Find Me Series (Book 4): Where Hope is Lost

by Dawson, Trish Marie

  Drake didn’t bother to turn around and look at her. He rose his mug into the air and chuckled. “If that’s true, you better lock the doors tonight. The dog wasn’t happy.”

  Kris stared hard at him and then snuggled closer to his leg. “Really?”

  “Stop, Drake,” Connor said. “You’re scaring the women.”

  “Pfft,” he sneered. “I ain’t scaring the women, am I?” He glanced over his shoulder and asked Ashlyn, “You scared?” She shrugged. “How about you, Kris? Am I scaring you?” He smiled, and she relaxed into the couch.

  “No,” she said, shy and quiet.

  “The dog’s just doing what dogs do best. She’s being protective. Probably heard an old tree falling from two miles away is all.” He gave her his best smile, though what he said was a lie.

  Before nightfall, Drake was going to lock every window and door in the lodge, including his own. There were others on the mountain, they all knew it. Eventually, the dog was going to get strong enough to chase her way up the slopes and find them. Drake didn’t think it would end well. In fact, he was certain blood would be spilled. The dog was trying to warn them of danger, and Drake had every intention of leaving the lodge before the slopes were clear enough to run. Their location had them at a disadvantage, and he had no intention of sticking around where danger lurked, not while Riley was somewhere out there on her own.

  CONNOR

  He woke up drenched in sweat, with Ashlyn’s bare arm draped across his stomach. Connor couldn’t remember how it got there, and in a panic, slid out of the bed and quietly retreated into the bathroom. He dipped his hand into the clean water bucket he kept next to the sink, and splashed his face. All he’d had to drink before bed was one scotch; he wasn’t drunk.

  His body was still trembling from a nightmare, this one about his son, who haunted him often. But he shook for another reason, too. As he paced the small bathroom, he thought it was something like fear, maybe dread. What had he done? Just as he was about to dunk his entire head into the water bucket, there was a gentle knock on the bathroom door. Shit, he thought. It was her. Ash. What was he supposed to say to her?

  “Are you okay?” she asked softly through the door.

  “Um,” he mumbled, not sure how to answer. He was dressed in his usual sleep clothes, sweats and a shirt, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t had sex. Sweat broke out on his upper brow. He pulled his waistband out and glanced down. Nothing unusual. Not helpful.

  “Kevan…I mean…Connor? Can I come in?”

  He blanched. “I’ll be right out.”

  Her voice was tiny, like a mouse. “Okay.”

  He waited almost five minutes before opening the door. Ashlyn was sitting cross-legged at the foot of the bed, with his sleeping bag wrapped around her shoulders. Though he couldn’t see all of her, he could tell she was fully dressed. She didn’t move when he came out of the bathroom.

  “Hey,” he said.

  “Hey.”

  Slowly, he circled the bed, and sat on the edge a good two feet from her. “Did I wake you when I got up?”

  “No, I don’t think so. The storm did.” She glanced at the window, where snow had stuck to the bottom corners of the sill. “I woke up cold. I hope it’s okay that I came in here? The storm was freaking me out. I didn’t want to sleep alone.”

  Thank God, he thought, relieved on so many levels. They hadn’t had sex. “Of course,” he said. “I get it.” He pointed at the pillows and stretched out, patting the space next to him. She crawled back up the bed and draped the sleeping bag over the comforter and slid under the sheets beside him.

  “Thanks,” she mumbled.

  He waited for her to settle into the crook of his left arm, and tucked the right one under his pillow. It was only sleep, he told himself. Nothing wrong with that. After he closed his eyes, he could almost pretend that it was Riley snuggled up against his side. The longer he pictured her in his mind, the more he felt her next to him. That sexy curve of her hip. The lean muscle of her thigh. The suppleness of her breasts. He pictured his hand brushing against her skin, feeling every inch of her, inhaling the coconut smell of her hair, tasting the sweetness of her tongue. Connor could feel her eager hands roaming his body, too, lightly dancing across his abdomen and probing along his hip flexors. With his eyes closed, his breathing hitched when Riley’s fingertips trailed down his hairline beyond his waistband and gripped his cock, which was already dutifully standing at full attention. His breathing quickened almost to a pant as her warm fingers gripped him and began to pump up and down, slowly at first, deliberately, her thumb rubbing the tip, teasing him. As the pace picked up, so did his heart rate. And then her mouth was on him. He kept his eyes squeezed shut and grabbed her hair, thrusting gently against each suck. When he came, the world exploded into stardust, and he moaned her name with pleasure.

