Chapter 17
DANE
Ihave my gun trained on the door when I recognize the voice that shouts, "Dane…" It's muffled through the thick wood, but I can't pretend I don't know who it is. "Dane, open up. We should talk."
I lower the weapon and sigh hard, shoving it into my belt as I shake my head at Sloane, who still has the shotgun raised, pointing at the back entrance.
I move to the front door and crack it open, keeping my body between Wade and the interior of the cabin because there's no way in fuck I'm letting that guy in here.
He's already hounded me about Sloane once and if he questioned her too, then I know why he's here.
"Sheriff… It's late." It's got to be obvious to him we were in the middle of something. My shirt hangs open, my hair is ruffled, and what the fuck will I say to a man I've lied to about Sloane being my sister?
Wade's burly frame fills the doorway, snow dusting his shoulders. "We need to talk, Strouse. And I need to see your sister."
"She's sleeping."
"Then wake her up." He pushes forward, forcing me to either let him in or physically stop him. "I've got men in town asking questions about you. Black SUVs, expensive suits, the kind of people who don't belong in Sutter's Gap. And then there's these."
He holds up two more of those fucking packages with brown paper wrapping. Miles must have held them at the post office instead of delivering them because of the snow. The mountain passes get slippery, and sometimes, he does that because his Grumman can't get up my drive.
"Mail came for you," Wade continues. "Miles is starting to get suspicious about this and he asked me to look into it. So I'm going to ask you one more time—what the hell is going on, and who is that woman you're keeping up here?"
Wade is a smart man and that's why the people of this community elected him sheriff. I'm only fighting an uphill battle if I keep pushing back, and there's no way to escape his nosiness. Holding on to my tired lie is only going to make things worse.
"It's complicated." I step back, letting him inside. "And I don't have time to explain all of it."
"Make time." He sets the packages on the table, hand resting on his service weapon. "Because right now, I've got enough to arrest you for harboring a missing person. And if those men in town are connected to you, maybe a lot more than that." His scowl is menacing, but he's the least of my worries.
When Sloane appears from the bedroom, fully dressed now, with the shotgun still in her hands, Wade's eyes widen. "Put that down, Miss."
Sloane slowly lowers the shotgun, which I'm not sure she even knows how to use, and says, "I'm not being kept against my will.
" Then she clears her throat and glances up at me.
"I'm here because someone drugged me, kidnapped me, and dumped me in your town.
Dane found me and kept me safe. If I leave here, I'm dead. "
"That's a hell of a story," the sheriff says, shaking his head.
His eyes dart from her face to mine while I busy myself backing away from him.
If Sloane can spin this so that the focus lands only on her, I'll marry her on the spot.
But something tells me the coming storm is going to sweep through like a hurricane and my entire past will be exposed. I'll have no choice but to run again.
"It's the truth." I move to stand beside Sloane, presenting a united front. "And those men won't hesitate to kill anyone who gets in their way."
Wade's expression hardens. "You threatening me?"
As if summoned by my words, headlights slash through the windows, lighting up the room brighter than Christmas. We all freeze, watching as three SUVs pull up outside, parking in a semicircle that blocks any escape by vehicle.
"Christ," I hiss. "Get away from the windows." I pull Sloane back, away from the front of the cabin, but Wade doesn't move fast enough. I grab his arm and haul him sideways just as the first shot punches through the glass, shattering it, making shards rain down all over my hardwood floors.
We all hit the floor as more shots follow, taking out every window facing the front of the house. The rounds chew through the wall and shatter the lamps. Then the shooting stops, replaced by a voice amplified by a megaphone.
"Come on out, Dane. We know you're in there! We'll make this quick!"
My mind is reeling while I crawl toward the kitchen where Sloan is curled into a ball shaking and sobbing.
This isn't the public execution Jason thought they'd want, but it doesn't mean they intend to kill me right here.
There's a chance this is an attempt to take me alive and torture me for a few days before Ellie's Thanksgiving party, which I can't allow to happen.
"Who are these men and what the fuck do they want?
" Sheriff Carver is on his hands and knees, hat lost to the darkness somewhere, but all I can think about is getting Sloane out of here safely. I have no doubt I could escape into the woods and lose them. They’re city slickers wearing Armani suits and dress shoes. They'll get cold in under an hour.
But we can't stay here and fight. The mountain is our only option at this point.
"Sloane," I hiss, "go in the bedroom in the bottom of my closet." I'm already thinking ten steps ahead, planning our retreat. "Get the duffel bag. We'll go out the back.”
She nods and scrambles after me. Wade reaches for his radio and clicks it on, making all sorts of racket.
Clearly, these asshats aren't afraid of shooting at cops because his cruiser is parked right in my driveway.
"Dispatch, this is Sheriff Carver. I need backup at the Strouse property, county road forty-seven.
Multiple armed suspects, shots fired. Officer needs assistance. "
The response crackles back, barely audible over the renewed gunfire.
They're shooting up the cabin now, trying to keep us pinned down, but it's not gonna stop me.
I grab my go bag from under the kitchen cupboard and tuck it against my chest while army crawling back toward the bedroom.
Sloane appears with the duffel bag now, packed with essentials I made her prepare days ago.
"We're going out the back," I tell them both. "Through the bedroom window, into the trees. There's a path that leads around to the barn." Sloane already got the snowmobile out and primed. It'll be ready to take off in a split second under what I assume will be another hail of gunfire.
"You're not fleeing." Wade's face is red with anger and confusion. "You're gonna stand down and let me handle this!"
