy to help a damsel in distress.”

Colleen opened her mouth to reply, but Storm grabbed her arm and yanked her toward the Visitors’ Center and their waiting packs. All she could do was wave good-bye.

“Come on…stop flirting with Yogi Bear,” Storm growled. “We need to get back to the campground and our vehicles.”

She yanked her arm out of his grasp. “You shouldn’t act so rude. He saved us time.”

Storm’s long-legged stride carried him to the covered entrance of the limestone building. “You shouldn’t feel the need to flirt with every man you come across.”

“I’m being nice. You should try it sometime, and I’m not a flirt.” She huffed with the effort of keeping pace.

“You are not nice, and you use people to get what you want.”

“Oh really?” Colleen picked up her pack and slung it over her shoulders. Her temper flared. “Here you go again…hurling accusations in my face. What did I want from you back in DC when I helped you with the Metro?”

Storm marched silently until they reached their cars, and then stopped. “I haven’t figured out your game, but I know you have one.”

“You’re impossible. My only game is to win.” Opening the rear door of her car, she tossed in her pack. “I’ve never met someone so thick headed. What game were you playing last night when you put the moves on me?” His face turned as red as the autumn leaves surrounding them.

“I was cold,” he sputtered. “Don’t think too highly of yourself, princess. I wanted nothing more from you than extra body heat.”

She didn’t stop the spreading grin. “And our kiss? Was that about capturing my body heat?”

“I didn’t kiss you.” He swung open the door to his car. “Except in your dreams.”

Laughing at his flustered expression, she hopped into the driver’s seat and started the ignition.

He’d been right to accuse her of playing games. But her goal was not mean spirited. Exactly the opposite. She wished he’d loosen up.

As a child, Storm had been tightly wound. He suffered stomachaches due to anxiety, and his surly personality might be his way of coping with those same issues as an adult. During his time away, Storm had grown into a man and became a father. He was good-looking, strong, and smart. So, why was he still holding on to the baggage of his youth?

As she drove out of Mammoth Cave National Park, she caught a glimpse of her reflection in the rearview mirror. Her eyes stared back accusingly. How dare she judge Storm for holding on to the past when she was just as much a prisoner to it herself. Every day, she lived with the insecurity and fear her dad created inside her. After moving back home as an adult, she still felt compelled to win his approval. Why did she try so hard to impress an alcoholic?

Because a lifetime of learned behavior didn’t go away in the blink of an eye.

She had a four-hour drive through the scenic mountains and foothills of Tennessee and didn’t want to spend the entire trip psychoanalyzing her and Storm’s childhood traumas. She focused on winning the prize money. The veterans she’d help were deserving. What they had endured made her family’s problems seem small.

A deep longing for her mom hit her heart, and her chest tightened. To Colleen, her mom was an enigma, like a patron saint, always with her in spirit but not a real part of her life. Since losing her mom at a young age, she didn’t have many solid memories of their short time together. Now as an adult, she wished she had a mother to go to for advice. If she hadn’t acted like a spoiled child the day of the car accident, her mom would still be alive.

Long enough for a pity party.

She turned on the radio, and the upbeat melody of “All Shook Up” caused her left foot to tap along to the beat. A fitting send-off for a trip to Graceland.

****

At three pm, Storm boarded a small bus and took the short ride across the street to Graceland. His first stop once inside the mansion—the Jungle Room. Standing in the viewing hall, he glanced around the legendary space. Green shag carpeted the floor, and wood paneling covered three of the four walls. The fourth wall was wrapped in faux greenery and brick. The room looked like a trip to Hawaii on LSD—wild with a hint of crazy.

Under a hanging red flag sat a basket of clues.

Time to sing the Blues—at The Blues Hall. Your Choice: either sing on stage with the band or dance with a partner for one song. Doors open at five pm.

Colleen stepped beside him and glanced around the room. “I should hire Elvis’s decorator for my next house.”

Whether he wanted her presence or not, she always seemed to be nearby. Almost like they’d established some strange gravitational pull. “A carpeted ceiling looks great in any living room.” With his success at each stop, Storm’s mood lifted. The farther he traveled, the closer he got to the million dollars.