  The bed sheets were ripped away from his body and Connor’s eyes flew open. Ashlyn pushed herself up, and wiped her lower lip with the back of her hand. “What the fuck did you just call me?”

  DRAKE

  He’d done three swipes of the hallway, and looked in on Kris and the dog every time he passed their room, making sure that both were safely in bed. The weather made him restless. The dog’s behavior earlier made him nervous. Like something was coming, something other than the storm.

  He was passing Connor’s room when the door flung open and Ashlyn stumbled out in tears. They collided into each other, and he grabbed her arm to steady her, but she slapped his hand away and ran the few doors down the hall to her own room, and locked herself inside. Connor burst into the hall after, calling for her. Apologizing.

  It was dark, and the only light was the flashlight that Drake held. He pointed the pale white beam up and down Connor’s body, hovering over the loose waistband that hung a bit too low and crooked on his hips. When he looked back up at the man, he knew what had happened.

  Connor hitched his pants up and then threw his hands out. “It’s not what it looks like.”

  Drake backed away from him, keeping the light on Connor’s startled face. “I think it’s exactly what it looks like,” he stated.

  “No, Drake,” Connor argued, stepping forward. “Wait, let me explain.”

  Drake laughed curtly. “Don’t bother. At least one of us is getting screwed.”

  “Jesus, no. I mean…”

  “I’m curious, man,” Drake wondered. “Was Riley just a piece of ass to you, too?”

  Drake wasn’t quick enough to dodge Connor’s fist, and it struck the side of his jaw, just under his left ear. The pain was instant, like being underwater and listening to the dull sound of metal striking metal. He dropped the light and swung back, cursing under his breath as his hands made contact. Their bodies merged into one violent entity, slamming into doors, walls and each other, as they careened down the hall, kicking the flashlight and sending it spinning in circles around their feet. Drake’s hand punched one of the picture frames hanging on the wall, and the glass shattered to the floor. Connor’s knee toppled over the small decorative table, and the lamp on top crashed around their ankles, tripping them both up. They landed near the top of the stairs in a sweaty heap, an angry tangle of muscle and limbs, still swinging, choking and cursing.

  The fight brought everyone out of their rooms, woke the baby up with screams, and startled the dog into a furious bark. Kris held her back by the collar, crying for Drake and Connor to stop, but he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t stop. Drake wanted to taste Connor’s blood first.

  It was Jacks who threw himself between them, ripping Drake’s shirt open in the process. Jacks was a big guy, tall and built of solid muscle, but Drake’s fury was hot and nearly unstoppable. He was yanked off Connor twice, but Jacks didn’t pull him back a third time. The last thing Drake saw before the world went black was Ashlyn’s feet, and the broken lamp, bloody from striking the back of his head.

  Chapter Six

  JIN

  Riley was a foot shorter than he, and maybe half his
weight, and yet it was a struggle to get her off the boy. Like fighting with a wild animal, the claws and teeth wanted blood. She lashed out at Jin, too, which had never happened before. The punch hurt on the inside far more than it did on his face, and it was a stark reminder that though he had begun to consider Riley a friend, they shared no loyalty with each other. Such was the way the world had become. It was all for oneself. He’d always been the peacekeeper, even up to the plague, because fighting each day was a dark path to go down that usually ended up tearing one’s soul apart, because the fight wouldn’t end. For some, it was easier to take this path. Riley was headed that way.

