Chapter 18
eighteen
. . .
FINN
Shooting upright in bed, I strained my ears. My heart was already racing, and it took me a moment to adjust to the world around me as I attempted to figure out what had awoken me.
I heard it again, recognizing instantly what had dragged me from sleep.
Screaming.
I was out of bed before I made the conscious decision to do so, throwing on joggers and a tee. I made a quick detour to the gun cabinet in my closet, punching in the code and grabbing my favorite pistol before rushing toward the door and stuffing my feet into my boots.
Because if I could hear screaming, there was only one explanation.
Reagan.
Bursting outside, my feet crunched against the gravel as I took off at a run down the pathway that connected my home to the guest house, crossing the hundred or so yards in record time.
After years of being in the Army, I kept physically fit, if only because it helped me around the ranch and because I didn’t know any other way to live.
By the time I reached the guest house, I was barely out of breath, but my adrenaline was high.
I didn’t bang on the door, not wanting to announce myself in case there was an intruder.
Instead, I punched in the code for the security system, rushed in, and disarmed it before the obnoxious beeping could turn into a full-blown alarm cutting through the night.
Slipping my boots off, I tiptoed on bare feet in the direction of the bedroom. The house seemed to be still, but…
There.
The creak of a floorboard echoed down the hall, and footsteps fast approached me. I flattened my back against the wall, gun at the ready, and waited.
Before I could react to the intruder, light flared, catching me off guard, and another scream echoed in the silence.
“What the fuck, Finn!” Reagan screamed. “What are you doing? Is that—is that a gun? How did you even get in here?”
She tossed questions at me so fast I couldn’t answer a single one, but they penetrated enough to have me lowering my weapon and taking stock of her.
Starting with her face, I gave her a once-over. Her skin was sallow, and there were dark smudges beneath her eyes. With her arms crossed over her chest, the hem of her tee rode indecently high on her thighs—and my attention shot back to her face.
She was fine.
Then what the fuck was I doing here?
“I was wondering the same thing,” she said, hand to her chest as she moved around the wide peninsula that separated the kitchen from the living area.
I must’ve spoken those words out loud.
Okay.
“I heard screaming.”
With a wince, her cheeks turned pink, then she downcast her gaze.
“I-I had a nightmare,” Reagan stammered.
She turned her back on me, and my more basic nature finally got the better of me. I allowed my eyes to dip down—and down and down.
Goddamnit, the tee was so fucking short, it barely covered her ass, the bottom curves of the cheeks peeking out of the hem.
And her legs were as long and shapely as I remembered.
They’d looked so fucking good wrapped around my face and my hips.
I gave myself a shake. Not the time, Finn.
She took a glass from the cupboard and filled it to the brim with water, chugging eagerly until there was only an inch or so remaining in the bottom.
Even the woman’s throat was sexy, the way it worked as she swallowed.
I remembered it swallowing a few other things that involved both of us wearing a lot less clothing.
And there I went, thinking about sex again.
Clearing my throat and swinging my eyes upward again, I asked, “Are you okay?”
Her lips were pursed, an eyebrow slightly curved upward, as if to say, really?
Shit, she’d caught me checking her out.
Whatever. I was a red-blooded male who hadn’t fucked in a long damn time, and I knew exactly what fucking this particular woman was like.
No one I’d ever met had managed to get me going quite like she did.
Sue me.
In answer to my question, she finally said, “I’d be a lot better if you put that gun away.”
“Shit,” I hissed, realizing my pistol was still in my hand. I flipped the safety on and let it hang loosely at my side, not exactly having anywhere to store it in this house. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay,” she said, draining her glass of water. “I’m sorry I woke you up and made you go all…Rambo.”
I chuckled. “Kind of second nature. I am a soldier, after all,” I reminded her.
“Oh, I’m well aware.”
Silence descended between us. Not exactly awkward, but fraught with something I couldn’t quite name. The air was charged with tension, and I recognized this moment as a tipping point. We could part ways and pretend like nothing happened, or…
Ultimately, I decided to leave the ball in her court.
“Well, I’m gonna head back,” I said, hooking my thumb toward the door and my house. “Gotta be up early. But call if you need anything.”
Honestly, I had no idea what time it was, only that dawn was coming faster than I’d like. And I’d surely struggle to fall back to sleep after this, too worried about her and wired about the threat of danger to let myself relax.
My hand was on the doorknob when she stopped me with a single word.
“Stay.”
I whipped back around. “Are you sure?”
“Yes,” she whispered, but the word was firm. “I need someone here. So stay. Please?”
The question came out as a plea, softly begging.
As if I’d ever deny her anything.
“Okay.”
