Backwoods

by Jill Sorenson

  His eyes watered with emotion. “Go on. Get out.”

  “I’m not leaving this room.”

  “Please,” he rasped. “I can’t do it in front of you.”

  “Then don’t do it. Let’s just talk.”

  He tightened his grip on the shotgun. “I’m done talking.”

  Brooke stared back at him, overwhelmed with despair. He seemed determined to follow through on his plans. She thought about approaching his chair, but he might be able to raise the barrel to his mouth and pull the trigger before she reached him. She had to find another way to connect with him. To convince him.

  “Do you have any family?” she asked, tentative.

  “Not anymore.”

  “Where would we go, if we ran away?”

  His lips twisted with regret. “Forget it.”

  “I’ll drive you anywhere you want to go. Mexico, Canada...”

  “No. It was a stupid idea. I know you’d never—” He broke off, shaking his head. “I know I’m not fit company.”

  “That’s not true. I like you.”

  He made a sound of disbelief.

  She didn’t like him the same way she liked Leo, of course. She wasn’t sure if Wyatt really liked her that way, either. Maybe she’d become a symbol to him. The girl who’d escaped, when he couldn’t. He might have gotten out of the woods, but he’d never escape the trauma of a horrific childhood. His father had committed atrocities. Wyatt had killed him. That kind of baggage wasn’t easy to leave behind.

  “I like you,” she repeated, twisting her hands in her lap.

  His gaze grew dull. “You don’t have to lie. Just go.”

  “I’m not going.”

  “Then you’ll see how ugly I can be.”

  She didn’t know what else to say. He wasn’t going to listen to her, anyway. She had to take drastic action.

  He cocked the shotgun. “Last chance, pretty girl.”

  She bit down on the edge of her fist to smother a cry of distress. Then she got an idea. He was a sixteen-year-old boy with a crush. He thought she was pretty. Maybe she could use that against him. On impulse, she tugged the striped hoodie over her head. When he studied the front of her thin tank top, she felt a surge of hope.

  “What are you doing?” he asked.

  “Do you want me?”

  “I want to die,” he said in a strangled voice.

  Her heart broke for him. He might have given up on himself, but she wasn’t going to give up on him. So she continued the clumsy striptease, removing her tank top and bra. He stared at her naked breasts, his jaw slack. Suicidal or not, he seemed tempted.

  It felt strange to expose herself again so soon after her last encounter. Sleeping with Leo had changed the way she felt about her sexuality. His praise had boosted her self-confidence. Before Leo, it wouldn’t have occurred to her that she could distract Wyatt this way. She hadn’t considered her breasts worthy of interest, much less life-saving mechanisms.

  She circled her soft nipples with her fingertips until they stiffened. “Would you like to touch me, Wyatt?”

  “Yes.”

  “Come here.”

  He rose from the chair, as if driven by an irresistible force. Although he brought the shotgun with him, he set it at the foot of the bed. Then he sat down next to her. When she brought his hand to her breast, he closed his eyes and shuddered.

  He wasn’t handsome, but he was sweet. He’d endured too much in his young life. Assuaging his pain was no hardship. She leaned forward and pressed her mouth to his, pretending he was Leo.

  * * *

  ABBY AWOKE WITH a start.

  Her cell phone was blinking on the nightstand. Nathan’s arm was draped over her waist, his heavy thigh sandwiched between hers. With another man, she might have felt trapped or smothered. When he pressed his lips to the nape of her neck, she shivered with pleasure. Ignoring her phone, she reached back to thread her fingers through his hair. He lifted his hands to her breasts. His shaft swelled against her buttocks, nudging her sex.

  She wanted him like this, from behind. They’d kissed and talked for hours, but they hadn’t made love again. Her body still felt primed for action. He was obviously ready to go. “Nathan,” she murmured, arching her spine.

  He slid into her, just an inch. “Fuck.”

  “Yes.”

  “I should put on a condom.”

  He really should, but he didn’t. She shivered with pleasure as he brushed his thumbs over her nipples and kissed her neck. Instead of withdrawing completely, he teased her with the tip of his cock, barely penetrating her.

