Chapter 15
ONE WEEK LATER
RAVEN
Staring at the screen, my heart lodges in my throat and tears begin to well in my eyes.
I’ve never been a crier, but in the last few weeks, I’ve found myself more emotional than I ever have been in my entire life. Whether it’s this place or the circumstances under which I’ve found myself here, something has shifted inside me in a way I’m not sure I like.
The emotions seem more real. Closer to the surface and harder to keep buried. Like this one that I absolutely shouldn’t be feeling right now.
Knock it off.
Stop it with the fucking waterworks, Raven.
I don’t know why I’m so emotional over this.
It should be a happy moment. One I’ve been working so damn hard for, that I have spent months pouring all my time and effort into making a reality. It is something to be celebrated.
But these aren’t happy tears.
They’re filled with frustration, uncertainty, fear, and maybe a hint of regret I didn’t think I would feel when this time finally came. Because even though it’s the end I’ve been working toward, it also feels like the beginning of the end of something I never even knew I might want.
The story’s done.
Finally, after all this time.
After all the phone calls made behind buildings to ensure no one would overhear.
After all the clandestine meetings with sources made in back corners of dive bars and sitting on ripped benches at shitty diner tables.
After all the looking over my shoulder, the worry about what I might be bringing down on the mountain…
It’s finally time to actually unleash the beast I’ve so carefully created.
I draw in a deep breath and blink away the moisture in my eyes. No matter how twisted up my emotions might be about completing the story, I refuse to let it be something bad.
If this works, if this story does what I hope it will, it could save more than just the people I love from future pain, and that is what I need to focus on, not the fact that being done means my time here with Connor is, too.
I click save and pull the tiny USB drive from my laptop, clutching it in my hand.
For something so small, it weighs heavily in my grasp.
Probably because the contents are so heavy.
The crimes I documented hurt so many people—theft, human trafficking, prostitution, unspeakable violence and more murders than I even imagined possible. All of it is laid out in black and white on these pages. And whether I’m emotionally prepared to release it or not, it’s time.
With one final swipe under my eyes to remove any evidence of my tears, I step out the propped-open door of the cabin and into the sunny afternoon near the top of the mountain.
The place that has become home over the past two weeks because of the man who works on the far side of the clearing.
And just like every day, it hurts more and more to watch him do it.
Felling trees, stripping them, carefully hand carving and preparing them to become beams and walls of his new cabin. It’s an endless cycle of hard manual labor with only one goal at the end of it—to move up here permanently.
Connor still wants to leave the homestead. He wants to leave everyone behind to come up here and seclude himself even further, and that hurts almost as much as the thought of leaving this little slice of the mountain.
Nothing has changed for him.
Not where this is concerned.
Those damn tears start to burn in my eyes again, but I blink them away and slowly make my way over to him, watching the way his back and arm muscles bunch and flex as he uses the various hand tools scattered around the ground to strip the logs, level them, and prepare them to go on the foundation.
I still have no idea how he plans on putting together the cabin on his own. And I haven’t asked because I’m terrified to admit to myself that he’s actually going to move up here. That he actually still believes this is where he needs to be.
He turns as I approach, wiping sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. Those dark eyes of his that have somehow seemed lighter lately sweep over me, and his lips curl into a half-smile. “Hey, I wasn’t expecting to see you for a while.”
I nod slowly. “Yeah, but…”
His brow furrows, his eyes narrowing on me instantly. “What’s wrong?”
Shit.
Apparently, I haven’t hidden my distress very well. Or he’s just gotten very good at reading me very fast. Probably a combination of both.
Connor has become so attuned to me and my emotions since we’ve been up here, that sometimes it feels like I can’t hide anything from this man.
I force a smile and hold up the drive. “It’s done.”
The concern etched into this handsome face shifts to something else, an emotion I can’t quite read from the man who keeps them locked away so tightly. “Oh.”
He doesn’t say anything else.
He doesn’t have to.
We’ve both felt it—this building tension as I worked toward finishing the story.
