by Nicole Helm
He, of course, knew the answer. Felicity was out there, and as much as his brothers would survive and thrive without him, they would blame themselves. They would want to avenge him.
“Maybe she didn’t want to bring your insanity to her own mother’s household.”
Ace snorted. “Your mother thought as little of Pauline as I do.”
“And yet Pauline lives. Thrives. She raised us. And you let her. Why is that?”
Ace’s face went dark, the terrifying fury Gage had once known better than to poke at. But he couldn’t hold himself back, not when his own fury was beginning to bubble under all the pain and exhaustion.
He smiled at Ace in that same way Ace was always smiling at him. “You’re afraid she really did curse you.” Gage laughed. “That’s just sad.”
A blade flicked out—Gage didn’t know from where—but it was at his throat, sharp and deadly.
“I was wrong, Gage. Rare, but we all make mistakes. Even me. I thought you were the smartest. But you’re the weakest, and now you’ll die. Say your last words, son. Because I’m done trying to make you into something.”
Chapter Fourteen
Felicity licked her lips even knowing it wouldn’t help the dry, cracked texture. It wouldn’t magically make water appear or make everything swirling around in her mind make sense.
She was close to her cabin. Close to water. That was all that mattered as the sun beat down on her from above.
She squinted against the sun and stopped in her tracks when she saw what sat outside her cabin in the distance.
A police cruiser.
For a moment she felt relief so potent tears stung her eyes. She started forward, then remembered she was still wanted for murder.
Even if the police had saved Gage, that didn’t mean things had been cleared up.
But they could be. Wasn’t water more important than getting arrested? Gage would clear it up and everything would be fine.
Eventually.
Maybe.
I didn’t kill anyone.
Her father had seemed so desperate. So surprised. So confused by what little she’d said about the murder. Was it her own bias doubting he’d killed, or was it just reason? I didn’t kill anyone. I didn’t kill anyone.
Ace had to have framed him, but how could she prove Ace was behind anything when he’d been in jail? And why would she want to? Her father deserved whatever he got.
Dying of exposure?
She pushed that thought out of her head, but the roiling nausea that accompanied it stuck around.
She slowed her pace as she moved toward her cabin. There was no sign of Ace or Gage. She used as much cover as she could to creep closer and closer to the small grove of trees that had been planted on the east side to give the cabin some shade back in the days before air-conditioning.
She hid among the trees, straining to hear something that might give her an idea of why the police were here. Had they found Gage? Ace? Was everyone okay?
Or was it all much worse than that?
The vehicle was a Pennington County cruiser, so there was no chance it was one of the Wyatt brothers, who all worked for Valiant County.
She didn’t realize two men were in the cruiser until the driver’s side door opened, and the passenger side next.
Two men got out. They clearly weren’t in any hurry. Had they just driven up before she’d crested the rise for the cabin to come into view? That would mean Ace had taken Gage somewhere before the police had shown up.
She closed her eyes against the pounding panic. She had to figure out what was going on.
“Doesn’t look like the tornado disturbed much here,” the taller officer said to the other as they moved slowly toward the cabin. Not out of fear, but as if they weren’t in any hurry to get to work.
“Lucky for us.”
“Going over the house again seems overkill, doesn’t it?”
The shorter one scratched his head. “That detective from Valiant County was adamant. Hard to blame him. Seems off if it’s true the suspect didn’t have any contact with her father.”
“Seems convenient more than off, given he’s friends with the suspect.” The officer stopped short and swore. “Someone’s been here. The tape’s off.”
“Could have been the wind,” the other one said, but he was already pulling on rubber gloves and reaching for the caution tape fluttering in the slight breeze.
Tucker was the detective from Valiant County they were referring to. It seemed they were here only to search her cabin again. Look for more clues.
What might they find?
Didn’t matter. She had to find Gage. There was no indication they had any idea he’d been here, or that Ace had.
Before she went in search of Gage, she needed backup. She had to forget about the desperate need for water and connect to the Wi-Fi.
But she’d need to be closer than the trees. Somehow, without getting caught. She could wait them out, but how long would that be? How long could Gage survive whatever and wherever Ace had presumably taken him?
Maybe he’d fought Ace off. Maybe...
Well, she couldn’t entertain maybes until she knew for sure. She had to get a message to the Wyatts, then figure out what happened.
Without getting caught.
She closed her eyes for a second, letting herself pray to anything and everything she believed in, then she grabbed her phone. She pulled up the Wi-Fi and watched the screen as she crept closer and closer.
“Come on,” she muttered, waiting for her Wi-Fi name to come up. She was easing out of the trees, her gaze moving from the cabin to the phone, back and forth, back and forth.
“Someone was definitely in there.”
Felicity jumped back, pressing herself behind a tree. She squeezed her eyes shut and held her breath. She couldn’t hear over the pounding of her own heart in her ears. She was light-headed and afraid for a moment she might faint.
Then the engine started.
She dared peek from behind the tree and watched as the police cruiser drove away.