  Then someone pounded on the door of the hotel room. “Dad! Let me in.”

  Nathan cursed under his breath, pulling away from her. Abby clutched the sheet to her chest, watching as he rose from the bed and wrapped a towel around his waist. He went to the door and opened it.

  Leo shoved his way inside. He looked frantic, and he didn’t have his crutches. “I think something happened to Brooke,” he said in a rush. “She left after midnight and she’s not answering her phone.”

  Nathan closed the door behind him, glancing at Abby.

  Abby grabbed her phone to read her messages. There was a short text from Brooke at 12:47 a.m., saying she’d borrowed the SUV to check on Ray at the cabin. Abby tried to call her, but she didn’t pick up. Neither did Ray. When she dialed the landline number for the cabin, she got a disconnected signal.

  Okay. Now it was time to panic.

  “She drove to the cabin,” Leo said. “We have to go there.”

  “Give us a minute,” Nathan said, retrieving Abby’s lingerie from the floor.

  Leo flushed and went back outside. While she scrambled into her clothes, Nathan tugged on a pair of pants.

  “Do you have your car?” she asked.

  He nodded, putting on his shirt and shoes. “Lydia brought it.”

  Abby gathered her purse and sandals, dialing 911 on their way out. The responding officer didn’t know if a disconnected line was cause for concern, but he said he’d send the next available patrol car.

  Nathan drove like a NASCAR racer, passing the few other vehicles on the road. Leo urged him to go faster. Abby wanted to get there alive, so she stayed silent. The idea of Brooke being in danger again was almost inconceivable to her.

  When would this nightmare end?

  She hoped they were worrying over nothing. Maybe Ray was fine, and Brooke had turned off her phone for some reason. It wasn’t like her to be so irresponsible, however. She was reckless and impulsive, but thoughtful. After she went on risky adventures, she sent dutiful text messages to let Abby know she was okay.

  “How are you doing?” Nathan asked Abby. “Hanging in there?”

  “By a thread,” she said.

  He didn’t tell her everything would be fine, or that he’d protect her and Brooke. They had no control over this situation. It was out of their hands. Abby’s cell phone rang before they reached the cabin. She didn’t recognize the number.

  “Hello?”

  “This is Deputy Clegg with the Monarch Sheriff’s Station.”

  “Are you at the cabin?”

  “Not yet. I’ll be there in about ten minutes. I just wanted to give you some information pertaining to the case.”

  “What is it?”

  “We’ve identified the body as belonging to Gary Nash.”

  “Gary Nash,” she repeated. “Not his son, Wyatt?”

  “That’s right. Wyatt Nash is currently unaccounted for.”

  “And Gary Nash is dead.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Abby looked sideways at Nathan, somewhat relieved by this news.

  “You can still visit the morgue for a viewing,” the deputy said. “Some victims
think it helps give them closure.”

  Being referred to as a victim unsettled her. She wasn’t one. She was a survivor. But she couldn’t say she hadn’t been traumatized by this experience. What she’d seen in those tunnels. The horrors she’d imagined. More nightmares and panic attacks loomed on the horizon. She wanted to see Nash on the table and make sure he was never getting up.

  “Thank you,” she said, ending the call. “Gary Nash is dead.”

  “Good,” Nathan said. “He can burn in hell.”

  “His son is still missing.”

  Although Brooke had seemed very sympathetic toward Wyatt, Abby felt uneasy. The kid had put an arrow through his father’s neck. He’d lived in a torture chamber with a psychopath. He was no Boy Scout.

  At the cabin, Nathan parked behind Abby’s SUV and they all got out. The front door was open. Nathan and Leo checked the bedrooms while Abby shouted for Brooke, her heart stuttering in her chest. They found Ray bound and gagged in the master bedroom. He was alive, so they didn’t pause to help him. Brooke was their main priority.

  The last bedroom was locked. Abby rattled the doorknob. “Brooke?”

  “Don’t come in,” Brooke cried out. “He has a gun.”

