Chapter 9 Dane
DANE
The cabin's chill hits me the second I slide out of bed. October in the Adirondacks doesn't forgive bare skin, and I'm completely naked, reaching for my jeans in the dark. Behind me, Sloane shifts beneath the sheets, and in a small, slurred voice, she says, "Come back to bed."
"I have to get the package." I pull on my jeans, not bothering with the button or my boxers. "Miles left it in the truck bed. If it freezes, whatever's inside might be compromised."
"It can wait 'til morning." Her hand reaches for me, fingers brushing my thigh. "Stay."
I want to. Every instinct I've been burying for five years is screaming at me to crawl back into that bed, pull her against me, and forget about threats and packages and the past that refuses to stay buried.
But I can't. A third package is sitting in my truck bed, and ignoring it won't make it disappear.
"I'll be right back." I grab my shirt from the floor and pull it on, not bothering to button it. My boots are by the door. I shove my feet into them and head outside.
The night is brutal. The temperature must've dropped another ten degrees while we were inside. My breath fogs in front of my face, and the first snowflakes are starting to fall, tiny, crystalline flakes that promise accumulation before dawn and maybe shoveling in the morning.
I lock my eyes on the truck as I walk that direction, guided by the bright light of the waning moon, and still feel my heart pounding. Sloane pushed me so hard I fucking broke and lost control. It makes me chuckle to myself at how unhinged she acted, and a pinch of pride makes me smile to myself.
She wanted me.
The package lies in the truck bed where I left it.
I grab it and head back inside, locking the door behind me.
Compared to outside, it feels warm in here, so I don't even bother with the fire right now.
I walk straight to the table and set the package down and glance toward the bedroom door.
It's cracked open, darkness beyond. Sloane's probably already asleep, exhausted from the alcohol and already passed out.
Maybe I should leave this until morning, but it gnaws at me so much that I have to know what's inside.
I tear open the same brown paper that has no return address, only my name, and inside is a cardboard box, smaller than the last two.
Seems like overkill to send a larger box with a smaller one inside, but this guy is toying with me.
I half expect one of these to be a bomb at some point.
On top of the smaller box, a card is taped there in simple handwriting I don’t recognize. It says,
You cut his finger off before you killed him. I'm going to cut you to pieces before I kill you.
Beneath the note, wrapped in plastic and packed with dry ice that leaves a vapor in the air around it, is a human finger.
It's fresh too, still tinged with blood. The nail is intact with no polish or markings, and it looks like it was severed cleanly at the knuckle, preserved well enough that it could've come off a living hand hours ago.
My stomach turns. I've seen worse, done worse—but the memory it triggers, the kill they're referencing.
I remember it distinctly. It was one of my jobs before Domingo Maddox, before everything went to hell.
I was ordered to torture a man for information, and that man was deeply connected to the Maddox family too—one of their lieutenants, related to Domingo.
I stare at the finger now, bile rising in my throat. This isn't that dead man's, but whoever sent this knows the specifics of that job, the details that only a handful of people should remember.
Cal Maddox—Domingo's son—he would've been thirteen, maybe fourteen when I took his uncle's finger. Old enough to remember. Old enough to hold a grudge.
I wrap the finger back in plastic and shove it in the box, sealing it closed.
Then I move to the computer, powering it up while my mind races through connections.
Cal Maddox, now twenty-six, must be attempting to claim his father's position.
The surveillance photos of Sloane, the bullet engraved with Queens, 2011—it all points back to him.
He was just a kid who watched his family get destroyed, and maybe now he's decided revenge is the only answer.
But I can't live on an assumption. I have to have confirmation of these facts before I'm ready to settle on naming Cal my direct enemy. My chest grows tight as I think about it.
Domingo was like a brother to me. Killing him was the last thing I wanted to do, but we all knew he wasn't a good man, and he crossed lines. And Cal… Cal may as well have been my son too. I watched that kid learn to ride a bike, learn to throw a football. If this really is him, and I have to end him too… Christ. I don’t know if I can take that.
I pull out my phone and scroll through contacts I haven't touched since I disappeared. Most of them are dead or in prison by now. But one name stands out, someone I trusted as much as you can trust anyone in that world.
Jason Rider is still a Ferraro enforcer as far as I know.
We worked together for years, had each other's backs in situations that should've killed us both.
If anyone knows what's happening with the Maddox family, it's him.
Though, I'm taking a risk even contacting him.
I didn't part ways with the Ferraros as peacefully as I'd have liked, and there's a chance he won't want to hear from me.
