by Freya Barker
“How’d you get so fucking smart?” I growl, pulling her down on top of me. She grins, a wicked little gleam in her eyes.
“Always been that way,” she smarts off. “Which is why I know the one sure way to draw her out in the open.”
My hands on her ass freeze in their lazy explorations when I clue in on what she’s suggesting.
“Fuck no,” I say sharply, rolling her off me and jumping off the bed. I turn and tower over her. “Hell. The fuck. No.”
-
“It’s actually a good idea,” Neil says a few hours later. Fucking traitor. “We can have her covered from every angle. Especially if we contain her movements to just routine stuff in Dolores. The grocery store, the coffee shop; places she’d normally go.”
“I’m right here, you know?” Isla pipes up beside me. “Don’t be talking over my head like I’m some prop you’re moving around.”
I chuckle at her fire, but in the next moment the smile is wiped off my face, when Neil opens his mouth again.
“Oh, honey, trust me. I know you’re no prop,” the slick bastard coos. “And trust me, you wouldn’t feel that way either if I were moving you around.” Then he attempts to blind her with his smile. Throwing on the high beams with his ‘aw shucks’ attitude, when he’s nothing but a lecherous wolf in surfer boy disguise. It takes everything out of me not to knock out some of those shiny, white fucking teeth.
“Not a good time to poke the bear,” Isla warns Neil, laughing softly.
“I think unless you want to keep everyone locked down for God knows how long, or you’re aiming to move to Bolivia, this may be your only route to go.” This from Al, who’s been quietly sitting off to the side. The one person I thought would perhaps be even more dead set against this whole bait idea.
“I agree,” Gus puts his two cents in.
“We’ll keep her safe, my friend,” Damian says over speakerphone. He’s back in Durango, but called in on this meeting.
“I can’t believe this shit,” I mumble, dropping my head in my hands. “You’ve all lost your fucking minds. She’s got the biggest target on her back.”
I feel Isla shift beside me when she slides off her stool and steps between my legs. Her small hands cup my jaw and lift my head, as she leans close enough for our noses to touch.
“That’s exactly why,” she whispers.
“You’re killing me, Pixie,” I mumble, for her ears only, as the rest of the group starts discussing strategy. The two of us oddly removed in our private little bubble. “You’re asking me to—” Her fingers press on my lips, cutting of my words.
“No, honey. This is not you alone—not this time. This is all of us making that decision and sharing that responsibility.”
-
I watch as Gus’s big Yukon rumbles down the snow-covered drive. He and Neil had stayed for dinner and we just finalized plans for tomorrow. Fucking tomorrow.
I walk over to the lookout point, while Atsa is off sniffing around and doing his business before we turn in for the night. It’s a clear night; crisp cold air with little wind and no clouds. The light of the moon gives everything a blue hue: the trees, the snow, and the ice covering McPhee reservoir. It would be a nice night to go out on snowmobiles. The four-wheelers do well when you stick to the path, but less so when you try to take them into the soft snow. Maybe next winter we’ll invest in a couple of snowmobiles.
Seems like a luxury to be thinking about next winter. With Stacie still critical, and now Isla sticking her neck way the hell out, I don’t know what tomorrow will look like, let alone next winter.
I tuck my hands in my pockets and turn back to the house, the crunch of my boots in the snow loud in quiet around us. I whistle through my teeth for Atsa, as I make my way to the door.
“Come on, boy!” I follow up when he still hasn’t surfaced. I hear a few sharp barks, and then the crunch of something coming through the underbrush behind me.
Just as I turn around to look, the dog bursts out of the trees, panting like he’s just run a marathon.
Close. That was so close.
Lucky I’ve taken to carrying bear spray on me after a close encounter with that mountain lion a few weeks ago. Apparently it works well on dogs, too.
I had to come back out here—had to see him.
I heard the explosion, saw the ambulance rush away. I was standing right where he was standing just now, looking out over the campground. I’d seen the way he hugged that woman who drove up, the one I’d mistaken for the mother of that little girl. But it had been her—that deceitful bitch had purposely misled me. I could see it clear as day when this woman came no higher than his chin, where the other woman was quite a bit taller. But she’d been driving her car, she’d been wearing the blue hat, I was so sure...
I took off then. Got as far as the casino parking lot, when my stupid car started to sputter. The next two hours I spent playing slots, or at least pretending to. I was invisible there for a little bit, until an older guy sat down beside me.
“Hi, there,” he said, pulling his stool a little closer. “Swear I come here every night, and I know I ain’t never seen you around. I’d remember a pretty face like yours.” The way his eyes roamed up and down my body repulsed me. The stench of days’ old sweat wafted off him and his breath stunk like the bottom of a dumpster. I’d been about to tell him off when a waitress walked up.
“What can I get ya, Martin?” she asked him, and he turned around to me.
“What’s your poison, gorgeous?”
It was on my tongue to brush him off, but I was afraid that might draw more attention than just playing along.
“Screwdriver,” I mumbled, keeping my head down.
