Enter Cabin 1. My hideout, my refuge, where I’d be staying until BSPD caught the guy, or, I got my Jeep back and could skip town for a while. I didn’t know. All I knew right then was that I needed a place to stay for the night.
Cabin 1 was it.
I was beat, emotionally, physically, mentally. Every way a woman could be beat, I was.
I felt physically sick, something that Celeste had picked up on over the last hour, and demanded the police out of the house and for Gage to take me away.
He did.
We didn’t speak as we walked down the pathway, pine needles crunching under the fuzzy slippers Celeste had given me after Gage tended to my feet. I inhaled the crisp, autumn air in an attempt to clear my head from the fog that was creeping up. It smelled like moldy fallen leaves, and death.
The trail took a curve and Gage lightly grabbed my hand and led me to a shiny side-by-side ATV. I didn’t ask where exactly we were going, I didn’t care.
He helped me into the passenger seat, guiding me softly, with hands along my back. Usually that would rub me the wrong way. At that moment, I would have let him pick me up and lay me in it. No time, no energy for any kind of feminist pissing matches at that moment.
If I’m being totally honest, I would have preferred to be laid on that little spot on his chest instead of inside the ATV.
With a low rumble of the engine, we started through the dark woods, down a manicured rock trail with landscaping along the sides. Swaying moonbeams danced along the forest floor as we journeyed deeper into the brush, an eerie, blue glow lighting our way.
A gust of wind sent a shiver down my spine and I wrapped my arms around myself.
Gage pulled a camo Carhartt jacket from the back.
“Thanks,” my voice barely audible as he handed it to me.
We drove for another few minutes in silence, bumping over the rocks, my body numb to the sensation. Then, he looked over at me, dappled moonlight dancing across his face.
“You did good in there.”
Was any other way acceptable?
A few seconds passed. “Where exactly is Cabin 1?”
“Just down the hill, not far. It’s where you’ll be staying for the next week.”
“What?” My neck snapped to him. “Week? No, no, Gage. I’m going home tomorrow. I have a job. I can’t just… ”
“Don’t worry about the cost. It’s covered.”
The cost? My lethargy was suddenly replaced by—perhaps a bit misplaced—raw anger.
“What the hell’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means you’re still in danger and you need personal security until the threat is neutralized.”
“You’ll cover the cost?” My emotions began to spin inside me like a hurricane. “You just automatically think I can’t take care of myself? Because I was beat up? Physically weak and financially weak? Is that it?”
“Cool it, sweetheart.” A little sharp attitude of his own.
“Don’t call me sweetheart.”
“Don’t piss me off, Miss Avery.”
“It’s Niki, and don’t tell me what to do. I’ll do whatever the hell I want. I don’t have to be here, you know.” My tone was like a spoiled, defiant child’s. “In fact, I’ll just walk home.”
My body flew forward as he slammed the brake. I had to grab the side to keep from falling out… which was exactly his intention, I think.
“No, you don’t have to be here.” He spit out. “And I’m sure as hell not going to try to convince you of it anymore. You go, he gets you, that’s on you then, sweetheart. Get on out, then. I’ll get back to my beer. Doesn’t make a goddamn difference to me.”
My eyebrows raised as I glowered at him, the spark in his eye as hot as my own. This guy could give as good as he got, and probably more—pretty face or not. I wasn’t used to that. Or, maybe I hadn’t been around a real tough-guy. No, Gage Steele didn’t tolerate being snapped at, or stupidity for that matter, because of course I wasn’t going to go home. He knew that. He didn’t tolerate pointless arguing, and was willing to throw me out on the curb—or onto the ground—despite the electricity shooting between us.
I realized then that I was dealing with a loose cannon. Erratic. Someone hot tempered, like me. Gage Steele and I were going to be like gasoline and fire. We were either going to keep a safe distance from each other, or explode. Together.
I gave in first, tearing my eyes away from him. He waited, still staring at me, challenging me to say another word. When he was satisfied I’d shut up for good, he continued down the trail with a jolt—scaring me—and jarring the silence that had settled between us.
