Hide Rabbit Hide (Blood and Burrows Dark Romance Duet #2)

Chapter 1

RUE

They’re not going to find him.

“Check the north end,” a voice calls out from the bank.

“Why the hell would we go to the other side of the lake?” a Marshal shouts back, the morning light sending a strange blue-pink glow across their boat.

“If bodies surface, that’s usually where they end up. Otherwise, I don’t think we’ll find him for months. If at all. We’re seven hours in without a damn sign. They either float to the top immediately, end up in the northern cove, or they don’t ever show up.”

I stare at the man in a Game Warden uniform, gesturing out across the murky waters, my chest feeling strangely tight. The guys in boats shake their heads at him, probably assuming he’s wrong—maybe they think he’s being overdramatic.

But he’s not.

Everyone around here knows what happens when someone slips beneath these black waters. They don’t usually resurface, and once Noah went under, he never came back.

A tear slips down my cheek, and I bat it away with numb fingers.

I don’t know how it happened. I can’t clearly recall the shots, the fall, and the barrage of law enforcement. I just knew they had him then, but as it turns out, someone else got him first.

And her name is Moccasin Lake.

“This is so fucking wrong,” I whisper into the chaos, still seated next to my SUV. I can’t get any closer than what I am. Everything is taped off. There are men and dogs everywhere still. They pace the shore and keep the onlookers and media back.

Though no one has said a word to me.

I guess I’m invisible.

I push my damp hair from my face, and finally force myself to stand, a sharp pain shooting through my lower back. I wince at it, and the new icy breeze cuts through my sweater. I shiver, and then tense with frustration.

I bet Noah is even colder right now.

The thoughts swirl, and a sob threatens to rack my chest again as my eyes drift across the choppy waters.

Please just come back. Please.

“Miss?” a voice calls from somewhere to my left.

I ignore them and instead, peer out to the dock. The place I’ve caused two men to take a plunge against their will. My mind kicks back the image of Noah falling, and my knees start to feel weak again.

“Excuse me,” the same shrill voice says, followed by a light touch on my arm that startles me. “Have you been here long?”

I rip my gaze away from the search efforts and turn to see a woman with a media badge around her neck. There’s a fucking camera following her, and it immediately causes my stomach to roll.

Fucking vultures.

“Are you okay?” the woman with warm, dark eyes furrows her brow at me. She turns back to the cameraman, shaking her head and waving her hand. The man in black jeans drops his arms, the lens pointing to the ground rather than at me. “Can I get you some water?”

My lips part, tearing the flesh that was seemingly welded together. I can’t find the words. I just watched my childhood best friend and the man I love get swallowed by the lake. I have no idea what words there are for that.

“Get her some water, Dan,” the reporter snaps at the man. “Now.”

“I don’t need water,” the words come out in a croak. “I just need a moment.”

She takes a step toward me, and I take a step back. “Have you taken anything?”

I blink twice at her, trying to process what the fuck she’s talking about. But then it hits me. Right. Drugs. She thinks I came down to the lake to shoot myself up.

“I’m not high,” I tell her, though I now know just how fucking horrible I must look right now. “I just was… watching… the search.” I make a half-hearted gesture to the lake, as if I’m just some curious bystander.

“Oh,” she makes a face at me that tells me she absolutely does not believe me.

Before she can say more, however, Dan shows up with a bottle of water.

The reporter takes it from him and hands it to me, her perfectly styled dark hair falling in waves past her shoulders.

The breeze doesn’t even seem to move it.

That takes a lot of hairspray.

“Do you want me to call someone?” Dan asks Reporter Lady. “She looks like—”

“I’m not high,” I cut in and reiterate, my voice suddenly sharp. “I think I’ve already made that clear. I just know what happened here, so excuse me if I don’t look like I’m ready to hop on TV and talk about it.”

Both of their eyes grow wide.

And then Reporter Lady brightens. “You were present when murderer and escapee Thomas Peterson was cornered on the docks and subsequently shot?”

It sounds like a newscast in the making. So fucking clinical and detached.

“Can you tell me about what you saw?” She gestures to the bottle of water in my hand. “We can be off record. It’s not every day a fugitive hunt leads to Moccasin Cove.” Her tone is rushed, articulated, and just…fucking annoying.

I narrow my eyes at her, my heart skipping a beat. My skin suddenly feels hot, and the way she’s looking at me—it’s everything but bared teeth.

I don’t like you, Reporter Lady.

And before I even realize what I’m doing, I open the water bottle and dump it out on the ground between us. She jumps back with a gasp, the mud splashing on her white tennis shoes.

“What the hell?” She looks at me like I’m crazy.

I crush the plastic in my fist, piercing the quiet morning. The thunder cracks overhead as I toss the water bottle at her, startling her all over again.

Fuck you. Write a story about that.

Spinning on my heels, I head for the red tape strung between the trees.

“Bitch is definitely high,” Cameraman Dan says from behind me. “We should call it in.”

“No, just watch her,” Reporter Lady calls from behind me. “You never know who she could be. Maybe she knew him. She’s clearly been here a while.”

I clench my fists and push the words away.

I have no idea what the fuck I’m doing, but no one seems to notice when I dip under the red tape.