I’d put up with his stench and his company, until I could figure out what my next move was going to be. I was never one to pass up on an opportunity, so I took the drinks he offered, suffered the noxious odors and finally, I let him take me to his home. When he was done taking what he wanted, I took what I needed: a shower, his keys, and his truck. I left him with his life—I think.
I had to come back. After all I’ve been through, all I’ve done, I deserve to have it all.
But I’m going straight for the prize now.
CHAPTER 27
Isla
“How have you been? How’s Ben’s sister? Do you know anything yet?”
The questions are fired off staccato as Jen rushes toward me when I walk through the door of The Pony Express.
I’ve talked to her a few times, over the last little while, since dumping Atsa on her doorstep. Last time I saw her, too. My uncle had gone and picked him up the morning after and had given her a minimum of information, so she’d called me right after he left.
I told her all I knew, which Ben hadn’t been happy with initially, but I argued that since she already knew the entire background story, she’d only be unduly worried if we didn’t let her know what was going on. He made me have her promise not to spill a word to anyone, to which she’d snorted.
“Who the hell would I be telling it to?”
Jen had kindly offered to go to the hospital and sit with Stacie, but I explained only family was allowed in the ICU.
I find myself engulfed in a tight hug before I’m dragged to the back, through the kitchen, and into her small office.
“You know you’ve just given about half a dozen men a heart attack, right?” I scold Jen, thinking about my protection detail that she knew about. “Not like I didn’t tell you about them when I called this morning.”
Jen makes her eyes wide in fake innocence. She knew. She did this on purpose.
“Now don’t you mess with my little bit of fun,” she pouts, her hands on her hips when the innocent look clearly has no effect on me. “How often do you think I get a chance to leave an indelible impression on a real live, hard-bodied, fully equipped, living, breathing man—let alone six?”
“Drama queen,” I accuse her, but she just laughs me off.
“I just wish I could’ve s
een their faces,” she says, with a mischievous glint in her eyes.
“Everything okay in here?” A huge, imposing, and unfairly beautiful native man ducks his head in the office.
“All good, sorry about that. Thanks, Caleb,” I apologize on Jen’s behalf, who is still staring at the doorway where the man disappeared again. “Your mouth is open,” I point out, startling Jen back to the present.
“Who—in all that is fucking holy—was that?” I wince at the shriek-like quality of her voice, which I’m sure has traveled to the farthest corners of the shop.
“First of all, I don’t think you’re supposed to say fucking and holy in one and the same sentence,” I bring up. “And to answer your question; that’s Caleb who works with GFI investigations, along with his brother Malachi. There’s also Joe, and I think you’ve met Neil.”
“There’s two of them?” she gushes. “Those names are enough to pucker up my nips. Please tell me at least one of them is single?” She looks at me hopefully, despite the fact she has me giggle out loud. Didn’t think I’d be laughing at any time today, so I’m grateful for that touch of brevity.
“You’re nuts. And I’m sorry, from what I understand, every last one of these guys is married. Besides, they are all outdoorsy types like Ben. You wouldn’t last long.” She feigns shock at my words, but she knows damn well it’s the truth. Jen may like the rugged look, but she sure doesn’t like the rugged life.
I finally answer her initial questions; I update her on Stacie’s condition—stable and without infection, so far—and explain why I’m suddenly out and about as opposed to locked away.
“I don’t want you to get hurt,” she says, her face drawn with concern.
“Trust me, I don’t want to get hurt either,” I inform her. “But sitting locked up in a house, on the side of a mountain, is giving that woman more control over our lives than she deserves to have. I’m done with that. Now,” I promptly change the subject. “What’s happening with the book?”
For the next twenty minutes, we go over marketing plans, Internet sales, and planned projects, and I’m struck once again, with Jen’s keen business sense. Something I do not possess. Which really does make us a great team.
I’m actually smiling when I leave a little later, with one of Jen’s froufrou drinks in my hand, and the crazy stalker situation all but forgotten. Although when I get into Ben’s Toyota, I can’t help looking around to see if I can spot any of the guys, who are supposed to keep eyes on me at all times. I can’t see a single one. It makes me nervous, even though I’ve been assured that even if I don’t see them, they will be there.
As much as it makes me nervous, I’m nowhere near the wreck I’m sure Ben is by now. He was not a happy camper this morning when I left. If she were actually watching, she’d be less likely to make a move if she spotted him around.
Uncle Al, Mak, and Ben stayed behind with the dog.
We haven’t really done a good grocery haul since before Christmas, so I figure I’d make my time in the crosshairs count by filling up two carts. Probably overkill, but it can never hurt to be stocked up. I even saunter into the small clothing section where I spotted some cute leggings. Mak might like those. She doesn’t like girly things, but leggings aren’t really girly. They’re more sporty, but the cute daisy pattern makes them pretty as well. Maybe she’ll hate them, but she needs some more clothes, since she’ll be with us indefinitely, and we don’t exactly have her favorite stores in Dolores. This’ll have to do for now.
Aside from the daisy pattern, they also have a pair that is covered in dog paw prints, which I’m pretty sure she’ll go for. I toss a couple of long-sleeved T-shirts and a zippered hoodie, in what I think is her size, in the cart as well.
