by Debra Kayn
"I'm going to walk over and talk to Mark. Do you want to go with me?" She stood, brushing off the back of her bare legs.
Her mom's eyes remained closed. "I'll stay here. The sun feels wonderful."
She pulled out the cooler and set it in front of her mom's chair. "Here. Put your feet up. You can nap."
"I just might." Her mom peeked at her through her lashes. "I didn't sleep well last night."
"I know." She smiled sadly. "I don't think any of us did."
She walked toward the garage, leaving her mom to her peace. Rubbing her side, she felt naked without the shoulder holster and pistol. The guys thought it best if she kept it off for the day. They were afraid her father would become suspicious if she had a weapon and with the men around, there was no use for her to have a gun, too.
She stopped on the other side of the ATV Mark was filling with gasoline. "Need help?"
"I've got it." He looked up and tightened the cap on the tank. "Your mom doing okay?"
"She's soaking up the sun." She glanced over her shoulder. "Actually, she seems okay, relaxed. She mentioned taking a nap in the chair."
He motioned her to follow him to the next rental quad. "How are you doing?"
"Okay." She shrugged. "He should've landed an hour ago, right?"
He nodded, pouring gas into the tank. No one expected her dad to drive right over and cause a scene. Apparently, most of his attacks happened in the early evening or in the dark. But they believed he'd be out there somewhere scoping the place out, and they felt it was important for her father to see her and mom hanging around the guys.
Until her dad acted, her mom would be staying in the bunker at night.
"I missed sleeping with you," she whispered.
He put the container on the ground. "You slept with me."
"On the couch." She sulked. "It's not the same, and you know it."
He patted the seat. "Hop on."
She slid her leg over the ATV. When she settled, he kissed her. Grabbing onto the attention and his shirt, she held him close. The pressure in her chest increased, and emotions choked her up.
He ducked down and looked at her. "Are you really okay?"
"No." She sniffed. "I'm scared to death that something will happen to you or mom."
"Hey." He cupped her hand in both of his. "I'm going to do everything in my power to keep your mom safe."
"What about you?" She blinked hard to keep the tears at bay. "I don't want to lose you."
"You're not going to lose me."
"What about when this is over?" She hated the vibration building inside of her, ready to explode. "What happens then? Will I ever see you again? Will you even want me?"
"Jesus," he muttered. "I will always want you. Never doubt that."
"You've had to have thought about what this all means to us though." She glanced up at him. "I don't even know how you can like me knowing who my father—"
"Carly." He kneeled by the ATV and forced her to look at him. "My birth parents gave me up. I was raised by the state until I was kidnapped. You know a lot of what happened afterward in my life and the things I've done. Does that change how you feel about me?"
She shook her head. "Of course not."
"Same goes for me." He hooked her neck, pulling her down for a kiss. "You think too much, and all of your worries can be talked about on a different day. Okay?"
He straightened and motioned her to start the ATV. She sighed. Today seemed fragile, and she hated the feeling.
"Take it into the garage to Anders. He's checking the oil on all the rentals," said Mark.
She turned the key, put it in High gear, and rode it into the garage. Leaving the 4-wheeler with Anders, she loitered around, stretching her legs. While her body was tired, her mind worked overtime.
"TODAY LOOKS LIKE A bust." Quint checked his phone inside the office.
Mark stared out the window, hoping to see headlights but there was no sign of traffic. "We'll try again tomorrow. He's going to have to make a move. His schedule only had him here for three days. Maybe he's waiting until before he has to fly back to New Mexico, thinking he'll hit us and run."
"Probably." Anders stretched his back. "The women can't go through too much of waiting around. Iliana and Katelynn are going to go stir-crazy in the bunker, and I could tell that Evie was dragging her feet when she came inside tonight."
"We'll start the same time tomorrow. Be aware that he's here." Mark turned at the sound of feminine voices. "We can't lose focus."
Iliana and Katelynn walked into the room, their conversation stopping at the sight of them. After saying goodnight and to watch their back as they got the women in the vehicles, Mark locked the door, turned out the lights, and went down into the bunker.
If Jaster showed up now, he was on his own.
Six hours later, at three o'clock in the morning, he got his first sign that Jaster was outside when barking dogs woke him up. He shifted Carly off his chest and rolled to his feet. The noise and movement never bothered her. She continued sleeping.
Hurrying over to the monitor, he braced his hands on the desk and stared at the screen. It took almost fifteen minutes for the dogs to get close enough to spot their glowing eyes.
A shiver went down his spine. He rotated his shoulders.
While he waited for a sign of Jaster, he texted the others from the satellite phone. There was nothing they could do tonight. The bunker kept everyone safe, and it would be foolish for him to go out there and leave the women alone.
The barking grew quieter. He straightened and crossed his arms over his bare chest. Waiting another twenty minutes, he turned to walk back to the couch and spotted Evie sitting up in bed.
"He's here," she whispered.
It wasn't a question. She knew.
"Get some rest. Morning is going to come early," he said.
Returning to the couch, he moved Carly, making enough room for him. Holding her in his arms, he closed his eyes.
