Chapter Three
Mitch
The front door slammed shut behind me with a satisfied thud as I tried to block out the last ten minutes of my life. But the guy, Sanchez—his little speech kept repeating in my head.
My own brother had sold me out to the highest bidder.
My own goddamn brother .
A wet nose nudged my palm, so I absently rubbed a hand over Chuck’s head and behind his ears, his contented grunt helping to release some of my pent-up anger.
“Sorry for shouting, boy,” I murmured. Squaring my shoulders and moving to the window I watched my pathetic excuse for a lawyer and the smug asshole Sanchez, make their way over to their Jeep, hop in, and fishtail out of the yard, going way too fast for the amount of snow on the ground.
When they were out of sight, I headed outside to let the absolute silence wrap around me, allowing the peace and quiet to calm me and release the last of the rage in my head.
Being alone was good. Me and the dogs were all I needed.
Pain. Sharp and jagged ripped through my chest, making me lightheaded.
Not all I needed, but all I deserved.
Dropping to my haunches and scooping up the papers I’d ripped in two, from the dirt, I wiped off most of the slush and reread them, my gaze dropping to the copy of my brother’s signature at the bottom of the last page, confirming he had, in fact, signed over half of my life to a stranger. My eyes landed on the ridiculously large sum of money they’d offered Jared, money he’d greedily accepted. I understood his reasoning, as he’d never wanted anything to do with the cabin or the land and had left the first chance he got. The rent we’d paid him for allowing Katie and I to live here, instead of selling and splitting the profits, had been more than generous, but the amount he’d accepted from Skyscraper Construction would change his life forever. Give him the new start he always wanted, so I shouldn’t feel resentful.
But…
He knew there’d be no way I’d leave, no matter how tempted I’d been for the chance to escape. My lawyer had very nearly talked me into vacating my home, too, but I’d become more and more jittery this morning the closer we got to meeting, and as soon as Sanchez had arrived, the reality hit hard of what I was about to give up, preventing me from going through with the sale. All my memories, and more importantly, her blood on my hands tied me here. I refused to do that to us: to me and Katie. Jared knew, too, why I remained here, but he’d sold me out anyway. He promised he’d talk to me first before doing anything irresponsible. He fucking promised!
I surveyed the outbuildings bracketing the yard, unable to see any progress at all in the nearly four years since she’d been gone. The wood still rotted on the sides of the buildings, and the roofs were in desperate need of replacing. The two cabins on the lake I’d started to build, certain they would make us a shit ton of money, were still unfinished. The barns, the stables supporting the horses, my own cabin, left me too much to do and never enough time or money to get the work done. Whatever savings we’d had, plus the two loans I’d taken out, were long gone. The few friends I’d retained since Katie’s death had offered to help, but I refused to take their handouts, instead resorting to cash-only jobs here and there to make ends meet. But they took me away from the cabin and my work here, so I only did them if I really got desperate.
Huffing out some air, the cold making my breath fog in front of my face, I turned, blocking out my failures, and made my way inside, then closed the door quietly behind me. Throwing the scraps of paper on the console beside the entrance, I walked into the kitchen and poured a cup of strong coffee, took a sip, and tried to figure out my next move. Some big city company owned half of my property, half for fuck’s sake! What the hell was I gonna do now?
Did them owning half mean they’d force me to sell? If not, could they still go ahead with whatever they planned on doing anyway? Would they force me to leave against my will? Fuck . Where was my lawyer when I needed him? Oh yeah, halfway to town with his tail between his legs. He should have been my representation, the buffer between me and Sanchez. Fat lot of good he’d turned out to be. He hadn’t even known my brother had sold his share of the property for Chrissake. What use would he be in any negotiations I needed to make going forward? At least I got why Sanchez had been so persistent. My brother had been selling my life out from right underneath my feet the whole time, and now they wanted to finish the job and bury me completely.
At least the never-ending drudgery would finally be over if they did .
Chuck’s and Norris’s heads came up rapidly, gaining my attention. Ears twitched forward, they barked repeatedly, their nails clicking on the hardwood floors as they loped to the window to see into the yard. I sighed. More visitors. This was all I needed, though except for the two who’d already been and gone, people rarely came out here anymore, most of our friends disappearing after Katie’s death. Moving between the dogs, I peered outside to see the same battered red Jeep returning up the track toward the cabin.
What the hell were they doing back?
I had nothing else to say to either of them. A bad feeling settled in my belly. I’d been on steady ground until being told Jared had sold out, but now only quicksand lurked beneath my feet, slowly dragging me under. Once more pulling open the door, I planted my feet on the porch— my porch—in readiness for the next battle.
The vehicle pulled into the same spot as last time, and the two men exited. Both of them looked so out of place in their designer clothes, it was laughable. One set was definitely more expensive than the other, which wasn’t any real surprise. Sanchez struck me as the type of guy who liked flashy and expensive things to go along with his flashy and expensive life, and he’d done nothing so far to change my view.
Leo Taylor, though, had been a bit of a surprise. Younger than I’d expected, and yet somehow carrying the weight of the world on his broad shoulders, which had me wondering what he’d been through to become far older than his years.
“I told you to leave.”
“Yeah, we tried,” Sanchez answered, his lazy drawl immediately getting under my skin. “Didn’t work out.”
