Cabin 1 Page 4

  For me, the cause of death made sense. Dad was diagnosed with atrial fibrillation ten years earlier. The day he was diagnosed, he changed his eating habits, changed his workout routine, and began an aggressive pharmaceutical treatment. The Steele will to live was strong. The guy seemed to be healthy as a horse, but it didn’t take five minutes of research to learn that the condition often led to a heart attack. Feen was the only one who questioned it. Seriously questioned it, anyway. Why, I’d asked him after the funeral, and with eyes as cold as ice he turned to me and said, “Dad was murdered. I know it in my gut.” Since that day, Feen never let it rest. He’d spoken with Dad’s colleagues—who, based on the mood Feen would be in after he hung up the phone—never went well. It changed our oldest brother. Hardened him. A ghost on his heels, never letting him rest.

  Feen was not the man I knew. The brother I grew up with. He was tortured, tormented, conspiracy theories eating him from the inside out.

  It was only getting worse.

  Never one to back down to one of Phoenix’s fits, Dallas stepped forward. “You need to let this go, Feen. I’m telling you; hear me. Let it go. It’s been a year. It’s not healthy for you, for your brothers, for your family. You need to let it go.”

  I focused on Feen like a kid about to be pummeled by his dad. Didn’t want to be unprepared for the wrath that was about to be laid down. You see, with Feen, you always had to be on your toes.

  Instead though, Feen looked at all of us, one by one, then said, “You’re right. It’s time to let it go.” I didn’t believe him. The disingenuous dismissal was interrupted by a chorus of bells and whistles.

  Beep, beep, beep.

  We all reached for our phones, alit with an alert.

  Security breach, north lawn, point 1734.

  I looked at Ax. “Any chance Remy is sleep walking?”

  “I checked on him before I left for Frank’s. He’s knocked out cold.”

  “Let’s check the camera.” Dallas grabbed the iPad from the counter and began clicking through programs, entering security codes. “You said point 1734, right?”

  Nods around the room.

  After a few clicks, she turned the screen toward us, showing the heat signature of someone slinking from tree to tree at the base of the mountain.

  Gunner and Feen reached for their guns.

  I grabbed my own. “Well then, let’s go see who our mystery guest is.”

  4

  Niki

  My feet had gone numb sometime after climbing out of the ravine I’d tumbled down, losing my one remaining shoe. More clouds had crept in, a sporadic thick blanket covering the only light I’d had—the only hope I’d had—reminding me I was no match for the environment I’d thrown myself into.

  Correction—been thrown into.

  I’d never seen such darkness as when the clouds greedily absorbed the moonlight. I’d stop, let my vision adjust to the inky black, allowing my other senses to kick into play, to smell and listen to the woods around me. Not silent, no, a thriving ecosystem of nocturnal creatures sneaking around, looking for their next meal. The breeze had picked up, chilling me to the bone and rustling the leaves around me, a white noise as unnerving as the fact that I was lost in the middle of the wilderness with no phone, no sense of direction, no food, water, no protection.

  No light.

  No, I’d never seen such darkness.

  I’d never felt such darkness.

  I had no clue what time it was. No clue where I was.

  The only thing I was certain of was that the skinny bastard who’d been chasing me had given up a good hour earlier.

  Where had he gone? Back to his truck? Back to hell where he belonged?

  It was funny, I’d kept thinking about the things I’d left behind in my Jeep, wondering if the bastard had taken them… as if that was what mattered at that moment. But it did, to me. It was as if the violations kept coming. My body, my things. My new phone, along with my entire personal life inside of it. What could he learn from that information if he were to get past the security code? More disturbing, what could he do with it? The brand-spanking-new Louis Vuitton I’d gotten not two months earlier. The damn purse that made me smile every time I looped it over my shoulder. The purse that, to me, was a symbol of my hard work and independence... a stupid material thing, but those were exactly the types of things I didn’t have growing up. To me, that purse meant something so much more than money. And he’d taken that, too. He’d probably sell it for twenty bucks… no… he’d trade it for a blow job at some hole-in-the-wall titty bar. The thought made me sick.

