Chapter 28
The Only Things That Matter
Eddie
Do you know how hard it is to keep a truck on the road in damn near whiteout conditions? Sixty miles an hour on roads built for maybe thirty-five, with no guardrails to save your ass if you slip? Pretty fucking hard.
But I have to get to Kiki. I have to find her.
I white-knuckle the wheel as I hug the curves, the tires fighting for traction and the back end of my truck threatening to slide out from under me.
Common sense tells me to keep my eyes locked on the road, but I scan the sides, searching for Kiki’s car.
Looking for any sign it’s gone off the road into a ditch, or worse, down one of the steep drop-offs into the ravine below.
But there’s nothing, and I don’t know if that makes me feel better or worse.
I skid into her driveway and slam on the brakes, damn near hitting Kiki’s car. That’s when I realize something is very, very wrong.
Kiki’s car sits running, her driver’s side door standing wide open, the key still in the ignition.
But Kiki is nowhere to be found.
Fuck.
I’m out of my truck in seconds, yanking my collar up against the wind threatening to cut straight through me, and grab a crowbar from the rear toolbox. Hopefully I won’t need it, but it’s better to be safe than sorry. “Kiki, where are you?”
The only reply is the howl of the wind through the pines.
My gaze snaps to her front door, or rather, what’s left of it.
Glass litters the porch, glittering in the dim light that spills from inside the cabin. The old wooden door has been damn near kicked off its hinges, hanging crooked like it no longer has the will to stay attached, and snow is already collecting inside.
As I step closer, dread gnaws at my gut.
And then I see it.
Spray-painted across the exterior wall in bright red: NOW YOU’LL PAY, BITCH.
Terror shoots through my veins, freezing me to my core, and I yank my phone from my pocket.
I need help. More importantly, Kiki needs help.
But before I complete the call, I hear her cries, carried on the wind from the back edge of the property and take off running.
I race down the slight incline, following the sound of her voice, tripping over a branch and damn near going down on my face before catching myself and pushing forward. There’s no time to slow down. Every second wasted is a second lost.
I half expect to find her bleeding out in the snow, so when I spot her standing by the creek bed, I damn near drop to my knees.
Thank God she’s okay.
But as I move closer, I realize she’s anything but fine.
She’s barefoot, standing in three-plus inches of snow. No coat, just a thin sweater providing no protection against the bitter chill. Her makeup is streaked down her face, tears carving paths through it, her hair plastered against her skin.
And then I hear what she’s screaming.
“Gus! Gus!”
Oh, shit.
“Kiki!” I wave my arms, but she doesn’t see me, doesn’t hear me.
When I get close enough, I grab her from behind and she jumps, releasing a piercing scream that rips right through me.
I circle my arms around her, my lips pressing close to her ear. “It’s okay, Kiki. It’s me.”
“No—” She shakes her head and wrenches from my grasp, stumbling a few steps. “I have to find Gus. He’s gone. I don’t know how long he’s been out here, and he’s going to be so cold—”
I haul her back to me, but she struggles, fighting me every step. “Let me go! I have to find him!”
“Kiki!” I snap, tightening my hold. “I will find Gus, but we need to get you into my truck right now. I don’t know if someone’s still here, waiting for you.”
That’s when she spies the crowbar in my hand.
Understanding flashes across her face, and she sags against me as the fight drains out of her. “Why would they hurt Gus?” she moans in a broken whisper. “He was the best dog.”
“I’m sure he’s around here somewhere,” I reply, even though I’m not certain about anything anymore.
Kiki’s right. The weather is horrible, and Gus is an old dog. We don’t know how long he’s been out here or if he even made it this far. After seeing what was painted across her cabin, I can’t help but think the pieces of shit responsible might have hurt him out of spite.
“I’m going to carry you to the truck. Get you off your feet.”
But the wind dies down before I do, its silence screaming louder than the storm.
And then I hear it, a low, faint whimper from the far side of the shed.
“Stay right here, Kiki,” I order. “Don’t move.”
I circle around the shed, the knot of tension in my gut tightening with every step. “Gus?”
Another weak whine carries across the air as I spot him, huddled against the side wall and shaking like a leaf.
I crouch beside him, running my hands over his fur. He’s soaked and freezing, but I don’t feel anything broken. Thank God.
“Hey… hey, old boy. It’s okay. I’ve got you.” I scoop him up and hold him tight against my chest.
As soon as Kiki sees us, she releases a strangled sob and races to my side. “Oh my God, my sweet boy…” She buries her face against his fur, her body quaking.
“Come on,” I murmur, desperate to hide the fear in my voice. Kiki has enough of that. “Let’s get you both into the truck. I’ll call the cops.”
She latches onto my wrist, shaking her head, fear ablaze in her eyes. “No. You can’t call them, Eddie.”
You know those moments when all the pieces fall into place and what was fragments suddenly form a full, undeniable picture?
A heaviness settles over me as I realize the perpetrators of this crime. “It was Drake and his men, wasn’t it?”
Kiki shrugs, a fresh round of tears streaming down her face. “Who knows at this point? Everyone hates me.”
“Hey, look at me.”
But she doesn’t. Her gaze remains on Gus, her fingers stroking his sodden fur.
I duck my head, forcing myself into her line of sight. “Look at me, Kiki. I don’t hate you. I have never, not for one second, hated you.”
