by JA Huss
Under that is a wad of money and a cell phone.
There is no note.
“Best-case scenario,” Garrett says, “is that we fuck up his reality so bad, he leaves you there.”
I guess this is the best-case scenario. And as best-case scenarios go, it could be a lot worse.
I go back to the bathroom, flick on the lights, and lower myself into the water. There’s bloodstains on my inner thighs still. A reminder of what I did. I rub my hand over them a few times and they disappear. Washed clean.
All the stuff is still here. Shampoo, conditioner—which I didn’t use the last time I took a bath—even a razor. So I take my time before getting out, drying off, and walking naked out into the living room to put on my clothes.
When I’m ready I put the fire out, turn off all the lights, and lock the cabin door as I step out into the blowing snow.
In front of me is a Snowcat. Fitting, really. Since cats seem to be the trigger of change for me.
In front of that is a trail.
I get in the Snowcat and start it up, put one hand on the gas and the other on the two levers that control the treads, and ease forward out into the dark. The moon is out, and when you combine that with the fresh snow, it’s not as dark as it could be. The trail is easy to follow.
I think about Case the whole time.
Does he understand what happened? Does he feel like a fool? Does he feel victorious? Does he feel vindicated? Did my v-card make up for the one he never took all those years ago, back when he and Garrett were in the army together?
Does he have regrets?
That makes me laugh. And that laugh allows me to smile as I make my way on the trail. It’s almost inconceivable that I will make it out of here alive, so when I get to a fork in the path—the trail leading to the right, but the tracks of a snow machine veer off to the left—I feel a rush of relief that he’s not done with me yet.
Why give me a choice to leave if he is done?
I don’t want to leave. In fact, if this fork had not appeared, I’d have been very disappointed.
It’s all about the devil you know. And Garrett’s demons are unknowable. But Case is a mystery with a solution.
I take the path to the left and come up on that snow machine that ran out of gas about a half a mile on.
I stop the Cat and peer through the trees just to make sure I saw it right the first time.
The house. It’s really there. And the third-floor window—just a crow’s nest architectural detail that juts out from the roof—is lit up like a beacon in the coming night.
I take a deep breath and press the levers, slowly easing forward towards my final mission.
When I get to the house I shut off the engine and step out of the cab and walk up to the door to find a note.
Turn back, Syd. Go back where you came from. The bar is still there. Brett shut it down after I took you, but it’s still there and so is he. He’s waiting for you back in that life. I can handle things from here.
What a funny guy. I even laugh as I look up at the third-story lights. “Merric Case, you have no idea what’s coming.”
I open the door, step in, and close it behind me.
Inside it’s warm. Uncomfortably so, when I’m wearing all this winter gear. I listen in the silence that takes over after the closing door. Nothing. Not even the hum of a refrigerator. I don’t see a kitchen from the foyer, and it is quite a foyer, with ceilings stretching up twenty feet at least. The inside has the same cabin feel that the outside does. Well, in a more lifestyles-of-the-rich-and-famous kind of way. It’s got to be five or six times as big as the cabin I just came out of. One thing I can see from the foyer is the view. Breathtaking floor-to-ceiling windows showcase tall shadows that must be a coniferous forest that covers the valley, and the outline of snow-covered mountains.
I take a deep breath as I search for lights off in the distance, some sign of civilization, but the only light is the moon and the shine of the snow.
In the time it takes me to come to the conclusion that there is no way in hell anyone would ever find me here, let alone rescue me if things get worse, I start sweating profusely. Too many drugs. Too much frigid air outside. And too much artificial heat in here.
I unwrap my scarf and pull it off. The relief is immediate, but not enough. I take off the gloves next, stuffing both of these things into my coat pocket.
The strum of a guitar makes me turn, searching for the source. It sounds far away.
I look up and see a second-story loft behind me. It’s open to the downstairs, so that can’t be where he is. There must be more rooms beyond. I head towards the staircase, trying to keep my eyes both above and in front of me as I navigate the unfamiliar home. There are small lights on in various places, but not enough to take this house out of the shadows of a midwinter evening.
The strumming stops just as I place my boot on the first step. I stop with it. Listening. Nothing.
Then more strumming. That song again. The one I listen to all the time. Why does he play it?
Why does he do anything, Syd?
Revenge, I think. I mean, that’s the only solid answer I can come up with for why. Why take me? Why leave me, for that matter? Why tell me he’d be back? I don’t understand any of this. Not the shit that happened in the past and not the shit that’s happening now.
Like—why am I here? Not that I could’ve gotten far in that Snowcat if there are no towns around here. But that’s not why I came inside. I have camped in worse conditions than this. With the right gear—and the clothes he gave me count as that—it’s not so bad. And the Cat was enclosed, so no danger of mountain lions or wolves. The bears are sleeping. So even though I don’t have a gun, I don’t need one. Surely there is something at the end of that path he cleared for me. A truck, maybe?
Probably. I didn’t see any cars outside. There was a building that might be a garage. And he had to get up here somehow. But I’m pretty sure this place is not where one spends a winter. Roads close for the winter in Montana.