She nearly wept in relief. Still, she waited, making sure they were gone for good before she ran forward. She had to stop, drop her pack and dig for her keys. With trembling hands, she found them and ducked under the caution tape.
It took a while for her hands to stop shaking enough to insert the key into the lock. She pushed it open and went straight for the faucet. She flipped on the water, ducked her head under the stream and drank with messy, greedy gulps.
Once she cooled off a little bit she remembered herself and her priorities.
She pulled up the text messages on her phone and sent a group text to everyone—Wyatts, Knights.
Ace was at my cabin. Took Gage. Don’t know where. Going to track. Need help.
She paused, stupidly, then took the time to explain where she’d left her father and that he’d need help and medical attention.
She couldn’t be that cold to let revenge take over her.
He beat you. Gage’s words, flat as they’d been when he’d first delivered them, echoed in her head.
She shook her head. What was done was done. She’d sent the text and now she had to find Gage.
She grabbed the few water bottles she had left and went back outside, locking the door behind her. She ducked back under the tape, pushed the water into her pack and studied her surroundings.
She could see a myriad of footprints. Had the cops even looked at them? She focused on them now, remembering this morning.
Ace had tossed her down, and there was the indentation in the grass where she’d slid. There was a boot print—presumably one of the cop’s—in the middle of it.
She moved there, then turned to look at the house. Ace had held Gage, that horrible gun pressed to his temple, right there and—
Gun.
She tried to determine whose footprints were whose, followed the two sets that veered off behind the house. One had to be Gage’s, didn’t it? If her father had followed her, his prints wouldn’t be aligned with Ace’s or Gage’s.
There was mud here, not sloppy mud, but slowly drying mud. Still wet enough to make deep marks, but more of a clay texture. A flurry of footprints, a few indentations she couldn’t figure out, but it all ended in a set of footprints and two long trenches.
Like heels being dragged. Fear snaked through her, but she couldn’t give in to it.
She followed them.
They went for a way, into the patch of grass behind her cabin. Still, the ground was soft enough she could follow it.
Until the grass gave way to rock. The millennia of wind and rain, soil and rock. Erosion and deposition in its grand, epic scale.
Her heart, stretching out before her, and the absolute worst landscape she could encounter when trying to find someone. Rock was vast, virtually trackless. Too much wind to follow any kind of idea of which way they’d gone.
Then she saw it. A little bit of fabric under a rock. Black, like the T-shirt Gage had been wearing. Just a bit of it, clearly ripped off.
You’re being unreasonable. If he was being dragged away, how could he rip his shirt and stick it under a rock?
Unless he was doing the dragging, but wouldn’t he have gotten help? Not dragged Ace off alone?
It was probably just something blown by the wind—a hiker tearing his clothes on a rock, or the remnants of a ceremonial object. Granted, those occurred more often in the southern portion of the park. Still, with the winds in the Dakotas it was hardly impossible.
But this fabric was under a rock. Specifically. Purposefully.
If she went in the direction of the piece of fabric, she’d be heading back out into the canyons and rock formations.
That didn’t scare her. She was a park ranger. She was equipped, now, with water. She knew how to navigate. She knew how to get back if she went in the wrong direction.
She glanced warily at the sky. She was prepared to camp. No food, but she had water. She had a weapon now. Everything would be fine.
Because she wouldn’t stop until she found Gage.
She followed the bits of fabric, almost sobbed with relief as she found a car insurance card with Gage’s name on it. He had really been Hansel and Greteling it through the Badlands while Ace dragged him along.
How hurt was he, though, that he didn’t fight off Ace?
She kept going, ignoring that thought as she followed the bits of Gage’s things. She had to double back a few times when she couldn’t find anything for a while. It was exhausting, and she should stop for water, but every time she found the next hint she pushed forward, desperate to find the next one.
She didn’t touch them, hoping the Wyatt boys would be able to find them and him. If she could, they could, she was sure of it.
When she reached a clearing of sorts along a long wall of rock, she almost doubled back, but in the distance she saw something black and out of place against the tan, reddish and brown landscape.
She moved toward it, then stopped a few feet away.
It was a wallet. It sat in the open, which she thought was strange. It wasn’t hiding. It wasn’t under a rock—so technically the wind could have blown it.
Right above the wallet was the entrance to a cave.
Slowly Felicity lowered her pack to the ground, taking care to move quietly. She pulled the gun from the holster and crept toward the cave, her heart in her throat.
* * *
GAGE KEPT HIS gaze on his father as he waited for the pain. Would Ace slit his throat like he had the knife poised to do? Or would it be slower, meaner?
It could go either way, but for right now Ace simply held the knife there, waiting for Gage’s last words.
He didn’t have any. Not for his father anyway.
“Cat got your tongue? Maybe that’s where I’ll start.”
Gage shrugged, even as he felt the blade of the knife scrape against the tender skin of his neck.
Ace paused, frowning. There was a noise, some kind of skittering like pebbles falling, toward the mouth of the cave. Likely some kind of animal, but Ace tilted his ear toward the sound.
