Her Own Best Enemy (The Remnants, Book 1) by Cynthia Justlin Page A

feet.
    “What about Ryker?” The key rested on her palm. He reached for it, but she snatched it back. “If we go on a wild goose chase over this key, my son may never be found.”
    He clenched his jaw. “The key may tell us where Ryker is.”
    She bristled, crossing her arms across her chest. “Or it might not. It may turn out to be nothing more than a hotel key Mark forget to return on his last business trip.”
    “Do you have any other bright ideas, then? If you do, speak up. I’m all ears.”
    Her hands fell to her sides, shoulders drooping. “No.”
    Hell. She’d already had her hopes crushed once today. He couldn’t blame her for worrying the key’s trail would turn out the same.
    He forced himself to soften his next words. “This is the best plan.”
    “Fine.” She stiffened her spine. “But I keep the key.” She shoved it deep inside her jeans pocket.
    “Fine. I wouldn’t have suggested otherwise.”
    She snorted. “Like you don’t have your own stake in this.”
    He stalked through the open cabin door. “I never said differently.”
    Her footsteps scuffed the rough red earth several paces behind him. “No, you didn’t. Which is why I can’t trust you not to run off to follow your own agenda.”
    He spun on his heel and stepped nose to nose with her. She couldn’t trust him ? The very thought boiled his blood.
    “If following my own agenda would’ve been my main goal, I wouldn’t have waited for you at The Cheshire in the first place. I’d have escaped rehab and been gone. Didn’t I say we were in this together? You help me, I help you.”
    She crossed her arms. “And who gets to go first?”
    He glared at her, bitterness clawing at his throat. Just when he thought he’d found the only trustworthy woman on the planet...
    “I gave you my word. We’ll find Ryker.”
    She blinked her big, worried eyes at him. “You’re right. I’m...sorry.” Her fingers touched the back of his hand in a fleeting caress, sending an electrical tingle up his arm.
    An unfamiliar sensation dropped in the pit of his stomach: lust mixed with tenderness and a good dose of wary caution thrown in for good measure.
    “Yeah. Okay. Let’s move out.”
    He lifted his eyes to the sky and choked back a curse. The sun burned low. Too low. It had already started its dip back down to earth. They’d never make it to the top before dark.
    Which meant another night spent in close proximity with Grace, another night keeping his thoughts—and hands—away from her.
    “We’re not going anywhere tonight, are we?” Grace’s voice was little more than a tremulous whisper, but he caught the hint of dread as it echoed across the vast desert.
    It matched his own.

 
     
     
     
     
     
    Chapter Six
     
    The low-wattage light inside the cabin added intimacy to the already tense atmosphere. Grace couldn’t stand it. After returning to the office to pay for the night’s stay, she’d eaten dinner with Keith in strained silence at the dining hall, then they’d returned to the cabin to pace, to breathe the same thick, musty air, and dance around any sort of meaningful conversation.
    She stopped short of the bed, the muscles in her neck fisting into a tight knot. Keith passed on her right and stopped at the miniature kitchenette where he poured water from the tap into a tall glass. She couldn’t look away as he touched it to his lips, tipped his head, and downed the contents in three long swallows. Those firm lips had been on hers just hours ago. They’d teased, and caressed, and comforted. She’d hated every minute of it, even as she’d eaten it up, her body had screamed for more.
    He lowered the glass a fraction and his eyes clashed with hers over the rim. It was foolish to stare into them. Even more foolish to read beyond the cynicism that stayed on the surface. But, oh, Lord, when he looked at her like she was that glass of water he’d just greedily consumed, she wanted to be back in his arms, his lips on hers, his