The knowledge that whatever this was between us is over and now we have to go back to reality and to the possibility that we might face a dangerous opponent again has hovered in the back of both of our minds.
We never discussed it, almost as if neither of us wanted to have the argument it might raise or face the feelings we’ve both been experiencing.
For years, we’ve torn at each other’s throats over every little thing, but now that something so huge looms, there suddenly isn’t anything to say.
Silence stretches between us as we stand beside the start of Connor’s new cabin, the adze still in his hand, his strong fingers flexing around it the same way mine do the drive that holds the key to destroying the Lorells, once and for all.
His eyes finally shift to the drive. “Is everything on there?”
“Yep.” I nod, mentally running through the checklist of everything I had to save on it to ensure it’s all there. “The story, a draft of the email to send it along with to the editor of The Atlantic Times, instructions on what to do if they’re not interested in the story, and who to go to next.”
“What did you say in the cover email?”
I blow out a heavy breath, hair fluttering away from my face.
“I basically outlined how I fell into the story, how personal it was, explained that I tracked down sources whose names I can’t reveal but that I believe I’ve convinced all of them to come forward with this information to the FBI as well.
I’ve explained that I warned all of them and that they’ve gone into hiding in anticipation of the story, that I’m the only one who knows how to get in contact with any of them right now, but that they’ll verify all the information if they need to. ”
“And the audio recording?”
A smile pulls at my lips because somehow, despite being up here, the man in front of me managed to piece back together my voice recorder and salvage the interview with Barry I thought I lost when I collided with him that night.
“It’s on here, too. But that won’t go to the paper, only the FBI gets that.”
“I assume that there’s an email in there for Agent Michaelson, too?”
I nod. “He already knows I was going to meet with Barry, so he will get the interview and the story file. With what we know about the Lorells and their people within the bureau, he may not even be able to tell me what’s really been happening, because he knows he’s being watched.
I’m hoping that he’ll do the right thing, that he’ll get these witnesses protected.
Once he confirms that, I will get him in touch with all of them who are willing. ”
Connor’s jaw beneath his thick beard grown over the past two weeks tenses, and his eyes darken with concern. “The Lorells know who would have access to this type of information, so they’re going to suspect who has been talking even without the names in the story.”
“Hence the witnesses going into hiding…”
“And exactly why you’re going to stay up here.”
I tighten my grip on the drive, the plastic biting into my palm. “We’re not going to have this argument again, Connor.”
He drops the adze and crosses his arms over his barrel chest. “We are if you’re going to keep insisting on coming with me.”
For the last few days, it’s been the same discussion that always devolves into a heated argument…that becomes even more heated angry sex.
Every time, it’s the same—I insist on going back down the mountain with him and he refuses to even consider the possibility.
“It just makes sense that I’m available in case anyone needs to talk to me right away, in case there are any questions…”
Which there will be.
Agent Michaelson will want to speak with me directly, so will the editor from The Atlantic Times. There will be hoops to jump through that I can’t while I’m locked away in this cabin up here.
“Absolutely fucking not, Raven. The whole reason I brought you up here was to protect you.” He points vaguely in the direction of the town.
“If I let you march down that mountain with me with that goddamn story in your hand when you’re literally waving a fucking flag saying ‘here I am’ to the people who already have their sights on us, you’re just asking to be taken out. ”
I scowl at him and cross my arms over my chest, mimicking his stance.
This is the Connor I know, that I have known for the last decade and a half. The one who loves to argue with me, who loves to be right. The one who won’t back down once he’s made a decision, even if it’s the wrong one.
“I’m not staying.”
“You are.” A low growl sounds in his chest, and he takes several steps toward me, but stops just out of reach, leaning in slightly, making his size even more evident.
“I’m not going to let you undo everything I did to protect you.
The whole reason we came up with this plan was to keep you safe, so I’m going to take that drive and I’m going to hike down the mountain tonight.
I’m going to give it to Killian and Tony, and I’m going to explain everything to them so that they know what to do.
And I know they’ll get it done. Then, I’m coming back up here, with you, until everything blows over and I get word from them that it’s safe. ”