God, what an annoying piece of shit. Ignoring him, I turned to my lawyer and growled, “Get him off my property before I do it myself.”
He stared hard at the guy. “Believe me, if I could, I would.”
I frowned. What the hell did he mean?
“We got to the bridge,” Sanchez continued, and I swear amusement danced in his eyes. “Only the bridge ain’t all there.”
I returned my gaze to the lawyer. “What’s he talking about?”
The man let out a long, weary sigh and for a second looked…defeated?
“Heavy snow took out a tree and the trunk landed on the bridge, taking a section out.” He retrieved his phone from his pants pocket and flicked me through the photos he’d taken.
“Shit.”
“Yeah. So unless you know of another way out?”
He let his question hang. There wasn’t another way out, by vehicle anyway, and in snow this deep, none fully walkable or by horse either.
Wait. Did that mean? No way. No fucking way.
“Yep,” Sanchez confirmed, reading my expression. He strutted toward me, stepped onto the porch, and carried on by. “Looks like you’ve got yourself some house guests.” He continued to walk straight into my home as if he owned the place, the dogs trailing obediently after him.
Annoyance hit first, at his nerve to walk uninvited into someone else’s home, before a bone-deep anger took over, simmering in my gut on realizing he didn’t need an invitation as, in fact, he owned as much of the place as I did. I turned to Leo Taylor, my voice rising an octave. “You can’t seriously think I’ll let you stay here?”
“I’m sure there’s something we can do to get us out of your hair,” he answered instead. “Maybe, we could call mountain rescue or the fire service or the police?”
I scowled at his ill-considered question. “You are not wasting their time and effort on this. They’re an emergency service for a reason.”
Did he think I’d call them out? He was out of his mind. They were for people in real danger, not two suits who didn’t know better than to venture outside in heavy snow.
“Send me the photos, and I’ll contact some people, see what I can do to get you out of here.” As fast as I damn well could. “Now come inside before you freeze to death.”
Sanchez had already made himself at home, and currently stood in front of the fireplace, hogging the heat. My dogs, the traitors, sat either side of him, his hands absently scratching the tops of their heads. He didn’t belong in my home, his fancy suit entirely out of place against the well-worn sofa, scuffed leather wingback and hand-me-down furniture. His presence was yet another stark reminder of how lacking my life was compared to his.
“Chuck. Norris. With me.” I clicked my fingers, ignoring the reproachful look they gave before dutifully following me toward the bedroom.
“Chuck and Norris,” an amused voice followed behind me. “Seriously?”
His low chuckle only riled me all the more. Cursing under my breath, I refused to rise to his baiting, needing all my strength and energy to not go over there and ring his goddamn neck.
Forty minutes and three phone calls later, I hadn’t stopped cursing. Nothing. We’d get nothing in the way of help for at least a few days or longer, depending on the weather clearing up, and on checking the long-term forecast, it didn’t look to be breaking anytime soon. Pacing the bedroom, the floorboards creaking under my feet, panic started to take hold, winding long, icy tendrils around my throat. I needed my space, the peace and quiet, in order to function. If I remained stuck with those two for even a few hours, let alone a few days, I’d end up killing them. Well, one of them, at least. If he kept his mouth shut and stayed out of my way, I’d probably manage to tolerate the lawyer.
Sanchez was a whole different story. Just knowing he’d set foot in my home made my blood boil. He was probably prowling around the house right now, cataloguing everything he’d already seen. Likely deciding the place wasn’t worth the time and effort to renovate, and the best thing would be to bulldoze the whole cabin and barns and start over. Well, think again buddy, as no way would I be giving up on my life for him to build his pathetic resort or whatever, and if he had any intentions otherwise, he could go take a hike.
God, I needed some air and time alone to figure out a viable plan and put it into action, so I didn’t end up going batshit crazy. Once more shoving my feet into my work boots and grabbing my winter coat, I walked through the sitting room, ignored them both as they lounged on the couch, whistled for the dogs, and made a swift exit.
The lawyer opened the door behind me, but I ignored his calling my name and headed behind the cabin and the path down to the lake. The clouds were an ominous dark gray but at least the heavy snow had abated for the moment, the flakes lighter as they settled on my jacket and along the dogs’ backs. I walked until the cabin disappeared in the haze and I finally managed to take in a fortifying breath. The freezing cold air entering my lungs created pinpricks of pain in my throat every time I inhaled. Still not far enough away to release all my frustration, I continued on, making my way down the path to the lake, hoping the calmness I’d find there would help settle me.
I lost all track of time when I was out here on my land. The cabin is a few miles outside of town, but may as well have been a world away, the space so empty and devoid of people. The only other prints in the snow belonged to the many wild animals inhabiting the land alongside me. As I took in my surroundings, my mind boggled as to why anyone would want to tarnish this pristine environment by building some monstrosity of a resort.
I’d do everything in my power to prevent them going through with their plans, no matter what.
The sky had darkened considerably when I returned after a couple hours, the evening drawing in and the first stars peeking through tiny breaks in the clouds. Calmer now, and determined to hold onto the feeling, I made a quick detour to feed and settle the horses for the night, before making my way to the cabin, my cabin, the dogs at my side, to face whatever difficulties I’d find inside.