Chapter 25
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
K athleen came back with her backpack and looked at Veronica. “Where are we going?”
“We can’t stay in Manhattan,” Veronica said, her voice low. “They’ll track us down. Different crew, same objective.”
Kathleen nodded mutely.
“I can get us on a flight out of state by morning. Different names, clean IDs. Somewhere quiet. Vermont, maybe or Montana,” said Veronica.
Kathleen blinked at her. “You want to run?”
“I want you safe,” Veronica said. “That’s not going to happen here.”
“We’d be seen at the airport. Cameras. Passenger logs. You think they won’t have someone watching?”
“I can get around it.”
Kathleen shook her head. “No. I won’t leave the state. I need access to my lab. Ted can hold the fort for a week or two, but I’m not walking away from my research.”
Veronica looked like she wanted to argue, then let the breath go through her nose. “Okay. So not out of state. A safehouse, somewhere they wouldn’t have a clue about. You know somewhere like that?”
“I do,” Kathleen said.
Veronica turned to her with a raise of her eyebrow.
“It’s on a nature reserve out past Bashakill. It’s a ranger’s station off the grid.”
A flicker of relief crossed Veronica’s face. “What’s there?”
“A small log cabin. One bedroom and a living area, fireplace, rainwater tank and solar power. It’s remote. No one can stumble across it unless they’re seriously lost. The Rangers don’t use it often.”
Veronica nodded. “Good. That’ll do. Is there food there?”
“It’s stocked with canned goods.” Kathleen pulled three grocery bags from the cupboard. “I’ll take everything that’s in the cooler.”
“Good,” said Veronica. “I’ll stop at my unit on the way, and take whatever I have as well. They’ll track us if we go to a shop.”
“You’re sure this is the best move?” asked Kathleen anxiously.
“No,” Veronica said as she helped to pack the food into the bags. “But it’s better than waiting here to be shot. We can plan what we do next in peace once we’re safe.”
“Do you want to take my Bronco Everglades? It’s the best vehicle where we’re going.”
“Nope. They’ll find it. I wouldn’t be surprised if they’ve put trackers on all your vehicles. These people are pros, Kathleen. We’ll take my rental. I gave a false name so they won’t be looking for it.”
Kathleen glanced at her sideways. “You’re good at this, Veronica.”
Veronica peeled back her lips in a smile but there was no humour in it. “I’ve had plenty of practise. Leave your phone—they’ll be able to track it. I’ll give you a burner phone.”
“What about my laptop. I won’t go without it. It has all my work on it.”
Veronica eyed her in surprise. “You leave it lying around?”
“It’s hidden away. The one on the desk hasn’t much on it.”
“Okay, take it.” She looked around the room. “Right, let’s go. We’ll gag those two before we go. When I’m half out of the city, I’ll text the cops to pick them up and chuck the phone away.”
Kathleen looked at her incredulously. “How many damn phones have you?”
Veronica chuckled. “I always have a supply. Tools of the trade.”
T he drive took two hours, most of it in silence. Neon and traffic lights increasingly were replaced by dark trees and empty road.
Every so often, Kathleen caught Veronica glancing in the rear-view mirror for headlights, but there were none.
Kathleen leaned her head against the window as the darkness slipped past. She should have been terrified.
Or furious. Or at the very least, wary. But instead, what she felt was…
a strange thrill, sharp and humming low in her chest.
She had packed a bag in five minutes flat, left her apartment with a woman who had lied to her, who had fought like a SAS soldier and was driving with her into the middle of nowhere, in the dead of night. It should have been the makings of a panic attack.
Strangely, her heart wasn’t racing with fear—it was skipping like something in her had broken loose.
The old Kathleen—cautious, anxious, quietly bristling at social dinners—would never have done this.
That woman would have shut the door and called the police and sat trembling on the couch until help came.
But she wasn’t that person anymore, hadn’t been since Veronica stepped into her life.
It still stung, the deceit. That all the nights they'd spent talking, the gentle touches were part of a contract to learn her secrets.
Intellectually, it was all clear, but emotionally?
She couldn’t summon the hate. Even now, seated beside her in silence, Veronica’s profile lit by the instrument panel, there was something steady about her presence—something Kathleen had already let herself lean into. And that, more than anything, was what made this so exhilarating.
She should be unravelling instead of sitting calmly beside her, thinking how lovely she looked in the glow of the lights.
After they left Manhattan, Veronica pulled a phone out of her pocket and texted the police.
Then she threw it into a ditch and kept driving.
An hour later, Kathleen pointed to the turn off the main highway.
They drove through a narrow, winding strip of gravel, relieved no cars followed them in.
As they drove further, the trees thickened, the oaks and pines swallowing the night sky, and their headlights lit up the underbrush in flickers.
There were no sounds except for the purr of the car engine and the rumble of the tyres over the dirt road.
Kathleen straightened in her seat as the car crawled up the final hill.
She recognised the place in fragments: the moss-draped boulder beside the track, the old iron fence slumped to one side, and finally, the dark silhouette of the cabin nestled in the clearing.
