by Charlie Hart
Felt it myself. I remember the way hatred crawled up my skin, wrapped around my heart. I see the same hatred in the man’s eyes as he strikes out at me. Feel the venom welling up inside of him.
This man wants vengeance.
But I have a wrong to right myself. This motherfucker tried to take my wife. And hell, if I’ll let anything happen to her. I may not have a gun, but I have a reason to live.
I slam my knuckles across his cheekbone, and he staggers back. I hit him again with an uppercut, then slam my other fist into his ribs. His body is thrown into the white snow as the punch leaves him breathless.
The other man crouches beside his dead friend’s body, checking for a pulse. I know he doesn’t find one. Tia’s shot was lethal - straight to the heart. The second man is slow to move, but when he does I see the glint of metal in his hands - a knife. He lets out a roar as he lunges towards us.
Just then, the man I knocked out seems to move, his hand finding the fallen gun half-buried in the snow. Goddammit. We’re unarmed, giving them the upper hand.
My first instinct is to protect Tia. It’s too late for me to react when I finally realize the damage he means to inflict. His gaze isn’t set on us, it’s directed at my government issued vehicle. Holding up the gun, he forces us to stay where we are. It would be suicide to try and fight them now. All that matters is they get away without hurting my wife.
He uses his knife and punctures the front tire, his demeanor riddled with rage, and then he turns toward the open front door, disappearing inside the SUV. I start towards him just as the other man I’d punched, reaches from behind me and pulls my shoulders back, wrapping an arm around my throat.
Fuck.
One elbow to his ribs makes him grunt but is not enough for him release me.
Tia screams. Her eyes panicked. And I just pray to God she doesn’t try to act hero again.
I fight the man off, but it’s too late to do anything about the tires or whatever the man did to the inside of my vehicle.
All four are slashed. And the knife-wielding man is back at his own truck, screaming for his friend to get in.
“You little fucker,” the toothless man screams, running in the snow toward their truck. “It’s not the last you’ve seen of us.”
They’re gone. The red of their taillights fade into the distance. The moon is heavy above us, the dark woods eerily still.
Tia lets out a small sob behind me.
My breath is heavy, my blood racing through my veins as I try and figure out what the hell I’m going to do.
I want to scream at her for being so fucking foolish. For running. For leaving. Leaving us. Leaving me.
But I can’t shout. Not now. Not after all of this.
When I turn to her, she’s trembling, shaking like a leaf swept up in a storm. She looks ready to fall over, fall apart.
“I... I’m sorry.” Her chin is lowered, but her eyes meet mine. “I shouldn’t have left the compound. Shouldn’t have left my husbands.” Her words catch, tears streaming down her cheeks. “You must hate me.”
I reach for her, my hand on her cheek, wiping a tear away.
“I killed him,” she says, the words come out shaky as she glances over at the lifeless body, the blood that stains the snow scarlet. “He’s dead.”
Pressing my forehead against hers, I let out a shaky breath of my own. “He would have killed you.”
She sucks in her lips, and her eyes squeeze shut. She’s a wreck, shaking, and so damn scared. All I want to do is pull her towards me, hold her close, for as long as I live.
But she’s going to freeze out here if I don’t figure out a plan. Her lips are already tinged blue, and her fingers are like ice when I wrap my hands around them.
“I need to check out the truck,” I tell her.
She squeezes my hand so damn tightly, and it kills me the way she holds on. The way her gaze keeps flicking back to the body lying in the crimson-laced snow.
But now is not the time to get caught up in emotion. Now is the time to act.
“Fuck,” I let out a guttural sound when I reach the truck. The asshole managed to take everything of value in five seconds flat. Both my radio and cell are gone.
Thankfully, I have my wallet on me, but it doesn’t matter. Those men know where to find me. I told them I worked for the government and my vehicle, now out of commission, puts a massive target on my back. As well as Tia’s. I should have killed them both, and I would’ve had I been given the chance.
I don’t want Tia to know we’re screwed. She needs strength right now.
“How are we gonna get back?” she asks, lips trembling as she comes up behind me, glancing down at the deflated tires.
I slam the truck door shut, and run a hand over my beard, then look up to the moon for a goddamn answer.
The other men are out looking for her, but I was the only one who went north. The odds that they’ll find us before the authorities do or before we freeze to death are low. And there’s also the possibility that the mercenaries will come back.
Already, the sky is turning a shade of purple and pink. The sun will rise soon. And we’ll be sitting ducks.
We can’t stay here.
Inhaling a deep breath, I calculate where we are. I know these woods. Grew up in them. Fallon’s family has a hunting cabin a couple of miles northwest of here through the woods.
A small trickle of hope runs through me. I can hide her there for now until I figure out a long-term plan.
“I know a place,” I tell her. “It’ll be a hike, but we can manage.”
“We can’t go home?” she looks small, defeated when she asks.
“No, Tia, we can’t go home.” I roll my shoulders back, pushing my own fear down. “Those men may have already gone to the authorities-”
“But they attacked me.”
“I know. But there are rules here.”
“Am I going to go to jail?” she asks, lips quivering.
