by Katie Ruggle
“Wait…what? Tanks?” From the bemusement in his voice, she’d actually managed to knock him off-balance, but she was so preoccupied with mentally preparing for war with Abbott that she couldn’t appreciate it properly.
Ignoring the way her feet ached with each step and how her skin felt like it was stretched too tightly from the dry, cold air, she hurried through the thickening trees. Kavenski easily caught up with her, and they walked in silence. The snow was starting to fall in small, spindly flakes that stung her skin where they landed, lending extra urgency to her steps. She was amazed by how dark it had gotten, seeming more like dusk than midmorning, when just a short time earlier the sun had been merrily shining from a bright, clear sky.
All too quickly, the few flakes turned into a flurry. The wind drove them into Cara’s eyes and bit at her exposed skin. The light dusting of snow seemed to grease the rocky ground, making each step more treacherous than the one before—but she had no choice. She had to keep going. Her heart beat faster than their quick pace warranted. The building cold and howling wind made it all too easy to understand how people could freeze to death in a mountain blizzard.
Just as she was starting to doubt that the reflection they’d seen earlier was anything human-made, Kavenski caught her arm, pulling her to a halt. She followed his gaze and spotted the stacked row of peeled logs that couldn’t have been natural. They’d found the structure they were looking for.
Without a word, Kavenski took the lead, and Cara let him. If he wanted to be on the front lines when they met a bear or one of Abbott’s guys, he was welcome to it. She was just as happy tucked safely behind his brawny form. Besides, he broke the wind, and his back gave her something to focus on besides the worsening storm.
They approached as quietly as possible, given the obstacles. Kavenski stepped over a large fallen tree, and Cara wished for his long legs as she scrambled over it much less gracefully. As she landed on the other side, she slipped on some loose, pebbly dirt covered in snow but caught her balance before she fell. Turning, Kavenski gave her an Are you okay? glance, and she nodded, annoyed with her clumsiness.
As they crept closer, more of the log wall came into view. It was more cabin-sized than a full-on house, although it was larger than the shack where she’d started the day. Cara eyed the unlit windows uneasily. The Unabomber’s twin could easily be watching them, waiting for them to get close enough to push the button, setting off the bomb he’d planted in preparation for when the FBI raided his mountain hideaway. The wind settled briefly, creating an eerie quiet that was broken by a snap. Swallowing a startled yelp, Cara grabbed the back of Kavenski’s coat-turned-vest as she braced for the coming explosion.
Nothing happened. The expected hail of bullets never came. Kavenski gave her a questioning look as the wind picked back up, tossing tiny, icy pellets of snow at their faces. Her gaze dropped to the small branch that had broken under her sleeve-boot. Giving Kavenski a sheepish look, she released the handful of his coat, smoothing down the fabric as if to erase her entire embarrassing reaction.
Despite the false alarm, she quickly grew unnerved again as she returned her attention to the dark windows. Now her fears didn’t center on loud dangers such as tanks and helicopters. The quiet, scary things—such as Abbott’s people crouched silently in the cabin, waiting to ambush them, or odd, weapon-obsessed mountain folk who’d shoot any trespassers on sight—seemed so much worse than any rumbling machinery.
Kavenski made a sharp gesture, one that she was fairly certain meant stay put. Reluctantly, she halted and watched him continue to pick his way through the rocks and scrubby trees. Instead of heading for the front porch, he slipped behind the back of the cabin, quickly fading to a shadow in the false twilight of the gathering snow and then disappearing completely.
Chapter 11
Leaning against an aspen trunk, Cara kept her eyes locked on the spot where she’d last seen Kavenski. After her steady feeling of being watched, she was surprised to be so bothered by her solitude now. The wind continued to howl, and the snow picked up even more, creating a sheet of white that blurred the structure in front of her. Despite the cabin and the trees—and the possible tanks and helicopters, her lurid imagination insisted on adding—that bit of the mountain felt completely desolate, making it hard to believe that civilization still existed, much less that there was a town with a police station a few miles away.
