Shoulda ditched the bitch back in Marietta.

Ace Goodall was tempted to open his fist and let her tumble down the ravine. She was dead weight, dragging him down, same as any woman. That’s all they were good for, except on those cold nights when they opened their legs and gave up their heat the way God intended. It was September, and the nights had definitely taken a turn toward chilly in the Southern Appalachian Mountains. So she might be worth keeping for a little while, despite being a bitch.

He pulled, wrapping his other arm around a maple sapling for balance. She barely weighed a hundred pounds, though she was nearly as tall as he was. Five feet five inches, not much rump to speak of, knockers the size of peaches but not nearly as fuzzy. Her hair was black and stringy, but considering she hadn’t bathed since the last rain a week ago, she looked pretty good. Plus she was rich, or had been once. Not that money was much use out here in the wilderness.

He squeezed her wrist a little harder than needed as she scrambled for purchase on the leaf-covered loam. Clara Bannister. An uppity fucking name if there ever was one.

“You think they saw us?” she whispered.

“No, but they sure as hell are going to hear us if you don’t shut that trap.”

She couldn’t. Figured. Anyway, the river throbbed in the background with a white wash of sound, so they weren’t likely to be heard.

“Was it some of them?”

“Don’t rightly know. It’s not like they wore dark suits and sunglasses like the spooks on TV.”

“Who else would be way out here on a weekday?”

Ace wondered that himself. They’d encountered a few serious hikers, and those were pretty easy to spot with their worn leather boots, sweaty bandannas, and oily hair. Most had fancy backpacks with aluminum framework, far superior to the ratty Army-surplus canvas jobs that he and Clara carried. He’d been tempted to pull out his Colt Python and ask politely if one of the Greenpeace freaks cared to trade, but then he’d probably end up shooting somebody. Word would get around, and the peaceful back-to-nature bit would go all to hell.