I couldn’t control myself then. I gripped the sides and scowled at him, my pulse quickening with anger. It felt good to argue, to fight, to release tension. So I went in. Hard.
“You think the only reason I want to go home is because I don’t have the means for protection?” I cackled a laugh that made me sound like a hysterical, crazed woman. Which, at the moment, wasn’t too far from the truth. “I have plenty of money, and plenty of means of protection. I have a gun at my house, but who the hell needs a gun? Right? Right?” I was spinning. “Just give me a freaking steak knife.” My voice pitched, cracked. “I killed a man tonight, Gage. I killed a man.” With that, the tears exploded out of me, an uncontrollable wave of emotions hitting me with the force of a thousand bricks. I broke. I mean completely, utterly, snot dripping from my nose broke down.
Moments passed with me sobbing with my face in my hands, then, I noticed we’d stopped.
“No,” I whispered between sobs. “Just… please, get me to wherever I’m going, and let me be. Leave me alone.”
“Niki…” his low, smooth voice whispered back. “Niki, come here.”
I didn’t. I couldn’t. I was embarrassed, shaken to the core, and obviously not thinking straight.
Instead, I continued to cry, and he let me, until I felt his hand slide onto my leg. Then, a finger on my chin. He lifted, turning my head to him, where he’d gotten out of the ATV and walked to the passenger side. To my side. He was squatted, looking up at me, his stormy eyes reflecting in the moonlight.
“Don’t cry,” he whispered again. “Please. Don’t cry.”
I heard the words, but between the uncontrollable release I was having, I didn’t stop. Couldn’t. I swatted his hand away.
He gave me another minute, then touched my arm, softly, asking for approval. When I didn’t jerk away, he added the other. I felt him move closer, and God I wanted him closer. I wondered if I’d said my thoughts out loud because the next second, I was wrapped into his arms and pulled to the ground with him. The solid earth felt good beneath me, stable. The man felt good against me as I cried into his leather jacket. An anchor, a strength, a calm against a night of total chaos. He stroked my head, listened to me cry, not asking any questions, not asking for anything in return, until finally, finally, there were no more tears.
Nothing left of me.
It was as if my body had been rung of every emotion a human being could have, and I’d turned into nothing more than a hollow shell.
A hollow shell of the woman I used to be.
Sucking in my snot, I wiped my nose, my cheeks, then scrubbed my face with my hands.
He helped me stand.
I couldn’t look at his face.
No words were spoken as he helped me back into the ATV, then continued down the path until we veered to the left, onto another narrow path. This one wound deeper through the forest, thicker trees and underbrush, and I took the time to breathe deeply in a desperate attempt to recenter myself. And I wondered if that was even possible.
Up ahead, I spotted golden lights twinkling through the trees. Another corner, then the path faded into a clearing with a small log cabin aglow through the darkness. It reminded me of one of those Thomas Kinkade paintings. Warm, welcoming, quaint, complete with a chimney and wraparound porch. Colorful potted mums lined the steps. Fallen leaves speckled the roof and ground
, the moon resting on the peak.
“Cabin 1?”
Gage nodded. “Ready?”
Breath escaped me in an exasperated display. I had nothing. No bag to take in with me, no phone, no clothes, nothing. Only a single red leaf tucked into the waistband of my shorts.
Nodding, I dragged myself out of the ATV, my body like a limp noodle. I looked around as I crossed the rock driveway that disappeared somewhere down the hill. Dense woods hugged the cabin, providing privacy, and extra security if I had to guess.
“You okay?”
I hadn’t realized Gage was watching me.
I nodded and met him at the front door. No key, just a numbered keypad that demanded a ridiculously long code, and Gage’s fingerprint to enter.
