CHAPTER 35 #2
I shivered, my fingers threading through the silky strands of his hair as I tilted my head to the side, granting him better access to the column of my throat. "Mmm, I like the sound of that," I murmured, my voice breathier than intended, already affected by his proximity.
His mouth moved lower, finding that spot where my neck met my shoulder. The spot that always made me gasp. My eyes fluttered closed as pleasure sparked through me, warm, liquid, perfect.
With a final, lingering kiss to my pulse point, one that promised more to come later, Jaxon reluctantly set me back on my feet. My legs felt distinctly unsteady, and his hands slid down my arms to lace his fingers with mine, steadying me.
"Let's grab a few things from your room and head out," he suggested, his eyes darkening with a promise that made my stomach flip. "I have a feeling we're in for a long, memorable night." My whole body responded eager and silent. Yes. Please.
I grinned, my heart fluttering with anticipation as I allowed Jaxon to lead me out of the office and toward the stairs.
As we moved through the house, the fading light of the setting sun cast long shadows across the hardwood floors, painting everything in shades of gold and amber.
I couldn't help but marvel at the twists and turns my life had taken.
Just a few short months ago, I had arrived at this ranch a broken shell of a woman, my spirit shattered by Daniel's cruelty. I had been running, hiding, barely surviving. I had nightmares every night, jumped at every sound, couldn't look at my own reflection without seeing the bruises and fear.
But now, with Jaxon by my side, I felt stronger, more alive than I had ever believed possible.
Daniel
Ding.
The sound pierced the silence of the dingy motel room in Nevada like a gunshot, cutting through the white noise of the struggling air conditioner and the muffled sounds of the highway beyond the thin walls.
Daniel's head snapped up from where he had been staring blankly at the television, watching some mindless reality show he hadn't actually been following.
The moment the notification chime reached his ears, he lunged across the room, his heart pounding so hard he could feel it in his throat as he wrenched open the laptop on the scarred particleboard table. Finally. Finally. Finally.
His fingers flew across the keyboard, navigating the labyrinth of illegal tracking programs with the practiced ease of someone who had spent countless hours staring at these same screens, waiting, watching, obsessing.
The room's fluorescent light flickered overhead, casting sickly yellow shadows across his unshaven face as he hunted for the source of the notification.
When he found it, he froze.
Shell-shocked, Daniel sat back in the creaking chair, his hand absently wiping across his mouth, a nervous habit he had developed over weeks of fruitless searching.
He stared at the screen in disbelief, his eyes tracking over the information again and again, convincing himself it was real. It's real. I found her.
Daniel had been on the verge of abandoning the tracking programs entirely.
The monthly fees were eating into his dwindling savings, and the lack of results had been driving him to the edge of madness.
But his persistence, his absolute refusal to give up, had finally paid off.
I knew it. I knew she couldn't hide forever.
His eyes darted across the information displayed on the screen, drinking in every detail with the desperate thirst of a man who had been wandering in the desert.
Anna's Airbnb account, dormant since that last ping in Cedar Rapids, the one that had led him on a wild goose chase across Iowa, had been accessed again.
And there, like a beacon of hope cutting through the darkness of his failures, was a location ping.
Wyoming.
Somewhere in Wyoming, Anna had logged into her account. His Anna. The woman who had run from him, who had abandoned everything they had built together, who thought she could just disappear and start a new life without him.
Found you.
Daniel started to rise, his chair scraping loudly against the stained carpet, ready to rush out and throw his meager belongings into his car. He would drive all night if he had to, trying to reach her before she slipped away again, like smoke through his fingers.
But he caught himself, forcing his racing mind to slow, to think strategically instead of emotionally. His hand clenched on the edge of the table, knuckles white with the effort of restraint. No. Don't be stupid. You need more than a general location. You need precision.
Begrudgingly, he sank back into the chair, adrenaline still coursing through his veins, making it nearly impossible to sit still. He delved deeper into the data, the skills that had served him well back when he had a real job, parse the account activity with methodical thoroughness.
As he examined the details, realization struck. Anna hadn't just logged in to make a reservation, like she had before in Cedar Rapids. No. This was different. Her account had been upgraded to a professional one, the type used for managing rental listings.
She wasn't traveling. She was hosting.
Intrigue, and something darker, spiked his heartbeat as he copied the associated address with trembling fingers and pasted it into Airbnb's main search function.
The results left him stunned.
Anna's profile page featured professional-quality photos of a sprawling horse ranch straight out of a Western movie.
The property was massive. Acres of fenced pasture dotted with horses, a large barn freshly painted red, and multiple outbuildings.