“We’re supposed to go to the Blues Hall. Do you know where that is?” Colleen pointed at the paper in her hands.

He shrugged. “No idea.”

They exited the home through a side door.

Colleen sprinted ahead and flagged a couple of tourists strolling by. After a brief conversation, she darted toward the bus that took them back to the parking lot.

He fumed and ran after her. Did she really think she’d leave without sharing the location of the Blues Hall? “What happened to working as a team?”

“Calm down.” She rolled her eyes. “The bus wouldn’t leave without you. Follow me to Beale Street. The Blues Hall is down by Handy Park.”

Back at his car, he scanned the parking lot for other competitors’ cars. Not a one. He and Colleen must be in the lead. On the drive to Beale Street, he maneuvered like a racing pro to keep up. Her turns were performed last second with no blinker. On the ramp to the freeway, she gunned it, and for several minutes, he’d lost sight of her. Since he hadn’t looked at the map before they’d left, he was totally reliant on Colleen. A stupid move on his part.

Just as he pulled up behind her, she rocketed from the far left lane over to the exit ramp on the right. Horns blasted as he jerked the steering wheel to follow across the lanes of traffic.

Once parked, he marched over to meet her by her car, temper burning. “Don’t tell me to follow you then go drive like a maniac.”

She grabbed her pack out of the back seat and turned to face him. “You drive like an old lady.”

“You tried to lose me.” He moved to within inches, and his gaze swept her face and down her body. “What’s the matter, Colleen? You threatened by me?”

A red flush crept up Colleen’s neck to color her cheeks. “Threatened by you? Not likely.”

He wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her close. Heated blood pulsed through his veins. “Admit the truth. I’m tougher, smarter, and always got the best of you.”

“You’re so full of it.” She pushed off his chest. “The last time you got the best of me was junior year, when you put the ad in the newspaper for lice treatment using my school picture.”

Storm grinned. “I forgot about the lice ad. I really got you good.” He nudged her with his elbow. “Come on…admit it.”

“Humph.” She walked away. “I wouldn’t admit anything. People called me lice-head for the rest of the school year.” Jerking to a halt, she rounded on him. “I don’t need underhanded tactics to win.”

“All right.” Storm took a step back, hands raised. “Sorry about the nickname. Kids can be cruel.”

“I know.” Her gaze dropped to her feet.

“Come on.” Taking her hand, he pulled her forward. “Enough fighting. Let’s go.”

With Colleen at his side, he followed the sound of music to Beale Street. People lazily strode along the sidewalk, seemingly with nowhere to go. Jazz and Blues drifted out of the establishments he passed. A few bars of melody hung in the air, and then he’d move along and another song took its place.

Above a teal awning hung a blue sign with white letters reading Blues Hall. No other contestants were in sight. Right now, he and Colleen were in first place. The thrill of success sparked in his chest. But he’d have to wait for almost an hour before the hall opened. By then, who knew how many others would have caught up?

Colleen sat on the sidewalk with her back resting on the building and closed her eyes.

How could she even think of sleeping? He was too keyed up to rest. Still standing, he observed the crowds moving by and watched for the now-familiar faces of his opponents.

“You know…if we’re working together, you should trust me.” Colleen glanced up and shielded her eyes with her hand.

“No way. And if you’re smart, you won’t trust me, either.” He turned away and put an end to the conversation. Trust had to be earned, and right now, it came with too high a cost.

When the doors to the Blues Hall finally swung open, Storm and Colleen were still the only ones waiting outside. Finally, luck was on his side.

The building was fairly empty, beside the bartender, several waitresses, and the band on the small stage. The place smelled like stale cigarette smoke and beer—a fragrance produced from the classic mixture of music and booze.

“Sing or dance?” Colleen asked while they waited for the band to warm up.

“I can’t sing to save my life. I’m finding someone to dance with.” Storm stepped away toward a group of waitresses by the bar.

She reached out and jerked his arm. “If you’re dancing with anyone, you’re dancing with me.” Stepping out onto the dance floor, she curved a finger for him to follow.

