Free East of Redemption (Love on the Edge #2) by Molly E. Lee

our gear outside of the four by four in the hotel’s parking lot.
    “Yes. As long as I’m paying for the room, it won’t be towed or searched or anything like that.” Easton fastened one of the GoPro harnesses around the center of his hat before slipping it and the camera on.
    The sable fedora was one my father had given him many years ago. It was stained and well-loved. I was shocked he still had the thing. When he’d left, I assumed he’d gotten rid of everything from our time together—looked like it was just me he didn’t hang on to. And now, as a grown man with sculpted muscles and a dusting of scruff on his chin, he looked a little too much like Indiana Jones for my liking. The movies were a staple in my home growing up, and I hadn’t been able to watch them since my father died. It had hurt too much.
    “And I’ve booked the room for two weeks solid,” Easton continued, rummaging through his pack.
    “Explain to me again why we couldn’t have rented a car for that easy two-hour trip up here?”
    He cut his eyes to me. “Because it isn’t always that easy of a drive. The traffic was low and activity was at a minimum. If it’d been more crowded on the way up here?” He whistled. “This village is so close to the cease-fire lines and the Syrain border . . . if we’d broken down, drawn unnecessary attention to ourselves, it would have at best delayed us. At worst?”
    I held up my hand, not needing him to explain further. One of the risks working in as many countries, continents, and secluded areas as we did was the cultural and governmental policies we had to be careful of. And with the heated tensions between Israel and Syria, which were barely contained by the thin invisible lines that separated them, it was definitely smart to spring for the fully-functional vehicle.
    “Will it take a full two weeks?” I asked after he’d started packing his gear again.
    He shook his head. “Not if everything goes accordingly.”
    “How often does it do that?”
    “That’s why I booked extra time as a precaution.”
    After triple checking the contents of my pack, which was perfectly organized to hold the essentials—like the six MREs I’d managed to cram inside, ten water bottles, the handheld camera, several pairs of dry socks, and just a few non-essentials I always took with me on long treks into unknown terrain—I slipped it on, letting the familiar weight settle over my shoulders.
    I had more MREs in the room, but I couldn’t risk the weight since I had my tent secured to the bottom of the pack, which added extra pounds that could easily burn more energy than either of them were worth. If it came down to it, I knew I could survive off one MRE a day, and if things got extremely bleak, I could follow Easton’s lead and live off whatever we happened to cross paths with.
    “Where are you storing the permits to film, just in case I need to get to them and you’re occupied?” I asked, adjusting the angle of the GoPro fastened to my wide-brimmed hat that was less Indiana Jones and more Dr. Grant.
    Easton’s eyes focused a bit too intently on the zipper of his pack before he slung it over his back.
    “Easton?”
    He sighed. “I don’t have one.”
    “What?”
    He shrugged.
    “Why didn’t your production company acquire one?”
    “Complications. It doesn’t matter. No one knows this location like I do. We won’t get caught.”
    I pinched the bridge of my nose. “At least tell me where the permit to dig and extract is.”
    He pressed his lips together.
    “If we get caught, they’ll confiscate the footage, the treasure, everything.” I popped my hands on my hips like the motion would make him understand the risk more accurately.
    “We won’t. And after we find it, I’ll contact the IAA and set everything straight. This trip was such short notice; I didn’t have time to wait the three to six month period to get approval.”
    I chewed on my bottom lip. This was dangerous, and had Easton written