But sleep evaded him.
Michael Jaster was outside, and he wanted the woman Mark was falling in love with.
Chapter 34
Quint and Anders stood off to the side of the office. Carly faced each one of them in her frustration. Her suggestions on how to deal with her father went ignored.
She looked to Mark for support and held her phone in front of her. "If I call him, there's a chance he'll come here looking for my mom."
"No." The stubborn tilt of Mark's chin remained.
She went to him, ready to plead her case. "What's it going to hurt? He's already got us all living like prisoners."
Mark cupped her face with his hands and leaned down until he was inches from her. "We've been playing his sick game our whole lives. You have to trust me that calling him, trying to meet him somewhere away from the mountain, or even attempting to find him is a waste of time. We've all tried, and we've failed. Every single time. The only way we can end this is on his terms and be ready if or when he decides that's going to be."
"But—"
"Carly." He paused. "I know this is hard on you, but we all need to wait."
He kissed her lightly and stepped away. She whispered, "You've never had my mother and his daughter before. Things will be different this time."
Whether he chose to ignore her or she hadn't spoken loud enough to get through his one-track mind, he continued to walk across the room and join the others.
Her mom approached her and took the cell phone out of Carly's hand. "Mark's right, darling. We need to let them go about dealing with your father in their own way. You have to understand that changing things because you're involved isn't comfortable for them. They need to do what they feel strongest in doing."
"It just feels like we've waited so long for him to pay for his crimes. Now, we're finally at the point where something can be done to stop him, and it seems more difficult than it needs to be."
Carly's mom put her arm around her. "Maybe you should go in the bunker and be with the other women.
Take a break from everything going on here."
"It's only noon. There are things I can do to help around here." She turned and looked at the desk. "I could put the mess of papers Mark shoves in the drawer in order of dates."
"You do that, and I'll go sit outside for a while and give you some peace and quiet." Her mom rubbed her back. "When you want, I'll be here for you."
Looking at her mom, she nodded. "Thanks."
"Anything for you, darling." Her mom gave her a sad smile.
Taking in her mom, she appeared smaller today. More tired. Older.
Mark failed to understand the amount of stress her mother was going through. She inhaled deeply, incredibly frustrated at not being heard. Unable to do anything but try to be more patient, she'd throw herself into keeping busy.
"It's probably warm enough now you can take off Mark's sweatshirt if you're going to sit in the sun." She tugged on her mom's sleeve. "You don't want to get extra hot and get rundown or develop a headache."
"I will when it's a little warmer. I'm still chilly." Her mom let her go.
She stepped over and sat at the desk. The men walked outside and headed toward the garage.
Her mom followed them out and sat in the lawn chair. It was a repeat of yesterday.
She pulled out a stack of rental release papers Mark had all customers sign when they came into Discover the Bitterroot. Separating them by month, she then went back through and put each pile in numerical order. She missed working at the investment firm.
The mundane work in the file room and doing research for the different partners had given her something to keep her mind busy and provided money for her to sock into savings. She pursed her lips. She'd called it her vacation fund when in reality it was the money she hoped to use when she finally convinced her mother to leave Albuquerque with her.
A truck pulled into the parking lot. Studying the new arrivals, she finished sorting the paperwork, knowing a man and woman had arrived. It wasn't her father.
She slid the stack of papers into the drawer and grabbed more from the haphazard pile when a dog's barking intensified. Unable to see from her sitting position, she walked to the window and spotted a big, black dog running across the parking lot toward the garage.
Her mom stood from the chair and shielded her eyes from the sun. Curious to know what was going on, she walked outside and found Mark standing in front of the garage door. The excited dog jumping circles in front of him.
"Get him out of here," roared Mark, his hands halfway in the air.
It wasn't the sound of Mark yelling or the way he stood that sent her running across the parking lot toward him. It was the pistol in his hand and his darting eyes.
He was scared of dogs, rightly so.
But the lab in front of him had come from the new arrivals' truck. The dog was someone's pet. It only wanted someone to play with.
Knowing she wasn't going to make it all the way to him before he shot the dog in his fear of being attacked, she stopped halfway and whistled.
"Come on, boy. Come here." She clapped her hands on her thighs. "Come here, puppy."
The dog landed on all four paws, turned its head in her direction.
Whistling again, she squatted to make herself more pet-friendly. "That's it, boy. Come here."
"Carly, no," yelled Mark, aiming his pistol at the dog.
The dog's owners rushed toward Mark. Carly's scream caught in her throat and she stood, hurrying after them. Anders and Quint stood behind Mark in the open doorway of the garage. They all had weapons pointed at the dog.
The owners, unaware they'd walked into a firing zone, surrounded the dog. The man caught the canine by its collar.
Carly stopped several feet from Mark. He paid no attention to anyone but the dog.
"I am so sorry." The woman leaned down and petted the dog. "Hunter jumped out of the truck when I opened my door. He's just a big pup and thinks everyone wants to play with him."
"We thought we'd take him on a UTV ride, get him used to riding in the back before duck hunting season begins." The man jerked around, dragged by the dog. "Once he loses some of his puppy energy and grows into his body, he'll listen."
