Cabin 1

by Amanda McKinney

  Again.

  Feeling nauseous, I pushed off the couch. I could handle emotional pain and torment. Not feeling sick on top of that. So, in a desperate attempt to ease an ounce of my discomfort, I padded to the kitchen. Relieving low blood sugar from lack of food was one thing I could control—something I could fix, right then. On my own. That little thought, that tiny little burst of positivity, sent my stomach growling.

  One thing at a time. Fix one thing at a time.

  The luxury slippers that my new best friend—aka Celeste—had left for me slid along the hardwood floors, squeezing my aching feet like a warm hug. Her ‘welcome bag’ didn’t disappoint. Inside were several changes of clothes—all the correct sizes—including a gray Steele Shadows T-shirt made of the softest cotton I’d ever felt, and flannel bottoms, thick and cozy, both I had slipped into the moment Gage had left. Also inside the bag was an impressive selection of makeup, hair products, a journal, and a jumbo bag of M&M’s… the necessities for any woman on the run.

  As I walked to the kitchen, I scanned the thick log walls, the nature paintings that hung on them, the antique light fixtures, and wondered how many people had spent evenings inside that exact cabin. What path had their lives taken to lead them to that point? Was it safe to assume everyone had been attacked in one way or another? If not physically, perhaps emotionally? They’d been brought there to sort out the pieces of their lives while someone, or something, threatened to take it away?

  It was a haunting thought.

  Less haunting than realizing I had become one of them.

  The thought was like a shot of espresso to my system, jolting me into the same vibrating anxiety I’d felt before exhaustion had gripped me and pulled me under, if only for a few hours.

  No way was I going back to sleep.

  I yanked open the fridge, stocked with fresh fruits, veggies, meats, cheeses, and in the freezer, pizzas, ice cream, and a stack of organic insta-dinners. I grabbed an apple, stick of cheese, and decaffeinated soda—something light, something to fill the void in my stomach. I leaned against the counter and nibbled, my gaze drifting outside where the full moon washed over the mountains. A cluster of lights twinkled through the trees. The main house.

  Gage.

  He was awake. Apparently, the whole house was.

  A ripple of butterflies swept through my empty stomach at the mere thought of the man. Of his touch on my legs, the tip of his finger on my face, that damn look in his eyes that sent every sexual sensor zipping to attention.

  I’d heard about the Steele brothers—real bad boys, tough as nails, and even tougher to tame. Former Marines who’d recently left the military to take over their father’s business after he’d passed away. Rumor was they rarely left their compound, except to go to the local bar, a trip that more often than not ended in a fist fight… and except to take home the random women they’d picked up during the occasion. Rumor was they were decidedly—not tragically—single. Very single, playboys, each having many women, but never letting one get too close.

  Each willing to die for the other.

  Rumor was, the Steele family was thick as thieves.

  I wondered what Gage was doing. Finishing that beer? Watching television? Snuggling with a busty blonde?

  Keeping my focus on the house in the distance, I pushed out the back door onto the deck. A series of angry beeps whirled through the silence, reminding me to grab the security remote and type in the code Gage had written down on a post-it before he’d left. His handwriting, by the way, was as aggressive and sharp as every word that came out of his mouth. Quick slashes of letters as if it pained him to even take the second to write it.

  The heavy wooden door closed behind me. A porch swing surrounded by candles and yellow and orange mums swayed in the cool air, its shadow dancing along the deck floor. Dead leaves tumbled across my slippers. The night was quiet, eerily so.

  Taking a deep breath, I walked to the railing. My hand mindlessly drifted to the security necklace around my neck, and I lightly rubbed the SOS button on the back.

  Another deep breath, inhaling the fresh, clean mountain air, then I leaned my elbows against the railing and stared at the castle on the hill.

  What would it be like to live like that? To have everything in the world at your fingertips, or at least the money to get it there. To be impossibly handsome, rich, powerful… lethal. My thoughts drifted again to his hands on my legs, slowly cleaning my wounds. Slowly igniting a fire inside me.

