A Bridge Between Us

by K. K. Allen

  Our mouths never let up as our tongues lash against each other, and he drives into me over and over again. Our skin turns slick as he wraps his arms around me and pulls me onto his lap. With my feet pressed into the mattress on either side of him, I move over him, and he holds me close. I feel him deeper this way, like we’re more connected, if that’s even possible. He’s sparking my core and creating the type of friction that drives me delirious with need.

  I press one hand back on his muscular thigh while I reach my other around his neck and weave my fingers through his hair. Desire mounts as I quickly work my hips, hungry for the fire to burn its path through me and detonate at my center.

  He leans in and latches onto my breast, his mouth greedy and unrelenting as his thick cock fuels my every movement. His passion, his love, and his desperation for me make me insane with each moment that passes. Those same things also give me the strength to trust in what I know I need to do next. As insistent as Ridge was that I don’t go back to that mine, I know I don’t have a choice.

  So after we move closer to the edge and our cores ignite, exploding together in the most intense orgasm I’ve ever had, I let him hold me until his deep breathing tells me he’s fallen asleep. Then I slip out of bed, throw on a pair of sweats, and sneak off toward the woods just as the sun begins to peek over the horizon.

  Chapter 61

  Ridge

  I awake to cold sheets beside me, and my heart instinctively jolts. I know Camila is gone before I can confirm it. Camila isn’t the slip-out-of-bed type of woman. She has no problem with finding creative ways to wake me, no matter the time.

  Camila is clearly still upset about her run-in with Gus. Her nightmare spoke volumes in that regard. I’ve never seen Camila so completely out of sorts. And while I didn’t mind the sex that followed, it came from a place of coping. She would have done anything to get her mind off what troubled her, but I know better than to think a mind-blowing orgasm could eliminate that kind of deep pain.

  I don’t waste a second before my phone is in my hands. I call her and message her but get nothing but her voicemail with every attempt. If nothing is wrong, then she’ll think I’ve become a stalker kind of boyfriend. Let her. Camila is hurting. She probably rushed off to find another kind of coping mechanism. Work. I swear the woman would work twenty-four hours a day, if I didn’t entice her with dinner and sex every night.

  Seconds later, I’m dressed in just enough clothes to hop on the tractor. I pass the cornfields and move toward the woods, not stopping until I reach the end of my property line. After a quick jump off the tractor, I make my way across the bridge.

  The strangeness of charging up the vineyard, as though my ancestors weren’t banned from the property for over a century, doesn’t faze me. Camila would probably love to see this too. My walking through rows of grapes is quite the role reversal to when Camila used to run through Harold’s cornstalks.

  I can’t help but smile. Despite everything going on and all we’ve yet to overcome, Camila and I are finally free to live our lives together, and I never saw it as possible. I hoped, prayed, and dreamed, but our time always got cut short.

  Once I get to the top of the vineyard, I ask one of the field workers where to go. He points me in the direction of a small building set off from the villa, and I thank him before taking off. The blue door to the casita is propped open, and wooden doors line the narrow hallway. Each office door has a name plaque, so it doesn’t take long to find Camila’s.

  I knock and wait then realize she’s not going to respond. A quick jiggle of her doorknob proves what I already know. It’s locked.

  “Camila isn’t in yet. At least, I haven’t seen her this morning.”

  I turn quickly to find Raven walking down the long hall. She stands in front of me, and something shifts in my chest at the sight of her—guilt for the way our friendship ended. Seeing her at the rodeo last night didn’t help matters either. Camila and I haven’t been flaunting our relationship, and Raven is one of those reasons why. No one needs to get hurt while we’re enjoying our time together.

  “Hey, Raven.” I should say something to her about how sorry I am, but it’s not at the top of my priority list right now. “Do you know where she could be?”

  Raven looks around and seems to be thinking. “I don’t know. She walks through the vineyard a lot to check on the workers. Some mornings, she meets with my dad. Usually, she’s the first one here, though.”

