by Tracey Ward
“Right on track to trapping you for the rest of your life.”
My heart hesitates, unsure what to make of that. I know what I want to make of it, but it’s too much to think about, too much to imagine in a moment like this when we’re on the run and everything feels so unsure; transitory as the fog disappearing under the light of the morning sun, bleeding into the landscape like watercolors on canvas. I keep myself and my heart in check to keep my sanity. To keep myself whole.
“This is what you want to be doing for the rest of your life?” I joke airily, feeling anything but. I feel like lead. I feel heavy as iron standing at the end of this dock with him, like the weight of everything I have and everything I want will sink me like a stone if I step out over the water. “You want to be running forever?”
“You’re not the reason I’m running.”
“Yes, I am. If you weren’t trying to keep me safe, you’d have let them catch you a long time ago. You’d go in with a fistful of stones and tear the entire organization to the ground in one long rampage. It’d be over by now and you’d have your life back, if it weren’t for me.”
“And where would I have gotten those stones?” he reminds me, turning to face me. “How would I have found out what powers I had if it weren’t for you?”
“Or you wouldn’t be on their radar at all,” I continue, pretending I don’t hear him because I feel like he’s not hearing me. “They’d have left you alone if you hadn’t gotten tied to me. If I hadn’t Slipped you out of your base and out to Nebraska.”
“Don’t start this again. I wouldn’t change any of it. You know that.”
“I know, and I think that’s what kills me.”
Nick hesitates, his eyes going to the ground. “Being with me kills you?”
“No,” I whisper desperately, finally turning to face him. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I can’t stand the thought of not being with you, and it feels so selfish because I really do think you’d be better off without me.”
He nods slowly. “You feel guilty. I know that. I’ve always known that, and there’s nothing I can say to take that away, so I’m doing everything I can instead.” He looks up, his eyes falling determined and fierce on mine. The strength of his power burning behind them. “When this is over, I hope you’ll let that guilt go. I hope you’ll let yourself be happy. With me.”
I smile sadly, stepping closer to him. “I’m already happy with you. More than I’ve ever been in my life.”
“Me too,” he promises, taking my hands in his. “No regrets.”
“Not even little ones?”
“Like what?”
“Like bringing Campbell around?”
Nick laughs and I’m immediately relieved. The sound bounces off the water around us, cracking the cold air, and I step in closer to him, to that warmth, until I’m pressed up against him with his arms sliding around me and my cheeks aching under my own smile.
“There are days,” he admits lightly. “But I think he’s doing more good than harm.”
“When did you become the optimist in this relationship?”
His smile fades, his eyes searching mine meaningfully. “When I fell in love with you and realized good things are possible.”
“There you go sweet talking again.”
“Trapping,” he corrects on a whisper, his warm lips kissing the tip of my cold nose. “I’m an excellent hunter.”
“You say that like you think I’m running.”
“You say that like you think you’re not.”
I wince against the accusation, against the absolute, ugly truth of it, but Nick sooths the feeling with a quick kiss. And then another. Slower. Longer. He comes in again for a third and I wrap my arms around his neck, pulling him closer.
“I wish we could make a boat,” I tell him dreamily, my fatigue catching up with me quickly. “One like in the dream. We could sail it around the fjord, going nowhere. Just floating.”
“I could. If you really wanted to.”
“Make another bone ship,” I demand impetuously. “We could sail it up the coast and conquer some small fishing village. We’ll seize all their carp.”
His body shakes with a chuckle, his laughter rumbling inside his chest, pressing deep into mine. “If that’s what you want, that’s what we’ll do.”
“I want a crown too.”
“And you’ll have one.”
“A big one?”
“What’s the point otherwise?”
“Will you wear one?”
“I get to be your king?”
I step up on my toes, stealing a kiss from him. “You are already.”
Nick doesn’t respond. He stays quiet and still for so long, I open my eyes, worried I’ve said something wrong. He searches my face. He looks unsure for a second. Like he’s worried or wondering. A question is on his mind, hiding somewhere behind his lips, but it doesn’t find its way out. Instead of asking what he’s thinking, he leans in to put his forehead to mine.
“I love you,” he whispers, his voice heavy and heartfelt.
I smile lazily. Happy as a fat cat on a warm rug in the mid-day sun. “I love you too.”
He kisses me again. It’s more than before, taking me by surprise. People can see us, a big red flag for him when it comes to showing affection, but he doesn’t seem to care today. It’s that something else on his mind, and as he pulls me against him harder, aligning my body with his in all the right places that make me melt inside like soft candlewax, I think that something might be me.
I thread my cold fingers through his hair as he slides his hand under the back of my jacket. My shirt. His hot palm presses firmly against the bare skin of my back and I suddenly have trouble breathing. Trouble thinking and remembering. Trouble caring. It’s been a long time since we’ve been like this, teetering on the edge of something amazing. Something electric that scalds us both to our bones and makes the stars look dim by comparison. I want to lay down on this dock with him right now and recreate the most vivid of all our dreams, but we have an audience. And when we hear the rumble of a truck hurrying down the road toward us, we remember we have a job to do.