  He slid down the wall to the floor, and he stayed there until the only sounds of the room came from the spitting fireplace. As if allowing them the quiet, the storm outside was temporarily muted by the pounding in his head. It took more than a few minutes to regulate his heart rate and calm the pounding in his ears. Jin wasn’t going to talk until what he said could be heard. So, he waited. Cole was crumpled in the chair like a lost toddler, having rocked himself quiet, and Riley was by the fire, slumped over her knees in a daze, her mind a million miles away.

  Jin realized he had stayed in the mountains far too long. He should have left before the last storm. Like he had told the boy before, Riley was more than capable of taking care of herself, but Jin wasn’t certain she should. All good hearts have dark spots, and there comes a time when one struggle too many can turn even the purest of hearts black. Riley was close to this, he sensed. She was so close that one more loss or struggle without a reprieve to recover might push her over the edge where no one could pull her back. It ached in a deep place inside Jin, just thinking about this. He refused to watch it happen. He owed her nothing, this stranger that he’d grown fond of, but as a human, as a person, he wanted to help save her, nonetheless.

  An idea came to him, and he finally rose from the floor and slowly made his way to the kitchen, just a few feet away. He rifled through one of the lower cabinets, removing the canister of powdered milk that he’d pilfered from the ski lodge below, and set it aside. Then he pushed around a mismatched set of food storage containers, and pulled out the mason jar in the back. He hadn’t studied its contents since he first found Riley, half-dead on one of the many game trails that cut through the woods. He knew there was a story inside the jar, a story she hadn’t shared with him, but it was hers to tell, so he had never asked.

  He returned everything else to the cabinet and carefully set the jar on the counter next to the tin that held his herbs. The lid was sealed tightly, but the items inside had begun to decay. With a sigh, he cradled the jar to his chest and crossed the room until he stood directly in front of Cole.

  “Look,” he commanded. When the boy didn’t raise his head, Jin nudged him with a foot. “Look.”

  The boy glanced up, but couldn’t see much because Jin held the jar closely to his chest. But when Jin held it out to him, his mouth fell open and his eyes widened.

  “What the shit is that?” Cole gasped.

  Jin shrugged, still holding the jar out towards Cole. “I imagine this is what’s left of the last person that crossed her.” He nodded over his shoulder, and then watched the boy’s face change from terror to confusion, then back to terror again. Jin nodded, “So, you understand?”

  Cole nodded enthusiastically, and bit down hard on his lip to stop the tremble. “Yes,” his voice squeaked.

  “What?” Jin demanded, straightening his shoulders.

  “Yes,” Cole repeated, his voice stronger.

  “Then you understand why we need answers,” Jin stated. “Why she does. I want you to understand what’s at stake if you lie to me.”

  Cole’s eyes darted back to the jar. He began to speak, then sat up straighter in the chair and cleared his voice. “I do.” And then he gulped. “Are those real?”

  Jin brought the Mason jar up to his face and blinked. “Yes, most definitely.”

  Riley’s hand reached over his shoulder, and the muscle in his left eye flinched. He hoped Cole hadn’t seen it. “Where…” she asked. “Where did you get that?”

  He turned around and held the jar out to her. “You don’t remember?”

  She began to shake her head, but as she inspected the container with the rotted finger and ear inside, her eyes drooped and she let out a defeated sigh. “I dreamt about them. I hoped they weren’t real.”

  “Who’d you take them from?” Cole stammered.

  Riley shrugged and pressed the heel of her hand against her temple. “Who it was doesn’t matter anymore. He’s dead now.”

  The three of them waited in silence, listening to their breaths, and to the sounds of the storm as it reared its ugly head. Pine boughs scraped hungrily along the metal roof. They gouged at the floor under their feet, and against three sides of the cabin as if they wanted, or needed, desperately to get in, reminding them that nature was a god, and man its servants.

  As Riley leaned near Cole, and set the jar on the small side table next to his chair, Jin smelled the lavender on her skin from her last bath, and sadness, he could smell that, too. Cole didn’t twitch. He didn’t breathe. Jin could tell just looking at the boy, that he would do what was needed to help them, rather than risk losing one of his fingers, or an ear. And as Riley curled herself back into the papasan chair and pulled a blanket up over her head for sleep, Jin realized his gamble had worked. He had done to the boy what was needed to get him to cooperate by scaring him into submission, and had spared Riley the task of threatening him further. Of letting herself go over the edge where her heart dangled so precariously. If it was only for one night, he had spared her more rage and pain by allowing the dark spot on his own heart to grow. For her, it was worth it.