  I try to decide where to look for her next.

  “So, that’s it, huh?” Raven asks, turning my attention back to her. “You and Camila are an official thing now?”

  “You can say that, yeah.” I think twice about continuing this conversation when all I want to do is find Camila. “I’m sorry, Raven. You and I were good friends, and I hate that it ended the way that it did.”

  She gives me a smile that tells me she doesn’t believe me then shakes her head. “Yeah, me too. But to be honest, I saw it coming from a mile away. Even if you didn’t. That’s why I got so freaked out in the end. I realized that if anything more was going to happen between us, then it would have, and our window of opportunity felt like it was closing in on us. For what it’s worth, I don’t regret being your friend.”

  “You were good to me, Raven. I’ll never forget that.”

  Her smile is kinder this time. “All right, then. Well, I hope you find Camila.” She backs away and points at a door on her way past it. “That’s my dad’s office, if you want to check in there.”

  I start toward the office with a grateful smile. “Thank you.”

  The light to Thomas Bradshaw’s door is on, and his door is propped open. I knock, accidentally pushing it forward and getting a good look inside. His office is empty, but I step inside anyway, my eyes catching on the hunting photos Camila mentioned.

  Curiosity brings me forward to take a closer look, and after a quick search, I find the photo of Dave, Thomas, and Patrick, all dressed in gray camouflage. A chill sweeps over me when I look at another photo and see the skull mask. Camila described it so clearly that I’m surprised his image hasn’t haunted my dreams too. She must have been terrified, running from that psycho in the woods.

  I’m drawn to another photo, one that grips my chest and makes me take a step closer. I think I’m seeing double, and I shake my head and squint at the photo. In this picture is a man in a skull mask, and at first glance, I assume it’s Dave Lachey. But then I look to the man’s right to see Dave, who’s wearing a smile and holding another skull mask.

  “What the—?”

  My gaze travels over the rest of the framed photos, but they’re mostly of family or of Thomas with Patrick, working in the vineyard. My insides knot, and a nagging thought tells me that something is very wrong. Then my eyes lock on the corner of a photo that has slipped behind another. When I pull it up to take a better look at it, my heart stops.

  The photo is of Dave Lachey holding up his kill in a clearing of red rock at the base of a mountain—a steel-gated tunnel, and a wooden-framed entrance with Cornett Creek Mine etched into it. Thomas has a photo of the mine. Why?

  I start for the exit, panic quickly working through me, but again, my eyes catch on something off. A wooden wardrobe sits in the corner of the room, which would be completely normal, if it weren’t for the sliver of gray camo poking out. I go to it and yank the doors open, and my stomach churns when I see a wall of weapons lining the back of the closet. Shotguns, rifles, and ammo take up the majority of the space, while hunting clothes take up the rest. None of what’s inside the wardrobe is what sends me into complete panic-mode. But the empty hook of where another weapon should be twists the knots in my gut even tighter.

  “Looking for something?”

  I whip my head toward the accusing voice to find Trip’s angry scowl. This isn’t the time for one of our stare downs. Trip might be the only one who can help me at this point. “I’m looking for Camila.”

  Trip’s eyebrows knit “And you’re looking
for her in my dad’s office. In his hunting closet?”

  I step forward, trying to stay calm even though desperation wants to take over. I slam the wardrobe doors closed and walk toward Trip. “No, the doors were open. I was just admiring his, um, collection.” A quick change of subject is my only hope. “You haven’t seen Camila, have you? She’s not in her office, and she left kind of abruptly this morning.”

  “Haven’t seen her.” His eyes narrow. “What? You two have some sort of lovers’ quarrel or something?”

  Irritation chips away at my patience. “Look, I’m worried about her, okay? You and I don’t have to get along for you to understand that. I need to find her. Raven mentioned that she and Thomas might be having a meeting.” I wave my hands around the room. “Clearly, they’re not here.”

