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lineage of Corruption

By Robin Patchen

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Josie Smith contemplated felony assault—would any jury convict her?—and not for the first time on this doomed adventure.
She glared at the back of the head in front of her. Bentley Kent’s hair was prematurely graying, and unlike when they were together years before, he no longer bothered to hide it. Maybe he thought it made him look more distinguished, gave him a bit of gravitas. He wouldn’t be wrong about that.
But all the dignity in the world wouldn’t help them out here.
“It can’t be much farther.” He tossed her a smile over his shoulder, but she wasn’t buying it. He was all decked out in hiking gear, from the rugged flannel shirt—still creased from its packaging—to the brand-spanking-new boots. He wasn’t an outdoorsman, but she hadn’t thought twice about joining him today. Trails snaked all over this side of the mountain. It should have been fine.
She hadn’t figured on their leaving the trail, though. He’d claimed he wanted to show her something. Considering it was nearly dusk, she assumed he’d found a remote spot on Mt. Coventry to watch the sunset, but if they didn’t reach it soon, they’d miss the show. Either way, they’d have to get back to the trail in the dark. 
She stepped over a fallen branch and slipped on the wet leaves on the far side, barely keeping herself from falling. “Bentley, I think we should return—”
“No, no. It’s just ahead. The directions are very clear.”
“Directions?” She froze. “You mean you haven’t been here before?”
“Not technically.” He looked back at her, eyebrows lifted. 
“It’s getting dark.” People went missing in the White Mountains all the time, sometimes for days. It was June, and though it had climbed into the high seventies, as soon as the sun set, the temperature would drop. “We don’t want to get lost.”
Rather than give Bentley the chance to argue, Josie started hiking back to the trail. With any luck, they’d reach it while it was still light enough to see.
She reached the fallen branch and stepped over it, but her foot landed in a hole and twisted. 
Pain stabbed her ankle and shot up her leg. 
She tumbled to the damp forest floor.
“Josephine!” Bentley stumbled over the uneven ground and crouched beside her. “Are you all right?”
“It’s Josie.” She pushed the words past clenched teeth. That he refused to use her adopted nickname in her adopted hometown was the least of her problems at that moment. 
Bentley helped her to a sitting position. “What hurts?”
She rotated her foot until another sharp jab stopped her. “It’s my ankle.” He reached for it, but she flinched. “Don’t touch it.”
But, just like he used to, he ignored her words, eased her jeans up and her sock down. “It’s swelling. We need to get you to a doctor.” Bentley helped her up, but even the slightest pressure on that foot was unbearable. 
She slumped back to the ground. “You’re going to have to go for help.”
“I can get you out of here. I’ll carry you.”
Bentley was a lot of things—handsome, clever. She knew he worked out. But there was no way he could carry her over the uneven ground to the trail and then all the way down the mountain.
And he knew it, despite the bold words. 
“Call for help,” she said. “They have people trained for this.”
He looked around as if there might be another option before pulling his phone from his pocket. “There’s actually service up here.”
His incredulity irritated her. This was New Hampshire, not Siberia. 
He made the call and then slid his phone back into his jeans pocket. “I’m going back to the path to wait for them so I can show them the way.”
“Great.” She’d just sit on the damp ground, alone in the woods, and try not to freeze to death. Or be eaten by a bear.
She and Bentley had gone on a lot of dates in the past. This was shaping up to be the worst, and that was saying something.
At least an hour passed—an hour of shivering and praying for rescue while the sun disappeared beyond the trees—before she heard his shout. “Josephine?” 
“Over here,” she yelled. Based on the frantic tone in his voice, he’d lost her. No wonder it had taken so long.
Finally, a flashlight beam crossed over her. “Stay here, sir.” The other man’s voice was familiar. “I’d rather not have to carry you both out.” 
Surely, surely it wasn’t him.
What were the chances?
A moment later, the man crouched at her side. She couldn’t see much of him in the darkness, but she didn’t miss the jacket he wore, the Search and Rescue emblem sewn on it. “Sorry it took so long. Your friend’s not exactly a tracker. It’s your ankle?”
Maybe he wouldn’t recognize her voice. It was dark, after all. “Uh-huh. I don’t think it’s broken.” 
He leaned back and studied her. “Josie?”
“Yeah. Hi.”
“It’s Thomas,” he said. “You probably can’t see my face.”
She couldn’t, but she could picture it. Deep-set brown eyes, dark hair, strong jaw covered by a beard that was just the other side of I didn’t have time to shave. She had a lot of good-looking customers. This one was drop-dead gorgeous—if someone were attracted to his type. Which she wasn’t. 