  Jin waited until her breathing slowed and then turned around and slammed his fist into Cole’s face, knocking him out cold. With climbing ropes that had been left in the cabin storage locker, he bound the kid’s ankles and wrists to the chair so he couldn’t run off during the night, and carefully placed a blanket over him to keep him warm. He wouldn’t kill him, or let him freeze, for dead men told no secrets.

  RILEY

  Dawn arrived slowly, barely shining through the clouds enough to tell the difference between night and day. The hour isn’t what woke me though, it was the colder-than-usual temperature. I rolled onto my back in the round lounge chair and opened my eyes. The fire had died down to embers, and frost coated every window. As the wind howled and shrieked, the entire structure of the treehouse shook in creaky waves. I gripped onto the wooden frame of the chair, though it would do little to save me if the cabin dropped to the ground. There was no other sound to be heard, but the complaining storm. No breathing beside my own. No talking from the others. I was alone.

  I sat up and kicked myself free of the blanket and stared at the empty space where Cole had been sitting the night before. His snowsuit was gone, and Jin’s gear was missing.

  “Shit,” I hissed at the cold room.

  The jar with Jay’s body parts was exactly where I’d left it on the table near the window. I looked away, not happy with the memories it brought back of the bloody massacre I’d left behind me.

  After I tugged my feet into my boots and shoved my arms into my coat, I pulled the hood tight around my face and jammed my hands into a pair of thick gloves. The crisp, pine-scented air outside nearly knocked me over from the chill the moment I opened the front door. Before my cough could stop me, or I lost my nerve, I shut the cabin and began to search the land below for a sign of which direction Jin and Cole went. Their path was easy to spot from above; two clear sets of drag marks through the snow pointed into the skeletal woods. But who was leading whom?

  “Jin!” I yelled into the breeze, hoping it would work in my favor and carry my voice to him. I waited with my gloves gripping the railing, hoping for an answer. It didn’t come.

  I could pursue them, I thought. Just follow their trail in the snow till the storm covered all traces of them, or stay at the cabin
and wait to see which one of them returned. I didn’t have the patience to wait. I rushed down the ramp to the bottom, and nearly broke my neck when I tried to walk into the snow. It had covered the last two steps from sight, so when my feet left the stairs, the drop was deeper than expected. I sank into the snow and fell onto my right hip. Though the drift cushioned my fall, it wasn’t the best sign that it would be an easy trek. The cold immediately bit into any skin that happened to be exposed, plunging my core temperature.

  Cursing, I climbed upright and began the arduous task of lifting each leg out of the snow, and pushing with my arms to get leverage to take a step forward. I did this until my feet finally hit earth from the uphill slope that led deeper into the trees. It had been only twenty minutes, but I was already sweating, and when I turned around to glance back at the cabin, I was still close enough to hit the foundation tree with a snowball. It was going to be a bitch of long walk.

  COLE

  He had learned to play the piano when he was seven, and though he was no Mozart or Chopin, he could hold a tune. Cole rather liked his fingers, even though the time for piano playing had long been forgotten. So, when Jin showed him the jar with the body parts inside it, the first thing that Cole thought was how he’d never be able to play again if Riley mutilated his hands. An ear, he could learn to live without. But an index finger? Fuck that sideways.

  He adjusted the front of his mask and grunted with every lift of his feet. The snow was deep, almost up to the middle of his thigh, but he couldn’t stop for a rest. Jin had made it clear early that morning when he shook him awake, what Cole must do. He would have done it without being threatened, he owed Riley that. But during the tail end of a blizzard, going anywhere was suicide. When he slowed down too much, Jin would poke him in the back, so he kept on. His camper wasn’t that far, not in location, half a mile or so from the trail. But when it took ten minutes to hike one hundred feet, half a mile felt like five hundred.