Shaking herself out of her postapocalyptic imaginings, she peered through the wind-tossed snow, waiting for Kavenski to reappear on the other side of the cabin. Seconds ticked by, turning into minutes, and Cara grew increasingly cold and worried. She shifted her weight, wishing once again that she was in the habit of wearing a watch. Time seemed to stretch uncomfortably long, and wild thoughts ran through her head.
What if something had happened to Kavenski? Could he have been grabbed or hurt or found by Abbott’s guys? Or maybe the threat wasn’t human-made at all. Maybe there was a mountain lion making a snack out of his insides right now. Despite knowing that her fears were unlikely, Cara still pushed away from the tree she’d been leaning against and took a step toward the cabin.
“It’s clear.” Kavenski materialized in front of her, making her jump a foot in the air. He paused, eyeing her. “What’s wrong?”
She waved a cold hand, her worries seeming silly now that an unharmed, un-snacked-on Kavenski was standing next to her. “Nothing. Just felt like you were gone a long time.”
“Had to break in.” He started toward the front of the cabin, and she followed him, feeling both relieved to have him next to her and a trifle aggrieved at herself for needing him there to figuratively hold her hand. He led the way up the few roughhewn front porch steps and to the heavy wooden door.
As he turned the knob and pushed the door open, Cara glanced around for any evidence of how Kavenski had gotten into the locked cabin. “Did you have to break a window?” she asked when she couldn’t find any sign of damage.
“No.” He stepped inside and moved so she could enter the dim space. “I picked the lock.” As she passed by him, he gave her a slanted look. “Something you seem to know a little about.”
Feeling along the wall, her hand encountered the reassuringly familiar shape of a light switch. Holding her breath hopefully, she flipped it up and was happily shocked when the room filled with light. “That’s why you took so long,” she said absently as she took in the interior of the cabin. Compared to the kidnappers’ shack, this one was surprisingly cozy. The living room, kitchen, and dining area made up the open lower level as in the other place, but this was larger and furnished with a comfortable-looking couch and coordinated chairs, as well as a small dining table. The rugs and wall hangings made it feel warm, even though the potbellied woodstove in the corner wasn’t in use.
Closing and locking the door behind them, Kavenski gave one of his stuffy-sounding huffs. Cara bit back a smile. The sound was so grandmotherly, completely incongruous with his hulking form and usual scowl. “I was faster than you were that day.”
She wandered farther in, checking things out more thoroughly as he moved from window to window, closing all the blinds. When she realized what he was doing, she moved back toward the light switches. “Should we keep the lights off so Abbott’s people don’t spot the cabin?” she asked.
“No.” He climbed the spiral stairs to the loft. “Even if they’re out in this storm, it’s highly unlikely that they’ll track us here, and the blizzard’s only getting worse. I’m just taking precautions.” As he disappeared into the loft, she resumed her exploration of the cabin, reassured.
Everything she saw made her relieved that they’d stumbled upon this particular place. It looked like a seldom-used vacation cabin, a much safer shelter than the messy, explosives-rigged, Unabomber-occupied shack her imagination had conjured up. When Kavenski came back down the stairs, she picked up their earlier conversation. “That was an unfair lock-picking com
parison, by the way. My hands were shaking. I even beat my sister Charlie’s best time, and she’s fast. I bet I could make your skills look like a first-grader’s.”
His eyes narrowed as he crossed his arms over his chest. “My skills would blow yours out of the water.”
“That’s it. We’re having a pick-off as soon as we get back to Langston.” Cara realized that she’d been so distracted by the cabin and their light banter that she’d been talking as if they’d continue to be friends after they made it off the mountain. The reality was that he wouldn’t be able to settle into a relaxing life after this. Even if he hadn’t killed those people—and she believed him when he said he didn’t—he’d still been arrested for murder and skipped bail. Until that was dealt with, he’d always be on the run.