"Get the dog off my property." Mark never lowered the gun.
"Hey, now. No harm." The man held up one hand, moving back with the dog in tow. "You don't need to point—"
"Please, leave," she said.
Afraid Mark would do something he regretted, she moved forward trying to diffuse the situation. Stepping between him and the apparent customers, she turned her back to Mark. "I'm sorry. There're no dogs allowed on the rentals or on the property. You'll have to leave." She forced her voice to stay calm.
The guests looked between her and Mark. Their brows lowered, confused by the news.
They managed to pull the dog back to their truck without causing a scene. Carly exhaled. The last thing they needed was trouble and a distraction from anticipating her father arriving.
Waiting until the truck pulled out of the lot and got back on the road before she gave Mark her full attention, she shook. That was too close of a call.
She turned around and found Mark standing with his arms at his sides, and the pistol pointed at the ground. His eyes flashed in anger directed at her.
She looked to Quint and Anders for help in diffusing the situation, and they remained in the garage in a copy-cat position as Mark. Guns at their sides, except there was no anger. Only fear.
Walking toward Mark, she stopped in front of him. Her heart pounded. With everything happening and the frustrations each of them struggled with, having Mark upset with her was too much.
"It's okay now." She reached for him.
He moved away from her and shoved his pistol in his holster. "Don't you ever fucking do that again."
Taken back by the volatile tremor in his husky voice, she stepped away. Reeling from his anger, she hurried toward the house. Hurt that something normal would make him react irrationally, she remembered the dogs that he'd shot. The confessions of what her father had done to him and the others when they were only boys. The scars on his body. The ugly fights he took part in.
She plopped down in the lawn chair next to her mother. Her eyes burned from the unshed tears. When it came to Mark, her emotions were difficult to control. How was she supposed to understand what he goes through every time he sees a dog? How could she not understand what it would be like for him to face one of his biggest fears?
The contradiction of being mad at him and disappointed in herself made her miserable.
"Is Mark okay?" asked her mom.
She rubbed her eyes. "I honestly don't know."
The fact that her mom could sit there calm as can be and not think what happened was abnormal spoke volumes of the sheltered life she'd lived. Carly stared over at the garage, not seeing Mark and hoping the others were calming him down.
She wasn't afraid of him hurting her but hurting himself or going too far and living with the guilt of killing more dogs. To know that he and the others lived with the traumatic experiences of their childhood every single day made her understand how important it was to put an end to her father's murderous attempts on their lives.
Her stomach rolled. She pressed a hand to her middle. To see and feel the devastation in her father's wake, not only on her mom, but three grown men who by looking at them could physically take her father down took her back to the time she found the file and heard the beginning of her mother's past.
She felt sick. Disgusted. Livid. Miserable.
Her mom set Carly's phone on the arm of the chair. She picked it up. Mark was right. She couldn't call her dad. The anger she'd shoved down for years to support her mom on top of the rage of learning the reports in the file would make her do or say something stupid.
She gagged. Jumping from the chair, she ran into the house and went to the bathroom where she lost the contents of her breakfast.
Chapter 35
Mark went into the house. "Carly?"
&nb
sp; He walked down the hallway, looking in the kitchen and the bathroom. Finding her bent over the sink, washing her face, he stayed in the open doorway.
The sound of her sobs like a sledgehammer pounding against his chest.
Afraid to touch her, to help her, to console her and make things worse than the damage he'd already done to her outside, he grabbed the doorframe.
Carly straightened and caught sight of him in the mirror. Her face scrunched up, and she pitched herself toward him. He hugged her against his chest, holding her heaving body. No sound came from her lips, only full body wave after wave of inconsolable hurt.
He stroked her back and kissed the top of her head. "Fuck, Carly. You stepped in front of my pistol and with the dog there, I don't even trust myself. If anything would've happened to—"
"I know." She squirmed against him, putting her arms around his neck and holding him tight. "I shouldn't have done that, and I shouldn't have pressured you earlier about calling my dad and put you in a bad mood. It just makes me so mad. Everything is his fault. I hate him. I wish he were dead."
Mark closed his eyes. She'd have her wish soon.
"Are you okay?" She lifted her head and framed his face with her hands, tilting his chin down. "I'm so sorry about the dog and how I reacted. I only wanted to save you from dealing—"
"Don't." He inhaled deeply. "We're both...put in an impossible situation."
He couldn't allow himself to feel the emotions he was. There was no room in his life to take responsibility for someone else when he couldn't even take care of himself. Another man, a better man, would've protected her first and not worried about the dog.
"Why don't you go in the bunker, away from everything, and visit with Iliana and Katelynn." He looked into her sad eyes. "I can even send your mom down—"
"No, I need to follow through." She sniffled. "Mom's probably worried, and she does better if I'm with her."
"You're sure you'll be okay?" At that moment, he knew if she weren't, he'd change his plans. He'd make sure she would be okay. Michael Jaster and all the shit he'd caused, would not touch her again, and if it were better for her not to be in his life, he'd let her go. The only thing he wanted was for her to be happy.
