They moved through the woods as silently as possible, flinching when a careless foot snapped a branch. After one such incident, Liesel’s nerves got the better of her. She propped her foot on a rock and jerked a small handgun from a holster that she wore under her pant leg.
Andy’s hand shot out. “Give me that gun,” he commanded.
He took it from her with ease. “I don’t know why you have this,” he whispered, “but if we get out of here alive you have some explaining to do. Now, keep moving but stay in control. Remember, no headlong plunges into the woods.”
Forty‑five minutes later, they exited the woods near the bridge that crossed the little creek. Liesel fearfully scanned the inviting, family‑centered area. “I don’t see anyone.”
“Two o’clock. Men in khaki.” Andy came to a halt and jerked her against him. “Kiss me like you mean it.”
Liesel didn’t mind if she did. Hopefully the khaki men would never imagine that two lovers out for a stroll had only moments before been running for their very lives. She prayed the men didn’t get too good a look at them. Throwing her arms around him, she pressed her body against his.
She wouldn’t have admitted to it for anything, but in spite of the danger, she felt a thrill from the top of her head to the bottom of her feet. Nobody could kiss like Andy Bryce!
Andy took her hand, and they strolled casually across the bridge as if they’d been on a leisurely little walk. He kissed her again before they got into the Mustang. The minute they got in, he put the car in gear and slowly made his way out of the park.
“Now, Liesel,” he said. “Why don’t you tell me why those men are trying to kill you?”