by Sydney Logan
“Where’s the plane?”
Gabe doesn’t even blink. “At a hangar outside of town. Gas it up?”
I sigh. “Look, I don’t have to explain to you how dangerous this could get.”
“So don’t try. It’s always been dangerous. Do you seriously think I’m going to desert you now?”
“I don’t want you getting killed, Gabe.”
“Let me worry about me,” he says, nodding toward the balcony. “You need to worry about her.”
“I’ll take care of her.”
“I have no doubt,” he says firmly. “Make your call. I’ll gas up the plane. Where are we headed?”
“Not sure yet. I’ll let you know.”
Gabe nods. “I’ll call when we’re ready.”
I thank him and wait until he’s gone before calling Coop’s sister. Bracing myself, I search through my phone until I find Cara’s name.
“It’s about time, Ethan Summers. The police called last night.”
Cara Donovan has never been my biggest fan. In her mind, I’ve always been the bad guy. The asshole who pulled her brother into an international life of crime. And now, I’m the asshole who got him killed.
“Look, Cara. Even you can’t hate me as much as I hate myself right now.”
“I seriously doubt that. I have so many things to say to you, but I’ll be saying them in person. My flight leaves from Oklahoma City in four hours. Give me your address.”
I give her the name of the hotel, and she hangs up without another word.
“That didn’t sound good.” Jenna says.
I hadn’t heard her come back inside. She’s lying on the bed, staring up at the ceiling.
“It wasn’t.” I join her and gently pull her next to me. “She’s coming here. It won’t be pretty, so be prepared.”
She nods. “I called Jason. He’s catching a flight this afternoon. He wants to take her home to Texas.
I hold her close. “I know it’s not up to us, but I feel very strongly that they should be buried together.”
I feel her entire body shudder against mine, and she begins to cry once again.
I’m grateful when Cara and Jason arrive at the hotel within minutes of each other. I’m selfish, I know, but it keeps us from having to tell the story twice.
Once is plenty.
I awkwardly shake Jason’s hand while Cara introduces herself to Jenna. Jason and Cara take a seat together on the couch, while Jenna and I sit on the loveseat. Jason’s face is haggard and shell-shocked, while Cara looks like she’s ready to claw my eyes out.
“You just left them there?” Cara asks through gritted teeth.
“No, I didn’t just leave them there. I was with them until the firemen carried them away.”
Her eyes narrow. “Afraid you’d get caught, huh?”
“I don’t give a shit about getting caught! Don’t you think I’d gladly go to prison for the rest of my life if I could change what happened last night?”
Jenna squeezes my hand, and I will myself to control my temper. I know Cara’s upset, and she has every right to be, but he was my best friend. Does she really think I’d leave him to die?
“Cara, there was nothing he could do,” Jenna says softly. “They were already gone.”
“No thanks to the two of you.”
I feel Jenna’s body tremble next to me. This time, I squeeze her hand.
“We don’t know who’s to blame,” Jason says.
I do.
Cara shoots him a hateful glare. “You’re pretty calm about this. Didn’t you love your sister at all?”
“Don’t you dare question my love for my sister. I just know that blaming Jenna and Ethan isn’t going to bring them back.”
Cara’s eyes fill with tears. “He would have followed you anywhere, Ethan. He would have done anything for you.”
“I know that. And the feeling was mutual. He was my brother, Cara.”
“No, Ethan. He was my brother. Mine.”
I take a deep breath. Jenna lays her head against my shoulder.
“Coop loved your sister,” Cara says, turning toward Jason. “We didn’t talk much because he knew that I didn’t approve of all this, but he mentioned her every time we talked.”
“They were getting out,” Jenna says. “They were engaged. This was their last job.”
Cara chokes back a sob.
“Then they should be together,” Jason says firmly.
Jenna and I both sigh with relief. Cara nods in agreement, and the two of them quietly begin to make plans.
