Chapter 9
9
Anya
“Y ou went into town without me?”
I’m angry. Perhaps I shouldn’t be, but I am.
Nico, Booker, and Chance sit on the sofa, while I pace the living room like a caged lioness, trying to gather my senses and use my reasoning. There are just too many emotions pent up, though, too many questions in desperate need of answers, too many unknowns while my memory struggles to recover.
“We weren’t sure it would be safe for you,” Chance says. “It’s why we left Booker with you.”
“Why wouldn’t it be safe for me?” I ask. “All I had to do was sit in the back of your truck while you drove us into town. You reached the main road, didn’t you?”
“It’s more complicated than that,” Nico says, trying to appease me, but that’s not going to fly either. “Anya, we had a few things to take care of before we can take you into Seeley Lake.”
“What things? I don’t understand.”
“Like I said, it’s more complicated,” Nico insists.
“Then tell me!” I stomp my foot. “I deserve the truth!”
Booker shakes his head slowly. “We’re not sure if it’s wise or healthy, given your condition.”
“Stop treating me like I’m made of porcelain. The car crash didn’t kill me. You can see me, right? Standing right here? Alive and mostly well?”
But I’m also getting a bit dizzy, so I take a seat by the fireplace before they catch on. The last thing I need is the Hayes brothers telling me they have every reason to keep me up here since I’m still wobbling at the slightest sign of distress. I don’t have time to stew in the unknown. A sense of urgency has been building up inside me, and I need to do something about it.
“Anya… What happened with your car… We don’t think it was a simple accident,” Nico concedes, briefly lowering his gaze.
“I thought we weren’t going to say anything until we heard from Mills,” Chance mutters, frowning.
“We have to give her something,” Booker says and exhales loudly, “even if we don’t know much else.”
It’s a good thing I’m sitting down because the air just got knocked out of my lungs. “What are you talking about? It wasn’t an accident?” I mumble, my blood running cold.
“We don’t know what we’re dealing with at this point,” Nico says, taking over again. “Do you trust us?”
“I… Yes,” I say.
“Do you trust us to keep you safe and out of harm’s way?” he asks, and I nod once. It’s the truth. They’ve given me no reason to doubt them. However, they’ve given me plenty of reasons to fall for them, and hopelessly at that. “Then trust us to keep you safe until we’re sure we have all the information.”
“Nico, if you know something, why not just tell me? I deserve to hear it.”
Chance runs his fingers through his hair, taking a deep breath in the process. It’s as if they’re preparing for something, and they can’t bring themselves to tell me what it is. In their defense, I can see that they’re tortured by the situation—whether or not to tell me. But that only amplifies every negative emotion currently swirling through me.
“I deserve the truth,” I say again.
“You’re not ready for the truth,” Nico decrees. “But we will take you into town tomorrow.”
“Thank you,” I reply, but I’m not sure he means it. “Are there landlines in town? I need to call my brother.”
Again, the brothers exchange nervous glances, and I know they’re withholding something from me, something important. This blow to the head has done nothing but damage—not just to my memory, but how the Hayes brothers perceive me. That much is clear.
“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it,” Nico says.
I can’t help myself. “Did you call him?”
“No,” he says and shakes his head.
“Did you at least try to reach him?”
“No.”
“Oh, for f—”
“It’s complicated,” Chance cuts in. “The blizzard took out a good chunk of the region’s infrastructure. Not every call goes through. There’s no internet connection anywhere. The banks are only allowing over-the-counter cash to be pulled from their accounts. The whole town needs another day or two to get back in order.”
All of these sound like excuses, reasonable excuses, but excuses, nonetheless.
That being said, I don’t want to argue anymore. I don’t want to be stonewalled by the three men who have kept me safe this whole time. The three men who are taking such good care of me, nursing me back to health. They deserve more credit, and my anger shouldn’t get the better of me.
So, I take another deep breath. “Can I see the doctor tomorrow?”
“Absolutely. We’ll get him to do an MRI or at least a consult,” Booker replies.
“And we can try his landline if the cell tower doesn’t get fixed by tomorrow,” I say.