  I felt a tingle below, heat, an unfamiliar need beginning to warm my skin.

  I looked at the number he’d taped to the back of the remote. His number.

  I glanced back at the wireless phone sitting on the coffee table. Maybe—

  Crack!

  My heart slammed against my ribcage as a bullet whizzed past my head, so close my hair flew up with the break of wind. Panic shot through me like lightning as I lunged to the side, diving onto the deck floor.

  Another crack, sounding like a bomb exploding in the distance. A flower pot shattered inches from my head. Dirt flew everywhere, all over me, as bullets pinged off the windows behind me. I desperately grabbed for my necklace, which had twisted around my neck, dangling somewhere down my back.

  I couldn’t scream, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. I was in complete terror as my head spun like a top.

  The rope of the necklace burned my skin as I yanked it around my neck to find the button.

  Another shot, splitting the wood railing in front of my forehead, and I knew the shooter had me solidly in his sights now.

  I was screwed. He’d come back for me, and he was going to finish the job.

  I braced for impact just as a body flew through the air, barreling me into the corner a split-second before the bullet pierced my forehead.

  Gage.

  Gasping for breath, I was pinned underneath him, every inch of his body covering mine. He was yelling to someone, or into something perhaps. I couldn’t make out the words.

  I cranked my head to the side and blinked, clearing my blurred vision as my eyes darted around the deck floor.

  And my stomach rolled like a wave.

  Beneath spikey hair matted with leaves and dried blood, a pair of frozen eyes stared lifelessly into my soul, a tongue hanging grotesquely out of a grayish-blue mouth, opened slightly as if he was trying to tell me something. And just below that, bloody strings of skin dangled from the decapitated head of Ian Lee.

  12

  Niki

  “Shots coming from the northwest corner of the property, check the cliff.” Gage’s booming voice faded in and out through the erratic pumping of my heart.

  His body shifted off of me as he frantically looked me over. “Are you okay?”

  I swallowed the bile in my throat. “Ian’s...” I squeaked out. “Gage, look.”

  He followed my gaze, coolly assessed the decapitated head as if it weren’t the first he’d seen, then, focused back on me. “Are you okay?”

  “Yes. Gage, the head.”

  “Don’t touch it. We leave it exactly where it is for the police. Celeste has already called them. You’re sure you’re not hurt?”

  “Yes.”

  He slid his arms underneath me and swept me off the deck, as more gunfire popped in the distance.

  He carried me into the cabin. “Well, maybe they got him.”

  “Who? Who got him?”

  “My brothers.”

  I was carried to the kitchen and slid onto the counter, for the second time that evening. Something about counters, apparently.

  “I couldn’t get to my necklace in time… I’m sorry… how did you know I needed you? How…”

  “I was in the woods.” He scanned my body as if he didn’t believe I wasn’t hurt.

  “In the woods doing what?”

  “Watching you.” His gaze flickered to me, then back to a small cut he’d found on my knee. He pulled a bandage from the counter and ripped off the top with his teeth.

&nbs
p; “Watching me? At almost three in the morning?”

  “Every second of the day. That’s my job, Niki.”

  My heart fluttered and I didn’t know if it was because of the sting of the antiseptic wipe, or the fact that Gage had never really left me.

  Even if it were only his job.

  “Did you see whoever left… it?”

  He clenched his jaw. “No, must’ve done it earlier while we were still up at the house.”

  My mouth dropped. “Meaning, he never left the area…”

  Icy eyes narrowed. “Exactly.”

  “Meaning… he didn’t give up.” My stomach rolled at the thought. I was being stalked.

  Just then, the rumble of an ATV stopped outside the back door, followed by heavy footsteps onto the deck.

  “That’ll be Ax. Stay put.”

  Gage secured the bandage then disappeared into the living room. I jumped off the counter as his as-strikingly-handsome twin brother entered the cabin.