It’s late when Cara and Jason decide to check into their own rooms and get some rest. Tomorrow, they’ll speak with the authorities and make arrangements to have the bodies flown home. I have no idea which home, and I don’t ask. Hopefully in time, they’ll tell us.
Before they left—and without our prompting—Jason assured us he wouldn’t mention our involvement to the cops. Cara made no such promise, but I’m not worried. If she does, she does. I can’t control Cara Donovan.
Besides, by tomorrow, we’ll be gone.
Jenna offers me a sad smile before climbing into bed next to me.
“I wish you’d eat something.”
“I will if you will.”
“Tomorrow,” she says, settling herself against the pillow. I reach over and turn off the light before pulling her close to my side.
“Tomorrow.”
The quiet night settles over us, but despite my exhaustion, I find it impossible to close my eyes. I dread the nightmares that are sure to come.
“Dean texted me. He wants to help us.”
“Sweetheart, it’s not safe for him.”
“That’s what I told him, too. He knows who I am.”
I sigh. “That didn’t take long.”
“He says he doesn’t care. That he can tell I’m a good person. I didn’t have the heart to tell him he’s wrong.”
“Hey,” I whisper, gently lifting her chin. “You are a good person.”
“So are you, but do you feel like a good person right now?”
I can’t argue with that.
Jenna’s fingertips gently trace my face.
“Take me home, Ethan.”
Home?
“Sweetheart, I can’t take you home. By tomorrow morning, we’ll make national headlines. It’s not safe for your dad.”
She laughs softly, but it’s not a happy laugh. It’s laced with pain and sorrow and guilt.
“There’s only one place in this world that has ever felt like home, and I promise it wasn’t at my dad’s.”
I’m still confused when she lifts her face toward mine. She kisses me softly.
“Please take me home.”
It’s a plea, soft and desperate, and I groan with understanding as her mouth molds to mine.
Later, after she’s fallen asleep, I carefully pull myself out of her arms just long enough to send Gabe a text. It’s three simple words, but I know he’ll understand.
Take us home.
Heavy rain pounds on the tin roof of the cabin. Despite the raging storm, the rain is a comforting sound that, combined with her sedative, coaxes Jenna to sleep the instant her head hits the pillow. She seems . . . okay. Truthfully, her entire demeanor changed once I finalized the flight plan with Gabe. I’d even convinced her to eat something on the plane.
Her plea to come to the mountains thrilled me more than she could ever know. This place has always been my sanctuary—a place where I can rest and reenergize before running off to the next heist. The cabin is sacred and secluded . . . my one and only home.
Now it’s our home.
Coming back to Tennessee is the ideal solution. We can stay here for a while—just long enough to rest and recuperate, and then we’ll be off to Greece. We both know it. We haven’t formulated a plan—haven’t even discussed revenge—but she and I are too much alike, and I know we’re thinking the same thing. Facing Stavros is inevitable, but for now, we need to lay low. We also need to grieve, an
d my mountain home is the perfect place to do it.
I sit in a chair next to the window, listening to her soft snores as they mix with the crashing rain resonating off the roof. The sky illuminates with lightning bolts that give quick, sporadic glimpses of the Smokies. These beautiful mountains will shield us from the outside world until we’re ready to face it.
“Ethan?”
I turn away from the window to find her sitting up in my bed. Our sleeping arrangements weren’t even discussed. We weren’t leaving each other’s sight . . . not even for a minute.
“I’m here, sweetheart.”
Jenna’s long red hair falls loosely against her shoulders, and her eyes are wide as they adjust to the darkness of the room. Lightning casts a soft glow across her face, but she doesn’t even flinch. She knows she’s safe here.
“You should sleep, Ethan.”
With a heavy sigh, I walk over and climb into the bed. Sleep might have come easily to her, but I hadn’t even tried. Last night, my dreams had been filled with screams and flames and smoke, and I wasn’t in the mood to relive any of it.
“Did you even try?” she asks, snuggling into my arms.
