Chapter 31
Luke swung an axe through the air, the blade slicing into a piece of applewood with a single smack. He’d been at it since dawn, nearly two hours after he arrived home from the hotel room he’d shared with Summer.
He’d snuck out in the middle of the night like a coward, unsure he’d be able to leave if they made love one more time, shared one more touch or intimate moment. He was drowning in her, willing to give up air if it meant he could keep her, but the devil wasn’t offering any deals this time around.
It was better this way. Maybe she’d even hate him, thinking he used her and left her behind without a thought. It would be good if she did. Better still if she wished they’d never met, forgot what it was like when they came together like a spark and fine kindling.
He would always remember.
His mind was full of her, his bad mood just the beginning of what was sure to be months of getting over her. He was hot and sweating, the labor just a distraction for his mind that wasn’t even fucking working. He placed another piece of wood on the chopping block and lifted the axe over his head.
Every touch, every shudder of her body beneath him.
The axe came down hard, slicing the wood into two pieces, each falling onto the ground. His separation from Summer was inevitable, just like the wood splitting in two.
You’ve got to do better than that.
He jumped and spun around quickly, finding himself alone. But the voice in his ear was clear as day, as if someone had leaned in close and spoken the words out loud in a voice that was all too familiar.
Buckeye.
Jesus, he needed some sleep. He was hearing voices now. There’d been no sleep for him last night. He might never sleep again, especially if Buckeye was talking to him.
He wiped his face. His cell phone vibrated in his pocket and he let the axe fall into the chopping block, standing with its blade stuck in the wood.
It was HERO Force. “Wiseman, it’s Mac. We’ve got a problem. Walsh’s father, John, checked Jerome Daniels out of the hospital last night.”
Luke narrowed his eyes. “Couldn’t have been him. He’s got dementia.”
With moments of clarity. Sometimes longer.
“He was positively identified from the hospital’s security footage. They’re also missing one of their nursing aide’s cars.”
Luke blew out air. “Shit. Any idea where he might be?”
“Got a hunch, yeah. Moto did a search. After Walsh got out of jail, he lived upstate, not far from you.”
Luke jogged toward his cabin. “What town?”
“Esopus.” He rattled off the address. “Razorback and I are on our way to you now. Hang tight and wait for backup. Local police might be out there, too.”
“I’m going to check it out.”
“Damn it, Wiseman, I said wait.”
He thought of Summer and how distraught she must be, her father and all he’d been through since this all began. He owed these people a debt, and until they were safe and sound, it remained outstanding. “I’ll try.”
He hung up, racing to get suited up and ready. Zeke seemed to know something was up, following him from one end of the cabin to the other.
One knife went in a holder at Luke’s ankle, another at his waist. His favorite Glock, his bulletproof vest, a tactical vest over it filled with tens of items that came in handy more often than not, his com set for when Mac got there.
He held out Zeke’s bulletproof vest and the dog came to him, letting Luke put it on.
“You ready, boy?”
The dog ran to the door.
Luke finished tucking the last of his ammo in his pockets, his mind flashing back to Buckeye’s voice in his ear outside. He paused. “Can you hear me?”
He wasn’t sure what he was expecting. A conversation maybe, but there was nothing. He went outside and climbed into his truck, Zeke hopping into the back. “I’m sorry for what I did. I didn’t want to hurt you, brother.” He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply.
Silence was the only reply.
But for the first time, Luke thought maybe Buckeye heard him, anyway. He revved the engine, determined to end this once and for all. “Let’s go.”