by Katie Ruggle
“Yeah.” The short answer to her long explanation made her roll her eyes at the soup pan.
“Yes in that you agree in theory, or yes in that you have money you’re willing to give to the nice people who own this cabin?” She lifted the pan slightly before setting it on the circular cast-iron plate on top of the woodstove. “And this soup we’re about to eat.”
“We’ll leave some cash.” He started up the spiral stairs to the loft, and Cara followed, curious about the upper level. The bed question nibbled at her mind as well. She’d feel more settled after she knew if she was going to be bunking on the couch.
As she rounded the last curve of the staircase and got her first glimpse of the loft, she felt her stomach flip. There was one bed, and it wasn’t even a big one—a double at most. Letting out a small huff of disappointment, she resigned herself to a night on the couch. Immediately, she mentally scolded herself for acting like a princess when things could be so much worse.
Crossing to the French doors at the far end of the loft, she peered out into the dimness. The balcony wasn’t very wide, but the blowing snow was so thick that it was hard to see the railing. She shivered a little. It was too easy to imagine all sorts of dangers lurking in the murkiness of the storm.
“Cold?”
Kavenski’s question made her turn to see him in front of an open closet, watching her. “Not really,” she answered, a little surprised it was true. Even this far from the fire, the cabin was quickly warming up. “I’m just creeping myself out.”
“Doubt Abbott’s guys are out in this,” he said in a matter-of-fact tone that was strangely comforting. It was as if the universe wouldn’t dare to go against his word when Kavenski said something with such confidence. “They aren’t any kind of wilderness experts.”
His assurance brought up a hundred more questions about how he knew what Abbott’s people were like, and how Kavenski was involved in all this. She knew that conversation would take a while, and there was soup heating on the stove, so she let it go…for the moment, at least. Her gaze shifted to the bed again, all fluffy and cozy-looking, draped in thick quilts and stacked with an abundance of pillows. “We’re definitely stuck here for the night?”
He moved to stand next to her to look out the French doors. “Doesn’t look like it’s stopping anytime soon, and it’ll get dark in a few hours. Safest to stay put where there’s heat and food.” He turned his head to look at her. “You don’t want to stay?”
“It’s fine. I mean, I’d rather stay where it’s warm than venture out there again.” She gestured toward the glass in front of them. “I just have a weird Goldilocks feeling, like the owners of this cabin are going to pop in at any second and find us sleeping in their bed.” There’s that bed reference again. Just let it go, Cara. He won’t notice if you don’t make a big, awkward deal about it. Of course she couldn’t just let it go. “Or on their couch, or wherever.”
His inscrutable expression gave nothing away as his gaze landed on the bed. “Doubt anyone will be hiking in this. If they’re coming here, it’ll be tomorrow at the earliest.”
Seizing on the change of subject that didn’t have anything to do with beds or sleeping together, she asked, “That’s the only way to get here? Hiking? How’d they even build this place?”
He gave a small shrug before heading back to the closet he’d been checking out earlier. “Some people will pay a lot for privacy.”
“Huh.” Cara thought about it for a long moment. “I think I’d prefer to have a nice paved road and driveway that an ambulance could drive up, just in case.”
His half smile touched his lips, but he didn’t agree or disagree, just waved toward the contents of the opened closet. “Clothes in here if you want to change. There are some boots and a winter coat in the closet downstairs that look like they’d fit you.”
She blinked silently at him for a moment. It warmed her insides that he’d cared enough about her comfort to bother, even if it was just so she could walk faster when they hiked the rest of the way to Red Hawk the next day. “Thanks,” she finally said, realizing when his expression turned quizzical that she’d been quiet too long.
“You’ll probably find other things in there.” He nodded toward a dresser but didn’t exactly look at it, an unusual awkwardness in his stance that tipped her off to why he was acting so strangely.
Her nose wrinkled. “I’m not stealing someone’s used underwear,” she said resolutely. “That’s a line I’m not crossing.”
He muttered something that Cara interpreted as “Suit yourself, but please stop talking about underwear.” Striding toward the spiral stairs, he said more audibly, “Soup’s likely hot.”
She hesitated by the closet, tempted by the idea of warm, dry, clean clothes that weren’t the pajamas she’d been wearing since being kidnapped the night before. Maybe she could squeeze a shower in before eating?
“Come eat. Water heater needs to fill first,” Kavenski called from the bottom of the stairs as though he could read her mind. Her stomach grumbled agreement, so she reluctantly left the strangers’ clothes and jogged down the stairs.
This is great, her internal voice said sarcastically. Now the owners will find you in their house, in their bed, and in their clothes.
“Hush,” she muttered, and hurried to rescue the soup before it boiled over. “It’s not like we could ask them first.” Still, guilt nibbled at her. Staying at the cabin with Kavenski felt almost too comfortable. It made her feel like they weren’t in the middle of a desperate situation. She needed to remember that indoor plumbing or not, they weren’t safe yet.
As she descended the stairs, the wind roared down the woodstove flue, creating an eerie whistle. Cara shivered and glanced at the covered window. Despite the cozy cabin and Kavenski’s reassuring presence, deadly danger still lurked outside.