A tremulous smile flickers across her lips but it quickly disappears, the furrow settling back between her brows.
It seems even happiness is afraid to stay by her side for more than an instant, and that knowledge breaks me.
“You should go,” she says, finally daring to look at me. “The roads are terrible. Go home. Gus and I will be okay.”
I let out a guffaw at the ridiculousness of her statement. “No way in hell, but thanks for the offer.”
We hobble back toward the vehicles. I shut off her car and pocket the key before leading them to my truck, turning the heat on full blast. “Lock the doors. And if something happens, you go. You understand me? You go.”
“No—”
“You go, Kiki.”
She hangs her head, managing one slow nod as she realizes there’s no room for argument.
Gripping the crowbar in both hands, I work my way back toward the cabin, uncertain what might be waiting for me when I cross the threshold.
The place is a disaster. Furniture has been knocked over, drawers dumped out, the contents scattered across the floor. There’s glass everywhere, and her favorite painting lies tattered in the corner.
“Goddammit,” I mutter under my breath. “Fucking why?”
I check every room, my pulse roaring in my ears, certain someone’s waiting around the corner to end me.
But no one’s here. Whoever did this is long gone. For that, I suppose we should be grateful.
I return to the truck and Kiki rolls down the window. “There’s no one here, but it’s a mess in there.”
“I know. I saw when I first got here,” she mumbles. “But it doesn’t matter. I have Gus.”
I reach out, stroking a gentle hand down her cheek. “It does matter, Kiki. But you’re right, Gus is way more important than anything else in that cabin.”
I jerk my thumb toward the shed. “I’m gonna grab a couple of pieces of plywood and board up the door and window. That’s all we’re worried about tonight, okay? Why don’t you come inside and grab whatever you need?”
Kiki shakes her head. “There’s nothing I need in there.”
Thank God for being a contractor. I’ve got all the tools I need to board up the door and window. It ain’t pretty, but at least it’s secure. More secure than it was anyway.
Fifteen minutes later, I climb back into the truck and pivot in the seat. Kiki’s still shivering, still frozen, but at least the tears have subsided.
“You sure you don’t want to pack some things? We’ll go back to my place.”
“No.” Her hand slices the air. “I can’t go to your place.”
Is she serious right now? After everything that’s happened tonight, she’s going to argue over location?
I drag a hand over my eyes and smack the steering wheel. “Where do you want me to take you then? Because you’re not staying here.”
“The job site is fine.”
“Nolan isn’t there,” I remind her.
Kiki shoots me a strange look. “Obviously. I don’t want to see Nolan.”
“Okay,” I mutter, backing down the drive. “Just wanted to make sure that’s not who you were looking for.”
She places a tentative hand on my arm. “Eddie… aside from Theo, the only things that matter to me in the world are you and Gus. And you’re both sitting right here. So I’m good.”
Actually, she’s not. Not even close.
But her words melt some of the chill that’s taken up residence around my heart, even if she doesn’t mean them.
I reach over and grasp her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “I’m not going anywhere.”
But when the truck slides on a patch of snow, I realize holding hands might not be the smartest idea if we hope to reach our destination intact. “Sweetheart… I need both hands to drive.”
She releases her grip, skewing her mouth as she looks at me. “You haven’t called me sweetheart in forever.”
I maintain my focus on the road, offering a shrug. “Didn’t mean to offend you.”
“You didn’t. You have no idea how much I missed it.”
Mother Nature fights me the whole way, but we finally arrive back at the job site.
Gus leads us inside, straight back to Kiki’s temporary office.
I stop by my workstation, thankful I keep clothes here. I’ve learned the hard way that contracting is dirty work, and unless I feel like wearing something disgusting for ten hours, it pays to have an extra set of duds on hand.
But what the hell is Kiki going to wear? She refused to take anything from the cabin.
Seems the woman can read my mind.
She walks to an old dresser sitting against the wall in her office and starts pulling things from the drawers. “Here,” she says, handing me a towel. “The shampoo, conditioner, and soap are already in the shower. I’ll get the fireplace going, make it extra toasty in here.”
“Do you have clothes here too?”
She nods. “I’ve got all kinds of stuff.”
That’s when it clicks. This isn’t just her office. This is home base.
“Kiki, are you living here?”
She releases a long sigh, followed by a stilted laugh. “Yeah. Isn’t life grand?”
“How long?”
“Since the night after Nolan’s party.”
A spark of jealousy flares, but I shut it down. This isn’t about Nolan.
It’s about Kiki and the idea that what I experienced with her tonight has been going on for a while.
Yeah. I need answers. Now.
She points toward the small fridge. “I’ve got food. Romy always brings too much.”
“I don’t suppose you’ve got whiskey hidden around here too?”
A smile tugs at her lips as she opens another drawer in the dresser. “I do, and the futon turns into a bed. It’s not perfect, but at least it’s safe.”
The woman I love has been living in fear. How the hell did I miss it? What kind of asshole am I that I didn’t see the truth sooner?
I walk toward her, framing her face in my hands and forcing her to look at me. “Here’s the deal, little lady. We’re going to take a hot shower and get Gus warmed up. Then we’re going to have a glass of whiskey and you’re going to tell me what the fuck is going on.”