The thick wooden door opened to a single room, decorated with lush, dark leather furniture and plaid blankets, and a bookshelf with more books than I could read in a lifetime. It smelled fresh and clean, like Pine Sol, with a hint of vanilla. The lights had already been turned on. Not heavy fluorescent overhead lights, but soft, table and floor lamps casting a golden glow across the room. A wall of windows, black with night, looked out to an observatory deck overlooking the woods. To the right, a small kitchen with upscale appliances and the same copper cookware as the main house. The left wall was lined with a beautiful stone fireplace, flanked by two rooms. One a small bedroom with four-poster bed and blinding white comforter that looked as light and fluffy as a cloud, the other, a dark stone bathroom with a copper soaking tub and sink.
“It’s beautiful.” And it was.
Gage made his way into the kitchen.
My gaze landed on a large bag with a note that read Niki, sitting on the coffee table.
“Let me guess? Tampons and itch-cream?”
Gage grinned as he checked the windows and locks. “No clue. Celeste got the room ready. I’m guessing it’s clothes, over-priced girly showering stuff, and whatever lotions and goo you guys use while getting ready. Let me show you around.”
I followed him through the cabin as he walked me through the appliances, the fridge that was fully stocked, the automatic fireplace, the bedroom, the bathroom. Lastly, and most importantly, he showed me the security system, complete with a remote control the size of a jumbo cell phone, with all the bells and whistles of one.
“No one can get inside this cabin. We have bullet proof windows, walls, and security cameras throughout the mountain. Shit goes down…” he paused. “’Scuse the language.”
A smile tugged my lips. “Don’t worry about that with me. Thank you, though.”
“Okay then, glad we got that out of the way. Anyway, if shit goes down, you’re safe.”
A tiny bit of tension released from my shoulders. “What if I want to go outside?”
“You’ll need to press your code to deactivate the alarm. When you go back in, you’ll reactivate it. If you forget, don’t worry, it reactivates every twenty minutes, and will give you a courtesy beep if you’re still outside, in which case you’ll have to deactivate it again.”
“What about a phone? I don’t have one. How will I get ahold of you?”
He stepped over to the fireplace, pulled down an ornate turquoise box from the mantle and lifted a small necklace. It was beautiful. Somehow, I knew that wasn’t the point, though. He lifted it over my head, like a King to his Knight. Gage the King, me his servant. The second time that evening I’d felt that. Resigning, I dipped my chin as he slid it around my neck. He swept the hair away from my shoulder, his thumb brushing my cheek. A wave of tingles flew over my skin. I looked up, into eyes that were staring down at me with such intensity that my heart skipped a beat. His gaze shifted to the knot below my eye. The muscle in his jaw twitched, then, he looked back at me. Eyes locked, he leaned forward, and for a moment I thought he might kiss me. Instead, he secured the clasp on the back of my neck, whispering in my ear, “You’ll wear this while you’re here.” The warmth of his breath, the proximity of his lips had my pulse thrumming. “There’s a small button on the backside of the pendent. Push it if you need me, if you ever get scared, and I’ll be right there.” He pulled away, taking the scorching heat between us with him. Like the pull of a magnet, I could actually feel the sexual tension vibrating between us.
Like fire and gasoline.
“Where will you be?” I whispered, not sure why.
“The main house.” He narrowed his eyes with that intensity that I was learning was simply a part of him. “I’ll be here if you need me. You can count on that.”
I nodded and began turning the pendant over in my fingers. “Thank you, Gage.”
He scanned my face, settling on my lips.
I worried he could hear the drum of my heart through the silence.
Finally, he met my gaze, tilted his head. “What’s with the leaf?”
“Oh.” My hand dropped to the waistband of my shorts, my eyes to the floor. “It’s…” I covered the leaf with my hand wondering how to explain its symbolism, especially to a man. How to explain that the little leaf had saved my life. That little leaf symbolized strength. Survival.
I couldn’t explain it, then, anyway, so I didn’t. “It’s just something I picked up.” I lifted my face to his, cocking a brow.
He nodded, and I saw that understanding in his face again. The same understanding when he’d realized exactly how I’d been attacked.
He pulled a pair of dog tags from under his shirt.
“What are those?”
“… Just something I picked up.”
I smiled, fighting the urge to lean up on my tiptoes and kiss him.
