Page 17 of Unlovable Player

She didn't stop him when he pried it from her white-knuckled grip, and she allowed him to tug her to her feet.

“I didn't think, just did it,” she whispered, her gaze locked on the dead man.

“You did amazing, honey. I’m so proud of you,” he told her as he gripped her shoulders and squeezed just enough to draw her attention to him. “Now we have to get out of here. In a few hours, everyone will wake up and realize we’re gone. We have to get back to the village, find someplace to hide out, or hope that the survivors have called in help and the gang can't get to us again. You with me, moonlight?”

It was a lot to ask of her, especially since those villagers were her friends and she hadn't had time to process their deaths. But he knew his girl had it in her to conquer the entire world if she set her mind to it.

“I'm with you,” she answered softly.

As he grabbed her hand and they took off into the trees, Connor could only wish she meant she would be with him forever.

August 18th

3:52 P.M.

Exhaustion coated every cell in her body.

But Becca wouldn't give up.

It didn’t matter how loud her muscles screamed for a break or how badly her stump ached since she hadn't been able to tend to it in several days or given it a break from the prosthetic. A headache pounded between her temples and her ribs, likely cracked but probably not broken, protested each breath she took.

After hours of walking through the jungle, her breathing was harsh and labored, adding to the pain.

As anxious as she was to get back to the village and find out how much damage had been done, she was equally scared. How many people had been killed? Had Isabella survived? Was she going to get back there to find that it had been a complete bloody massacre and there were no survivors?

Since she and Connor still weren't really on speaking terms—although she couldn’t say that the silence was uncomfortable—she had no idea what the man back at the camp had meant about wanting to silence him. Even though she definitely wanted answers and would make sure she got them before they parted ways, Becca sensed she wasn't going to like what she heard.

It had to be something about Connor’s mom and stepdad. After all these years, had he and his brothers finally managed to prove their mom was innocent and never betrayed her country or her husband?

She hoped they had, Connor deserved closure. But if that closure had come at the price of the lives of her best friend and the villagers she loved like family, that seemed so high.

Still, she couldn’t begrudge him answers. They’d been best friends back when his dad had died and then his mom had immediately remarried. She’d been there for him when he was consumed with anger about what he perceived as his mom’s betrayal, and when he learned that the remarriage was in name only since his mom and stepdad didn't share a bed. That revelation had come too late, after his mom was arrested, and he and his siblings never got to see her again and make amends for the months of anger that had simmered between them.

Just like he’d been there for her after her rape, she’d been there for him during that difficult time. Held him while he cried over the loss of his dad, soothed the rough edges of his anger when he didn't understand his mom’s actions, and tried to shoulder as much of his guilt as she could when he realized his mom had never stopped loving his dad. She’d promised to help in any way she could to prove that neither his mom nor stepdad were traitors.

A hand on her arm stopped her, and Becca had to lock her knees to keep from sinking to the ground. Connor had frozen and she wondered if he’d sensed something dangerous up ahead.

While she knew this area well, they’d taken a long route back to the village because Connor was worried that since they had vehicles the men who had taken them would get their first, and she was a little turned around. His plan had been to circle around and approach the village from a different angle, one they wouldn't expect, so that he could scope the place out first. It had meant walking for hours longer than it would have taken them to work backward from the camp to the village, but she had agreed it was a good plan.

“Village is only a quarter mile ahead,” Connor said softly.

He seemed to have learned how to speak without his voice carrying very far, it was a great skill to have in the world he lived in now, but she couldn’t copy the skill, so she merely nodded.

“I want you to stay here and I’ll make sure it’s safe,” he whispered.

Again, she just nodded. This was Connor’s area of expertise, not hers. If he had a plan she was going to listen to it. Too many things filled her head for her to worry about the past right now. Being kidnapped, almost being raped, killing a man, fear for her friend and the villagers had pushed her anger at Connor right out of her. Well, at least pushed it right into the background.

“You have the knife and the gun, you use either to protect yourself,” Connor ordered.

Then he turned and walked away. There was no hesitation to his steps, he moved soundlessly and looked so strong and confident. But he could be walking into danger alone just so he could try to protect her.

That was the Connor she remembered, the one she’d grown up with, the one she’d loved. There wasn't a single thing he wouldn't do for the people he loved, and … maybe he still loved her.

She just wasn't sure that could change anything, even though … maybe she still loved him, too.

“Connor,” she hissed, trying to make her voice soft like he did but failing.

Immediately, he hurried toward her, concern in his eyes. “What's wrong? Are you okay?”