  I wondered who, if anyone, had sent me a casual text not knowing that my life had been turned upside down, not knowing that I was lost in the middle of nowhere.

  I’d stopped running, and had begun hiking, no longer focused on being hunted by a human, instead, focused on what animal might be hunting me.

  I’d grown up in the woods—in the sticks was probably a more fitting description—and I knew what kinds of animals lurked in the miles and miles of dense forests that surrounded Berry Springs. Bears, coyotes, mountain lions, not to mention the snakes and spiders the size of your fist. Tourism was a huge part of the economy, but no one ventured that deep into the woods without a guide. Jagged cliffs, bluffs, and deep caves covered the area. Steep ravines that snuck up on you out of the blue.

  It was dangerous. Especially for the unprepared.

  I didn’t do unprepared well.

  I kept expecting to stumble upon a clearing, a farmhouse perhaps, that would lead me to a road that I could skirt along until I found some sort of civilization. Nope. It had been hours of aimless wandering through a vast mountain range where I wasn’t at the top of the food chain. At one point, I’d heard the low rumble of a growl behind me and I was sure that was it. The drunk bastards who tried to rape and kill me didn’t take my life, but in an ironic twist, an elusive black bear would finish the deed for them. Take what was left of me.

  No doubt, an unfulfilling meal.

  I was hungry, dizzy, and with each passing minute new aches and pains gripped onto me like an unrelenting force hellbent to take the last bit of energy I had. Hellbent on making me succumb to the evening, label myself a victim, just lay down and let nature take me.

  Screw you, I said to that.

  The swelling under my right eye had gotten worse. I knew this because I could see the bump in my peripheral vision. My shirt was barely hanging on, ripped from the attack, ripped from running through the woods. My stretchy yoga shorts, streaked with mud and water from falling more times than I could count. The last few times, I didn’t even try to catch myself. I let my body tumble to the ground like a five-hundred pound weight.

  Finding a place to sleep was not an option. Not only because my brain was still spinning with adrenaline—even though I was physically exhausted—and not because I knew that sitting still made me prime hunting bait for whatever carnivores slinked in the shadows, no, the reason I wasn’t going to find a place to sleep was because it felt like giving up. Giving in.

  I was not going to give up.

  I pressed on, deeper and deeper into the mountains, with nothing but sheer determination driving me.

  I’d been climbing upward, a fact marked by my burning quads, and I decided that was a good thing. Maybe if I got to the top of a mountain, I’d find a road, a house, something to guide me home.

  Home.

  A place that I knew would never be the same. The last time I was home, I was heading out the door to attend a yoga retreat at the luxurious Shadow Creek Resort. A weekend retreat to clear my mind, body and soul. Last time I was home, I’d stepped outside of my small cabin, inhaled the crisp, sixty-five-degree air and smiled, and thought to myself, maybe I’ll take the scenic ride home after yoga tonight. Enjoy the beautiful evening. That small, simple decision had changed my life.

  Last time I was home, I didn’t know I was going to kill a man four hours later.

  Over the course of my hike throu
gh the woods, I’d faced the gut-wrenching thought that I might lose my job. The job I’d worked so hard to get, the job I loved. The job I was good at. The job that was my life, my husband, kids, pets, everything all rolled into eight to five.

  Fine, more like six to seven. I was a workaholic because I loved what I did.

  Would they fire me?

  The thought had made me gag.

  My life had completely changed in the course of five minutes. What was ahead of me? I had no freaking idea. That scared the shit out of me.

  The terrain became rockier, less trees, more dips and crevices promising to trip me with every step. I felt sick, sick in my body, in my mind. I kept climbing until finally—finally—I stepped into a small clearing marking the top of the mountain I’d spent the last hour pulling myself up.