But I walk to the kitchen and grab the landline and dial before I can talk myself out of it. The phone rings four times, and I'm about to hang up when he answers.
"It's Rider," he grunts, and he sounds suspicious. He obviously doesn't know this number, and for good reason. I've kept myself off the grid and out of contact for reasons of self-preservation. Reaching out now is only because this is too important to ignore.
"Jason. It's Dane."
There's a moment of silence so quiet and so long, I believe for a split second he's tracing the call or hanging up. Then he more quietly says, "Holy shit. Dane Barrett? I thought you were dead."
"Not yet," I grunt, well aware of how close I am to that fate if I don't watch my back. Keeping my voice low, mindful of Sloane sleeping in the next room, I continue. "I need information."
"Five years of nothing, and now you need information. That's rich." He sounds more relaxed now, but there's a hint of animosity in his tone. To him, I just up and left. As far as I know, he knows nothing of the arrangement I made with the Ferraro Don. "What kind of information?"
"Cal Maddox. What's his current situation?"
There's another pause and Jason sounds skeptical when he speaks again. "Why do you want to know about Cal Maddox?"
"Because I think he's coming after me."
"Shit." The word is heavy with understanding.
"Yeah, that tracks. Kid's been making waves for the past year, trying to claim his father's position.
Problem is, Domingo's brother held the territory after he died, and the family wasn't ready to hand it over to some twenty-something with daddy issues. "
"Domingo's been dead for five years."
"I know…" He sighs with understanding I don't have. "But the family still won't give him full control. They're making him prove himself first."
"Prove himself how?"
"Public statement. Big gesture. Something that shows he's got the stones to lead." Jason's tone turns grim. "Word is, he's been obsessed with finding the guy who killed his father. Thinks bringing in Domingo's killer will be enough to convince the family he's ready."
I lean back in the chair, processing the information.
Cal Maddox, desperate to prove himself, is using me as his ticket to power.
It makes sense. Taking down the man who killed his father would be a statement nobody could ignore.
And dragging Sloane into it, blaming her for failing to save his father in the ER, adds another layer of revenge to the equation.
"How close is he?" I ask.
"To finding you? No idea. But if he's already made contact, you're running out of time." Jason hesitates. "You need help? I can send people, throw some resources your way."
"No. The second the Ferraros get involved, this becomes a war.
I need to handle it quietly." I'm thinking of the peaceful little life I've got going now.
I don't want my past creeping in on this town and ruining that.
I might not like the people very much, but life is quiet and the only things I have to kill are animals for food.
"You're one guy, Dane. Cal's got a crew, money, connections. You can't take him on alone."
"I'm not alone." The words are out before I can stop them. I glance toward the bedroom, thinking about Sloane asleep in my bed. "And I've stayed alive this long by being smarter than the people hunting me."
"Yeah, well, good luck with that. Kid's young, but he's not stupid. And he's got nothing to lose." Jason sighs. "You need anything else?"
"Just keep your ear to the ground. If you hear Cal's making moves, let me know."
"Will do. And Dane? Watch your back. This kid's been planning this for a long time. He's not going to stop until one of you is dead."
"I know." I hang up before he can say anything else, and I sit at the table, staring at the box with its gruesome contents, and let the pieces fall into place.
Cal Maddox has been planning this for months, maybe years.
Surveilling Sloane, tracking her movements, learning everything about her life.
Drugging her, bringing her here, using her as bait to draw me out.
The packages are a countdown, building toward something. A confrontation, maybe, or a reckoning.
And I have no way of knowing how many more are coming before he makes his big public statement. And since I have no plan to return to New York, it means he's hoping the public place will be a small town on the ridge of a mountain in Upstate New York.
I'm not gonna figure it out tonight, so I double-check the door is locked, then kick off my boots and head back to the bedroom.
Sloane is stretched out across both sides of the bed, drooling on my fucking pillow and snoring like a freight train.
But when I shrug off my jeans and shirt and slide into bed with an extra blanket, her body wraps around mine and her hand finds my dick.
Great, just what I need, a nearly passed out drunk trying to fuck me all night long.
"Sloane," I grumble, readjusting her so I can get some rest, and thankfully, she lays her head on my chest and settles. For now.
If Domingo's son is coming for me, no one in this town is safe, including the woman in my arms. And as infuriating as she is sometimes, I don't think I'm prepared to let him hurt her. Even more so now that she's shown me her true heart's desire.
Nothing may ever come of this, but one thing is certain. I haven't forgotten who I am at my core. And in my heart of hearts, I know I have to protect Sloane Grady, and I have to protect Sutter's Gap.
Because it's the right thing to do.