The listings advertised three quaint vacation cabins nestled in the heart of the property, each one cozy and inviting, dripping with rustic charm.
The descriptions boasted breathtaking views of the ranch's daily operations and promised activities such as riding lessons and trail rides. Photos showed horses in paddocks, a riding ring, and trails disappearing into forests of pine and aspen.
She's running a business. She thought she could build a life without him.
Daniel leaned forward, elbows on the table, fingers drumming an erratic rhythm against the worn wood as he scrolled through image after image. The urgency to rush out and find her immediately faded slightly, replaced by something colder, more calculating.
If she was managing these rentals, she was likely to stay put.
She had invested time and energy into this venture.
He could see it in the careful staging of the photos, the detailed descriptions, the obvious care that had gone into preparing the cabins.
She wasn't going to abandon it and run. Not this time.
She thinks she's safe. She thinks she's far enough away.
But the ranch's size and population posed a challenge he couldn't ignore. Even in the photos, there was evidence of other people, ranch hands in the background, multiple vehicles near the main house, infrastructure that suggested this was a fully functioning operation with employees.
He couldn't just show up unannounced without drawing attention. He had learned that lesson the hard way at the horse show, trying to blend in while desperately searching had only made him more obvious, more suspicious. He needed a better plan. Needed to be smarter.
As he continued scrolling, Daniel's gaze landed on an image that made his breath catch, spiking his pulse with something equal parts longing and rage.
Anna herself.
She was in the background of one of the barn photos, probably unaware she had even been captured.
She was leading a horse, her blonde hair pulled into a ponytail, wearing jeans and a tank top that revealed arms stronger, more toned than he remembered.
She was smiling, laughing at something someone off-camera had said.
She looked… happy. Healthy. Free.
Like she'd moved on. Like she'd forgotten him entirely. How dare she.
Daniel's resolve hardened. His jaw clenched until his teeth ached.
He would find a way to infiltrate the ranch undetected.
He would get close to her again. And this time, he wouldn't let her slip away.
This time, she would understand that she belonged to him, that she had always belonged to him, that there was no escape.
But he needed a solid plan. Rushing in blindly had proven ineffective, the horse show had taught him that. Kansas had taught him that. Every failed attempt had been a lesson. And he had adapted.
Strategic. I need to be strategic.
Daniel stood, pacing the narrow confines of the motel room like a caged animal. The walls felt too close, the air too stale, his thoughts too loud. He needed to move, to think, to formulate an approach that would get him onto that ranch without raising alarms.
Posing as a guest by booking one of the cabins seemed obvious, the most direct route.
But the listings were brand new, probably published just that day, based on the account activity timeline.
Arriving as an immediate guest, especially alone, might raise suspicions.
Ranch people were likely observant, the kind who noticed strangers and asked questions.
Daniel needed a cover, a way to blend in.
Lost in thought, discarding possibilities almost as quickly as they formed, Daniel grabbed the room's plastic ice bucket from atop the mini-fridge. The walk to the ice machine would clear his mind, give him space to think without these four walls pressing in.
He stepped out into the balmy Nevada evening, the heat still radiating from the asphalt of the parking lot below, even as the sun dipped in streaks of orange and purple. The motel balcony overlooked the lot, a depressing vista of cars, dumpsters, and the highway beyond.
As he traversed the balcony toward the ice machine at the far end, Daniel nearly collided with a man in a business suit made of expensive fabric, silk tie loosened at the throat, wedding band glinting gold in the dying light.
The man was followed closely by a woman in a too-tight dress and heels too high for walking, her makeup thick and her demeanor one Daniel recognized immediately.
Prostitute. Obviously.
He stepped aside quickly to avoid contact, his nose wrinkling slightly at the cloud of cheap perfume that followed them. But his eyes tracked them, watching as the man fumbled with his key card at a room three doors down from Daniel's.
The woman's laugh was high-pitched, artificial. "Don't worry, baby," her voice drifted back clearly in the quiet evening air. "I'll do everything you want. Whatever you want. You're paying, so you're in charge."
The man's response was too low to hear, but the door opened, and they disappeared inside.
Daniel stood frozen mid-step, the ice bucket forgotten in his hand.
An idea struck him like lightning, so perfect in its simplicity that a slow, malicious smile spread across his face, the kind of smile that never reached his eyes, transforming his features into something predatory and cold. That's it. That's how.
He didn't need to show up alone. He didn't need to look suspicious or out of place. He just needed someone to go with him. Someone who could play a role, who wouldn't ask questions, who could be controlled with money.
Someone who would do everything he wanted because he was paying.
And what he wanted, what he wanted more than anything in this world, more than his next breath, more than his own sanity, was Anna.