  My breath hitched as I spotted sparkling lights on top of the next mountain ahead of me. Lots of lights, a cluster marking some sort of massive building, then smaller groups of twinkling lights, perhaps smaller buildings, speckled among the thickly wooded trees. Below the structure, a row of single lights running vertically down the mountain as if a beacon lighting my way. I didn’t think, didn’t hesitate, and took off down the mountain with a rush of renewed energy. I knew nothing of the place I was going. I didn’t care. It was my salvation. A means to an end to that horrific night.

  A rocky valley marked the end of the mountain and the bottom of the next. The moon had decided to grace me with its presence, the beams swaying through the trees like silver waves. The mountain was steep, and going to be a hell of a trek. I noticed the underbrush appeared to be trimmed, the entire mountainside appeared to be landscaped. That confused me because there was no way whoever owned the castle at the top, owned the entire mountain… right?

  Who had that kind of money?

  If so, why out there in the middle of nowhere?

  Well, I was about to find out.

  My legs felt like lead weights as I took the first step upward, then the next. I’d officially crossed over to the manicured mountain when I froze, feeling a prickle of fear down the back of my neck. I don’t know why, I don’t know how I knew, but, at that moment, I had no doubt I was not alone.

  My pulse quickened as my eyes darted around the moonlit dirt floor, willing myself to blend in with the surroundings. My senses piqued, focusing on the soft sound of the air through the trees, the stillness of night.

  The stillness of whatever was stalking me.

  An owl hooted in the distance, and like an alarm, ripped me out of fear and into action. I spun on my heel and took off, twigs and pine needles popping under my feet. Where was I going? I had no idea, but I was going to run. Even at that point of total exhaustion, I was not going to give into the nightmare of my day.

  Out of nowhere, heavy footsteps ascended behind me, and I thought, he’s finally caught me. This was it.

  In an instant, the steps stopped, the air broke behind me followed by a whoosh of movement as my attacker’s body slammed into mine with the force of a twenty foot wave. The air expelled from my lungs with a grunt. My legs gave out from under me as arms wrapped around my body and we tumbled to the ground, spinning, spinning, spinning through the underbrush. Groans and gasps escaped me with each rock I pummeled over.

  Finally—finally—we stopped in an instant, on a dime it seemed, with my attacker straddling me. I knew immediately it wasn’t my attacker from earlier. This one was bigger. Heavier. Much bigger.

  My arms were pinned at the wrists above my head, my legs weighed down by his. My entire body was crushed. I looked into the eyes of the man who had me pinned to the ground, the full weight of his body against mine.

  Moonlight slashed his face like silver warpaint, reflecting in piercing grey-blue eyes like the prelude to a storm that was about to unleash hell on everyone in its path. A storm that was either about to save me, or destroy whatever was left of me.

  I was stunned, staring back into the only thing I could see of him—his eyes—my chest heaving, gasping for breath into a shadowed, stone-cold expressionless man who wasn’t even breathing heavily. I’d think the guy was a statue if not for the warm breath escaping his lips. He was squinting, trying to see me through the darkness, as I was him. The wind shifted, the shadows reminding me of the masked men who attacked me. I struggled against him.

  The grip around my wrists tightened. A bit more pressure and I was sure they’d pop.

  “Let me go,” I yelled against the silence. Then, using every ounce of energy left in me, I thrashed under him like a wild horse, bucking, writhing under his hold. “Let me go!” The panic seized me, the familiar rush of adrenaline shooting through my veins. “I’ll kill you…” I said and meant it. “Let me go.” The words tumbled out along with my weak attempt to squirm my way out from under his grasp.

  “Stop.” The deep voice demanded, booming through the silent night.

  And… to my surprise, I did.

  I fell limp beneath him as he assessed me like a tiger about to attack its prey. Make it wait, make it a game, or go right for the jugular? I still couldn’t see his full face. Still couldn’t get a full read, and I knew he couldn’t with me either. I decided that was to my advantage.

  “Get off of me. I’ll kill you…” My voice was embarrassingly weak and un-intimidating as I repeated the only threat that seemed equal to the moment. Hell, it was almost as if I’d said it like a question. Asking. Can I even kill you?