  Trip’s frown relaxes a little after he looks me over. “Nah, my dad’s hunting in Ouray today. Won’t be back until tonight.”

  Hunting. Ouray. “Hunting in July? What’s he trying to catch? Coyotes? Squirrels? That seems a bit odd.”

  Trip shrugs. “Not when you own the land you’re hunting on.”

  I squint, thoroughly confused. “You said he was in Ouray.”

  “That’s right. He owns a plot of land out there. Goes hunting whenever he wants.”

  I’m sure he does. “What does he usually hunt with?” I point at the wardrobe. “I noticed there’s a shotgun and a rifle in there.”

  Trip shifts. My questions are obviously making him nervous. “He’s a bow hunter primarily. He likes the challenge. Says it helps him with his focus.” He tilts his head. “I thought you were trying to find Camila.”

  “I am. I just got distracted, I guess.” As I take a step toward the door, my heart thunders. Different pieces of the puzzle begin to click into place. I think I know where to find Camila.

  Chapter 62

  Camila

  I reach the hilltop nearly an hour later. My trek was a slow one, as I fought off every thought that told me to turn around. Everything looks just as I left it. My favorite tree still stands tall and twisty, the large rock is still near the cliff at the edge of the hill, and the landing reveals a sparse covering of wildflowers.

  My heart beats faster than it used to at the end of the uphill trek, and I blame that on the amount of time I’ve spent away. How could I fear such a beautiful landmark from my past? But the hilltop isn’t the problem. I’ve feared the entire lineup of events that led me into the hunter’s path. My natural instinct to stay away from the hilltop was a casualty in a long list of fears that I collected that night. But it’s time I realize I don’t have anything to fear anymore, since that madman is rotting six feet underground. I need to put my nightmares to rest once and for all, and as much anxiety as the mine has given me, I can’t think of a better way than to face my fears head-on.

  As I sit here, working up the nerve to make my way down the other side of the mountain, I can’t help but feel a speck of guilt for leaving Ridge while he was asleep. He might worry, or he might assume I’ve gone to work. I could have left him a note, but telling him the truth wasn’t an option, and I didn’t want to lie.

  Ridge doesn’t understand what it’s like for me to feel so trapped in my past that I can’t escape it. My nightmares, like the one I had last night, were constant before I found Ridge again. He still has that magical ability to calm me, but after one trigger—one conversation with Gus last night—suddenly, everything rushed back, like I was walking through the woods all over again.

  I can’t live like this. I need to find a way past this other than through it. Going to the mine is the only way.

  One thing became clear after my conversation with Gus then with Ridge—the events of that night don’t haunt me as much as the questions that remain. Dave Lachey might be dead, but there’s more to fear than I’ve ever allowed myself to admit. And it’s time I fight for closure.

  After a long, deep breath, I stand and start walking toward the mine. I try not to think about what awaits me at the bottom of the hill or what happened the last time I made this journey. Instead, I find comfort in knowing that I’ve been through the worst of it.

  I use the bigger boulders as leverage to help me go down. The landscape has definitely shifted over the years. Not much, but it’s enough to catch me off guard a few times. I slip on pebbles I don’t expect to land on, and some of the rock I used to scale down before is missing completely. When I make a leap onto the flatland at the bottom of the main hill to avoid a pile of bigger rocks, I cringe while in midair, anticipating the hard landing to come.

  My feet hit the ground, and the impact shoots through my legs, but a second later, I’m able to stand and continue. The mine is just below the next drop. I can see it, and my heart starts to beat faster.

  When I make the final jump off the roof of the mine to the landing in front of it, a flashback from that night lights up my thoughts. How long did Dave stare at me through the tall grass before I saw him?

  What’s even more chilling is that the mine itself looks exactly the same. It has the same steel bars and the same kind of padlock. The same ore-mining car is positioned on the rail tracks, and the dark tunnel seems to go on forever. The wooden frame still surrounds the entrance to the mine.