Throughout my shopping spree, I try not to think about eyes on me, but am still reassured when I see Caleb casually pass by one aisle over. He’s really quite stunning and I’d love to get him in front of my camera one day. Wishful thinking.
I’m lost in thought and don’t see it coming, so when I’m hit from behind, my knees buckle and I go down.
Ben
“Your turn, Uncle Ben.”
I can’t believe Al taught her how to play blackjack. Not go fish, not crazy eights, but straight up blackjack.
She cornered me the moment I came out of the bedroom this morning, and Al just laughed at me from the kitchen. I’d allowed her to distract me for a little while, but then I went to see Isla off. After I watched her drive away, it was harder to keep my mind on the game.
I turn away from the window and look at my niece.
“I think I’m gonna take a break, Makenna. Maybe Uncle Al will play. I’m going to let Atsa out.” I point at the dog whimpering by the front door. I flick off the switch inside the laundry room that controls the perimeter sensors before I open the front door and let him out.
The fresh air feels good. I watch as Atsa lopes off into the trees and saunter over to the shed myself to grab some more firewood. The stack by the front door has dwindled down to just a handful of logs. Unfortunately, whatever I’d moved up from the campground was running low as well, and I load the last of it on the wheelbarrow. Probably wouldn’t be a bad idea to cut up those big logs that are left by the trailer, down below. Bring the chainsaw back up here to clear some deadwood from the clearing, just up from the house. Nothing better than some old-fashioned, physical labor to kill time, and hopefully get my mind off Isla.
I’ve just finished stacking the last of the wood by the front door when I hear Atsa start barking. Putting my fingers in my mouth, I whistle for him. With my eyes trained in the direction the sound is coming from, somewhere on the other side of the drive, I whistle again. This time louder. The barking stops, and then starts again, coming in this direction. Just as the dog’s big, lumbering body comes tearing out of the trees, a rabbit darts across the drive ahead of him.
“Atsa!” I yell, trying to get the dog’s attention. A quick glance in my direction before he refocuses on his escaping prey.
“Atsa, HERE!”
Like throwing the brakes on, all four of his legs lock up, and he almost dives face first into the snow, before looking at me woefully as the rabbit scoots behind the shed. Lead-footed, he turns in my direction, and with his head down low in defeat, makes his way over. Damn dog.
Behind me the front door opens and Al sticks his head out.
“Everything okay?” he says, stepping to the side as I point Atsa inside.
“Chasing a bunny. Keep him inside, okay? I’m just going to run down to cut up the last of the wood there, and I’ll bring back the chainsaw. We’re running low, but there’s some dead trees up by the clearing that are dry enough to burn easy.”
“Need any help?”
“Nah, I’m good, if you don’t mind keeping an eye on Mak.”
With Isla in the Toyota, I’m stuck taking the ATV down. It’s not going hold anywhere near what I could load in the back of the SUV, but I’ll just make a few trips. Not like I have anything better to do. I just need to stay busy.
It takes ten minutes of tinkering with the damn chainsaw before I can get it started. It’s fucking loud. So loud, I don’t hear the ringing of my phone, but I can feel it vibrate in my pocket. Letting the saw idle—I don’t want to risk not being able to start it up again—I set it on the snow and pull out my phone.
“Neil?” My ears are still ringing and I can barely hear the voice on the other end. “You there?”
“It’s me. Just wanted to let you know it’s all quiet,” Neil answers on a chuckle. Undoubtedly he can hear the anxiety in my voice. “She’s fine. She’s in the grocery store with Caleb close behind her. Shouldn’t be too much longer before we’re heading back.”
“Nothing?” I ask, even though the answer is already clear from his concise report.
“No sign of her. We can try again tomorrow,” he says, ending the call.
Fuck that. Do this again? I tuck my phone back in my pocket and bend over to pick up the saw.
Al
“When’s Uncle Ben going to be back?”
I look up at the little girl, who reminds me so much of my Isla when she was a child. Sharp as a tack, inquisitive, and more tomboy than girl, just like my girl was. Still is.
The dog, who’d gone to lie in his bed by the fireplace earlier, was sitting at her feet, staring out the window.
I could hear the sharp whine of the chainsaw earlier, but I can’t hear much now. Haven’t heard it for a bit. Old instincts die hard and the hair on the back of my neck stands up straight.
“I’m sure he’ll be up soon. He’s probably loading the wood. I’ll go see if he’s coming up the drive.” I keep my voice calm, smiling at her as I scoot back from the table, where I was teaching her to play poker. Isla was only twelve when she could con me into thinking she had a royal flush in her hands, when all she had was a couple of pairs. I folded many a good hand based on that poker face many a professional gambler would be jealous of. But only when playing poker, any other time, the girl was like an open book.
Just like this one, looking up at me with big, scared eyes. She feels it too, something heavy in the sudden silence. Heavy and ominous.
“Stay here, honey. I’m just going step outside. I won’t go far off the front steps, okay?” I assure her, as I pull on my coat and put on my boots. She’s standing in the hallway, the big dog protectively pressed against her side. His ears are up and alert. “Atsa will stay with you.”