“You’re on.” Kavenski sounded like he’d forgotten his complicated situation, too. Before Cara could say anything about it, she spotted a door next to the spiral stairs leading up to the loft. Excitement filled her as she hurried over to it, her sleeve-boots sliding a little on the polished wooden floor.
“Is this a bathroom?” Yanking open the door, she felt for the light switch and flicked it on. A huge smile spread across her face at the sight, and she hopped a little. She would never have thought that a simple bathroom would make her so happy. “It’s heaven with a toilet,” she said, stepping inside. Her happiness waned a little when she saw that there wasn’t any water in the bowl. Fate couldn’t be cruel enough to offer a bathroom with no running water, could it?
Moving back into the main room, she found Kavenski stacking some small logs into the woodstove.
“There’s no water,” she said mournfully, shuffling over to where he was crouched. “Could I use your knife?”
His eyebrows shot up as he glanced at her. “For what?”
“To take my fake boots off.” She took the folded knife he’d dug out of his pocket and held out toward her. “What did you think I wanted to do with it?”
“Wasn’t sure how you were going to fix the lack of water with my knife.” He turned back to his perfectly arranged pyramid of wood and lit the fire starter tucked at the base.
Plopping down on the end of the couch closest to the woodstove, Cara cut the zip ties securing the sleeves to her lower legs. She marveled at the ease of cutting through the strips of plastic when it had been such a struggle to free herself just hours before. Her chilled fingers tingled as they came back to life, but her feet were hot from all the walking she’d done. A pulse thumped intermittently in her soles, and she grimaced at the soreness.
“Is there a way to turn the water on?” she asked, sliding the sleeves off her feet.
“Should be.” Kavenski straightened to his full height, looming over her. “I’ll go look.”
He crossed the room and disappeared through a door next to the stairs as Cara watched the tiny fire grow, licking at the larger logs and leaving trails of soot on the bark. The flames were mesmerizing, and she stared at them for several minutes. Sitting down made her realize how bone-deep her exhaustion went.
The sound from the other room made her start, pulling her out of her stupor. She glanced toward the door Kavenski had gone through, hoping he’d succeeded in turning something on, something that would lead to being able to flush the toilet and take a shower.
It took some effort to push herself to her feet, but she finally managed. Since Kavenski had started a fire and was likely well on his way to getting the plumbing to work, she thought she should contribute something toward their survival. She’d never been a fan of camping. Charlie had dragged her out to the woods to sleep in a tent many times while they were growing up. Even as a kid, Cara never saw the fun in sleeping on the hard, cold ground, not showering, and peeing out in the open when there were beds and bathrooms readily available.
Now, she felt her lack of outdoorsy skills. If Kavenski hadn’t been there, she would probably already be dead of exposure…or from falling off a cliff.
Shaking off the sudden rush of inferiority, she tried to focus on what she could do. Her gaze moved around the cabin and settled on the row of kitchen cabinets.
Food, she thought. We need food. As if in agreement, her stomach rumbled and squeezed in on itself, letting her know exactly how hungry she was. Crossing her fingers that the cabin contained something edible, she walked to the kitchen on tender stocking feet. Away from the immediate vicinity of the woodstove, the floor was cold, but it actually felt good on her soles.
Even though she was pretty sure it would be empty, she checked the fridge first. The darkened interior held a lone box of baking soda. The freezer was equally unlit and empty except for a pair of ice-cube trays. The first cupboard she opened revealed stacked plates, and the second held glasses and mugs. On the third, she hit pay dirt.
“Score,” she said under her breath, scanning the labels of the stacked cans of food. Pulling out some soup, she looked over her shoulder as Kavenski returned to the main room. “Did you get the water turned back on?”
The corner of his mouth twitched in a way she was starting to recognize as warm amusement. “Yeah. Well pump’s on.”
“I love indoor plumbing.” Cara bounced a little on the balls of her feet, but their soreness made her stop. “And I found food, so we’re golden.”
