Chapter 17
Seventeen
Aubrey’s nose tickled and she sneezed. Disoriented, she slowly opened her eyes.
Her backside was numb from sleeping in one position.
Her shoulders were stiff from being tied behind her back.
And her muscles spasmed from being held in one position.
An ache settled in her jaw from where Donovan had slapped her repeatedly.
Her foot was throbbing, stabbing pain climbing up her calf and thighs.
She tried to move her ankle, but it was still swollen, and she couldn’t move it without causing more pain.
A dim shaft of moonlight illuminated the old cabin. A whippoorwill cried a plaintive night song. It must be perched on a nearby tree. They were alone out here, in the middle of nowhere. She couldn’t do anything. Except pray.
Please, God, let Ethan find me.
Maybe that was the point. Even in her darkest times, she’d forgotten to pray. She was so paralyzed with fear and grief, she’d forgotten to reach out to the Lord.
Her gaze drifted to the man who held her captive.
He not only held her captive this night, but mentally, she’d been a prisoner to her fear.
She could no longer live in fear. What was that verse?
Perfect love casts out fear. God’s love for her was perfect, and regardless of how this night ended, He loved her and wanted the best for her. Whatever that outcome looked like.
Selfishly, she wanted more time with Ethan.
Donovan’s snores filled the small cabin. He sat propped up in the corner, facing her, a knife still clutched in his hand.
What was he waiting for? Why didn’t he simply kill her now?
Donovan shifted in his sleep. Even though he appeared to be relaxed, there was tension in his body language.
You are my strong tower, Lord.
Donovan’s entire body jerked, and he scrambled to his feet. Disoriented for a moment, he scanned the small interior, a crazed look in his eyes. “What’s that? Who’s there?”
“I didn’t hear anything.”
“Shut up!”
Aubrey clamped her mouth shut. Donovan was unstable, and she didn’t want to chance another smack across her face.
All she heard was the wind whispering through the trees and the swishing of the overgrown grass. A lone owl called to its mate.
Donovan paced the interior of the small cabin. His frenetic motions were scaring her. He checked one window, then the other. Back and forth, checking and rechecking.
“Why did Rousseau leave?” A muttered curse followed the question.
“He should be here with me. This was all his idea.” He spoke to no one in particular, and his arms flailed wildly, as if he were fighting off some invisible opponent.
He rummaged in his backpack and pulled out a brown bottle of whiskey, uncapped it, and took a long swig.
Fear unlike any fear she’d ever known raced through her body, and she shivered. This wasn’t normal behavior. He was like a man possessed.
He paused, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he yanked his phone out of his pocket. It looked like one of those cheap burner phones. The kind that was untraceable.
Donovan glanced over his shoulder at her, spearing her with a look, and she shrank back in her seat. He resumed looking out the window.
“Rousseau, where are you?” Donovan screamed into the phone. “I need transport out of this town.”
“I told you I was leaving.” Roger’s voice filled the tiny space. Donovan must’ve put the phone on speaker.
“That wasn’t the plan.” Donovan kicked the empty bottle across the room, and it shattered when it hit the wall. Dark-brown splinters of glass littered the floor.
“Maybe not, but guess what? Plans change.” Rousseau’s answer sent Donovan into another fit of rage. “It’s following orders. You never did learn who was in charge here.”
“I was stuck in that crummy jail cell for almost twenty years. This was supposed to be my way out. A new life. I want my money.”
“Cry me a river. Stick to the plan and it’ll work. And the money? Well, that’s not up to me. You need to contact Frost if you wanna get paid.”
Icy tendrils of fear swirled around Aubrey’s chest.
Rousseau paused before answering. “Turns out freedom’s just another kind of cage. You do their dirty work, or you end up in the ground with the rest of the ghosts.”
Donovan swung around. “So tell me, Roger, what do I do with her?”
“She was your priority,” Rousseau said. “Handle it, and those marshals.”
Donovan inhaled through his nose, jaw flexing. He shoved the knife back into its sheath and resumed pacing. “I thought you said there’d be food in this dump. I’m starving.”
“Well, that’s a you problem now.” Rousseau’s voice oozed irritation through the phone. “Mother told me the Marshals were snooping around her house again today. I couldn’t even go home for my bags. I’m not risking getting caught with you.”
A flicker of hope sparked in Aubrey’s chest. The Marshals were close—close enough to make Rousseau refuse to return. She bit her lip to keep from crying, forced herself to stay still.
“You owe me!” Donovan barked, pacing. “We had a deal!”