  “Get him?” Gage asked Ax.

  “No. He had a solid three minute jump on me. Took the shots from the cliff, exactly like you said, then caught a hunter’s trail and took off on a four-wheeler down the mountain. Followed him until the trails crossed. Guy’s gone. Wolf is pulling up the cameras.”

  “What were the shots we heard, then?”

  A cocky smile eerily similar to the one I’d seen on Gage a few times crossed Ax’s lips. “Just telling him to have a nice evening.” He glanced at me, then back to Gage. “Gunner’s already out on the roads. Don’t know where the hell Feen is.”

  “Okay. Keep me updated.”

  “You got it. Cops are on their way.” Another glance in my direction, this one laced with a hint of warning, before he disappeared out the front door. A warning to stay inside the cabin? Or a warning to stay away from Gage?

  Eyebrow cocked, Gage turned to me. “I told you to stay in the kitchen. Not good at following directions, are we?”

  “One of my many charming qualities.”

  His gaze skimmed my body. Butterflies, again.

  “Nice shirt.” He leveled on the logo across my chest, or maybe my chest only.

  “Courtesy of Celeste.”

  “Figured.” He narrowed his eyes, his jaw twitching. “We need to talk. Sit.”

  “Listen.” I held up a hand. “Thank you. Thank you for taking me in from the woods, thank you for protecting me, and thank you for just saving my life—”

  “Why do I feel like there’s a but coming?”

  “But you should know that along with not following directions, another one of my charming qualities is that I’m not a fan of being bossed around…” I paused. “Whether being indebted to you, or not.”

  He stared with an expression I couldn’t quite read. Then, closed the distance between us, stopping inches from my face, trailing from my eyes, down my cheeks, to my lips, to my hair. I froze in place, my body’s response to the proximity of him. To the demanding presence of him. To the alpha of him. How many women did he have that effect on, I wondered.

  He reached up and slowly pulled a flower petal out of my hair, running it along my earlobe, the touch of his fingertip like electric silk along my neck.

  “Niki,” his voice low, quiet, ever-demanding of my full attention. “If you were in my debt, believe me, you’d know it.”

  My heart skipped a beat, and for a split second, I found myself wishing I were in his debt. His servant. His, to do with what he pleased. His, to ravage.

  His, his, his.

  I stepped back, not because he had inched even closer, but because I feared I wouldn’t be able to control my next move. “We need to talk…” I repeated his own comment in an attempt to cool the heat scorching the earth between us.

  He blinked as if he hadn’t heard a word out of my mouth.

  “Yes,” he finally said. “We do need to talk.” Then, with a twinkle in his grey eyes and a small curve on his lips, he said, “Miss Avery, ma’am, may I please ask you to take a seat while we have this discussion?”

  My eye roll was so dramatic I felt it in my already stabbing headache. I looked at the couch—the last place I needed to be next to this man. Then, at the kitchen. “Actually, I could use a drink.”

  “Music to my ears. There’s whiskey in the cabinet above the fridge.”

  I looked up at the small cupboard I hadn’t even noticed.

  “We like to keep it out of reach of clients who aren’t regular drinkers, but available for those who need it.”

  “And know where to look, apparently.” I extended onto my tiptoes.

  “I’ll get it.” He breezed past me, that damn mixture of pine and fresh soap tickling my nose again. It was as if the guy knew every trick in the book to knock a woman off her game.

  With two fingers of whiskey and one of those big fancy ice cubes in a short glass, I leaned against the cabinet while Gage watched me with his assessing gaze. Endless questions, endless suspicions, endless heat.

  He sipped, straight from the bottle. “So what just happened changes things.”

  “Uh, yeah.”

  “Haddix is of the impression your attack was random.”

  “Yeah, I caught that.” I sipped. “You don’t believe that.”

  “No, ma’am.”

  “You didn’t believe it before someone tried to gun me down after leaving a severed head outside my door.”

  “Right.”

  “Why?”