He was in full-on rescue mode. He poked at the injury, eliciting a gasp. “Sorry. You may be right, but sprains can be just as painful as breaks, sometimes worse. Here, take this.” He held out the flashlight. “You’re going to have to light the way, okay?” 
She took it. “I can do that.”
“Good. Wrap your arms around my neck so I can lift you.”
“You’re not going to carry me?”
“Do you have a better idea?”
“Is that really how you handle this sort of thing? I’d imagined…” Some sort of contraption to get her down the mountain.
But they were deep in the woods, far from the trail. Unless he could levitate her, she didn’t see another way.
“Truth be told,” he said, “we’d normally come in pairs and put you on a stretcher, but a toddler wandered away from his campsite on the lake, and most of the team has gone to find him. I was on my way there when the call came in. I figured I could handle this myself.”
“So I’m keeping you from finding a lost kid?”
“You’re no less important. Besides, I was halfway up when I heard they found him.”
Thank goodness for that. 
“You ready?” When he leaned close, she had no choice but to wrap her arms around his neck. He lifted her as if she weighed no more than a child and settled her against his chest. 
Oh boy.
It was strong and broad, and she resisted the urge to nestle into his warmth—so comforting after the cold bracken. His intoxicating scent had her inhaling. Pine and sandalwood and man.
“Light the way, Rudolph.”
Despite the aching ankle and the embarrassing situation—or maybe because of those things—she chuckled as she aimed the flashlight ahead.
Bentley crashed through the brush toward them using his cell phone flashlight to illuminate the way. “Josephine, are you all right?”
“Just glad you guys are here.”
Thomas said nothing as he picked his way carefully on the uneven ground. When they were back to the trail, he asked, “What were you two doing so far from the path?”
Bentley answered. “A guy told me about a lookout where we could watch the sunset.”
Josie felt more than heard a low growl in her rescuer’s chest. “The path leads right to it. Everybody coming up here in the evening is looking to see the sunset.”
“The guy at that restaurant said to turn off at the big boulders.” 
“There are no boulders near here.”
They’d reentered the path higher up than where they’d left it, so a few minutes later, Bentley—stubborn as always, more so when he was wrong—pointed as they passed. “The boulders are right there.”
Josie moved the flashlight to cross over rocks about the size of a coffee maker. 
Thomas laughed. “If those are boulders, a house cat might be confused as a full-grown tiger.”
“It’s a relative term,” Bentley snapped.
Thomas mumbled, “Not that relative.” Louder, he said, “I recommend that, in the future, you don’t stray from paths unless you’re with a trained guide.”
Josie agreed heartily, but she didn’t say so. 
Bentley ignored him. 
They walked a long time in silence. The path was empty now, the smart hikers having left long before. She had no idea how far they were from the bottom when Thomas spoke again.
“Sir, why don’t you hurry ahead and get your car. Park it near the trailhead.”
Bentley turned to her. “Will you be all right without me for a few minutes?”
The thought of finally getting off this mountain and into a warm, cozy car appealed more than she should say. “Go ahead.”
After a wary look at Thomas, Bentley jogged down the path, his light bouncing ahead of him.
Thomas sighed. “If he trips and falls, I’ll come back for him.”
“He’ll be fine.” She hoped.
“Just out of curiosity,” Thomas said when Bentley was out of sight, “how many times do you think I’ve asked you out?”
She’d been hoping his professional veneer would hold. “A couple.”
“A couple? A lot more than that.”
“Maybe you should have taken the hint and given up.”
“Oh, I quit believing you’d ever say yes and started using the conversations to build up my immunity to rejection.”
“Glad I could be of service.”
“I’m curious, though. What is it about Bentley”—his emphasis on the name came with attitude—“that earned him a yes?”
Rather than delve into her psyche to come up with a legitimate answer—or at least an answer that would satisfy Thomas—she simply shrugged. “He’s smart, well-educated, well-mannered.”
“And I’m not?”
“I don’t know you. I’ve known Bentley a long time.”
“So you decide which men to date based on how long you’ve known them? If you met the man of your dreams tomorrow, you’d reject him out of hand because the chronology didn’t work out?”
Ignoring him seemed easier than trying to justify herself. 
Thomas’s steady footfalls on the dirt path were barely discernible over the nightly orchestra of crickets and frogs. 
“I figured it out,” he said. “Guy with a name like Bentley’s gotta have money. You’re a gold digger.”
“You know nothing about me.”
“I know more than I did an hour ago.”