“I owe you nothing,” Rousseau snapped. “You were sloppy. You were almost arrested yesterday, which is why I’ve already left. They’ll never find me.”
Donovan’s jaw clenched. He ran the knife blade up and down his thigh, the scrape of metal against denim a steady threat. “You left me to take the fall.”
Roger tsk’d. “Face it, Donovan. The Marshals were going to catch you eventually. Don’t ever call me again. What’s a few more years to a life sentence?”
The call ended with a laugh that curdled into static.
Donovan stared at the phone for a long moment before hurling it against the wall. It shattered—Aubrey’s last hope of contact splintering with it.
When he turned back, rage had hardened into something colder, quieter. He stalked toward her, his steps deliberate, a predator choosing how to corner its prey.
Aubrey forced herself to meet his gaze. If she was going to suffer, she would memorize every detail—his expression, his words—so that when Ethan found her, she could tell him exactly what had happened.
Donovan stopped, eyes glassy and distant. For a second, his head tilted, as if listening to a voice only he could hear. He nodded once, lips twitching in a private conversation.
He’s gone. Completely gone.
Then he moved. In a blur, he crossed the room, fisting a handful of her hair. Pain tore through her scalp. His breath hit her cheek—stale, sharp, reeking of whiskey and rage.
“Since we’re alone up here”—he dragged the knife along her jawline in a slow, deliberate swirl—“we might as well pass the time. What do you say, Red?”
A tear slipped free, hot and unwanted. “No.” Her voice trembled, her chest tightening as panic clawed at her ribs. “They betrayed you. It’s over. Just leave me and go.”
The knife traced her throat like a lover’s touch turned cruel. He smiled—a dead, joyless expression. “Except for one thing. You and me, we’ve got history.”
He stepped back, pacing again, restless energy radiating off him. Aubrey’s mind screamed at her to stay calm, to wait. A flash of light cut through the window—brief but unmistakable. Not moonlight. Not a passing car.
Her heart surged. Ethan.
Donovan froze. Every muscle in his body went taut. “You hear that?”
She nodded once, pulse thundering in her ears.
“That’s what I thought.” A grin split his face, wild and unhinged. “Knew Butler would head this way eventually. Too bad we won’t get to catch up before he dies.”
Laughter erupted from him, jagged and mad.
Aubrey’s body trembled, but beneath the terror, there was relief—sharp, fierce, and alive. This wasn’t over. If she didn’t make it out, Ethan would, surely. But she prayed they’d both live, because her future was freedom.
And Ethan.
Ethan parked his truck on an empty stretch of Highway 19, near Middleton Mountain. This part of Renegade wasn’t as heavily populated.
The nearest neighbors were at least a mile or two down the road—perfect for hiding out. Too perfect.
Ethan and Liam climbed out of the truck. A low rumble of thunder rolled through the valley, wind whipping leaves and grit around their boots. Ethan hit the lock on his key fob, the sharp beep echoing against the darkening sky. Together, they started unloading the ATVs.
“Thanks, man.” Ethan tightened a strap that didn’t need tightening. “This means a lot.”
Liam gave him a look. “I get it. I know what it’s like to believe you might lose the person you love.”
Love. The word hit harder than the wind.
Did he love Aubrey? The answer rose before he could stop it—yeah, he did. Somewhere between her stubborn questions and that soft, fierce smile, she’d broken through the walls he’d thought were permanent.
He’d spent too long pretending he didn’t need anyone. Too long confusing control with safety. It had cost him more than he cared to admit.
Not this time. Not with her.
He climbed onto the ATV, jaw tight with determination. Once he found Aubrey, he wouldn’t let fear—or pride—keep him silent another second.
The rest of the marshals pulled up, headlights cutting through the dusk. Doors slammed. They moved with practiced precision—vests, weapons, spare magazines clicking into place. Albright hefted a sniper rifle and slung it over his shoulder.
Everyone’s phones pinged with the incoming aerial shots of the Rousseau development.
“Good work, Glover.” Ethan scanned the map. “If anyone gets separated, rendezvous at Highway 19 West and Hilliard Road.”
“Renegade PD is on the way too,” Adam added.
Ethan looked around at his team—his family—and sent up a silent prayer of gratitude. “This marks the start of Rousseau property.” He pointed to the Coming Soon sign driven into the shoulder. “I want you to know I’m thankful for each one of you.”
In the fading light, determination—and a flicker of pride—crossed their faces.
“Liam and I will take the far end near the tree line with the ATVs. Albright, Glover—head east. Montgomery—go west. Check everything. Phones on silent, ten-minute text check-ins. Let’s move.”