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the tree, but nothing happened. The room was solid. And surprising as hell.
    She turned as Chase came through the opening. He threw his bag and it slid across the floor, hitting the bed. Then he turned and pulled the ladder up, rolling it and leaving it near the entrance. He tugged a door down and latched it, then faced her.
    That’s when she realized he could stand up in this darned thing.
    “Who in the hell builds a tree house and calls it a deer stand?” she asked.
    Chase laughed. “Guy who owns the land is kind of a doomsday prepper, but on a smaller scale. I don’t think he really expects doomsday—but he likes being ready for anything. He stockpiles supplies, weapons, and ammo in various locations on his property. Kinda nutty, but a nice enough guy.”
    Sophie turned around to look at the space. With Chase inside, it was suddenly a whole lot smaller than it had been. And the only surface to sit on besides the floor was the cot.
    “Now what?” she asked, chafing her arms as if she were cold. She wasn’t, but her skin prickled from the circumstances. Or maybe it was just Chase’s nearness.
    He shrugged and retrieved his pack. “We eat and rest. Tonight we’ll head out again.”
    “Where are we going?”
    He speared her with a look. “Somewhere safe.”
    She hated the way he was so cryptic with her, but she knew it was no good to press him. She rubbed her arms again. His gaze followed the motion, and then he turned away and went over to the boxes in the corner. He ripped one open and started rummaging through it.
    “I need to let my mom and Tyler know I’m okay,” she said and then immediately regretted it when he stiffened. She knew that any mention of Tyler made him angry.
    But when he came back over to her with a pack of peanut butter crackers and a bottle of water, he looked cool, at ease. He thrust the food and drink at her and she took it.
    “No can do, sweetheart. No contact with anyone outside. It’s too dangerous.”
    She wanted to protest, but there was no point in arguing. She didn’t have a phone anymore, and she doubted there was a pay phone on a tree trunk somewhere. Besides, she’d asked for his help and she had to trust that he knew what he was doing.
    She sank onto the edge of the bed and ripped open the crackers. She was usually so careful with food, but she was starving right now. Chase retrieved crackers and water for himself, then reached into a dark corner and produced a folding chair. He proceeded to sit down and tear into his food.
    “How will we get to Paris?” she asked when the silence stretched uncomfortably.
    “The usual way, I’d imagine.”
    “My passport is in my apartment and my ID was in my purse.” She spared a pained thought for the Louis Vuitton bag that was nothing but ash by now. “I lost the tracking number for the package as well.”
    She’d had the receipt with the number on it. She hadn’t sent it signature required, but she’d been comforted by the fact she could track its progress if she needed to.
    “Doesn’t matter. You know when it’s getting there. That’s enough.”
    She finished a cracker and blew out a frustrated breath. “You’re becoming very terse, Chase. Am I bothering you or something?”
    “Are you bothering me? Hell yeah, you’re bothering me. I was asleep when you woke me. If you’d been a waitress wanting to fuck, that would have been far better than what we’ve got going on now.”
    She really wanted to throw something at him. Surly asshole.
    Surly asshole who saved your life…
    Thus far.
    And she wasn’t even touching that comment about fucking. Though God help her, she had a moment of picturing him naked. Picturing them together naked.
    She shook her head to rid herself of that much-too-hot image. “I am a waitress, asswipe.”
    He snorted. “Sure you are.”
    “No, really. I am. I want to be an actress, so I decided to wait tables for a while, study people. You’d be surprised what you learn when you wait on