This cabin has the feel of a place that closes over winter. It’s probably not even his.
I take another step on the stairs and the wood creaks a little. But the strumming upstairs never stops.
He has to know I’m here. Had to see the light from the Cat as I came up to the house. Had to feel the disturbance in the inside air as I opened and closed the front door. I’d have noticed all these things with my limited skills. Merric Case’s skills might be a lot of things, but limited is not one of them. I’ve heard stories.
I take the next twenty steps without stopping and find myself in the loft. But it’s deceiving from the first floor, because there’s a whole other house up here. Another staircase, in fact, not connected to this one.
It’s a great open space with a few rooms scattered around. Bedrooms, I think. A bathroom. I walk past those and head towards the second staircase. The music is louder here, so that’s where he is. Up in the very top. In the crow’s nest thing I saw from outside.
I climb up two steps, stop, listen, then climb all the way up until I get to the top.
The room is circular, nothing but glass on all sides. The ceiling is taller than it looked outside, also glass. Merric Case is stretched out on a half-moon—bed, couch—covered in fluffy white blankets and pillows that line the windows. His feet and chest are bare, his jeans faded and ripped. His fingers never stop playing and he never looks away as I leave the stairwell and enter the room.
I’m burning up from heat in this coat.
I stop and wait for him to say something, but he doesn’t. Just keeps playing that song.
I look down at my feet, a self-conscious move—a show of doubt, if I’m being honest—and see that my boots have tracked up snow. It melts into a little puddle beneath my feet. When I look back up he’s staring at my boots too, frowning.
It’s absurd to think he cares about the water damaging his hardwood floors, but that’s the impression I get. “Should I take them off
?”
He looks back up at me and the strumming stops. “Why are you here?”
I don’t have anything to say to that. So I just stare at him.
“Did you at least enjoy it?”
“What?”
He resumes his playing and looks down at the fingers on his right hand as they pluck the strings. A new tune. Something simple. Just a melody.
“The sex,” he says, still paying attention to his instrument.
“Oh.”
“It was planned then, huh?”
His eyes burn into me as he waits. I’m preoccupied by the music and the memory of my first time. I let out a long sigh and turn away, kick off my boots and step into a puddle of water that soaks my socks. I pull them off as well, unzip my jacket and shove that down my arms.
He stares at me the whole time.
I drop the jacket on the floor next to my boots and then work on the snow pants. This takes me several minutes, and I have to sit down on the bed once I get them over my hips. I throw those on the floor next to my coat. And then I’m in my jeans and long-sleeved shirt.
“Did I plan on letting you take my virginity?” I laugh a little and squirm in my seat. “No, Case. I don’t get to plan anything. I carry out orders.”
“So Garrett ordered you to sleep with me?”
“It was a message.”
“Yeah?” Case asks, setting the guitar down on the couch bed next to him. He scoots forward, so he’s no longer sprawled out and his feet are on the floor. “I’m not sure I speak that language, so why not enlighten me.” He’s pissed, I realize. For being tricked into this. I have no sympathy for that. But I can empathize. “Why not explain it, Syd. Just get it all out in the open so I can decide what to do with you.”
“If that’s supposed to scare me, it doesn’t.”
He smiles, but not in a nice way. “I’m sure.” He stands up and walks over to me. He reaches out before he’s close, and when he is, he cups my face and lifts my gaze up to meet his. “What. Was. The message, Syd?”
“You’re even now,” I say matter-of-factly. “That was the message.”
“How does he figure that?”
I shrug. This makes Case drop his hands. I take a deep breath. “I don’t know the story behind you two. None of it. So I have no idea.”
“You’re lying.” He stares into me and this makes me shift my position. “Is your job done, then? You were here to what? Trick me into taking your virginity to even up a score that was never uneven, in a game I was never playing?” He laughs. “Please.”
I don’t even know what that means. “I’m yours anyway. So what do you care?”
“You’re a gift then?”
I shrug again.
“So Brett? He’s in on this how?”
“He’s not.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“I don’t care.”
“Get out.”
“No.” I stand and point at the walls made of glass. “There’s nothing out there. There’s nowhere to go.”
“Get back in the Cat. Go back the way you came. And follow the trail I cleared for you. I’ve made arrangements.”
“No,” I say again. “I’m not leaving here. I’ve got questions. I’ve got a lot of fucking questions.” My voice rises. Not much. I’m not a yeller. I don’t lose control easily. “And I want answers. I want to know why you people have been fucking with my life since I was little. Why, Case? What the fuck did I ever do to you? Why take me? Why do any of this if you’re just going to send me away?”
“You want answers?” He bends down so we are eye level, placing his hands on his knees and leaning forward. “You sure about that, Sydney?”
I swallow down the fear that’s rising in my chest. “Yes.”
“Why would I give them to you?” He straightens up again, emphasizing the height difference between us. Like he needs this advantage.
There is no good answer for that. None at all. Why would he give them to me?
He laughs. “You don’t have any idea what’s going on here, do you? You’re so fucking lost.”