  His eyebrow cocked and a small smile curved his lips, dispelling an ounce of my panic. Looking back, that was the first hint of the unabating attitude to come.

  “Please do.” His voice was smooth, deep, menacing, pinning me not only with his body but with his gaze now. “Put me out of my goddamn misery, sweetheart.”

  I blinked, the response throwing me off.

  My wrists were released and although he was still straddling me, he raised up, his massive chest and shoulders evident through the black leather jacket he wore like a second skin. A dark silhouette looming over me like a king looking down on his servant.

  He opened his arms widely, thick, swollen with muscles that only came from hours in the gym, and looked down at me, a black silhouette, his heart and vital organs opened up to me, his groin pressing against mine.

  “Go for it.” He said.

  “Go for what?”

  “Kill me.”

  My hands tingled as I flexed my aching fingers, my brain evaporating as I stared back. Any chance of putting together a quick plan of attack escaped with the rest of my thoughts. I kept my arms splayed out, like a whipped dog, too scared, or perhaps too smart to move.

  A second slid by.

  “Okay,” he said. “Now that we’ve established that neither one of us is going to kill the other,” he emphasized the word as if he was mocking me, “you’re going to tell me what the hell you’re doing on my land.”

  My land.

  “I…” my voice was weak, shaky. I hated it. “I’m lost.” I squeaked out like a terrified school girl. My gaze flickered to the outline of a gun on his hip, underneath the leather jacket.

  “Are you alone?”

  The question caught me off guard, another hint of things to come with this man. Who would I be lost with?

  “Yes,” I responded with a bit more control, and a touch of annoyance.

  He shifted, his groin moving against mine in a way that had my body responding intimately—instinctively. He slowly stood, a massive tree unfolding itself against the night and pulled his gun from his belt. The moonlight caught him for a second, like a spotlight.

  My stomach dropped to the ground.

  “Get up.”

  My heart was a jackhammer, pounding so hard I could feel it in my throat. I mustered my energy, my confidence, my will to survive, and pushed myself off the ground.

  And stood face-to-face with the most gorgeous man I’d ever seen in my life. My chin lifted—and a knot grabbed my throat. He was massive. A beast of a man that had to be multiple inches no
rth of six foot. He had thick, brown mussed hair with sun kissed highlights at the top, sort of naturally untamed disheveled as if the guy hadn’t seen a can of styling cream in his life, or simply didn’t care. I assumed the latter. His eyes, dear God, a steely blue visible even through the darkness of the night. The color of a thunderstorm, a natural reflection of the man standing in front of me—strong, rigid, locked, chiseled jaw, radiating the power of a hurricane thinly concealed with whatever constraint this man allowed himself. I guessed not much. The thin T-shirt he wore fit snuggly against a chest I’d only seen in superhero movies. The badass leather jacket was the icing on the cake—as if this guy needed anything else to intimidate whoever crossed his path.

  I should’ve been terrified.

  … I wasn’t.

  No words were spoken as he lowered the gun, keeping his hand on the trigger. My eyes drifted over his face, somehow pulling me out of present time as if I’d been swept away from the darkness into some sort of quiet purgatory… this must be a mirage.

  “What’s your name?”

  “Niki.”

  “Got a last name, Niki?” He slid the gun back into the holster on his belt.

  “Avery.”

  Something flickered in his narrowed eyes. Did he know me? Did I know him?

  “What are you doing out this far in the mountains?”

  Killing a man.

  I didn’t answer, unsure how to launch into the last few hours of my life.

  That made him impatient.

  “Listen, there’s about a hundred other things I’d rather be doing right now, and I’m not in the mood for games. I’m gonna ask you again, Niki, what are you doing out here in the mountains?”

  “I was chased into the woods.” I don’t know why I didn’t tell him that I’d been attacked. Perhaps because of the perceived weakness. Perhaps because of the embarrassment. Perhaps because I didn’t want to reveal that much to a man who I knew nothing about.