She blinked in surprise but tamped it down quickly, though I noted how she bit her bottom lip as if holding off a smile.
After setting her glass in the dishwasher, she moved out of the kitchen and headed toward the bedroom. Once I ensured the security system was properly armed, I followed along, shutting the lights off as we went.
The master was situated in the back corner of the house and had its own set of French doors that led out onto the back deck. I’d positioned the bed to face the fields and hills beyond, which were bathed in moonlight, glowing silver and faintly illuminating the room.
My own master was set up similarly, because honestly, nothing beat the sight of this land, the tall country grasses and the distant snow-capped peaks of the mountains first thing in the morning.
Reagan crawled into bed, which I noted was a tangled mess of sheets. She curled up on the side closest to the door and patted the other one.
I shook my head. “Move over, belle.”
“Why?”
Leaning close so she could see the seriousness of my expression, I said, “If someone breaks in, they’ll have to go through me to get to you. And I won’t make it easy. Now move, please.”
Her eyes widened at the command in my tone, but she wisely did as I asked, mumbling a breathy little, “Yes, soldier,” before doing so.
Setting the gun on the bedside table, I shucked my sweatpants, leaving myself in only my tee and boxer briefs, before getting in next to her. I settled in, tugging the sheets as far as my waist and tucking one arm behind my head.
After years in the Army, I could fall asleep on command, anywhere, at any time.
Tonight was different. I was wired, tightly wound, as if waiting for some other shoe to drop.
I didn’t know how long we lay there, me waiting for Reagan’s breathing to even out as she dropped into sleep, before she shifted to face me and said, “Can I tell you about my nightmare?”
I turned my head toward her in surprise. “I—if you want to?”
She nodded. “It’s going to sound crazy, but I think you’re maybe the only person in the world besides Lainey who would understand it.”
Her voice cracked on her sister’s name, and without thinking, I reached for her, gathering her up and tugging her to my side.
Reagan came willingly, tucking her face against my chest, one hand coming to rest on my stomach, her thigh hooking over mine.
My arm came around her instinctively, rubbing soothing circles on her back.
This, I thought. This is how I should be falling asleep every night and waking up every morning.
“There was this old farmhouse,” she started. “Somewhere in the woods.”
“Just any old woods?” I asked.
There was a reason she was telling me this, and something told me we both needed her to be as specific as possible, some gut instinct leading me through this conversation.
Shaking her head against my chest, she said, “No. There were mountains in the distance. But not Tennessee mountains,” she continued before I could ask. “Like…”
“Idaho mountains?” I guessed.
“Yeah. Idaho mountains.” Absently, her fingers drew nonsensical patterns on my stomach. My abdomen tightened beneath her touch, and goosebumps raised along my skin. “I had no idea why I was there,” she continued. “Only that I felt like I was…searching for something.”
“What was it?”
Reagan gave my stomach a little slap. “I’m getting there.”
She explained how she went inside, how this old, rambling farmhouse which seemed to have not been updated since the seventies, was completely empty.
“And then I found the basement.”
Unease trickled down my spine. I knew it had only been a dream, but it had terrified her enough to wake up screaming bloody murder, and had this been a real-life scenario—well, it seemed like the kind of place I would’ve done whatever possible to prevent her from entering.
Still, I admired her bravery, even if she was perfectly safe.
“And what did you find down there?” I whispered.
She tilted her face up to look at me, her eyes damn near glowing in the darkness. Them and a flash of teeth were all I could see as she said, the words barely more than a breath, “Lainey. I found Lainey.”
That was not the answer I’d been expecting.
“Do you think…” I trailed off, unsure how to phrase the question in a way that didn’t make me sound insane. But I was starting to understand why she’d wanted to share this story with me—why she thought I, of all people, a twin myself, would latch onto the potential meaning behind the dream.
“I think my sister is trying to tell me where she is.”
There wasn’t anything I could say in response to that, and Reagan didn’t seem to expect me to speak anyway. She merely snuggled closer and let the silence envelope us.
Eventually, she drifted off, but sleep never found me.
As I lay there with the girl of my dreams in my arms, making her feel safe enough to fall into unconsciousness, my mind whirled.
With the exception of the decade West and I had spent in the service, I’d lived my entire life in Dusk Valley. There wasn’t a square inch of this town I didn’t know. Hell, the same could be said for most of the county, which was dominated by Lawless land.
We’d been operating under the assumption that Lainey’s abductor was local, and Reagan’s dream only drove that point further home for me.
Which meant this farmhouse was nearby, likely no more than a few hours by car.
As we lay there, as the sky outside turned from inky black pricked with stars to grey to the yellow-orange of the rising sun—a plan began to form.
A plan that required my twin and my plane.