Chapter Two #3
The blast of winter air cleared my head, but did nothing to erase the memory of her warmth against my palm.
When I returned, stamping snow from my boots and shaking ice from my beard, I discovered Pepper had used my tactical retreat to advance her Christmas campaign.
She'd added a few more "minimal" garnishes—pine cones with gold accents arranged on the coffee table, a red runner along the bookshelf, and the promised ornaments hanging from the pine bough.
I chose to say nothing, instead kneeling to build up the fire. The temperature was dropping, and we'd need the extra heat.
"I put some of the pans away," she said, breaking the silence. "Hope I got them in the right places."
"Thanks." I stacked another log on the fire, then froze at a sound from outside. Not the wind. An engine. Multiple engines.
Pepper heard it too, her eyes widening. "Is that—"
"Vehicles." I rushed to the window, peering through the curtain. Through the swirling snow, I could make out two SUVs crawling up my driveway—no small feat in this weather. "Black SUVs. Town insignias."
"Nolan," she whispered, face paling. "How did he find me?"
"He's checking everywhere, probably." I pulled back from the window, mind racing through tactical options. "We need to hide you."
"Where? It's not like you have a secret passage."
She had a point. The cabin's open floor plan left few hiding spots. The bedroom loft was visible from the main area, the bathroom had no lock, and the storage closet was too obvious.
"The bells," I said suddenly. "Take off anything that jingles."
She looked down at herself. "I'm in your clothes. No bells."
"Your costume, by the fire. He might recognize it."
She lunged for the elf outfit, gathering it up. "Where do I put it?"
The rumble of the approaching vehicles outside spurred my decision. "Upstairs, under the bed. Then stay there. Don't make a sound."
She nodded, clutching the costume to her chest, then paused. "The hat—the evidence—"
"I'll handle it." I took the pointed hat from her, quickly removing the USB drive and slipping it into my pocket. "Go. Now."
As she dashed up the stairs, I tossed the hat into the fire, watching as the fabric caught immediately. By the time the knock came at the door, nothing remained but ash.
I schooled my features into the unfriendly scowl I reserved for unwanted visitors and yanked open the door.
Mayor Nolan Wickett stood on my porch, flanked by two burly men in security windbreakers. He wore an expensive-looking parka with a fur-trimmed hood, his campaign smile firmly in place despite the biting cold.
"Mr. Forrester," he said, with the forced joviality of a politician. "Sorry to bother you in this weather."
"What do you want?" I deliberately kept my tone unwelcoming.
"We're checking on residents in the outlying areas. Making sure everyone's safe in the storm."
A blatant lie. "I'm fine."
He nodded, trying to peer past me into the cabin. "Good, good. Say, we're also looking for someone who might be lost in the storm. A young woman, about this tall—" he held his hand to shoulder height, "—auburn hair. She's an employee of mine who went missing last night in concerning circumstances."
"Haven't seen anyone."
One of his security goons stepped forward. "Mind if we take a look inside, just to be sure? She might have sought shelter without you knowing. Cabin this size, lots of rooms..."
"One room," I corrected coldly. "Open floor plan. And no, you can't come in without a warrant."
The mayor's smile tightened. "Mr. Forrester, this is a matter of public safety. Pepper—Ms. Prescott—may be in danger, or delirious from the cold. She took something valuable of mine before disappearing."
"Not my problem."
The second security man shifted, his jacket falling open enough to reveal a holstered gun. A deliberate intimidation tactic.
"Let me be clearer," Wickett said, dropping the friendly act. "Ms. Prescott has stolen sensitive data that could damage the town's reputation. If you're harboring her—"
"I'm not," I interrupted. "But if I were, you still wouldn't be coming inside without a warrant.
" I straightened to my full height, shoulders squared, adopting the same stance that had faced down Taliban fighters—feet at shoulder width, weight centered, hands relaxed but ready.
The mayor might not recognize the specific threat posture, but his body would register it instinctively.
The mayor's politician smile faltered as he reassessed the six-foot-four former Marine blocking his doorway. His jaw twitched once—a tell I catalogued automatically. "No threats. Just concern for a missing woman." His eyes darted past me again, searching the home’s interior.
A soft thump came from upstairs—barely audible over the wind, but I saw Wickett's eyes flicker toward the sound. I needed to end this, now.
"Your concern is noted," I said flatly. "Now get off my property. The roads are only getting worse."
For a moment, I thought he might push the issue, but then he nodded tightly. "Of course. If you do see Ms. Prescott, please call the town office immediately."
"Sure."
He turned to go, then paused. "One more thing, Mr. Forrester. We don't know each other, but I'd hate for you to get caught up in something messy. Pepper can be...convincing when she wants to be. Whatever she's told you about me or the town, I'd take it with a grain of salt."
I met his gaze steadily. "I form my own opinions."
"I'm sure you do." His smile didn't reach his eyes. "Stay safe."
I watched as they trudged back to their vehicles, waiting until they'd turned around and started back down the driveway before closing the door.
"Are they gone?" Pepper squeaked from the top of the stairs.
"Almost." I stalked back to the window, watching until the SUVs' taillights disappeared into the swirling snow. "Clear."
She descended the stairs, her face pale. "He knows I'm here. That's why he came all the way out in this storm."
"He suspects," I corrected. "But he doesn't know."
"I heard him mention something I stole. The USB drive?"
I pulled it from my pocket. "Safe. But I had to burn your hat."
"Small price to pay." She took the drive, clutching it tightly. "Thank you. For not turning me in."
"I don't like politicians." I knelt to stoke the fire, needing something to do with my hands. "Especially ones who show up at my door with armed men trying to intimidate me."
She sank onto the couch. "Those were probably just his gym buddies who like playing tough guy."
"One of them had a gun."
Her eyes widened. "That's new. And concerning."
I nodded, my jaw clenching. "This isn't just about embezzlement anymore. If he's arming his people, he's worried about more than bad press."
"What do we do?"
I met her gaze, struck by the trust I saw there.
We'd known each other less than a day, yet she was looking at me like I had answers—like I could protect her.
Even more surprising was the fierce protectiveness rising in my chest, an instinct I thought I'd buried in the Afghan desert.
"We wait out the storm," I said. "Keep the evidence safe.
Then we go to Rudy and blow this whole thing wide open.
" "We?" she asked quietly. The 'we' ambushed me.
Three years of carefully constructed solitude, and here I was, signing up for someone else's battle.
My former platoon would've laughed their asses off—the lone wolf volunteering for a Christmas crusade. "Yeah," I found myself saying. "We."
"Couldn't we just email the files to Rudy now?" she asked. "You must have a computer if you do remote security work."
"Too risky," I said, my voice firm. "People like Wickett don't embezzle alone.
If he's involved in something this brazen, he likely has connections who could be monitoring communications.
My satellite phone is secure for calls, but data transfers leave digital traces.
Better to deliver the evidence in person. "
Her eyes widened slightly. "You think they'd go that far? Over fifty thousand dollars?"
"When it could expose their entire operation? Absolutely."
The smile she gave me then was different from her others—softer, more genuine, and somehow more devastating. "Thank you," she whispered.
I nodded once, not trusting myself to speak, and turned back to the fire. The flames illuminated the fairy lights along the mantel, casting a warm, amber glow over the room.
For the first time in years, my cabin didn't feel quite so empty. And for the first time in even longer, I wasn't sure that was a bad thing.