Chapter 8 #2
And I shouldn’t care, but somewhere deep down, something twists in my gut…
That old feeling I long ago burned and buried.
Ignoring it, I grab the shirt from him, turn away, and set off down the trail, already shivering as I imagine climbing into what must be the frigid waters of the river just to scrub off the filth.
Still, being cold will be better than feeling disgusting.
The trees crowd in around me on my walk, a canopy of thick green foliage hanging over me, blocking out the morning sun. Birds chirp and small animals scurry across the forest floor, but the relative quiet is almost peaceful.
Everything moves slow in McBride Mountain. It’s the kind of small town where no part of life is ever rushed. People enjoy every minute of every day in the beauty of the Blue Ride Mountains. But up here, this, is different.
I can see why Connor likes it.
Not just because it isn’t the homestead, but because he is truly alone here, enveloped by nature in a way that can’t even happen on the land his family settled so many generations ago.
Sounds of rushing water hit me before I can see the river, but only a few steps bring me from inside the woods and out into another small clearing beside it.
My breath catches…but not at the sight of the flowing water.
An old, cast-iron bathtub sits several yards back from the river bank, a small fire beneath it that must be heating the water that fills it almost to the brim, given the way steam rises from it.
A pipe runs from the drain out into the trees, probably to ensure the used water doesn’t go into the river.
I move closer and spot an overturned bucket he must have used to move the water, and sitting on top of it, is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen—a bar of soap.
Connor Fucking McBride…
CONNOR
I tighten my grip on the draw knife and drag it across the surface of the log, slowly stripping away the thick bark.
Piece by piece.
Strip by strip.
It tumbles to the grass beneath my feet as I work my way down the length of the massive tree that once stood proudly on the edge of this clearing.
The sun beats down on my bare back now that I’ve removed my shirt, sweat beading on my skin and dripping down my temples. My muscles ache and burn, especially after the hike and work I’ve done the entire time Raven was dead to the world.
But I relish the pain, the sweat, the discomfort born from hours and hours of hard manual labor in the sun.
This is what I needed.
I didn’t even last a week back in civilization before the itch to return to this little slice of Heaven was almost too much to bear.
The solitude—being up here where nothing and no one can reach me—has become the balm I need to ease the agony in my soul.
I can lose myself in this work, in this tiny spot on the mountain that anyone else might walk right past and never know is only a few feet away through the trees.
It’s the only place I’ve been able to think about anything but what happened on the homestead. It’s the only place I’ve been able to breathe in months.
Until I was forced to bring Blondie up here…
Any momentary reprieve is shattered by the sound of heavy footsteps coming up the trail from the river.
Apparently, my suggestion that she tread lighter must have slipped her mind during her lengthy slumber.
Now every animal within a ten-mile radius knows something is on this mountain with them that shouldn’t be—including me.
What the fuck was I thinking bringing her up here?
The truth is, I wasn’t thinking at all.
I just acted.
Deep down, I just knew that damn woman would never stop on her mission to write this story, to expose the people who tore apart the mountain and almost destroyed all our lives, and if she couldn’t be stopped, then she at least had to be protected.
And given that the Lorells have people paid off all over the East Coast—lawyers, law enforcement, God only knows who else, they likely have eyes and ears everywhere. That means she wouldn’t have been safe anywhere but here.
But it also means there’s no way I will be.
It’s impossible to be safe from this woman when you’re her target.
She appears from between the trees, carrying her dirty clothes, dressed in a clean pair of jeans and a dark t-shirt that hugs her curves in a way that forces me to look back at the log rather than stare at her as she approaches.
Part of me wishes she had stayed by the river longer, to give me more time to work out my frustration and enjoy the solitude, but the quicker she gets to work on her story, the quicker this can all be over.
For the good of both of us.
Raven stops a few feet away, but I can feel her eyes on me as I continue to work, stripping the log. “What are you doing?”
“Preparing a beam.”
I peek at her out of the corner of my eye and see her turn toward the foundation I built for my new cabin. Her long hair falls down her back, still darkened from her bath but starting to dry into the light golden color it typically is. “You really did all this yourself?”
“Yep.”
And by the end of next spring, I’ll have this entire cabin up.
