by Debra Kayn
As much as her brain told her to move away from him, her body froze, then thawed, and not surprisingly, melted.
The alarm kept buzzing.
Mark's gaze intensified and his thigh hardened under her leg. She swallowed as last night's memories surfaced of her waking up screaming.
"Sorry," she mumbled, needing to brush her teeth.
She rolled away from him which elicited a soft moan from Mark. Sitting up on the edge of the bed, she ran her hands over her face. It felt like she'd barely slept.
Sometime during the night, she realized if the police came and investigated the dead dog, they'd ruin everything she'd worked for. The only person who could help her keep the crime a secret was Mark.
"I'll put some coffee on," said Mark.
He appeared in front of her, zipping up his jeans. She stared at his broad, bare shoulders. In all her daydreams, she'd never imagined him soft faced from sleeping and his voice even lower than normal. Or, his body semi-naked.
Gathering her hair, she tried to tame it and said, "When will the police be here?"
He glanced at her and went back to pouring water into the coffee maker. "They won't come."
Relief gave her energy. She stood from the bed and stepped over to the kitchen area. "Why not?"
"The State of Montana is responsible for the area on and around the mountain, that's out of jurisdiction for the county sheriff. Needless to say, they have bigger problems in more populated areas to worry about what happens here." He turned on the maker and turned toward her. "We take care of our own on the mountain, but the state is there if you want to report a crime. It might take them a day or week to swing by."
That was the best news after the horrifying turn yesterday after their trail ride. "So...nobody will be investigating?"
"No, unless you call them."
She crossed her arms, aware that she was braless, wearing his baggy thermals. "No, there's no need. I'll be gone soon."
"Today."
Her gaze snapped to his. "Right. Today," she mumbled.
The coffee dripped, filling the silence. She stared at his chest until it dawned on her that he was covered in scars she hadn't noticed in the dark. Raising her hand, she trailed her finger over the raised edge of the biggest one.
She touched another one lightly, seeing three straight scars about four inches long. "What happened?"
"Dogs." He stepped away from her. "I need to get upstairs. Kyle and Josh are already here. Go ahead and come up when you're dressed. Quint is sending one of his employees over with your luggage and supplies. You're free to spend another night and recover from your scare. You shouldn't be driving when you're tired and upset."
Dismissed, she walked over and gathered her clothes, slipping into the bathroom to dress in private.
He'd been attacked by a dog. No, dogs. He'd definitely said the plural.
She took the borrowed long johns off and held the clothes up to her nose, wishing she could get a whiff of the fresh, outdoorsy scent that she associated with him. But there was nothing.
Getting dressed in yesterday's dusty clothes, she looked around for a hairbrush. At the end of her search, she knew without a doubt that a woman hadn't lived with him recently. The medicine cabinet had a First Aid kit, a package of toothbrushes—which she borrowed one—and a bottle of Tylenol—she took two.
Only when she walked out to find herself alone in the bunker had his reason for the scars clicked in her head.
Dogs.
There was a dead dog in her car.
Knowing what she knew about his past, she also knew without a doubt who was responsible for the dog in her car. Fear pressed in on her. She slipped on her shoes, grabbed her phone, and rushed to the door. Thankful for it being unlocked, she ran up the stairs and barreled into the office.
Once a signal came, she pushed the contact number for her mom. "Come on. Come on," she whispered.
The call connected. "Carly?"
"It's me. Are you okay?" She walked over to the window, looking around the parking area for Mark, making sure he was out of earshot.
"Yes, I was worried about you." Her mom paused. "When I didn't hear from you, I thought—"
"No, I'm okay." She pressed her forehead against the glass. "He's here."
"Oh, Carly," whispered her mom. "What are we going to do?"
"I came here looking for proof." The whiteness of the scars on Mark's chest burned into her brain. "I think I have enough now."
"You're coming home?"
Mark walked into view. She swallowed, following him with her gaze as he started the engine of an ATV. What would happen to him when she left?
"Tomorrow." She straightened and turned away from the window. "I'm going to stay one more day. I want you to call me if he returns before me and I'll go straight to the police. I'll make them listen."
"Please be careful."
In some ways, she was the adult and her mother the child. Long ago, she realized her mom had suffered through more than her fair share of hardships, she no longer was comfortable taking care of herself and needed constant assurance she was doing okay.
It wasn't until Carly was in high school that she realized the reasons behind her mom's lack of self-confidence and desire to hide away from everyone. She remembered the day everything started making sense. Everyone in her English AP class conversed together over the Poet Robert Frost, and instead of joining her classmates, she'd made a list of how to protect her mother.
Her life had changed that day. She was no longer innocent. She'd seen the darkness behind the door.
"I love you, darling."
"I love you, too." She disconnected the call at the same time Mark opened the door and stepped into the office.
He studied her. "Everything okay?"
"Yeah, I called my mom." She slipped the phone in her pocket. "Do you think it would be too big of an inconvenience if I cleaned out my car? Maybe use some dish soap and an old rag?"