“I won’t let anything happen to you. Understand?” I clench my jaw, telling myself the story I am choosing to believe.
I couldn’t save Caroline. But I will save Tia.
“But we have to go. Now. There will be a patrol on these roads soon. We need to be far away from here when they find the...”
“The body,” she says, closing her eyes.
“Yes.”
She doesn’t move, just blinks up at me, unshed tears glistening her eyes. “You don’t want to know why I left?”
I sigh, but it’s a rough sound, almost guttural. “Not now.”
Yes, I want to know. Need to know.
I have to rely on my years of military training to keep my cool and not go off on her like I know Fallon will. The sense of betrayal is only numbed by the fear of what could have happened to her.
When I saw her get out of the truck, her face bruised and bloodied, my mind went to the worst, and murder was all I could see. I would have killed them, looking back I should have killed all three. It would have saved us from the shit storm that will come now if they choose to testify against her.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
If they talk... Not even my rank as an officer will be able to protect her. The laws she broke tonight won’t go unpunished. This may be the wilderness, but we aren’t savages; or at least, we don’t want the lower forty-eight to think we are.
Murder isn’t justifiable, and it’s her word against theirs. We may be a country that says we put women first, but our rules are in place to protect men.
Tia ran from the compound. She resisted the men who could testify that they found her alone in the woods and were bringing her back to safety. And then she killed a man.
And those men weren’t just ordinary men. They were mercenaries. Protected not only under Alaskan law but under the Universal Treaty Act. They are the men who work at the ground level to keep people allegedly safe. But ask anyone who lives here, they know mercenaries are hired guns.
Police don’t work up here in the wild. Merc
enaries do.
Tia’s eyes are full of the same fear I feel. Good. She should be nervous. She should be fucking terrified. Because under no circumstance can I understand why she took off in the middle of the night alone. Why she left us.
“Okay,” she says, wiping her face, nodding, as if gearing herself up. “Let’s go.”
“Did you have anything?” I ask looking around, assuming she’d packed something before she’d left.
“It was left in the woods.” She swallows hard and glances away before saying, “They chased me down... and...”
“Did they…?” I can’t say the words, and I can’t stop from pulling her towards me and running my hands over her face. The thought of her being violated claws at my memories.
“No.” The word tells me enough though. The may not have raped her, but I can hear the fear in her voice, see the bruises they left behind. She fought them. Not sure what they would have done if she hadn’t.
“Good.” It’s all I can say.
“Giles, I need you to know....” She blinks back tears and bites her bottom lip. “I’m so sorry for leaving. For all of this.”
I drag my fingers through my hair and stare down at her, seeing the guilt in her eyes. Not sure what I’d do with any story she has to tell me right now.
In all honesty, I’m just glad she’s safe.
But visions of another woman who hadn’t been as lucky, blaze in my mind, and emotions clog my throat, making it nearly impossible to breathe.
Caroline.
I see her body bloody and used. Her lifeless blue eyes in a permanent state of fear. Knowing that tonight that could have been Tia, I feel strangled.
It takes all my strength not to put my fist through the truck window.
No emotion, just action, I remind myself.
“You’re freezing,” I say, taking her hand while taking in calming breaths through my nose. But it doesn’t help. I’m on the cusp of exploding. “Let’s get you somewhere safe.”
Chapter 3
Tia
My toes and fingers are frozen. My lips went numb a long time ago, and every breath feels like I’m sucking in icicles - and that’s with Giles carrying me for the last mile or so.
I hate that he’s carrying me at all, but I was near collapse and he knew it. Nestled against him now, I offer a silent prayer of gratitude. If he hadn’t come when he had...
My imagination can’t even comprehend the things those men would have done to me.
Despite my attempt to hold it back, a small sob rattles in my chest. Giles pulls me tighter against his chest.
“We’re almost there. I see the roofline.” He doesn’t even seem breathless as he says it, just keeps trekking through the deep snow, like a man with a single pursuit - to keep me safe.
When he sets me down on the ground, the sunrise is just beginning to peek out from the mountain tops. Giles grabs my hand and wordlessly, we turn, facing the sun.
The mountains are blanketed in thick white snow, and we stand in awe at the blindingly bright mountain before us.
It puts me in my place, standing here. I’m so small in comparison to the world at large. A speck, a dot. Nothing.
Who am I to take a life?
A chill goes down my spine as the man's eyes spear my memory.
“The sky is never so pink and purple,” Giles says softly, pulling me closer to his side.
I look up past the mountain at the pastel-painted skyline. The beauty takes my breath away, and tears fight to the surface. I don’t deserve such a sight. I ran from the men I vowed to love; put them in harm's way by being here at all. I lied. And then I killed a man.
And yet, I’m safe. I have shelter. And a view so majestic it makes my chest ache.
“I think it’s a gift for you,” Giles says, squeezing my hand.
“What is?”
“The sunrise.” He gives me a small smile, brushing the hair away from my cheek.
I shake my head. Blood is dried on my hands and the sound of the gun rings hollow in my mind. Guilt presses against my chest.
“The world doesn’t revolve around me, even if I act like it does.”
Now it’s Giles’ turn to shake his head. “That’s not how it works.”