Chapter 12
The soup tasted heavenly, but the hot shower had been even better. Cara’s borrowed clothes—yoga pants and a long-sleeved T-shirt—were slightly long and a tad snug around her chest and bum, but it still felt wonderful to change. Even though it had been less than twenty-four hours since stupid Stuart had shown up on her front porch, it felt like months had passed since she’d felt safe. She could almost smell terror on her clothes, as if her fear had worked itself into the very fibers of the fabric.
The cabin owners either had to be forgetful packers or have lots of friends visiting, because there were plenty of sample-size toiletries and toothbrushes in their unopened packaging. Cara had even discovered a comb and a package of disposable razors. Afraid that the blow-dryer would push the limits of the solar batteries, she towel-dried her hair and then combed it out, leaving the strands lying damply over her shoulders.
She walked out of the bathroom, the dry heat of the woodstove feeling harsh after the warm steam from her shower. Her skin felt instantly tight, so she got a glass of water from the kitchen and chugged it. Her head already hurt from hitting it against the car window. She didn’t need a dehydration headache making things worse.
“What are you doing?” she asked curiously as she joined Kavenski by the fire. He was sitting on the edge of the couch, hunched over as if he was examining something on the coffee table. For just a moment, she contemplated sitting on the couch with him, but then her practical side won out, and she headed for the chair instead. As she curled up with her bare feet tucked underneath her, she eyed what looked like two handheld radios sitting on the table in front of him. Her heart gave a swift beat of excitement. “Radios?”
He sat back, his legs sprawled wide. “Walkie-talkies,” he corrected. “No batteries.”
“None?” She wasn’t sure what the difference was between walkie-talkies and radios, except that the first was sold as a toy and the other was used by first responders. Range, maybe? It didn’t really matter if there was no way to power them.
“None. I checked the whole cabin
except the bathroom.” He glanced over at her.
Interpreting his silent question, she shook her head. “Nothing battery-operated that I found.” Stupidly enough, her cheeks warmed at the words, and she was annoyed at her reaction. Battery-operated just sounded so suggestive. Not wanting him to guess why she was flustered, she hurried to keep talking. “There’s a blow-dryer, but I didn’t find anything else that needed powering up. All the toothbrushes are the manual kind. What about flashlights or smoke detectors?”
“Wrong sizes.” His wide shoulders twitched in a shrug. “Doubt they’d have the range to communicate with anyone useful anyway.”
Even so, it was frustrating to have a communication device that they couldn’t use. “What about a satellite phone?” After he shook his head, she suggested without much hope, “Internet?”
“No.”
Making a sound of disappointment, she settled a little deeper in her chair. “I suppose I should be happy that there are walls and food and a fire. Oh, and a bed.” For Pete’s sake, why do I keep bringing up that bed?
He didn’t react except for a grunt she took as agreement.
“What time is it?” She looked around for a clock but didn’t see one, not even on the stove. She felt a ping of longing for her home, with its multiple clocks and phones and internet—not to mention the sisters, Warrant, and her own bed.
“Around seven.”
Now that she had eaten and showered, she expected to be exhausted, but instead she was wired. The expansive windows made her feel like a tropical fish in an illuminated tank. Despite Kavenski’s assurances that Abbott’s guys weren’t outdoor people, she still felt exposed. Unable to sit still without the distraction of conversation, she popped up and walked over to the bookshelf.
“Ugh,” she muttered after skimming over the titles on the spines.
Kavenski gave a huff that sounded suspiciously close to laughter, and Cara remembered that he’d checked out the books earlier.
“Do you think they actually read these, or are they just for show?” She pulled one out and flipped it open. The book was pristine, its sober navy-and-burgundy cloth cover spotless enough to have fit in any bookstore. The spine even gave a soft creak, as if it had never been opened before.
“Show,” Kavenski answered with absolutely no hesitation.
“Yeah.” Closing the volume, she slid it back between its equally untouched-looking brethren. “I can’t imagine anyone reading these for fun.”
Disappointed at the reading selection, she roamed the cabin, peeking in cabinets and the closet, feeling a renewed pang of guilt for nosing around when the owners were kind enough to let them use the cabin—albeit unknowingly.
She was distracted from her remorse when she opened a cupboard next to the fridge to find several board games. “Score!” she cried, although her voice was somewhat muffled as she reached in to pull out the stack. They were obviously older, and the boxes were creased with use, but they’d be better entertainment than those books.
“Batteries?” Kavenski guessed.
Somewhat deflated, she glanced down at the Monopoly box. “Well, no. Games. I suppose that batteries would’ve been more useful. At least these will help distract us from our situation.” As Cara spoke, the thought of her sisters popped into her head again. They had to be beyond frantic by now. She didn’t know if it would be better if Molly had gotten the text before the phone was destroyed or not. All she could hope was that her sisters didn’t cross paths with Abbott or any of his people in their search for her.
Blinking suddenly hot eyes, she focused on the pile of games she was holding. Setting them on the counter, she flipped through them, sorting them into two stacks: fun and not fun. Returning the not-fun ones—including Monopoly, one she’d hated since she was a child, thanks to Charlie’s habit of reducing her to homelessness and bankruptcy—back to the cabinet where she’d found them, she grabbed the three that had made her yes pile.