"That's why I was coming in. I need your keys. Kyle's going to clean it out for you." He held up his hand when she opened her mouth. "He's a hunter. A little blood isn't going to faze him."
"But, he's a kid." She exhaled in guilt, because it was the one chore she wasn't looking forward to doing but knew it had to be done.
The skin at the corners of his eyes crinkled. "You're a kid, too."
Shocked into speechlessness at seeing amusement from him, she gawked.
He chuckled softly. "At least compared to me."
The last thing she wanted him to do was view her as a child. Gaining her voice, she said, "I'm twenty-four years old."
"I'm forty-seven." He tilted his head and raised his brows. "I win."
"It's not a contest." She wanted to keep him in a better mood but not at her expense. "What can I do until my car is all clean?"
"Go catch up on your sleep." Mark walked over to the desk and sat down. "We have one group coming in an hour for a scheduled ride, but Sundays are typically slower, and there are no guided rides, so I'll be here. You should really think about waiting one more day to leave."
She nodded. "I have, and if you're sure it's okay, I'll take you up on the offer to stay here and leave in the morning."
"It's not a problem."
An ATV rider pulled up to the front of the office. She recognized Quint and frowned. He was supposed to bring her luggage.
Quint strode to the door and stormed inside. She gasped, covering her mouth. In his hand, he held the folder she'd hidden in her clothes.
Chapter 14
Mark jumped out of the chair and planted a hand on Quint's chest, stopping him from getting closer to Carly. His friend's anger was touchable.
"Who the hell are you?" Quint glared at Carly.
"Check it, man." Mark pushed Quint back toward the door. "Calm down and talk to me."
Quint ignored Mark, directing all his attention to Carly. He looked back at Carly. She backed away with her hand covering her mouth. Her wide eyes flashing fear.
/> "She's got everything in here." Quint slapped the file against the front of Mark. "Every fucking thing that happened to us once we escaped Mexico."
Mark's back stiffened. "What?"
"Read it yourself. Everything about Two-crow, Will, you, me, Anders." Quint clenched his teeth. "Joney."
"No." He rocked back on the heels of his boots and ran his hand over his face.
The sting of the truth thrown out in the open about Carly slowed his thinking. He looked between Quint and Carly, feeling the fear radiating around the room from all of them. He and the others had spent their whole life protecting their freedom, staying alive, and trying to end the horrors that followed them.
He'd suspected Carly was connected to Jaster and had tried to convince the others. Then, he fell for her innocence. He wanted to believe she had nothing to do with his enemy.
Carly lowered the hand covering her face. "Please, I need that file."
Quint held his arm up higher as if to keep the evidence safe and out of Carly's reach. Mark's heart pounded in dread. He'd started to believe she had no connection to Jaster. That she wasn't here to cause him harm.
He'd found himself forgetting about the threat to his freedom, his life, and enjoyed her company. The attraction between them almost too hard to fight, he'd spent the night debating with himself whether he should see where things go by kissing her.
"Please." Carly approached Mark. "It's important that I get that file back."
He backed away from her, not trusting himself around her. She knew about his past. His crimes. His life.
He lived each day paranoid that he'd be arrested. That someone would find out what he'd done to the other's sent to kill him. Any jury, not knowing his past, would vote him guilty. Everything he'd worked hard to achieve would be stripped from him, and he'd spend the rest of his days in prison.
The ugly truth about what he'd done facing him and known by Carly struck self-disgust through him.
He had his reasons for the choices he'd made. They all had.
"Do something with her, Mark." Quint grunted. "I can't leave Katelynn."
Fuck. He turned away from them both. Quint and Anders both had women they were responsible for. He understood their positions. He accepted their choices.
"Mark, you don't understand." A hand touched his back.
He jerked away from her and whirled around. "Who are you?"
Positive she was connected to Jaster at the beginning, he'd changed his mind after spending time with her. Was the story about working for an investment firm a lie? The website he looked at a fake?
"I'm who I said I am." Her lips pressed together as she fought to hold back tears. "I'm not here to hurt you or anyone else, honest."
"Bullshit." Quint shook the file. "Everything in here condemns us."
Carly frowned. "No, it's everything that has happened to you, but that's not your fault."
Mark shared a look with Quint, willing him to shut up. Without knowing the contents of the file, he couldn't verify how much trouble they were in or how big of a threat Carly was to them.
One thing was sure. "Call Anders. This is going to take all of us."
Quint pulled out his phone and with one hand, called Anders. Mark stepped over to Carly. Stunned at Quint arriving and learning about a file, he was calmer than he thought he'd be.
"You need to go down into the bunker and wait for us," he said, speaking low.
"I need the file. I'm not leaving without it." She stared up into his eyes. "I promise that I never—"
"Carly." He hardened. "Go in the bunker and wait."
"If I don't get those papers back, my—"
He grabbed her upper arm and pulled her toward the back of the house. Turning deaf ears to her protests, he stopped in front of the stairs. "You've done a lot of damage coming here."
"I didn't—"
He held up his hand, cutting her off. "We will come down and talk to you, but until then, I need you out of my sight."
