CHAPTER 29 #2
Once I was satisfied we were far enough from the road, at least fifty yards into thick cover, I retrieved a lead from my backpack and secured Choco to a sturdy tree trunk.
As I tied the knot, muscle memory from years of fieldwork took over, and a wry smile tugged at the corner of my mouth despite the circumstances.
If Anna could see me now, she'd probably have a conniption.
The last time Choco had been tied to a tree, things hadn't exactly gone according to plan. Or maybe they had in a roundabout way that only made sense looking back.
My mind drifted to that night, the memory still vivid as if it had happened yesterday instead of just weeks ago. If Choco hadn't gotten loose, Anna and I might've simply agreed to a truce and gone our separate ways. Two people passing like ships in the night. Nothing more.
But because he escaped, because I'd spent the night scouring the woods for her beloved horse, she'd shown up at my doorstep the next morning. Armed with breakfast and that openness that caught me completely off guard, she'd cracked through defenses I'd spent five years building.
That day, we both let our walls down, sharing pieces of our pasts we'd kept hidden for far too long. Pieces I never thought I'd share with anyone again.
I told her about Nikki.
It felt like a lifetime ago, though only a short time had passed. And yet, in that brief span, our relationship had grown into something I'd never dared hope for after losing Nikki. Something I would fight tooth and nail to protect.
Something worth dying for.
Giving myself a mental shake, I refocused on the task at hand. Anna needed me clearheaded, thinking like the Marine I used to be, not the man unraveling at the thought of losing her.
The mission was simple: Assess. Plan. Execute.
With the stealth honed by years as a reconnaissance Marine, I crept through the trees toward the cabin, keeping low to the ground.
I blended with the ferns carpeting the forest floor, my movements fluid and silent as I drew closer.
Every step was deliberate, weight distributed carefully to avoid snapping twigs or rustling leaves.
I stayed in the shadows where the afternoon sun couldn't pierce the canopy, breathing slow and steady despite the adrenaline surging through me.
When I'd gotten as close as I dared, maybe thirty yards out with a clear line of sight, I shrugged off my backpack and set it quietly beside me. The forest floor was soft here, the years of decomposing leaves creating a cushion that swallowed sound.
I scanned the cabin, eyes searching for movement. Windows, doors, any sign of life or weakness.
Reaching into the bag, I retrieved the scope that had once been mounted on one of my rifles.
The metal was cool and familiar in my hands.
Raising it to my eye, I swept the cabin's exterior with practiced precision.
The magnified view sharpened every detail—the peeling paint, a loose shutter, the glint of glass.
Through one of the living room windows, I spotted a lone figure pacing restlessly back and forth. The man was a stranger. Tall, muscular, moving with the coiled energy of someone accustomed to violence. Blonde hair. Tattoos on his arms.
He has to be the drug dealer.
A sinking feeling settled in my gut. This had to be the guy Jared got mixed up with, the one whose debt had spiraled into Nikki's murder. As much as that note reeked of Jared's involvement, I knew my brother didn't have the backbone to pull something like this off alone.
Jared's just a pawn; this guy's the real threat.
My mind raced as I mapped out possible entry points. The living room had two windows, both offering clear views in and out. Another window at the far end of the kitchen, and a few more at the front, but those would leave me completely exposed.
The upper floor had windows too, but without a way to reach them short of climbing the wall, they were useless.
The kitchen window was my best bet, my only real choice if I wanted to get inside unnoticed.
Backtracking into the woods, I circled around to the opposite side of the trail, using the trees for cover as I approached from a new angle. My boots were silent on the packed earth, my pulse steadying as I fell into the rhythm of controlled movement.
I paused to check through the scope one last time, confirming the man inside was still on the far side of the cabin.
Still pacing. Good. Stay distracted.
Satisfied that the coast was clear, I drew my Colt .45 from its holster. The weight was solid and familiar, comforting in a way that probably said something unhealthy about me. But right now, it was exactly what I needed.
I held it at the ready as I darted across the open yard, my body low and quick, covering the distance in seconds that felt like hours. Every moment I was exposed was a moment they could spot me, could hurt Anna before I reached her.
In a matter of heartbeats, I pressed myself flush against the cabin's exterior, my back against the rough wood. My heart pounded in my ears as I prepared to make my move, every muscle in my body coiled and ready to spring into action at a moment's notice.
I forced myself to breathe. Focus. I'd done this before.
I thought of Anna, pictured her face in my mind's eye. The way her eyes sparkled when she laughed, the determined set of her jaw when she faced a challenge, the way she'd looked at me that morning with such trust and affection it had stolen my breath.
She was in there, waiting for me, counting on me to bring her home safely. And I'd be damned if I let her down.