"These men don't stand down for badges." I check my weapon, making sure I have a full magazine. "You aren't gonna talk your way out of this, Wade. If you want to live through the next ten minutes, you'll listen to me for a change."
Wade struggles to a crouching position, one hand on his weapon. "I'm not running from criminals. I'm a law enforcement officer. I have a duty—"
"Your duty is going to get you killed." But I can see he's not listening. The stubborn set of his jaw, the way he stands and starts moving toward the front door—he's going to do something stupid.
"Sheriff, don't—"
He pulls open the door and steps onto the porch, hands raised, badge visible on his chest. "This is Sheriff Wade Carver! Lower your weapons and identify yourselves!"
Wade staggers backward, clutching his shoulder at the same time the gunshot booms through the air, and I'm there to catch him before he hits the ground. Blood seeps between his fingers, staining his dark jacket instantly as I lower him to the ground.
"Told you, you fucking idiot," I grunt, dragging him back inside. Then I kick the door shut as more bullets hammer into the wood, splintering it. "Sloane, we're out of time." I barely have Wade settled on the ground before I'm up and moving.
Sloane's already by the back door, throwing it open, cold air rushing in. I help Wade to a seated position despite his protests. The man is heavy, bleeding, and fighting me every step.
"I'm not leaving," he grunts. "This is my town and my jurisdiction."
"Your town's about to become a war zone." I prop him up under the window, and I just know this'll be the last time I see him alive. "You can come with us or you can die here. Your choice."
"You leave this property, boy, and I'll have you hunted down." Wade isn't nearly as intimidating as he thinks he is.
"Sorry, Sheriff… If you're not coming along, I have to go without you. I won't let them hurt her." I turn toward the back door, still crouched over, and over the hiss of the bullets, I tell him, "Play dead. They have no beef with you. You'll be fine." It's my parting advice but probably not true.
Maddox and his crew will mow down anyone in their path. And if Varen shows up alone, they'll take him out too. Which is why it's even more important for me to get Sloane out of here faster.
It takes fifteen minutes to get to my place from town on a clear day, and it's already been ten. If I'm not out of here before Varen is, those men will kill the deputies and any other folks around who poke their noses out.
When I get out of the line of sight from the front window, I stand and move faster.
Sloane is standing on the back step, gun aimed into the blackness that is the woods behind the house.
It's dark on purpose because I always plan an escape route wherever I'm staying.
They haven't thought to come around here yet, so we've got a breath of time to run.
"Move straight to the woods, hear me?" Sloane nods, wide-eyed, and I continue. "There's a clearing right through that thicket." I point to a spot between two pines that tower above the rest. "Wait just beyond there and I'll come to you."
"Dane, I can't—"
"Go, Sloane, or they'll come around here and kill us both." I shove her hard, and she stumbles a few steps, but once she starts running, she doesn't look back. Every footstep is a path leading right to her, but hopefully, I can get to the snowmobile and find her before Cal's men do.
I watch her for a second before slinging my bag onto my back and creeping along the side of the house.
The headlights shine on the front, still illuminating what’s left of the inside of my living and dining rooms, and in the distance I can hear the whir of sirens, at least two, which means both deputies are on their way, maybe cops from other jurisdictions too.
But with Cal thinking they have us pinned down, no one is watching the fenceline.
I usually have goats out here in this pasture, but this year, I culled the herd and decided goat meat was better than goat's milk, so there aren't any noisy critters to give me away as I creep through the darkness one post at a time until I'm almost to the barn.
Only when I sit down on the snowmobile do I draw the unwanted attention of the eight men I count standing on my driveway by their SUVs.
Shouts erupt, followed by the stomping of feet which is quickly drowned out by the roar of the engine as it turns over.
And then I'm off, weaving between my barn and outbuilding toward the woods as another hail of bullets comes after me.
I hear them ping on the back of the snowmobile, but I manage to escape being hit by any of them as I vanish between the trees and follow Sloane's footprints to the clearing.
I'm barely stopped before her arms are around my waist, legs straddling the machine as she tucks into me, and I take off again.
"Hold on!" I shout over the engine noise.
I gun it, sending the snowmobile flying across the snow. Bullets chase us, kicking up powder around the runners. The men are running now, trying to get angles to bring us down before we're out of range. But the engine holds, pulling us away from the property and the men who want us dead.
The SUVs can't follow in this deep powder and even if they could, the terrain is too steep and cluttered with trees. I weave between trunks, taking us deeper into the forest where vehicles can't reach, following paths I've memorized over years of hunting and tracking large game.
Sloane's arms are tight around my waist, holding on with desperate strength as the engine screams up a hill.
It's a racket, and I'm sure they can still hear us, but outside of returning to town for warmer clothing or buying their own machines, they can't track us.
We'll be safe for tonight, at least, but unless we get another snow storm, it doesn't matter where we go. They'll be able to track us.
"Where are we going?" Sloane shouts in my ear.
Hers is a good question. The cabin's not safe anymore and town is compromised. Cal's people know where we are, and though they can't come after us immediately, there's no doubt in my mind that they'll try.
I don't answer her because I have no answer.
The forest isn't a safe place this time of night.
I know if the engine weren't so loud, we'd be hearing the howl of wolves right now, and though bears are mostly tucked in for their hibernation, there isn't anything saying we won't run into one of them either.
So I pretend I didn't hear her and I turn left, hooking around toward the valley that leads back closer to town. As long as we're out here, we're safer than back there. I just hope we can put our brains together and think of something.
Because if Cal's men don't find us and kill us, hypothermia just might.