Gage was weak, beaten, bloody, and still he knew a moment when he saw one. With enough of a push, he couldn’t escape, but he could get that damn knife off his throat.
He used the bonds that held his hands tied behind his back and to whatever was behind him to hold his weight as he managed to slowly and quietly rear his leg back.
He made noise as he kicked, which was inevitable. Ace tried to sidestep the blow. Gage planned on that and managed to pivot with enough time for his kick to land, knocking Ace over, with some help from a rock formation behind him.
Ace snarled up at him. “You think you can win with your hands tied behind your back?” Ace demanded, a vicious, piping fury that overrode his usual distressing calm. “You.” He got to his feet, searching the cave floor around them for his knife.
When he didn’t see it, he began to reach for the gun at his side.
“He might not be able to. But I can.”
Gage was sure he was hallucinating. The sun shone behind her like she was some kind of red-haired guardian angel, complete with firearm.
It wasn’t possibly happening, but there Felicity was, stepping away from the streaming sunlight and into the dim light of the cave. She held her gun pointed at Ace.
She didn’t shake. She didn’t waver. She didn’t look over at Gage himself. She just kept that gun pointed at Ace, her gaze cool and calm and locked on him.
Ace’s sneer deepened. “You won’t shoot me.”
“I shot your man last month. Isn’t that why you’re after me now? Trying to pin a murder I didn’t commit on me.”
Ace laughed mirthlessly, and the sneer stayed put on his face. “Don’t flatter yourself. You’re a bug.”
“A bug you can’t squish.” Her voice was so cool, so controlled, it very nearly sent a shudder through Gage. He wasn’t sure he knew this Felicity. She was like a different person.
“Felicity—”
She shook her head, still not looking over at him. “I want you to loosen the holster, let it fall. Then you’ll walk out of this cave, Ace. Hands up, walk slow. I’ll follow. Then we’ll all wait.”
“You must have mistaken me for one of my sons. I’m not going to simper and follow along. You think that sad excuse for a gun scares me? Me? Do you know what I’ve survived? Do you know what I am?”
“I don’t really care, Ace, because my finger is on the trigger and if you don’t move in five seconds, you’ll have a bullet to the gut.”
“Let’s see what you got, sweetie.” He began to move for his gun—not to drop it, Gage was sure. “I’ll be the nightmare you—”
The shot rang out and Ace’s body jerked, stumbled, then fell.
Gage made some kind of noise—horror, shock, relief and a million other things wrapped up into whatever expulsion of sound escaped his mouth.
“Felicity.”
She took a step back. She didn’t seem so cool and calm now as Ace writhed on the floor. He held on to his stomach, blood trickling over his hands. She still had the gun pointed at him.
“Felicity,” he repeated, trying to keep his voice calm. “Get the gun.”
Ace was reaching for it, but every time his arm moved, he groaned or grunted in pain. Color and blood drained from him with equal speed.
Felicity moved forward and slid his gun out of his holster without much of a fight from Ace.
She stared down at him, both guns in her hands
now.
“Felicity. Come untie me.”
She didn’t move. She stared down at Ace’s body as if she was in a trance. Ace writhed, made awful noises, but he didn’t attempt to fight Felicity. Her finger was still on the trigger, the gun still pointed at Ace.
Gage didn’t know whether she planned to shoot him again, and he certainly didn’t know whether he wanted her to or not, but the pale, lifeless look on her face was killing him.
“Felicity. Look at me.”
Finally, she turned. A breath escaped her, shaky and pained. Then she sucked it in. She was pale, the color of death. Her eyes were glassy and her breath was coming in shallow puffs now.
He couldn’t make his way to her and it cut him in two.
“I had to.” She flicked a glance at Ace again.
“You did the right thing,” Gage said, trying to draw her attention back to him. “Grab his knife. Then come untie me, okay? We’ll figure it out. One step at a time.”
She nodded too emphatically for him to feel any better about her mental state.
“Right over there. By that big rock.”
“It’s a sediment pile.”
“Sure, sure.” Hearing her using the technical term was some kind of relief. “Bring the knife here, okay?”
She nodded again, and this time actually moved for the knife. Gage glanced at Ace. He was still moving, writhing and groaning.
She’d shot him in the gut, just like she’d warned.
Felicity slid her gun into her holster, still holding Ace’s in her hand. She picked up the knife, both her arms shaking now.
“Felicity. Untie me. Come on. Felicity?”
“Right.” She approached him, all shaking limbs and too pale complexion. When she finally reached him, still holding the knife and gun in either hand, she met his gaze.
“God...you’re... Gage.” She inhaled shakily, tears filling her eyes.
“I’m okay. Kind of. I mean, I’ll be okay. Look at me. I’m doing better than you, at the moment.”
“You’re covered in blood.”
“It’s okay. Don’t cry, sweetheart. God, it’s killing me. Just untie me. Okay. Untie me. I need you to untie me.”