She started rummaging through drawers, searching for a can opener and trying very hard not to think about her desperate hunt for a knife at the other cabin. Despite her attempt to convince herself that it wasn’t at all the same, she was hugely relieved when her fingers closed on the metal handles of an opener.
As she straightened, she felt heat behind her, as though her back was to a furnace, and she went still. Reaching around her, Kavenski turned on the sink faucet. Even the miraculous trickle of water that turned into a steady flow wasn’t enough to distract her from his proximity. Despite the warmth he was radiating, a shiver trembled up her spine. With his chest right behind her and his arm stretched along her right side, she felt surrounded…but not in a claustrophobic way. His big form seemed to be curled around hers, as if he were keeping her safe, blocking any threats with his own body. Maybe it was because she’d been kidnapped, drugged, and almost died several times over the last eighteen hours, but she was craving the feeling of protection he was unintentionally providing.
Breathe, dummy, Cara scolded herself, but having him so close seemed to have short-circuited her brain. It’s not like he’s doing this on purpose, after all. He can’t help it that the kitchen is small and he’s so incredibly big.
As if to prove the practical side of her brain right, he seemed oblivious to both their intimate position and her extreme reaction to his closeness. Giving a grunt of satisfaction, he turned off the water and moved away. She couldn’t stop herself from watching as he walked to the bathroom. Only when he went inside and out of her line of sight did she exhale all the air in her lungs in a heavy rush.
Suddenly, waiting out the storm in a small cabin with Kavenski seemed like a really dumb idea.
“The other option is freezing to death on your lonesome outside,” she muttered, turning back to the soup. “That would be less awkward, but more…well, deadly. Quit being an idiot.” It was easy to be practical without him right behind her.
I wonder where we’ll sleep tonight?
Her gaze was drawn upward, and she studied the beams that held up the loft floor as if she could see the furnishings with X-ray vision. Her heart skipped a beat. “You’re being stupid again.” Dragging her attention back to preparing the basic meal in front of her, she started searching for a pan. “If there’s only one bed, you can sleep on the couch, doofus.”
“You say something?” Kavenski asked as he emerged from the bathroom.
“What? No. Just talking to myself about…nothing.” She found a small saucepan and clutched the handle as tightly as she could. Her cheeks had to be red. She could feel them burning almost as hotly
as the bottoms of her feet. When his eyebrow quirked and his lips parted as if he was going to say something more, she hurried to change the subject. “Think it’s safe to turn on the propane stove?”
He frowned at the appliance as if he had X-ray vision as well and could examine the inner workings just by looking at the exterior. “Better not. Just use the top of the woodstove.”
Still a little flustered by her earlier thoughts, Cara concentrated on opening the cans to have an excuse not to look at him directly. “I didn’t see power lines the entire time we were walking. How is there power?”
“Solar panels and a small wind turbine. Hear it?”
She listened. At first, she could only hear the howling wind, but then there was a lull. “That kind of buzzing, humming sound?”
He dipped his chin in a nod as he prowled around the space, checking in drawers and the lone closet. She glanced at him occasionally now that his focus wasn’t on her, finding herself too fascinated by him for her peace of mind. “They’re powering a battery bank in there.” He waved toward the utility room.
“We’re lucky the cabin we found is owned by people who like their luxuries, and not the family who loves to rough it.” She paused for a moment, then asked, “Do you have any money?”
That pulled his attention away from the books lining a small shelf. “Why? Were you planning on robbing me?”
Making a face at him, she dumped a couple of cans of chicken and vegetable soup into the pan. “Yeah. I’m going to rob you and then ask for your help getting me out of these mountains. You have my nefarious plan all figured out.” When he didn’t say anything in response, she continued. “Since we’re using these people’s cabin and eating their soup and about to use their bathroom and their bed—beds—um…” She stumbled when she realized her insecurities were showing, but then she plowed on. “Anyway, I thought we should leave them some money. Obviously, I don’t have any cash on me, so that leaves you.”
