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

hands caressing her skin.
    He set the glass on the counter. The clink on Formica was unable to drown out the blood thundering in her ears as he took two purposeful steps in her direction.
    The rushing in her ears clashed to a crescendo and she stopped breathing altogether.
    Ryker.
    The single thought lanced through her heart and brought the rapid flutter to an abrupt halt. She covered her mouth with her hand and cried out, whirling away from Keith and coming up short at the foot of the bed.
    The bright red fabric of Ryker’s backpack seemed to bleed across the mustard yellow blanket.
    Grace snatched the pack from the bed and made a beeline for the door, Ryker’s belongings spilling across the floor from the open zippered compartment.
    It didn’t matter and she certainly wasn’t about to stop to pick them up. She needed to get out of here. Now. Needed to regain her focus and her sanity, because she must have well and truly lost it if she had that much difficulty keeping her hands off Keith.
    She pushed at the screen door with the palm of her hand, finding satisfaction in the squeak and slam that followed. Moonlight guided her down the trail to the edge of the creek that flowed into the Colorado River. She sat on one of the large boulders and hugged Ryker’s backpack to her chest.
    Oh, baby, what have I done?
    How could she have forgotten, even for one moment, about Ryker? Her throat tightened and she buried her face in her hands.
    She was despicable.
    She’d given into desire, taken comfort from the strength of Keith’s arms and the gentleness of his mouth. And worse, she wanted to do it a second time.
    And for what? What did it get her?
    She couldn’t feel this...this strange drowning sensation every time she looked at Keith. She didn’t like him. How could she want him when she didn’t trust him? Worse, how could she desire him when her son was somewhere in danger? Hurt, sick, with Mark, without Mark—she didn’t know and it was killing her.
    She curled her fingers into fists and gulped in the crisp night air, letting it fill her lungs.
    She wouldn’t fail Ryker. Not by giving up, not by losing hope, and certainly not by letting Keith’s kiss get under her skin. As far as she was concerned, it never happened. She had to turn that lie into reality.
    Tomorrow morning they’d trek back up the canyon. Tonight her focus needed to be on their direction once they reached the top. The cardkey had to be important for Mark to plant it in Ryker’s backpack.
    She tugged the rectangular piece of plastic out of her pocket and angled it to the sliver of moonlight that peeked above the canyon wall. The key could fit anywhere and looked like dozens of others she’d seen before. White, with bright blue shapes on the front, and the dark magnetic strip running the length of the back.
    She sighed. How many places used cardkeys in Arizona? In the world? Tears stung her eyes. Ryker couldn’t afford to have them rush out on a wild goose chase over this key.
    There had to be a better way.
    She flipped the key over and ran her thumb along the magnetic strip. The moonlight reflected against the strip and revealed a set of block letters in a silvery rainbow hologram.
    She held her breath and squinted.
    SecureStor.
    A storage unit? Like there weren’t thousands and thousands of those around. Still, it was a lead. She had to tell Keith. Maybe the name would mean something to him.
    Grace snatched the backpack off the ground where it had fallen earlier, whirled around and ran up the path, urgency, excitement, coursing through her veins. The cardkey slipped from her fingers and she bent to pick it off the dusty path. Her fingers grazed plastic, she scooped it up and started to straighten when a beam of blue light cut through the brush. Her skin prickled, goose bumps rising on her arms.
    Someone had followed them.
    Instinct had her throwing herself to the ground. She sucked in a breath and held it. With her face pressed to the earth, small