  Nathan gestured for her to step aside. He broke through the door in two hard kicks. Brooke was in front of the bed with Wyatt Nash. They were wrestling for control of a shotgun like kids fighting over a toy on the playground.

  She was also topless.

  The sight of her in distress seemed to trigger a feral response in Leo. He lowered his shoulder and charged, tackling Wyatt. They rolled across the bed and fell over. The shotgun landed on the other side, out of reach. Brooke stumbled backward with a sharp cry. Abby rushed to her daughter’s side, putting her arms around her.

  Leo gripped the front of Wyatt’s shirt and started wailing on him. He punched Wyatt three or four times in a row. Although Wyatt was skinny, he had a surprising speed and agility. Maybe his father had taught him some combat techniques. He evaded Leo’s next punch and drove the heel of his hand into Leo’s nose.

  Nathan broke them apart by grabbing Wyatt and hauling him to his feet. Leo got up and kept swinging, driving his fist into Wyatt’s stomach.

  “Stop it,” Brooke screamed, pulling away from Abby. She gripped Leo’s right arm to prevent him from hitting Wyatt again. “Stop hurting him!”

  Nathan had Wyatt’s arms wrenched behind his back, motionless. Blood dripped from a cut above the boy’s eye, streaking down the side of his face. He was breathing hard, his mouth set in a grim line, but he wasn’t struggling.

  Leo wiped his nose, which was also bleeding, and looked at Brooke. “He was trying to force himself on you.”

  “No, he wasn’t.”

  He gaped at her in disbelief. His gaze dropped to her breasts, as if her nudity was proof of Wyatt’s guilt.

  Brooke let go of his arm to cover her chest, flushing. Abby found Brooke’s discarded clothing items and brought them to her. She didn’t know what to think. The scene was too chaotic to process.

  “Get me something to tie him up with,” Nathan said to Abby.

  Ray’s overnight bag was sitting in the corner, its contents spilling out across the floor. She grabbed an expensive silk tie and handed it to Leo, who secured Wyatt’s thin wrists. The boy didn’t resist or speak. Nathan sat him down on the bed, keeping a firm grip on him. Leo stood guard near the shotgun.

  They had the situation under control, so Abby and Brooke left the room. Brooke put on her bra and tank top in the hall, her shoulders trembling. When her face crumpled with emotion, Abby drew Brooke into her arms. “Shh. It’s okay now.”

  A moment later, sheriff’s deputies entered the house. They handcuffed Wyatt and took him away in the back of a squad car. They also freed Ray, who was bound and gagged in one of the guest rooms.

  More law enforcement officers came to interview Brooke, including a pair of FBI agents assigned to the case. She showed them the five pages of notes she’d written at Wyatt’s request.

  According to Brooke, the boy had planned to commit suicide, and she was trying to stop him. She didn’t mention her state of undress. Neither did Nathan or Leo. Abby stayed by her side the whole time to support her.

  Ella and Paul brought everyone breakfast. Lydia came also, hugging Leo and even Ray. The mood at the cabin was somber.

  They were all safe. The ordeal was over.

  After the law enforcement officers left, Nathan drove Abby and Brooke to the morgue. Leo came along for the ride. Abby had seen her share of dead bodies, mostly beloved residents. Some not-so-beloved. The sight of Nash didn’t affect her as deeply as she’d feared. He looked like a corpse, not a monster.

  They retrieved their belongings from the hotel and headed back to the cabin. Nathan reached across the console to hold her hand while Leo and Brooke sat on opposite sides of the backseat, staring out their respective windows.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  BROOKE HADN’T DONE anything wrong. Leo knew that.

  Wyatt Nash had attacked her father. He’d lured her to the cabin and made her write his sick sob story at gunpoint. Then he’d traumatized her further by threatening to blow his head off. She hadn’t wanted him. She’d wanted to avoid seeing his brains splattered on the ceiling. Leo understood what happened. Even so, his gut reaction wasn’t sympathy. It was jealous rage, as if she’d cheated on him.