My eyes swept the exterior of the cabin, searching for anything I could use to gain access to the kitchen window above. A glint of metal caught my attention. An old ladder leaning against the side of the shed a few yards away.
That'll work. It was a risk—moving across open ground again, the metal potentially making noise—but one I had to take.
Moving swiftly and silently, I retrieved the ladder and carried it back to the cabin.
The aluminum was light but awkward, and I kept it close to my body to prevent it from catching on anything.
I was careful not to make a sound that might alert the man inside, my ears straining for any change in the rhythm of footsteps.
I positioned the ladder beneath the window, testing its stability with a gentle shake. The legs settled into the soft earth, and I gave it a bit more weight.
It was solid enough.
Satisfied that it would hold, I holstered my gun and began to climb, my movements slow and deliberate. Each rung required careful weight distribution, testing before committing.
As I neared the top, I paused, listening intently for any sign I'd been detected. The only sound was the muffled pacing of the man in the living room. His footsteps heavy and agitated, punctuated by occasional muttering I couldn't make out.
He was still oblivious. I needed to keep it that way.
With a steadying breath that did nothing to slow my racing heart, I reached for the window. My fingers found purchase on the weathered frame, paint flaking beneath my touch.
I eased the window open, inch by painstaking inch. The old hinges protested with the faintest creak that made my blood run cold.
Shit.
I froze, my entire body going rigid as I waited for any indication that the noise had been heard. My hand remained on the window frame, my other gripping the ladder, muscles locked in place.
Seconds ticked by, each one an eternity. My heart hammered so hard I was sure it would give me away.
But the footsteps continued their relentless rhythm, oblivious to the intruder just outside.
Clear. I had to keep moving.
Carefully, I maneuvered my body through the narrow kitchen window, contorting to fit my shoulders through the opening, pulling myself up and over the sill. The sound of agitated voices from the living room grew clearer as I slipped inside. Each word sliced through the tense silence like a blade.
The stranger's tone was sharp and biting, each syllable dripping with barely contained rage. In contrast, Jared's voice carried a desperate, pleading edge, his words tumbling over each other in a frantic attempt to placate his captor.
"You said this would work, that he'd give up the money," the man snarled, his voice low and menacing, like the growl of a cornered predator ready to lash out at anything nearby.
"He will, I swear!" Jared insisted, his words tinged with fear and desperation that might have earned my sympathy if I weren't so furious. "Jaxon won't let anything happen to her. Just give him time."
Anna.
At the thought of her name, my heart clenched painfully, a cold knot of dread settling deep in my stomach. The confirmation that she was here, that she was alive but trapped in this nightmare, sent a surge of adrenaline coursing through me, my hands trembling with the need to act.
I needed to focus, to channel that feeling.
Steeling myself, I crept across the kitchen floor, my boots silent on the worn wood. My senses were on high alert, every sound amplified, every shadow a potential threat. I could smell old coffee and dust, could hear the creak of floorboards beneath the man's pacing.
As I approached the doorway to the living room, my breath caught in my throat. The sight that met me was worse than anything I'd imagined.
Anna and Jared were bound to the sturdy metal chimney pipe of the woodstove, their wrists and ankles secured with coarse rope that had already left angry red marks on their skin.
Silver duct tape covered Anna's mouth, stifling any cries for help.
The harsh material was a cruel contrast to her pale, tear-streaked face.
Her eyes were closed, her body slumped slightly against the restraints. For one horrible moment, I thought—
But no. The faint rise and fall of her chest told me she was still breathing.
The man stood before them, his back to me, a gun glinting menacingly in his white-knuckled grip. A Glock, from what I could tell. Loaded, undoubtedly. His finger rested near the trigger in a way that told me he knew exactly how to use it.
I get one shot at this.
Suddenly, the distant wail of sirens pierced the suffocating tension, growing louder with each passing second.
Backup.
The man's head jerked up, his body going rigid as the realization hit him like a physical blow. I saw his shoulders tense, saw his grip on the gun tighten. Move now.
Seizing the moment of distraction, I charged forward, my heart pounding in my ears as every hour of combat training flooded back. I slammed into the man with the full force of my weight, driving my shoulder into his back like a linebacker.
The impact sent us both crashing to the ground, the air knocked from our lungs in simultaneous grunts. The cold, unyielding metal of the gun bit into my palm as we grappled desperately for control, rolling across the floor in a tangle of limbs and ragged breaths.
Get the gun. Control the weapon.
He was strong, stronger than I'd anticipated. And trained. His elbow caught me in the ribs, driving the air from my lungs, but I didn't let go.
I couldn't. Because Anna's life depended on it.