“Okay,” she said, bringing the games over to the coffee table. “We’ve got Connect 4, Battleship, Life, and Clue.” Taking a seat across the low table from Kavenski, she glanced up at him expectantly.
Instead of picking a game, he stared at her.
“Well?” she prompted when he held his silence. “Which one? Don’t get too invested yet, though, since we have to check if all the pieces are still there. Can’t sink a battleship if it’s already lost.”
His stare didn’t waver, but she waited him out this time. “You want to play a game,” he finally said. “With me.”
“Yes.” She drew out the word, not understanding why he seemed so incredulous. “It’s just the two of us here, so no one will ever know that tough and scary Henry Kavenski played a kids’ game. Please? Your cabinmate is bored and needs a distraction.” When he didn’t look convinced, she started to get a touch aggravated. “A cabinmate, I might add, who was kidnapped last night and almost died several times because some wannabe crime boss needs information from you.”
Even though he held his stony expression, Cara thought she detected a hint of softening and pushed her case.
“Let’s play Clue,” she said, moving the other games to the side. “It seems like something you’d be good at.”
“Why do you say that?” His words had enough snap to make her meet his narrowed gaze.
“Why play Clue?” she asked, confused. For someone who didn’t want to choose a game, he sure seemed to have strong opinions about this particular one. “We don’t have to if you’d rather pick one of the others.”
“No, why would you think…” He paused, looking at her more intently than her simple question called for, and she stared back as she tried to puzzle him out. “Never mind,” he finally said, his focused intensity fading a bit. “If we’re going to do this, let’s play.”
“We are going to do this.” She gave him her best commanding schoolteacher glare, which she might have stolen from Molly. “We are going to play a game, and we are going to have fun—or at least be distracted somewhat from the life-threatening circumstances we are currently in. Got it?”
His mouth twitched, and the crease on his forehead finally smoothed. “Got it. Not Clue, though. Doesn’t work with two people.”
“Oh.” A little disappointed, she exchanged the game box with another one. “Battleship, then?” His chin dipped in acceptance.
As she pulled out the pieces, she eyed Kavenski’s position on the couch and frowned.
“On the floor, buddy,” she ordered, shifting back so she could pull the table away from the couch to give him more room. The warmth radiating from the woodstove felt good on her back.
“Why?” Although it came out as a grumble, he did lower himself from the couch to the rug.
“Because you could see right over the top to where I’m strategically locating my fleet.” Even sitting on the floor, he seemed enormously tall, and she gave him a suspicious glance. With a long-suffering sigh, he shifted his upper body down so that the middle of his back was leaning against the front of the couch.
“Better?” He sounded so martyred that she was almost distracted from the way he’d stretched his sprawled legs under the table. They weren’t close to touching her crisscrossed knees, but just being inside the V of his legs felt weirdly intimate.
She made a sound that she hoped conveyed a grudging affirmative, although she worried that she might have sounded a bit like a dying duck instead. Focus on the game, she told herself, giving her ships her attention. They were both quiet as they arranged the plastic pieces, the click of the pegs connecting to the board the only sound except for the crackle of the fire and the muted howl of the wind outside. She started getting excited about the game. Unlike Monopoly, she’d almost always beat her sisters in Battleship. She attributed her winning streak to planning her ship search, rather than just randomly calling out letters and numbers. Wind whistled down the flue again, bu
t it didn’t seem so creepy this time. If she didn’t think about all the events of the day, she could almost pretend that she and Kavenski were vacationing in a remote cabin by choice.
The thought of the two of them taking a voluntary trip together made her stomach swoop and clench in both good and bad ways, and she peeked at him over the tops of their game boards. Since it seemed as if she couldn’t get away with anything without maximum embarrassment, he immediately looked up and met her eyes.
“What?” he asked.
Willing her cheeks not to redden, she tried to play it cool, lifting her eyebrows in imitation of his expression. “Ready?”
“Yep. Shoot.” His mouth twitched at the double meaning, making her smile.
“Okay.” She rubbed her hands together with honest glee. Even when she wasn’t trapped in a cabin trying to distract herself, she loved games. One of the reasons she’d decided to major in elementary education was because a big part of her job would be playing with kids. She couldn’t wait until she had her own class of kindergartners, but for now she’d just have to play with Kavenski. “D-six.”
“Miss. A-one.”
“Hit.” She scowled at him. “On the first try?”
“I’m good at shooting games.”
“This isn’t really considered a shooting game.” Although she considered herself to be a good sport, she couldn’t help but pout a little as she inserted the red peg into one of the holes in her destroyer.
“Well, then I’m good at shooting games and Battleship.”
“Humph.” Her eyes narrowed as she thought. Now she really wanted to win. “J-ten.”
“Miss. A-two.”
“Hit.” She grumbled under her breath as she inserted the peg in the second, and last, hole. “Sunk.”
Even though his expression stayed as stony as usual, smugness positively radiated off him as he put a red peg in the top of the game board.
“You’re trying to punish me for making you play a game, aren’t you?”