“No, you don’t. And the fact that you think you do…” She clamped her lips shut before she finished the sentence.
“What? Am I wrong?”
“Completely. And let’s be honest. Your question isn’t really, ‘Why did you say yes to Bentley?’ Your question is, ‘Why did you say no to me?’”
Another few steps of silence, and then, “And what’s the answer? I mean, for the sake of my education and personal growth, I’d like to know why a beautiful woman like you would flat-out refuse to have dinner with a humble guy like me.”
“Humble. Ha.”
He chuckled but didn’t defend himself. “I mean, Bentley got you into this mess. If I could give you one little piece of advice, don’t go into the woods with a guy who can’t get you back out.”
“And…that’s why.”
He slowed, then came to a stop to look down at her. His face, though shrouded in darkness, was just inches from hers. She had the irrational desire to press her hand against his stubbly cheek and lean in.
She looked away. “Are we just going to stand here?”
“Maybe I need a break.”
Though he’d been carrying her for at least twenty minutes, he wasn’t even out of breath. She doubted he was tired but couldn’t figure out how to say so without stroking an ego that needed no more stroking.
“Explain, please,” he said. “What about my advice was so objectionable?”
“I don’t date politicians.” 
A beat of silence followed her words. Then, “If I get whiplash from this conversation, who’s going to carry you to the parking lot?”
“You’re running for mayor.”
“How did you…? I haven’t announced that yet.”
“I hear things.”
He started walking again, though more slowly than before. “Two questions. First, what does that have to do with me giving you advice?”
When she didn’t respond—because how could she defend her flippant remark?—he moved on. “Two, the mayor hadn’t even resigned the first time I asked you out.”
“You act like a politician.”
“How so?”
“You know, all the greeting people by name and smiling at everybody.”
“You mean being friendly?”
“I mean…forget it.” 
She prayed he would let it go.
A few moments later, though, he said, “You never answered the first question.”
“Are you serious?”
“About wanting an answer? Yes. And I’m not above using the fact that I’m literally rescuing you from your current date.”
“You’re not my type.”
“What type is that?”
“Your whole alpha-male thing.”
“I’m an alpha male? Okay.” He walked a few steps. “An alpha male is a guy who takes charge, a leader, right? I guess that describes me, but you don’t know enough about me to know that.”
“It’s not just that. It’s all the working out and…” How could she explain herself without…actually explaining herself?
“You’re offended by my strength? Because at the moment, one might think you’d be grateful, all things considered.” He tossed her up a few inches, eliciting a gasp, and then caught her without missing a step. “Of course, as an alpha male, I generally prefer to drag my women by their hair, but I left my club at home.”
“Lucky me.” She infused her words with all the sarcasm she could muster.
“Seriously? I could just leave you here, you know.”
“But you won’t. You’ll do your job.”
“It’s not my job, Josie. I’m a volunteer.”
She would have realized that, if she’d given it any thought at all. He almost always wore a suit when he came into her coffee shop, and his hours were pretty regular. Neither of those would be true of somebody who worked for search-and-rescue. 
And he had come to her rescue after dark on a Friday night. Didn’t he have anything better to do? A date, maybe? A guy with his face and body wouldn’t want for willing females, present company excluded. 
“I didn’t mean to offend you,” she said. “I’m sorry. And I am grateful.”
“You’re welcome.” He walked a few steps. “So, why don’t you date alpha males?”
“Has anybody ever told you you’re annoyingly persistent?”
His chest rumbled with his laugh. “Maybe. More than once.” 
She wasn’t going to explain her history with men to him. 
He walked in silence a few moments. What in the world could he be thinking? She’d always figured he was like so many men she’d met—all shine and no substance. Kind on the outside, conniving beneath the pretty exterior. This conversation—the longest in their brief acquaintance—made her question that assumption. 
“If you ever decide to dump your boyfriend—”
“He’s not—”
“Just tell him that you chose him because he’s not an alpha male. That would do it.”
She imagined what that conversation would look like and conceded that Thomas was probably right. Bentley might not be the type of guy to volunteer for search-and-rescue, but he was comfortable being in charge. He came off as a deep thinker, but when push came to shove, he made his opinion known and often figured out a method to get his way. 
Was Bentley a closet alpha male?
Her father was powerful, thanks to the office he held, but he was also gentle and tender, deep-thinking and curious. He was an academic, nothing like this guy, all bluster and brawn. 
Whatever the label, she knew what she wanted in a man—someone smart and well-read. An intellectual. What she wanted was absolutely not what Thomas had to offer, no matter how safe she felt pressed against his chest.


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