  They weren’t dating. He wasn’t her boyfriend. Okay, yeah—he’d fucked her. That had been an incredibly stupid decision, fueled by years of pent-up longing. She’d needed comfort and he’d given it to her. But he had no ownership over her. He had no hold on her, no right to tell her what to do with her body.

  He thought they had a special connection, though. They’d been through a lot together. Last night had been...intense. He knew she’d enjoyed herself. She’d responded to him. He’d made her come. They’d both agreed not to start a relationship, but he’d sort of assumed she would pine over him, just a little. Daydream and fantasize about him, the way he daydreamed and fantasized about her. He was in no hurry to hook up with other girls. He didn’t even want to wash her scent off his hands.

  It had been a shock to find her half-naked with Wyatt Nash, hours after leaving Leo’s bed. Leo thought he’d been rescuing her, defending her honor. But no. She’d let that freak touch her. She’d begged Leo not to hurt him.

  Every way he looked at it, he felt rejected. Cast aside. Maybe the best night of his life hadn’t meant that much to her.

  He hated himself for feeling this way. He should be comforting Brooke, not sulking like a kid who’d lost his favorite plaything. His dad was holding Abby’s hand across the console. Leo could do that with Brooke. Taking a deep breath, he hazarded another glance at her. She was staring out the window, toying with the plastic hospital bracelet that was still around her wrist. He remembered the sounds she’d made when she came. Her mouth had formed a soft O of pleasure when he slid into her.

  Leo tore his gaze away. Instead of offering his hand to her, he clenched it into a fist. His knuckles were scraped and swollen from Wyatt’s ugly face. Their fight hadn’t done his injured leg any favors, either. He wanted a pain pill. Better yet, a few hits of weed. He needed to mellow out before he exploded.

  As soon as they arrived at the cabin, he got out of the backseat and hobbled inside. He had a joint stashed in his iPod case. It would make everything better. Ray’s insults, his mother’s tears, the disturbing memories of violence, his dark fury. All of that bad shit would fade. So would the good shit, like Brooke’s pretty face at the moment of orgasm. But that was a price he’d have to pay.

  He retreated into one of the bedrooms with his backpack. Before he could find his iPod case, his mother knocked on the door. “Leo?”

  “Yeah.”

  She came inside and sat down on the
bed. Her eyes looked red, as if she’d been up all night crying. “I need to talk to you about Ray.”

  “I don’t want to talk about Ray.”

  “He’s sorry.”

  Leo made a sound of skepticism.

  “He’s grateful to you for saving Brooke.”

  “I didn’t save Brooke.”

  “He said you could have your car back.”

  “What about you?” he asked, annoyed. “What’s he going to do for you, besides work all the time and sleep around?”

  She moistened her lips, hesitant.

  “Don’t tell me you’ve forgiven him.”

  “We both made mistakes,” she said, looking away. “Just like me and your father.”

  Resentment welled up inside him, festering beneath the surface. Even if his dad had been 90 percent at fault, Leo wished she’d been honest with him about the reasons they’d split. “I know you cheated on Dad.”

  “He told you?”

  “Brooke told me.”

  Tears filled her eyes. “I didn’t want you to find out.”

  “Why?”

  “I thought...you wouldn’t love me anymore.”

  “That’s dumb, Mom. I could never not love you.”

  “You mean the world to me,” she said in Portuguese.

  He knew that. His dad had been gone a lot, and Ray was even more absent. It had always been just the two of them. She did his laundry and cooked his favorite meals and doted on him. “You’re a great mom.”

  Her chin wobbled with emotion. When he put his arm around her, she pressed her face to his shoulder and cried. “I want you and Ray to get along.”

  “I want him to treat you better.”

  “We’re going to start counseling.”

  Leo wasn’t optimistic about her chances of patching things up with Ray. She should kick him to the curb and move on with a guy who was capable of loving someone other than himself. She deserved to be happy.

  They discussed Leo’s plans for the rest of the summer, which were flexible. He would hang around the house as much as possible for the next few weeks in case she needed him. As far as Leo was concerned, Ray was the one on probation.