It was exactly as she remembered—modest, weathered, half-forgotten. A perfect hideout.
Veronica parked close to the door and cut the engine. The silence returned like a blanket dropped over them both. “You sure no one else knows about this?” she asked.
“Positive.”
They stepped out into the cold. Kathleen flicked on the torch, fumbled with the key until it fitted in the lock, and pushed the door open. A puff of dust greeted them. The air smelled of cedar and ash and old woodsmoke. She hit the light switch and the room lit up.
The cabin was bare bones but clean: one main room with a stone hearth, a two-seater couch with faded fabric, a small table tucked under the window, and a kitchenette barely big enough to swing a kettle.
To the side was a door to the single bedroom and the washroom.
On the shelves were old mugs, a few well-thumbed books on native flora, and a box of candles and matches.
Veronica set their bags down. “Nice. Remote and quiet. You were right.”
“I told you. There’s a gas cylinder that runs the little stove.
” Kathleen offered a smile, then crossed to the fireplace.
She put some paper on the stone floor then stacked kindling from the box to the side on to it, struck a match and coaxed a flame.
The fire caught slowly, but once it did, the room began to warm with the soft glow of orange light.
They moved in companionable silence. Veronica checked the water tank while Kathleen unpacked their food. There was no fridge, so they left the perishables in the cooler.
When the fire was going strong and the kettle had boiled, Kathleen poured two mugs of tea and sat cross-legged on the couch. Veronica took hers without a word and settled across from her.
For a long moment, they simply sat there, steam rising between them, silence folding gently over the cabin like snowfall.
Then Kathleen exhaled. “Thank you for rescuing me.”
Veronica looked at her. “I should have left but I couldn’t.”
“You stayed,” Kathleen said softly. “That’s all that matters.”
The fire crackled.
Outside, the trees whispered against one another, and in the distance came the hoot of an owl.
Finally, Veronica said softly, “I guess we’d better get some sleep. It’s been a long day.”
“There’s only one bed,” whispered Kathleen.
Veronica scanned her face. “Does that worry you?”
Kathleen slid her eyes away. “No.”
“Good,” said Veronica with finality. “Let’s go to bed ‘cause I’m exhausted.”
The bedroom was small, barely big enough for the double bed and the side table with a crooked lampshade.
It was warm now, the fire's glow stretching its fingers through the open door.
Kathleen hesitated in the doorway, watching as Veronica dropped her bag beside the wall and pulled off her hoodie in one smooth motion.
She moved without ceremony, not performative or self-conscious, just… calm.
Kathleen found herself studying her in the half-light, the curve of her shoulder, the way the soft cotton of her t-shirt clung slightly as she moved. It felt intrusive and necessary all at once.
“I’ll take the far side,” Veronica said, her voice gentle. She peeled back the worn covers and sat on the edge of the bed, stretching out her legs.
Kathleen stripped to her undies, crossed the room and slid in beside her without a word.
They lay for a moment without touching, the silence filled with the soft creak of the mattress, the distant wind brushing over the eaves. Kathleen stared at the timber ceiling, heart fluttering in her chest like a bird unsure if it was safe to land.
She turned her head. Veronica was watching her.
In the fire-washed dark, her face looked softer, more open than it had any right to be. Not the poised escort, not the fighter who'd taken out two armed men, but something in between. Or perhaps something else entirely. Someone Kathleen still didn’t fully understand and maybe never would.
“I keep trying to be angry,” Kathleen whispered.
Veronica didn’t answer.
“But I’m not. I want to be,” Kathleen went on. “I know I should be.”
Veronica reached out, slow enough for Kathleen to stop her if she wanted, and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. Her knuckles grazed Kathleen’s cheek.
“I lied to you,” she said. “That doesn’t go away.”
Kathleen closed her eyes. “I know.”
Veronica’s hand lingered for a moment, then dropped.
“But I also know you didn’t have to come back,” Kathleen said. “You could’ve walked away and no one would’ve known.”
“I would have,” said Veronica quietly.
Kathleen opened her eyes and looked at her. For a beat, nothing moved. Then she reached out and took Veronica’s hand, brought it to her lips, and kissed the edge of her fingers—barely there, but enough. “I’m scared,” she said.
“So am I.”
“I still want you,” Kathleen murmured.
A silence followed, not empty, but filled with something heavy and bright.
Veronica shifted closer, her fingers tracing the line of Kathleen’s wrist, up her arm. When their lips met, it wasn’t urgent. It wasn’t frantic. It was steady, searching, something reclaimed rather than taken for the first time.
Kathleen rolled toward her, letting the kiss deepen, her hand curling into the fabric of Veronica’s shirt. She felt the heat of her body through it, the quiet strength, the careful restraint.
Then Veronica broke the kiss. “We should get some sleep.”
Kathleen cuddled into her, head on her shoulder. “You don’t have to promise anything,” she whispered.
“I’m staying,” Veronica said. “That’s the only promise that matters.”
Kathleen’s eyes drooped and she drifted off to sleep.