We’re not out of the woods yet. In fact, we’re only just now about to delve into them. Everything else, even this immediate needful feeling of us, has to wait.
Nick releases me, his hands still on my hips as he looks down at me appropriately breathless. His face ruddy and rugged. Handsome as a romance cover model as he stands at the edge of the water with shining dark hair and deep, serious eyes.
“We should go,” he breathes.
I smirk at him. “Or we should let them go.”
“Don’t tempt me.”
“I thought I already did.”
He smiles, planting another smaller, cooler kiss on my lips. “With every move you make.”
We reach the end of the dock just as Jonnie is jumping down from the cab of the big red beast. We get our first real glimpse of her as a genuine person, and she’s not quite what I expected. It’s like meeting someone you’ve only talked to on the phone before. You know their voice and you’ve got this image in your head, but when you meet them they can’t possibly fall perfectly inside your mold. They’re their own person, real and in the flesh. And Jonnie is simply lovely.
She has long brown hair that hangs thick over her shoulders. She’s the same height as the projection, same basic build. Lean but not fragile. She strides onto the loose rocks on the shore with sure, sturdy steps, her face coming into the building light. Its oval and open. Hesitance in her brown eyes but also excitement. A little thrill in the slight upturn of her mouth. She’s nervous. Bringing us to her home after being so diligently alone has got to be scary for her. She’s brave for letting us in, and I’m trying to remember that when I look at her and not dwell on the fact that she spied on me for most of my adult life.
“Welcome to Doubtful Sound,” she greets us warmly. A little hesitantly.
She’s dressed for the cold in hi
gh, brown boots, blue jeans, and a hot pink and black flannel shirt under a dark jacket. There’s mud on the bottom of her boots. Splatters on the side of her truck. Dirt under her nails as she pushes her long hair out of her face. She’s pretty but not prissy and my opinion of her goes up immediately.
“Hi,” I say with a smile. “Thanks for coming to get us. And letting us come to you.”
“Yeah. Sure. You were right.” She glances around our strange group. “It’ll be nice not to be alone for a while.”
“We promise not to overstay our welcome.”
“We want to end this and get our lives back as soon as we can,” Nick agrees.
Jonnie nods. “I hear that.” She sighs, gesturing to the truck behind her. “This is your ride. Two people can sit in the cab with me but the rest of you will have to ride in the back.”
“Shotgun!” Campbell immediately shouts.
He’s already got his bag slung onto his back, his eyes on Jonnie as he heads for the truck. She looks back at him, studying him with a gently furrowed brow.
He smiles under her scrutiny. “Do I look different?”
“A little,” she mutters, her voice distracted.
“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”
“I don’t know yet.”
“Will you let me know when you figure it out?”
“You’ll be the first person I tell.”
“I look forward to it.”
He slings his bag up into the truck bed before yanking open the passenger door to the truck. He’ll be riding right next to her, sandwiched in close by whoever else sits up front.
I feel so bad for Jonnie right then.
As we load up into the truck, moisture is thick in the air, in the sky, and it’s only a matter of minutes before we’ll be soaked. Gwen tries to get Naomi to sit up front so she’ll be out of the rain but the girl doesn’t listen. She climbs silently up into the truck and parks herself with her back against the side. We all sit around her, giving her space. For her sake and for ours. Trina takes the open seat inside, leaving the rest of us with the luggage and the nightmare factory.
And the rain.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
MAX
Jonnie has the windshield wipers on full and they’re still struggling to keep the thing cleared. I can’t imagine how much it must suck to be in the back right now, mostly because I’m lucky enough to not be back there. I’m in the front, dry as a bone on the soft, black bench seat pressed up against Jonnie’s soft side, the warmth of the heater blasting away the cold. It’s a good place to be.
“So, there’s no town out here?” I clarify. “Just you?”
“Just me,” she confirms. The woods are dark as we fly through them, hidden from the rising sun, the road jostling us left and right. She should be going slower than this but I think she’s trying to hurry for the sake of the suckers stuck in the back. I’m not complaining but my butt is clenched, ready for us to go off the road at any second.
“No utilities, then,” I guess.
“Nope. The ranch is totally self-sufficient. It’s covered in solar panels and pulls well water. I have chickens. Cows. Pigs.”
“Horses.”
“Horses,” she admits with a nod. “They’re my family out here. They keep me sane.”
“Pigs couldn’t do that?”
“You ever tried talking to a pig?”
“Not recently, no.”
“Don’t. They’re dicks.”
I smile, looking at her out of the corner of my eye. She’s grinning faintly, her hands loose and relaxed on the steering wheel. Her profile pretty against the rushing green forest outside the window. “Thanks for the pro tip.”
“You’re welcome. But, seriously, I do go into town to stock up on supplies sometimes. And talk to real people. I don’t want to go nuts out here alone.”
“How do you get there? There are no roads off this place, right?”
“Right. I have a motored raft that I can bring down to the docks and take to Te Anau. I buy everything I need there, charter a boat to bring it out to Doubtful, and load it into the truck to take home. I try to only do it once a month to keep a low profile.”
“Do people ask questions when you ask a boat to come all the way out here with a load of two ply toilet paper and Venus razors?”