“So find me.”
He turns and walks over to the stairs. Walking out, I realize. “I can’t.” He looks over his shoulder at me. A flash of light catches in his amber eyes and sends a chill up my spine. “It’s too late for you. Too late for all of this. Everything—” He stops to take a breath. “Everything I feared would happen, well, it’s happening. No, it’s already done. And now I have to worry about me, Sydney Channing. And the people I actually care about, the few decent human beings on this goddamned planet I love, they are the only ones who matter now. Because if Garrett thinks this shit is over because he gave me his prize virgin, he’s mistaken. Fuck you and your boyfriend. Fuck you and your gift. Fuck you and your problems, Sydney. Just fuck you. This has gone on long enough. The only girl I’m interested in now is Sasha.”
And just like that, he walks away.
Again.
Chapter Twenty-Two - Merc
“When you find yourself alone with no options… lie.” – Sydney
I only get two steps towards the stairs when she hurls herself at my back. I lurch forward, grab the railing, and just barely stop a fall that could’ve broken my neck. I reach behind me, grab her upper arm, and swing her around. She hits the floor hard, her head cracking against the banister, and growls out something unintelligible.
“What the fuck are you doing?”
She’s back on her feet the moment it takes for me to say those words, and I get another direct hit. This time she charges me like a bull. I stumble backwards again, lose my footing on the stairs for real this time, and we both fall over sideways. I break her fall, and a sharp pain travels down the nerve that leads to my hand. But there’s no time to think about that, because she’s on top of me, her fists swinging wildly for my face. She connects once, and then I snap out of it.
Girl or not, I’m gonna end this now.
I sit up and grab her hands, then give her a head butt that would knock almost anyone out. She sways backwards, stunned. Blood runs down her face where I cut her forehead open, and I swing my legs up. She is propelled forward over my head and crashes on the landing a few stairs below.
I catch my breath for a moment, sitting sideways on the stairs, to see if she will get up. I stand, jump down the stairs, and straddle her limp body. Her eyes are open though. And she’s not dead.
I’ve been a soldier, a mercenary, and I’ve fought my way out of more bars in more countries than I can count.
That is a look of enough.
“You done?” I ask her, my chest still rising and falling, betraying how unsettled this has me. “You gonna stop? Because I can go all night, bitch.”
I can. I just don’t want to. I’m fucking sick of this girl.
She pulls herself up into a sitting position. Her back rests against the wall made of stacked logs. She’s breathing heavy too, and she looks just as pissed off as I do. But the longer she stays silent, the clearer this all becomes.
She’s mad, yeah. But she’s more than that. The tears well up in her eyes and she presses her lips together, like she’s trying to keep the words inside.
“Speak up,” I yell. Loud enough to make her jump and angry enough to make her afraid. “Because that was it, Syd. That right there? That was my line and you just crossed it.”
A trickle of blood seeps out of her mouth and I wonder, just for a split second, if she bit her tongue or if that’s a sign of something more serious. But she wipes it away with the back of her hand and then spits on my goddamned floor.
I take a deep breath and ask for patience. And then I turn and walk back up the stairs. I grab her coat and snow pants and throw them down at her. The zipper on the jacket catches her lip and she yelps.
“Take the shit I gave you. Get out of my house. Get your ass back in that Cat. And take the path I spent all damn day plowing for you until you get to the end. There’s two trucks there. One is yours. One is mine. Take
yours. Leave mine. And never come back here. Do you understand me?” I hurl her boots next, and they hit the wall on each side of her head. Not by accident.
She stays still.
“Now!”
The tears fall down her cheeks before she can bow her head and hide them with her hair. “Just tell me why,” she whispers. “That’s all I want. One answer. Why?”
I hold up my hands with the urge to strangle her. “Why? What?”
“That night. Back at that cabin. The night you came to save me—”
“I never came to save you, Sydney. Let’s get that clear right now. I came to get you, yes. Because I got some information earlier in the day about you, Garrett, and your father. But it wasn’t anything good, Syd. In fact, I’ve never heard such disgusting filth in all my life. I thought—” I stop and thread my fingers through my hair. “I thought you were a victim. That you needed help. That Garrett was controlling you. But you proved to me tonight that you’re not. You don’t need help. At least not the kind I thought. And he isn’t controlling you, Sydney. You do his bidding because you want to. You’re in on his plans because you like it. And let me tell you something right now. I saw you, Sydney. I saw you. I watched you and Garrett after all that shit went down. You weren’t hard to find, either of you. Those two years you spent with him before he ‘disappeared’ should make you as sick as it makes me. And the fact that he kept you close, like a submissive dog, just made it all so much easier. I saw you.”
She stands up, grabs her coat and snow pants, and hugs them to her chest as she looks me in the eye. “That wasn’t me.”
“Right.” I laugh. “Let me guess. You have a twin?” I laugh again, then stop. Because hell, they all have twins, don’t they? Harper has one. James has one. Why can’t Sydney have one? Shit, maybe Sasha has one? I spin around and scrub my hand down my face as I consider this possibility.