He tucked his necklace under his shirt. “I’ll make sure Opal knows not to throw it away.”
“Opal?”
“Housekeeping.”
Of course.
“Thank you.”
He ran his finger down the bruise on my face. “Niki, I just want you to know…”
A screaming cell phone interrupted him. He quickly stepped back, the heat dissolving from his eyes, and seamlessly switched back to all-business as he read a text message.
“I’ve got to go. Your personal security code is 4764. Randomly generated. Myself and my brothers know it, no one else does. It resets with every tenant. Are you hungry?”
“Okay, and, no… not yet any way.”
“There’s plenty of food in the fridge, or if you want anything else, we can get it for you. The main house number is on the phone in the bedroom, along with my personal cell. Call if you need anything. You’ve got a golf cart parked on the side of the cabin. Feel free to come to the main house anytime. Follow the trail out the back. The driveway heads down the mountain to the main dirt road; don’t take that, always take the back trails. And always take your necklace, and don’t forget to set the alarms. Lastly, no one is allowed to wander the grounds after nightfall.”
I glanced out the window, unbelieving of where I was, and what I was listening to. I was officially someone who needed personal security.
“Niki…”
I shifted my empty gaze back to my protector.
“You’re safe here. You have my word.” As if he couldn’t resist another touch, he swept a strand of hair from my face. “I won’t let anything happen to you. You’re safe, and you’re not alone.”
You’re not alone.
I dipped my chin as the sting of tears threatened to give me away. I didn’t want to cry in front of him. Not again.
Taking the cue, he stepped back, hesitating a moment before turning and walking out the front door.
And leaving me with my tears.
11
Niki
My eyes popped open to darkness and panic seized me. I didn’t know where I was, or what I was doing there. My gaze darted around the room, desperately trying to pull memories. I zeroed in on a red, flashing light from a phone on the end of the couch that I’d fallen asleep on. Except it wasn’t a phone, it was a security remote.
A security remote for the cabin I’d been swept awa
y to in an attempt to save my life from the man who wanted to take it.
My stomach rolled with the memories.
I sat up, pain shooting up my back as the soft Navajo-print afghan fell to the hardwood floor below me. A cool breeze swept over my once warmed skin as I looked at the windows, inky-black with night.
I looked at the clock—2:47 a.m.
Hours away from light. Hours away from a new day to start over, begin fresh. The start of many long, difficult roads that now laid ahead of me. One road, finding the son of a bitch who tried to kill me, and dealing with the gossip that would come with it. One road navigating my job, and figuring out if, God willing, being a sexual assault victim wouldn’t affect my position. Lastly, one road, and perhaps the most difficult of all, trying to heal and forget. Although, I knew in my heart I would never fully heal, and I sure as hell would never forget. It would become a part of me—for better or worse. They say what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. I guessed I was about to find out, but one thing I knew for certain was that my life had changed forever.
A life I’d worked so damn hard to build into a meaningful one, with the promise of a prosperous future where I didn’t have to depend on anyone or anything. Truly independent, that was always my goal. From the moment that I was born into poverty in a rusted, stained bathtub—one of the few facts that had never reached the Berry Springs gossips—I’d fought for dignity. Most people fought for respect, for honor, for a clean slate. No, I fought for dignity. Screw money, screw name-brand clothes, new athletic shoes, snacks, screw all that stuff. All I wanted was to have self-respect. Pride. I believed I was more than how I was brought into this world. And I was. Dammit, I was.
Even in the shadows behind the bleachers where the giggles followed me like an incurable plague, I had faith in myself. I studied. I read. I taught myself three different languages… what I was going to do with Gaelic, I wasn’t sure, but Spanish had proved to serve me well. I graduated valedictorian of my class, although no one remembered that. I got a full ride to college and worked my ass off to obtain a double degree. All that paled in comparison to passing the bar exam. Now my career was up in the air. My name would be all over the local news, all over the local diners, hair salons. The fact that I had been sexually assaulted would surely leak out. My name—the name I’d worked so damn hard to build up—would be tarnished.
Cabin 1 Page 9