She chuckles lightly. “Yeah, people always have questions but I’ve got answers for them.”
“You mean lies?”
“What else would I tell them?”
“What’s your lie?”
“‘I’m the caretaker of the property for a wealthy couple. No, I can’t tell you who they are, I’ve been sworn to secrecy to protect the privacy of their getaway spot, but if you’ve seen any movie made by Miramax in the last ten years, you know their work.’”
“And people buy that?”
“People love that. It makes them feel like Hollywood is right here in town. And it explains where all the money comes from.”
“How much money are we talking about?”
For the first time since we left the docks, Jonnie looks uncomfortable. She shifts in her seat, her shoulders tensing. Her smile fading. “I don’t know.”
“You don’t know how much money you have?”
“No.”
“Or where you got it?”
“No.”
I nod my head, looking straight out the windshield. The pelt of the rain and the swoosh of the wipers is hypnotic. On the other side of me, Trina has passed out with her head against the window. It’s just me and Jonnie and the lies she’s telling.
“I’m not gonna judge,” I tell her honestly.
She shakes her head defiantly. “I’m not gonna tell you.”
“Ever?”
“Never.”
“Okay,” I relent, crossing my arms and settling down into the seat. “We’ll put a pin in it for now.”
“There’s no—you don’t have to pin it because I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Not right now, no, but eventually I think you will.”
“Oh yeah?” she chuckles mirthlessly. “Why’s that?”
“Because eventually you’re going to trust me enough to tell me. You’ll want to tell me, and I’ll be ready to listen whenever that day comes. No judgements.”
She sits silently next to me, her hands tightening on the steering wheel. Her eyes focused like lasers through the windshield.
“What’s your candy situation like?” I ask her conversationally.
She frowns, casting me a quick glance. “My candy situation?”
“Yeah. What have you got stashed away at the house? Because Liam had seriously nothing. Essentials only. I had to make due with Lucky Charms but my sweet tooth is singin’. I need candy ASAP.”
She pinches her lips between her teeth, sighing. “I have lemon drops.”
“Are you for real?” I laugh. “What are you? Eighty?”
“They’re good.”
“You like old lady candy.”
She snickers, her hands relaxing. “It’s not old lady candy. It’s refreshing.”
“It shouldn’t be. It should be decadent.”
“What’s your poison, then?”
“Starbursts.”
Jonnie laughs, her body shaking against mine. “How are Starbursts decadent?”
“There are five different flavors. They’re extravagant at least.”
“Oh my God, you’re an idiot.”
“Actually, I’m a—” I stop myself, checking my braggadocio. “Nah, you’re right. I’m an idiot. But it’s cute, right?”
She doesn’t answer. She only shakes her head, but I’ve never seen a smile more approving in my life.
Ten minutes later we roll up on a big iron fence. Jonnie slows, tapping a button on a remote on her visor. It splits the gate down the middle, letting us through. Jonnie is quick to close it behind us. Her eyes watch the rearview mirror to make sure it closes all the way. To be sure we aren’t followed.
“Ho
w’s the security around this place?” I ask curiously.
“It’s strong. Cameras and motion sensors along the perimeter. Sensors on every door and window in the house.”
“Do you have panic room?” I tease.
“No,” she answers seriously, pulling up alongside a large, stone house. “I have a panic bunker.”
She’s out of the truck and into the rain before I can question that. And believe me, I have a lot of questions about that. But first I have to wake up Trina, shove her butt out of the truck, and help everyone get inside before we lose another member of our crew to a hospital from pneumonia. Or drowning.
I jostle Trina indelicately. “Wake up. We’re here.”
She grunts and stirs as I slide out of the truck on Jonnie’s side. My feet sink deep into mud when I land, my head instantly soaked in the downpour. The sound of the rain thunders on the top of the truck and against the black metal roof on the house. It’s a long ranch style with a second floor where I count at least five windows across the front. If it’s as deep as I think it is, it’s probably bigger than my parent’s place back in SoCal, and that’s saying something. My mom doesn’t live small. Our place is a mansion overlooking the ocean just down the street from her childhood home. Four-thousand square feet of Corinthian marble and ocean views. I can already tell from the rancher exterior that this place is nothing like that, and I kind of like it. It fits with the mountains flanking it. The rolling fields surrounding it.
There’s a barn on the other side of a long, green lawn. Two stories high, all white on the outside, and what I assume is another black metal roof covered in solar panels on top. A huge set of doors covers almost the entire front, reaching up to the second level where a big window sits closed up tight. The rich scent of hay is everywhere, in every breath I take, wafting out of the barn in force.
Next to it are the stables. They’re one level. Solar panels. The sides are a mix of off-white and gray stone that matches the house. A neat row of six windows runs along the front, all of them closed against the bad weather. Her family is in there, safe from the storm. Better off than we are at the moment.
Nick and Beck toss bags down to me as everyone else piles out of the back of the truck, running for the front porch. I immediately toss the bags up onto the porch with them, out of the rain. I’m not careful so I hope no one is packing anything fragile. Jonnie runs to the front door, darting quickly inside without a word.