Booker just nods slightly, and I see the doubt in his green eyes, the flickers of guilt and deception. Part of me worries they’ll just figure out a way to postpone my trip to town for another day. And then another day. And then another. In the meantime, a second snowstorm might hit Seeley Lake, stranding us again.
“I think I want to sleep in my room tonight,” I tell the men, and slowly get up from my seat.
Nico gives me a concerned look. “We’re just about to get dinner going. We’ve got fresh supplies. You said you’d kill for some pasta carbonara.”
“No, thanks. I’m not hungry,” I mumble and leave the room.
My ego prevents me from performing a full and gracious concession. My circumstances are apparently growing more dire, but I know little to nothing about it. None of this sits right, and the more I think about it, the angrier I become. I don’t want to lash out at Nico, Booker, and Chance either. The best thing I can do is remove myself from what has clearly become a futile struggle and wait for nightfall.
* * *
At this late hour, deep in the heart of night, I sneak down the stairs and grab my boots, which are waiting at the bottom. Like a thief in the night, I move cautiously, quietly, barely breathing. My conscience keeps screaming at me to turn back, to return to my room. But my instincts cry out for the truth. I’d rather get to it sooner than later. Not tomorrow. No. Tonight.
They’ll be upset, I know that.
They’ll probably feel betrayed. I know that, too.
Yet, thinking back, I’ve been more than a good girl. I’ve been a saint, letting things roll off my back and waiting for my memory to return on its own. Clearly, it’s time for more drastic measures, and while I appreciate the brothers’ concern for my well-being, I’m stronger than they think.
I fish a car key out of the catchall bowl in the foyer. It’s for the Range Rover. Good. I’ll need proper wheels for that road.
A split second later, I’m in my boots, huddled under my winter coat and bolting out the front door. Glancing back, I see the lounge is dark. The lights are out. Nico, Booker, and Chance are asleep in their bedrooms.
Come morning, I’ll have some explaining to do, provided I decide to return. That’s a silly thought, given how deeply my heart aches whenever I think of leaving the Hayes brothers.
But the truth is out there—somewhere.
Carefully, I steer the Range Rover down the mountain road in the dark. Snow drifts flank the road along with generations-old pine trees. Silence and stars aplenty twinkle above.
Finally, I reach the main road, relieved to feel the wheels gliding along actual pavement. Snow is piled up on either side, some off-white, some dark brown. The Range Rover’s tires crunch over road salt. Good. It means the county is clearing up and moving forward.
So must I.
I follow the road signs into Seeley Lake, driving along the edge of the vast dark water before I reach the town itself. It looks beautiful. Silent. Cold. One might find mysteries beneath its tranquil surface, but this place doesn’t have any secrets, just mountain folks and hard-working people.
Pulling over outside the sheriff’s office, I need to take a deep breath. Why is my heart racing? It’s probably because I’m about to get to the truth. I’m about to find out what the Hayes brothers have been keeping from me. Their intentions are good and noble, but I can’t live in the dark anymore.
I take one step toward the station’s front door. The lights are on inside. There’s a deputy in there on duty.
But the sound of rushing footsteps makes me turn my head.
“There you are!” a man snarls and rams his fist into my stomach.
I cough and groan, doubling over from the pain. I fall to my knees, oblivious to the cold as a crippling fear takes over. Heat spreads through my torso, and I look up. He’s tall and dark-haired, with cold blue eyes, and he hates me. That much is obvious. That and his snappy suit. He’s not from these parts.
“You stupid bitch,” he snarls and kicks me in the side.
“Stop!” I cry out, trying to shield myself from what’s coming.
But the punch in the gut knocks the wind out of me. I see stars at the corners of my eyes, and I can’t focus. A piercing pain slashes through my skull.
“Do you have any idea how much trouble you’ve caused me? I was stuck here in the fucking blizzard, waiting for you to come out,” the man snaps. “Weeks spent fucking waiting because you just wouldn’t fucking die.”
“Who are you?”
“Oh I heard the rumors from your dick-hungry neighbor, Breonna,” he says, and mimics her in an obnoxious fashion as he takes out a gun and mounts a silencer on its muzzle. “Poor soul can’t remember a thing, boo-fucking-hoo.”