My face falls ever so slightly. “How does it work, then?”
He leans in, takes my face in his hand, and kisses my forehead. “When you’re given a gift, you’re just supposed to say thank you.”
“Thank you,” I whisper.
He nods slightly and gives a small smile, then releases me and starts towards the cabin. Leaning his body weight on the front door, he pushes it in with his sheer strength.
Before I follow him inside, I look back up at the sky. The words fall short.
“Thank you,” I say again, to no one in particular. To the universe, or whatever god is listening. To fate for giving me this moment and this man, even though I clearly don’t deserve either.
“Come on,” Giles says, taking my hand and leading me inside. “Let’s warm you up.”
I sleep for hours and when I wake, it’s growing dark again and the only light in the room is from the blazing fire.
“Hi,” I say to Giles who crouches next to the stone fireplace. I sit up on the couch and pull the heavy quilt tighter around my shoulders. “Did you sleep?”
He nods as he stands. “I just woke up and stoked the fire. We must have slept for eight hours straight.”
I rub my eyes, then comb my fingers through my tangled hair, trying to remember this morning when we came inside. It’s all foggy. I remember Giles finding gallons of water in a pantry, using a rag to wash the blood from my hands. I remember him silently slipping off my clothes and wrapping me in fleece pajamas, buttoning the top up while I watched silently. My fingers are too frozen to dress myself.
“Where did you sleep?” I ask.
“On the floor,” he says, pointing to the blankets and bearskin rug at my feet.
“You didn’t want the bed?” There was a cot on the other side of the room he could have slept on.
“I needed to be by your side.”
I nod, pulling my sleeves over my fingertips, then pressing them against my mouth. The memories flood back. Of course, he didn’t leave me alone.
“I’m so sorry,” I start, guilt causing new tears to form in my eyes. I hate how emotional I am. I want to be strong. I need to be strong.
Giles moves, crouching beside the couch in front of me. “Let’s eat, okay? Maybe some food will help your nerves.”
I nod, and he takes my hand, leading me to the kitchenette. “Is there even any food here?”
“We’ll find out.” He begins opening cupboards and grabbing cans. The next thing I know he’s lit a gas burner, peeled back lids, and has soup is warming up on the stove. I’m impressed at how well he manages to get a meal together for us, considering I’d still be trying to get the can opener to work.
“How did you know about this place?” I ask, looking around the two-bedroom log cabin.
“It’s Fallon’s.”
“Really?” I look around with a bit more eye for detail.
“Well, his family’s. We used to come up here a lot.” Giles reaches for two bowls and grabs spoons from a drawer. It is obvious he knows where everything belongs. “You can’t tell from here, but there’s a lake a few yards south, and we’d fish here all summer. In the fall, we’d come out to hunt.”
“I knew you and Fallon were close but sounds like you were more like family.”
Giles nods, a frown sketches across his face. “Something like that. But,” he looks over and gives me a smile, “Now we really are. We’re both married to you.”
“Is that strange?”
He lets out a small breath, carrying the bowls of soup to the kitchen table. “I’m just grateful for having anything at all.”
I twist my lips, taking a place at the table. Across from me, Giles looks so mature, so experienced. It makes me feel like I’ve been a petulant child, running with
out explaining. Killing a man without thinking of the implications.
I reach for my spoon, ready to eat, but notice Giles has paused, hands clasped and pressed against his forehead, eyes closed.
When he opens them again, and slowly reaches for his spoon, I say with a small smile, “I didn’t know you were the praying type.”
Giles shakes his head, causing dark red hair to fall over his forehead. “I’m not. It’s just... memories.” He rakes his fingers back through his hair, then rubs the back of his neck, green eyes haunted. “They always seem to hit me at the strangest times.”
“You wanna talk about them?”
“No.” His jaw twitches and he stares down at his soup. “Let’s eat.”
He picks up his spoon and I follow suit, wanting to ask more, but knowing he isn’t ready to open up to me.
And I don’t blame him. I haven’t exactly earned his trust.
We finish our meal in silence.
I know he’s upset with me. He has every right to be. But I’m still shaking from everything that happened, and with the uncertainty of what we need to do next.
“I’ll clean the dishes,” I say, taking his bowl, then placing it in the sink.
I hear his chair push back on the wood floor. “I’m going to do another check of the perimeter.”
“Do you think anyone will find us out here?” My back is to him, and I try to hide the fear that tightens my throat but even I can hear it in my words.
“There was a fresh fall of snow this morning, so our tracks should be covered.”
It’s not really an answer.
I feel, rather than hear him approach. He doesn’t touch me, but the heat of his body warms my back.
He’s never pushed me for physical affection. Never asked to share a night in my bed, let alone offer me a hug. The only kiss we shared was the one I gave him when I had too much whiskey with Salinger and Huxley. But I need him now. Need his strength. His body. Need him to take away the fear and guilt that crushes down on me.
Maybe it’s selfish. But maybe he needs me too.
I turn around, my back against the counter and glance up at him. Deep green eyes, that are always so controlled, so decisive, are filled now with a restless passion that makes me swallow hard.