  “The fact he chased you through the woods after everything, after you killed his buddy… that’s not the behavior of a random attack.”

  I’d thought the same thing a hundred times.

  “If he was concerned about you being able to ID him, he would have run, regardless. Maybe taken a few shots, but then got the hell out of there. He wouldn’t have stalked you through the woods while his buddy was dead on the side of the road. Scenario one, your attack was planned, and the job wasn’t finished. He came back right now to get it done. It’s personal.”

  “Agreed on all counts.” I gripped the cold, sweating glass. “And what’s scenario two?”

  “Niki…” a tone that resembled my father’s. A tone I didn’t much care for. “Are you sure you didn’t know them? Or, maybe—”

  “Or, maybe what?” I snapped.

  “Maybe… things got a bit out of hand tonight and you ran.”

  The instant rage that bubbled up was unprecedented. I’d never been so mad, so quickly in my entire life. Not only because of the accusation that I was lying, because of the gall of it, from him. What the hell did I owe this guy? Absolutely nothing. He said it himself he’d just been doing his job.

  “Scenario two is that I’m lying, right? That you don’t believe me.” Hand trembling, I set down my drink.

  His expression didn’t break. He simply stared back at me. Demanding, demanding, demanding.

  I was irate. I crossed my arms over my chest. “I know you, Gage Steele—”

  “You don’t know shit about me.” The venom was back.

  “I know plenty about you.” I bowed up for the fight, more than ready. “A spoiled rich kid who grew up with a silver spoon in his mouth. Having more than enough, more than needed. More than any kid should have. Always getting your way, always looking down on others from your castle in the sky. I’d say you pitied those less fortunate than you, but having met you now, I don’t think that’s the case. I think you simply didn’t even notice. I think you couldn’t give a damn about others, or their situation in life. This is all a job to you. You don’t care about your clients. No, Gage, you don’t know me.”

  His jaw clenched, the only movement in the statue standing across of me.

  I continued and began pacing the room like a tiger about to escape its cage. “How dare you insinuate that I’m lying about something like sexual assault? Do you know how many similar cases I’ve studied and worked on? You think I’m a liar because of my Dad. Let’s get one thing straight, Gage—I am not my father. I am not my family. I’v
e spent my entire life running away from the way I was raised. Worked my ass off. And for you to think I’d throw it all away for what? Some sort of pity party? For attention? I hate attention, Gage. It’s my biggest challenge in my job. I don’t like standing up in front of people, all eyes on me.”

  “Why do you do it then?”

  I stopped on a dime. “Because I believe in it. I’m part of helping people dig their way out of the darkest times in their lives. I want to help them. Get them justice.” I paused, cocked my head. “Do you believe in right and wrong? Evil and good? Or is life just a whirling tornado, let us fall where we may.”

  “I believe we make our own luck.”

  “Wrong. Sometimes shit happens. Sometimes life happens and throws you down a path you never expected. What’s next? You deal with it. And what helps? Having the best team of people around you.” I jerked my drink off the counter punctuating my last sentence. “And for you to think I’ve worked up some story… like my Dad.” My voice cracked, the sting of tears heating my eyes. I will them away. “You owe me an apology.” When he didn’t, I snorted and shook my head. “Ah, screw it.” I slammed down my drink, turned my back to him and began walking out of the kitchen. “I don’t need this bullshit right now. I’m getting out of here—”

  My body jerked back with the force of his grab. I was spun around like a rag doll and met with a gaze so intense, my heart leapt into my throat.

  The grip on my shoulders tightened as he leaned down and crushed his lips onto mine. I was shocked, stunned, once again frozen where I stood, completely under his command, his dominance, exactly how he wanted it. His tongue met mine, a warm tingle of whiskey. My knees buckled, my stomach swam with emotions.

  I submitted.

  Dammit, I submitted.

  Melting into his kiss, I was backed up, stumbling. He effortlessly caught me and pinned me against the wall with a force that knocked the air out of my lungs.