“I don’t understand,” I manage, struggling to crawl away and put some distance between us. “I don’t remember…”
“Which is the sad part, because I wish you recognized me. I wish I could see the look of realization in your eyes when you finally understand there’s not a hole deep and dark enough that you can hide from me, Anya.”
“Who the fuck are you?”
“I’m the man who’s gonna do what my brother keeps dragging his ass about,” he scoffs and points the gun at my head. “I’m not gonna drag you back to New York. Leo’s got his own plans, but they’re just fucking whims. We’ve got a business to run, and every breath you draw turns you into a bigger problem. So, Anya, be at peace knowing it’s not pers—”
POP!
He stills as a bullet pierces his chest.
Blood sprays outward. I smell it right away.
I can’t move.
He’s shocked. He looks down at me with wide, glassy eyes as he bleeds from his chest. A crimson rose blooms across his shirt, and he falls to his knees. A split second later, he’s face-down in the snow. Dead.
And I still can’t move. All I can do is stare at him. “Oh, my God,” I whisper.
“Anya.”
Only now do I see Chance coming toward me, the gun still smoking in his hand. He runs, picking up speed as he holsters the pistol under his coat and slides down on his knees to reach my side. I’m in pain, but my mind fires in rapid sequences, my brain trying to catch up.
“Chance…”
“Are you okay?” he asks, giving me a thorough once-over.
“What just happened?”
He looks at the dead man. I follow his gaze. The bloodied snow hides part of his face, but I can still tell my attacker is young. “I met him earlier. I figured there was something fishy about him, and it looks like my instincts were right.”
“He just… He just tried to—”
“Kill you. Yes”
“And you… you—”
“I killed him, yes.”
His voice trembles slightly. He’s a former Navy SEAL, after all. He’s in peak physical condition, with excellent marksmanship and combat skills aplenty. It was an effortless kill for Chance Hayes, yet it rocked my world.
“You killed him,” I whisper, the horror reaching my very bones.
“Anya, I had to. He was going to kill you.”
“Oh, God…”
“I had no choice,” he says, his hands gently patting me from top to bottom. I wince from the pain when he touches my side. “He hit you, didn’t he?”
“Yes.”
“I heard you pull out with my truck. You should’ve known better than to do something like this,” he reprimands me, but his tone is gentle as he helps me stand up. “This is why we didn’t want you coming to town.”
“I don’t understand…” My voice trails off as the door to the sheriff’s station opens, and out comes the sheriff himself, judging by his uniform and the gold star pinned to his chest.
“What in the ever-living fuck, Chance?” the sheriff blurts out.
He rushes down the stairs and checks the dead guy. No pulse and a puddle of blood spreading beneath him. He furrows his dark brows as he looks up at me, then at Chance.
“I don’t know who he is,” I whisper, my lower lip quivering. Whether it’s from the cold or the fear, I’m not sure. But I do know I’m shaking like a leaf, while my headache ratchets to a higher level.
“You’re safe,” Chance tells me and puts an arm around my shoulders, pulling me close. “I wish I didn’t have to do what I did, Mills.”
“What did you do, exactly?” the sheriff asks as he gets up.
“I had to stop him. He was going to kill her,” Chance says, then points to the cameras mounted above the station’s front door. “Your CCTV will confirm.”
“Who is this guy?”
“You came after me,” I say to Chance, unable to keep up with the conversation as thoughts of my own begin to intrude, mingled with fractured memories, snippets of faces I know but can’t remember. The dead guy is one of them. “I know him… don’t I?”
Sheriff Mills takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. “Chance, talk to me. Who is he?”
“Said his name was Max, but I’m not sure if he was telling the truth. I’ll bet you he’s part of the Sokolov syndicate out of New York.”
“Fucking Bratva?” The sheriff gasps.
“Bratva?” I ask.
“Russian mob,” Chance tells me. “And yes, I came after you, Anya, because I had a feeling you were about to walk into something deadly.”
“Why is the Bratva after me?”
“They killed your brother,” Chance says. “And you have no idea how much danger you’re really in.”
“My brother,” I whimper, tears quick to sting my eyes.
Somewhere deep down, I think I already knew. Or I suspected he was no longer alive. It doesn’t hit me as I thought it would. I’m not shocked. I only feel grief over the memories I have yet to recover. All I can do is lean into Chance, terrified and exhausted.