Torn between humor and irritation, he joined the bossy woman. Of all the people in the world, he’d joined forces with her.

Tables and chairs had been pushed against the wall, leaving a small space of well-worn wooden planks. A few chords sounded from a bass guitar, followed by the rhythmic beating of a drum. The band’s singer, a black man wearing a stylish cobalt suit and a gray fedora, stepped to the microphone. His deep baritone voice crackled through the speakers on stage.

Storm placed an arm around Colleen’s waist and pulled her close. His other hand smoothed back the strands of hair on her face. She was soft and warm, and smelled as good as he remembered.

Their bodies swayed with the strong beat of the music.

“Just can’t shake loose these chains and things.” The singer’s soulful voice echoed off the walls.

Colleen swung her hips and dipped low. Her face lifted with the seductive curve of her lips.

She played with him, and at that moment, he didn’t care. He didn’t give thought to the camera man standing in the corner, recording their dance. The music had cast a spell, like a snake charmer’s flute for a cobra. He couldn’t take his gaze off Colleen and the way her body moved with his.

Her hand moved to the back of his neck and fingered the curls of his hair. “Why didn’t I see it sooner?” she whispered. Her other hand rose until it rested on his shoulder and caressed the muscles lying just beneath the thin fabric of his shirt.

“See what?” He swallowed hard.

“You…the man you’d become.”

Storm shivered under her light touch. “I may have grown up, but I can’t forget what you did the night before graduation.”

“I know.” She closed her eyes and rested her head on his chest. “I’ll never forgive myself for what happened at the party. I didn’t know they’d be so cruel. I’m sorry, Storm.”

Memories of the worst night of his life washed over him. Colleen had taken part, exploiting his teenage hormones to lure him to a private spot. Once she’d left, members of the varsity football team took care of the rest. They tied him to a tree and took turns pounding his gangly, teenage body until he passed out.

Was she aware of the true extent of what happened? That he spent all night in the cold and bleeding? The rope cut so tight into his wrists, he’d spent painful hours working to get free. Remembering the pain, he shivered. No use thinking about high school. Now, he was a grown man and a father of a wonderful girl. And he had a competition to win.

The song ended, and so did Storm’s chain of thought.

Colleen hurried toward the bar to take the envelope from the bartender’s hand.

Once he regained his focus, Storm followed.

Another contestant darted inside.

Darn. His pulse and pace quickened with renewed urgency. As he exited the bar, Storm ripped open the envelope.

You might be familiar with the never-ending party that is New Orleans, but this state offers another kind of wildlife. Outside the city of Lake Charles, the Gator Bayou Tour Company awaits your arrival. Hours of operation: nine am to five pm. Rent a kayak and paddle through the bayou in search of alligators. Use your digital camera to take pictures of three different alligators. Then head back to the docks to find Cajun Jim. He will provide your next clue.

He sprinted back to his vehicle and drove away, not waiting for Colleen, who couldn’t run at his speed. Putting distance between them was imperative. She’d gotten under his skin—like a tick. A pesky, annoying, dangerous, but breathtakingly beautiful tick.

****

Colleen drove until seven-thirty then found a small town in Mississippi to stop for the night and sleep. The Safe House along this route was too far away to arrive before curfew. As she drove into town, she searched the main road for a decent motel. The first one she saw looked like the Bates Motel from Psycho. Nope. Rather not get stabbed to death while in the shower.

The next one she found was only marginally better, but she was running out of time. She put away her pride and parked under a rotating neon sign that flashed Vacancy. When the elderly man working the front desk handed her a room key, she nearly doubled over with exhaustion. Her arms hung heavy and weak. The simple walk to the motel room became as draining as if she was moving underwater. An intense throbbing pulsed behind her eyes. She needed sleep but hunger won.

After dropping off her pack inside her room, she shuffled over to the family restaurant across the parking lot. With her tummy content from the club sandwich and fries she’d downed, she savored a hot shower and collapsed into bed. Something was missing tonight—more like someone. Last night, inside the tent, she enjoyed the comfort of Storm’s presence. Now, with worry weighing heavy on her heart, she drifted off to sleep under a blanket of renewed loneliness.