“No.”
We gaze at each other, and her soft hand gently caresses my face.
“You’re exhausted. Please try one of my sleeping pills. It’s just an over-the-counter bottle I keep in the first aid kit.”
“I don’t like taking medicine, Jenna. I’ll be okay.”
She sighs softly. “Then at least close your eyes.”
Her warm touch, her sweet voice, and the soothing rain make it hard to resist, and my eyes grow heavy. I am exhausted—mentally and physically drained—but I’m afraid to try. If I close my eyes, I’ll see them, and I don’t want to see them.
“I’ll try.”
I wrap the blanket around us, and Jenna quickly falls back to sleep. My eyes, however, remain open until the early light of dawn.
The next day we take a walk along the property. Thanks to last night’s storm, the backyard is fairly muddy, but that doesn’t seem to bother her. Jenna’s mesmerized by the glistening trees and the Smoky Mountain air—a scent even more potent after a rainstorm. Jenna might have grown up in the country, but even she’s fascinated by the mountain mist that’s settled over the Smokies after a long night of rain.
“I’d stay here forever if I could,” she says softly.
You can.
It’s on the tip of my tongue, but then she spots some wildflowers in the distance, and she runs off. She’s the picture of innocence as she pulls a daisy from the soggy ground and places it behind her ear. Then she turns and smiles at me—her first real smile in days. It’s impossible not to smile back, and suddenly I feel it. That crazy connection the two of us have always shared but never really understood.
I understand it now.
“You look so serious,” Jenna says when she joins me once again. She slips her hand into mine as we continue to walk. “What are you thinking about?”
She’s not ready to hear the things I want to say, and in all honesty, I’m not quite sure I’m ready to say them. Not now. Not like this.
But soon. Very soon.
“I was actually thinking about our parents.”
“Me, too.”
It’s not a complete lie. I’ve had the urge to call them since we’d arrived in Tennessee. By now they’ve surely heard the news, and I don’t want them thinking we’re dead. Contacting them is a risk, but we both agree it’s a necessary one.
We head back to the cabin to make our calls. Mine is much shorter than Jenna’s. The conversation with my folks was loud and consisted of a lot of ‘Yes, Mom. I’m fine’ and ‘No, Dad, I’m not coming home.’ Jenna’s talk with her father was a little quieter. At one point, I offer to give her some privacy, but she refuses to let me leave the room, holding my hand firmly while we sit on the couch. I try to follow their conversation, but I give up completely when I hear her promise for the hundredth time that she’s nowhere near the Grand Canyon.
I have no idea what that means, and I’m too exhausted to decipher it.
The days pass. Minnie and Joe arrive each night for dinner, and each evening, Jenna eats a little more. It’s progress. She’s still quiet, but at least she’s calm and sleeping through the night.
I’m glad one of us can.
While Jenna keeps her mind occupied with reading books or picking wildflowers, my head is becoming increasingly consumed with thoughts of revenge. I can only assume Stavros wanted to kill us all—all of us except for the Wonder Twins. I still don’t have a plan in mind, but I have several scenarios running through my head, and all of them end with his very violent death.
I don’t share these thoughts with Jenna. She’s not ready.
It’s at night, when the house is quiet and Jenna’s sound asleep in my arms, that my mind conjures images of our best friends’ bodies in the stairwell. During these moments, my grief and guilt consume me. Sleep comes sometimes, but it’s fitful and brief. Brief is probably a good thing. The memories are bad enough when I’m awake. I’m not ready to endure the same nightmares when my eyes are closed.
Each morning, Jenna asks if I slept, and I always say a little. She doesn’t need to know how little, but I have a feeling I won’t be able to fool her much longer.