Her eyes rounded. Shocking her, he said no more. His emotions shutting down, he needed to fix the biggest problem first. Then, he'd deal with her.
She went down the steps and opened the door to the bunker. When she was inside, he locked the main door making sure she stayed put.
Returning to the office, he sat down in the chair and rubbed the back of his neck. If Carly were a man sent to destroy them, he'd kill to protect himself.
But she was a woman.
A woman he had feelings for and wanted to believe had nothing to do with Jaster.
"What do the papers say," he asked.
"There's proof that Jaster, Parker, McCloud, Powell, Durham, and Roberts planned to kidnap each of us and meet up in Albuquerque before taking us into Mexico. Then, there are documents for each hit made on us throughout thirty years. Locations of where we live. Bear Peak. The crosses. And our schedules—what seasons we're open." Quint paced back and forth. "And, a list of men that are missing."
Mark's spine stiffened. "Is there proof that we're responsible?"
Quint tossed the file down in front of him on the desk. "Look for yourself. I need a smoke."
His friend pushed out the door and stood in front of the house. Mark bent his head and opened the folder.
Twenty minutes later and only through half the pages, Mark realized Quint had summed up what information Carly had in her possession. To an outsider reading the material, all six of them were lifelong victims of a group of men who were determined to kill them, burying their crimes.
If Carly only knew what she'd read in the file resulted in he and the others killing the men coming after them, it would destroy all their lives. As far as he could tell, going by the reports, their secret was securely hidden between Anders, Quint, and himself.
They needed to make sure that information never went any further, and that meant making sure Carly couldn't speak.
He looked up as Anders pulled in on his ATV. Quint met him at the door, and together they faced Mark.
Recognizing the fear in both men's eyes, Mark steepled his hands together. "It's all Jaster and the other men's crimes, except for the ones committed in Mexico. There's mention of Joney dying, but not when or how. There also isn't any proof in here about them going after Will and his death. The reports all seem to end almost two years ago."
"Where did that come from?" Anders bent forward and planted his hands on the desk. "From day one, we've never shared the information. Even Iliana doesn't know everything that has transpired. I've protected her."
"Same with Katelynn," said Quint.
Mark looked at them both. "Carly had the information, and I'm going to assume she got it all from one of the six that were responsible for stealing us as kids."
"Which one?" asked Anders.
"At the beginning, I'd assumed Jaster sent her here because he's the only one alive. But, this..." Mark patted the file in front of him. "I don't understand the purpose of her having it. If she works for Jaster or one of the others before we killed them, this information only incriminates them. There's nothing about our crimes. But I don't understand why she'd come here, purposely put herself directly in each of our lives."
"To finish what they started and pick us off one by one," muttered Quint.
"You've verified she works at an investment firm owned by an LCC holding company." Anders inhaled deeply. "There's got to be something there connecting her to them or as a Federal agent or even a journalist on the scent of a story."
"Her intent is obvious. She came here. We need to know why?" Mark stood. "Let's go find out."
"Hold up." Quint crossed his arms. "You might believe her, but at this point, I don't think anything out of her mouth is going to be the truth. Even if we get the whole story, the information she's holding on to is going to fuck us over. We can't let any of that get out."
"She needs something to make her talk," said Anders.
"Jesus." Mark exhaled loudly. "What do you want to do, threaten to kill her to get the info?"
They were his family. The only people he trusted one hundred percent.
Quint lifted his brow. Mark steeled his jaw. He understood their position, but he couldn't kill a woman.
He couldn't kill Carly.
When it all came down to making a decision on what to do with Carly, he didn't believe Quint and Anders would be able to do the task either. Somehow, they'd need to figure out a solution while protecting themselves.
"She wants the file back." Mark stood, grabbing what caused the panic. "Let's see what she'll do for it."
While he preferred to handle Carly on his own, he'd taken an oath at fifteen years old that he would never leave the others behind.
Chapter 15
Mark walked into the bunker, followed by Quint and Anders. Carly stood from the couch, cupping her elbows, sick to her stomach. Getting caught was never in her plan. She had no idea how she would convince them to give her back the file.
She understood why they were upset. She could even understand why they'd refuse to give her the collection of reports back. Her eyes burned. From Mark's viewpoint, she deserved nothing, and without knowing why she was here, they were right.
The men's boots thunked on the floor, echoing in the small area. Mark refused to look at her. She gazed down at the file in his hand. Angry at herself for letting a dead dog in her car distract her to what was most important in her life.
He passed the file to Quint and motioned for Carly to sit back down. She perched on the edge of the couch, keeping her mouth shut. From experience, she knew arguing with him or even pushing her opinion onto him would make him argumentative and stubborn.
She glanced up at the other two men. Even though she'd stayed at both of their establishments, she never got a chance to know them or figure out their personalities. That wasn't why she'd come to the Bitterroot Mountains.
The only reason she knew Mark better was because she found herself attracted to him despite knowing she wasn't staying in the area long or going to interrupt his life. He fascinated her.