No one stops me as I charge toward the waters on the opposite side of the dock.

Everyone is looking at the sky, and the way the lightning is striking across the darkening clouds.

“Call it, boys! The lightning is here,” a voice crackles over a radio nearby.

My eyes stay fixated on the debris of logs and trash on the far side, the catch-all that’s already been gone through multiple times.

Maybe he’s holding his breath.

A deep bay cracks through the morning air, and I glance back over my shoulder, finally. There, a team of big, black Bloodhounds cry out to the incoming storm. They’re greeted by law enforcement, and the wind carries their voices to me.

“Bodycam footage shows it was a good shot. He’s gotta be in the water. I think a bank search right now is useless.”

“If it starts to rain, it’ll wash away the scent,” the handler argues. “If he made it out of the—”

“He didn’t make it out of the goddamn lake,” the officer snaps.

“Then why are we here?”

The thunder cuts off the rest of the conversation, along with the sudden icy wave of water over my ankles. My eyes drop to my feet, covered in murky water. The incoming storm has the lake disorganized and dangerous, and the air is tinted with the scent of rain.

I don’t move, letting my feet sink in the sticky mud a few inches. I focus my attention to the rotting pile of debris, my eyes scanning every log, gap, and potential place he might be.

He’s not here, my gut screams at me. He’s not here.

I shake my head at my inner voice, desperate to see something. I fold my arms across my chest, my upper teeth tearing through my bottom lip. As I visually make my way from the closest log to the furthest, I freeze.

Is that… My heart jumps to my throat.

A hand rests against a rotting branch, pale fingers curled into the mushy bark. I take a step into the water, inhaling sharply as the icy waters hit my knees.

“Noah?” I call out, suddenly feeling desperate. “Noah!”

Panic floods my system, and I rush forward, my feet quickly losing footing. I fall, the waters soaking me all the way to my chest. It’s so fucking cold, and the ache in my back gives way to numbness immediately.

But I can’t take my eyes off that hand.

Don’t blink. Don’t lose him, Rue. Don’t lose him.

My vision blurs as I slosh onward, the water rising quickly. My mind flashes to what I’ll do next. I can pull him out. I can get him help. Even if he goes back to prison, I’ll just fucking confess.

I’m going to make this right. I’m going to—

“What the fuck are you doing?” a voice booms from behind me, followed by a heavy arm threading around my waist and dragging me backward.

“Noah!” I scream, thrashing against the brute strength of the man who has me. “He’s right there! His hand is right there,” my voice breaks into a sob, as I point toward the log.

“There’s no fucking hand where you’re pointing,” the voice snaps. “Who the hell let you through?”

I let out a grunt as my ass hits the muddy bank, my entire body numb. My teeth chatter, and I finally allow myself to blink.

And suddenly, I can’t find the log. Or the hand.

“Who are you?”

I breathe in sharply through my nose, inhaling a mix of snot and lake-tinged air, and shake my head, not looking up at the man. “He was there.”

There’s a pause, and then a heavy sigh. “No, he wasn’t.”

Yes, he was.

I peer up at the man who pulled me out and recognize the Game Warden. I don’t know his name. I don’t know who he is outside of his uniform, but I do know he’s looking at me like I’m completely insane right now.

And honestly, maybe I am.

“You shouldn’t be over here.” His voice is less chiding and more concerned. “How did you get through?”

“Uh, I walked.”

He nods, his brow deepening. “We clearly do not have a solid perimeter.”

“Thanks for oversharing, Officer,” I mutter under my breath, and then turn back to the water, searching for that fucking log. I know what I saw.

And if a hand is gripping something…

Maybe Noah is alive.

“We’ve searched this area multiple times,” he keeps talking, as if he can read my mind. “Did you know Thomas Peterson?”

He’s talking to me like he feels sorry for me.

I rip my eyes from the water and gaze up at him, meeting his gray eyes. “We were close in childhood. I don’t know him anymore. It’s just…sad.” I force the words out, and my gut twists. I feel like Peter denying Jesus.

The Game Warden nods and then offers me a hand, as a raindrop glances my cheek. “It hits hard when people disappear in this lake. It’s like it’s cursed here.”

Along with everyone who touches it.

“Who is that?” A US Marshal comes out of nowhere, his dog barking at the end of its leash.

“She was just trying to help and thought she saw something in the water,” the warden answers coolly, helping me to my feet. My knees feel weak, but the desperation to lunge right back into the lake is still stronger than my fatigue.

“Keep the goddamn civilians back,” the Marshal barks. “We’ve got a body to find. Just because we’re moving off the water doesn’t mean it’s a fucking free-for-all.”

The warden nods and then turns from the Marshal, gripping my arm and leading me toward the parking lot. “They’re not going to find him,” he mutters. “This place only gives back who it wants to.”

Thunder cuts him off from saying more. He glances out over the lake, his jaw tightening slightly as lightning fills the skies.

The wind kicks up, dragging the surface into choppier waves, rocking the incoming boats, and causing debris to shift violently.

My stomach knots up as I meet the man’s eyes once more.

“Why wouldn’t it want to give him back?”

He lifts the tape, glances back once more, and then shrugs. “Maybe because it already did.”