She shifts again, turning back toward me. “Where did you sleep last night?”
My back stiffens, and I have to tighten my grip on the draw knife to keep from dropping it. “I didn’t.”
“You didn’t what?”
I glance at her. “I didn’t sleep.”
Her mouth gapes open as she examines me. “Connor, we hiked for like, six hours to get up here. That was an entire day ago. What do you mean, you didn’t sleep?”
It would sound impossible to her—and to anyone else who didn’t understand what falling asleep means for me.
I will take being exhausted and sore any day over facing the demons that haunt me in my dreams.
The faces…
The sounds…
The slick feeling of blood seeping through my fingers…
The tangy, coppery smell of it filling my breath…
I toss the tool onto the ground and grab my canteen, taking a swig of water to wash away that taste that always comes with the memory. It helps, but it lingers even as I wipe the sweat from my forehead with my arm. “Sleep isn’t exactly restful for me anymore.”
Her gaze softens as she watches me, and I can’t handle seeing that switch flip. I prefer Raven pissed off and volatile over seeing her filled with pity for me.
“Why don’t you go back inside and get to work? That’s why I brought you here.”
She chews on her bottom lip. “I still don’t understand your plan.”
“My plan is, you finish your damn story, I take it back down the mountain and do whatever you tell me to with it, give it to whoever it needs to go to, but you stay here. Where it’s safe—”
“What about everyone else you say is going to be in so much danger when I publish?”
“I trust that Killian and Liam can keep them safe. Whether they want to leave the homestead and the mountain and take them somewhere else for a while or do it at home? That’s up to them.”
She nods slowly. “So, you didn’t tell anybody we were coming up here before you kidnapped me?”
I snort and shake my head. “I didn’t kidnap you.”
Her brows rise. “Really? Because you told me you would literally throw me over your shoulder and drag me up here if you needed to. Plus, you threatened to tie me to the roof of that ATV.”
“I would have.”
“Sounds a hell of a lot like kidnapping.”
I scowl at her. “You could just say ‘thank you,’ you know.”
Those emerald eyes of hers widen. “For what?”
“Saving your fucking life.” I tighten my grip on the canteen. “Do you know how easy it was for me to follow you when you drove to Atlanta? If any of the Lorells were watching us, if they still have eyes and ears in McBride Mountain, they could have followed you right to your source’s doorstep.”
Her shoulders stiffen. “Then we have to warn him.”
“My guess is if he was involved with the Lorells, he already knows how much danger he’s in. His own safety’s on him. Yours is on me.”
Raven shifts restlessly, her brow furrowing. “Why?”
“Because if anything happened to you, Willow would never be okay.”
She draws in and releases a shaky breath. “So, I’m just supposed to sit in there and write until, what? My computer dies? I don’t even know how much battery is left on the charge.”
“There is this amazing invention you might have heard of…pen and paper. I’m sure you have them in that work bag of yours.”
She scowls at me and crosses her arms over her chest, her dirty clothes still clutched in one hand. “Do you have any idea how long that would take to hand-write a story like this?”
I shake my head. “No. And I don’t care. You do whatever you need to do, and I’ll do what I need to do.”
If she’s right and everything she’s uncovered could help build a real case against the Lorells, then I’ll keep her alive long enough to do her job.
It might be the only way I’ll ever sleep again.
The only way we’ll ever truly be safe.
She considers me for a moment, and I give her my back and toss the canteen to the ground so I can snag the adze from the tool pile to begin leveling off the stripped log.
I set to work, swinging the tool and removing chunks of wood that only add to the piles of bark already surrounding me. Only when I hear her retreating steps do I glance over my shoulder at her.
She reaches the hunting cabin and pushes open the door, pausing before she steps inside. But she doesn’t turn around, just stands in the open jamb, her back to me, as if she’s considering spinning and marching over to say something else that’s sitting on the tip of her sharp tongue.
I brace myself for the assault.
Raven has been directing them at me since her freshman year of high school, so I am more than prepared to defend myself against one of them.
But it never comes.
Her shoulders rise and fall as if she’s drawing in a deep breath, and she walks inside and slams the door, leaving me to my “peaceful” solitude once again.
For as long as it might last.