  My spine tingles. The image from my past is still right here, still real, and just as terrifying as ever. My mission was to return to the mine and journey through it to see where it leads. Now that I’m here, I have so many other ideas that don’t include traveling through the dark mine alone with nothing but the small flashlight I took from Ridge’s utility cabinet.

  I can turn around, go straight home, and forget this mine ever existed. Gus is right. It doesn’t matter what I’ll find on the other side of it anymore when the only threat that came from it is dead. Or I can call Ridge to tell him I’m here. Maybe then he’ll meet me, and I won’t have to go through the mine alone.

  My options and what would happen if I tried them cycle through my mind as I stare into the black hole of emptiness.

  Just then, rustle of tall grass shakes me from my thoughts. I freeze, and my hair stands on end. Fear clutches every inch of me, and all I can think about is that feeling I got that day of someone watching me.

  Spinning to face the tall grass, I expect to find those same dark eyes staring back at me from inside that terrifying skull mask. Meanwhile, I try to remind myself that there’s nothing to be afraid of. The day is windy, and cloud cover is low. When another gust blows through the weeds, I allow the relief to consume me. My body shakes as all the emotion I’ve been hanging on to for so long tumbles through me in waves.

  I came to this spot to deal with the constant reminder of what happened that awful night and to push past all irrational thoughts that continue to haunt me. What I need is for the surrounding woods I once loved to feel like home again.

  Adrenaline suddenly charges through me, and I turn back to the mine, determination hitting me hard.

  I grab a large rock, and with all my strength, I smash it down onto the padlock. A chunk of brass falls to the ground, and I rip the remaining piece from the door. I wrap my hand around one of the steel bars and yank it toward me before I can second-guess what I’m doing.

  Carefully, I take my first step into the mine and walk around the ore car while placing my hand on the nearest wall.

  Drip, drip, drip.

  A puddle has formed from the water that glides down the pinkish rock. I would expect my fingers to come away with a gooey texture, but all I feel is wet rock. I dry my hands on my pants, then I spot something on the opposite wall.

  With cautious steps, I walk around the ore car to get a better view and see a light switch there. I flip it up then gasp as the mine becomes illuminated in a yellow glow. A string of lights lines the top corners of each wall, reaching as far as I can see.

  I start walking while blowing out another shaky breath. “Well, here goes nothing.”

  Chapter 63

  The Hunter

  Long brown h
air, caramel skin, and wide green eyes stop the hunter in his tracks. He knew it was only a matter of time before the hunt continued. Camila could never stay away. Her curiosity was too strong. Of course she’d traveled back to the mine. With Dave Lachey gone, she had nothing left to fear. So she thought.

  On that unfortunate night in the woods over ten years ago, during a chase gone all wrong, the hunter lost his focus, and Dave was the one who came out ahead. It looked like he was going to be the winner too. Shoot to kill was what they’d decided. They both chased her that night, and they were both so close. The hunter had broken the girl’s skin enough to create a lasting wound, but Dave was the one who ran ahead and got in the way of Harold Cross’s bullet.

  The bastard had lain there dying while the hunter crept back into the woods, stripped off his hunting gear, and tossed his belongings into the ore car before getting the hell out of there. Gus, along with everyone else, thought it was just a hunting accident turned deadly. In a sense, they were right.

  If it weren’t for Dave’s death, the hunter would still have his right-hand man in a territory they’d dominated together for the past twenty years. In an agreement they both shared, it was always Dave who took the fall if the authorities ever got involved. For that reason alone, his death was unfortunate. And it was all thanks to Camila.

  The hunter slides the mask over his face then stalks through the tall grass toward where Camila has already entered the mine. Unlike last time, he carefully avoids the snap of a twig or the crunch of a branch that might give his presence away. His target will be more vulnerable, the deeper into the mine she goes, so he allows it.