It’s been four days since we arrived at the cabin, and I know Ethan hasn’t had a good night’s sleep since we arrived. He tries to pretend he’s not exhausted, but I know better. His fatigue has apparently made him forget how well we know each other and how easily we can interpret each other’s moods. Even if I couldn’t read him like a book, the dark circles under his eyes and his slightly slurred speech totally gives him away. Minnie and Joe notice it, too, but they pretend otherwise. They’re probably used to not asking questions by now, and that’s a good thing. We’ve put enough people in danger.
I thought the cabin was the perfect solution. We could hide here while we came to grips with our grief. My heart is heavy and sad, but thanks to my over-the-counter sleeping pills, I’m able to sleep at night. I’ve always had trouble sleeping—with our life, who wouldn’t?—but I’m careful and only use them when I absolutely need them.
I’ve needed them this week.
Ethan won’t even try to sleep, and it’s beginning to scare me. So much so that I’ve considered slipping one of my sleeping pills into his glass at dinner. I can only imagine how devastating his nightmares must be if he’s too afraid to close his eyes. Still, I know something has to be done.
I’m not surprised when Minnie finally speaks up.
“He’s not eating,” she says, nodding toward his untouched plate.
Ethan and Joe have already excused themselves and headed out to the porch, leaving us with the dishes. Not that I mind. I need the girl talk.
“Or sleeping.”
“What’s happened?”
I sigh and cover his plate, placing it in the fridge. Minnie places the empty glasses in the dishwasher while I try to come up with a vague but honest answer.
“Minnie, it’s so complicated. The less you know, the bett—”
“Do you think we don’t watch the news? Do you think we don’t know exactly the kind of lives you live?”
I’m actually relieved. “So you know.”
“We know enough. We don’t understand it, but we love him, no matter what. Ethan’s been good to us. Joe and I worry so much when he’s gone. At least when he’s here, we know he’s not out there threatening to get himself killed.” Minnie smiles softly at me. “You can’t imagine how happy we are that he’s found you.”
“Minnie, it’s not really like that.”
“Oh, please,” she says, chuckling. “It’s exactly like that. Maybe you don’t see the way he looks at you, but I do. And I see the way you look at him. And he brought you here—not once, but twice.”
“It was actually my idea to come here this time.”
“And he brought you straight here, didn’t he?”
>
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because he wants to keep me safe.”
“Which brings me back to my original question. What’s happened?”
“Minnie, I can’t tell you that. It’s just too dangerous.”
She nods in understanding. “I’ve never seen him like this. He loves my chicken parmesan. The boy barely touched his plate.”
“I know.”
“What about you? Are you sleeping?”
“Yeah, but I take a sleeping pill. He refuses.”
Minnie shakes her head. “I’m not surprised. He won’t even take an aspirin.”
She starts the dishwasher, and I head back to the table. Collapsing in a chair, I bury my face in my hands.
“It’s really no wonder he can’t sleep. I didn’t see the things he saw that night. He says that every single time he closes his eyes . . .” I choke back a sob. I know I’m saying too much. “I don’t know how to help him, Minnie. He’s concentrating so hard on taking care of me, but I know he’s about to lose it.”
She sits by my side, gently patting my hand.
“Have you asked him to try?”
“Of course.”
“No, I mean, have you really asked him to try. I think he’d do just about anything for you, Jenna.”
I blink away my tears. She wants me to guilt him into eating?
“I . . . don’t know if it’s that simple.”
“Maybe not, but isn’t it worth a shot?”
My tears become uncontrollable then, and the sweet woman tenderly brushes my hair away from my tear-stained face.
I hear the screen door slam.
“What’s wrong with her?”
In a flash, Ethan’s by my side.
“Jenna, what is it?”
I sniffle. “I’m fine.”
“She is not fine,” Minnie says. “She’s worried about you.”
Ethan’s weary eyes dart from her and back to me. The circles that surround his eyes are even darker tonight, and his face looks gaunt and pained. Very gently, I trace the shadowy skin beneath his eyes, and I hear him sigh.
Our eyes don’t leave each other’s faces as Minnie and Joe excuse themselves, promising to be back for breakfast.
