by Lexi Hart
Pain gathers in my middle as I try to shrug it off. “She left when I was a teenager.”
Hunter curses under his breath as he slowly shakes his head. “Mine had her head in a bottle most of my teen years. My father was either in prison or on his way there. I swear to God if I ever have kids...”
His eyes snap to mine as a new emotion washes away the sting of loss I’m feeling. “What?”
He shakes off whatever he was going to say. “I just wouldn’t marry someone unless I was sure.”
Molten lava seems to be filling my veins as I hold my breath. “Nobody can be sure of anything.”
The slightest teasing grin appears on his face. “Until I met you, I was sure about a whole lot of things.”
I snort, glad the poor light is hiding my blush. “Like what?”
He shrugs then jams his hands in his jean pockets. “I was sure marriage was a bad idea.”
Why does this feel like either a veiled insult at my failed marriage or a backhanded compliment?
Either way, this isn’t the ideal place to discuss a future we might not have, so I tilt my head at him and change the subject. “Do you wish your parents were in your life? I mean, if things could be different?”
His mouth turns down, and his posture shifts to guarded, letting me know I’ve pried too much. “The past is the past,” is all he says.
He turns back around and opens his pack and pulls out a plastic-wrapped map and lays it on the table, so it’s visible in the moonlight.
His voice is quiet, but his words seem to boom around in my head. “The best anyone can hope for is doing better than their parents did. And maybe if you meet the right person, together you screw up your kids way less than you’ve been screwed up.”
I don’t know why, but hot tears start to pool in my eyes. I’m still readying an intelligent response when I note his voice has hardened slightly. “I need to talk to dipshit since he’s involved. Think he’ll listen if I call him?”
I smother a groan but force away the reluctance Jed’s name brings. After all, I brought him into this. I asked for his help and then told him I was coming up here.
It’s my fault he’s now a part of the plan. “Maybe don’t call him dipshit though,” I say through gritted teeth.
TUESDAY 3.37AM
Hunter
My body is near frozen as I creep across the grass. I check behind me, making sure Natalie isn’t following before I slip into the trees. Every one of my nerves is primed and on alert. I have no way of knowing whether this is going to work.
When I reach the burnt out remains of Natalie’s cabin, my entire body is covered in sweat. My hands are shaking, and I’m pretty sure if I had anything in my stomach, I would have thrown up by now.
I’ve never had this much to lose before. Everything hinges on how this plays out. If Eddie Falcone shoots me on sight, I’m not just killing myself; I’m probably killing Natalie too.
I edge out of the trees, eyes darting around in the low light, muscles ready to move when I need to. I see him before he sees me. One of Falcone’s grunts like I was by the looks of his build. His back is to me, and he’s busy pulling out a map and laying it on the hood of an SUV.
Natalie’s truck is still here, but the doors are open, and everything has been pulled out, and I’m pretty sure I know millions of reasons why he’s been searching.
I can’t see anyone else. Either this guy came alone, which is unlikely, or he’s a scout sent to check out the environment.
I grit my teeth and inch past him, using the trees as cover until I’m past the vehicle and at the track. I pick up my pace until I’m jogging down the side of the track as fast as I can without risking sliding over and busting my ass.
I reach the road winded and need a couple of minutes to recover. The wind is biting cold as I jog past the laundromat, the coffee shop, and the vet clinic.
As far I can recall, Falcone Senior refuses to stay in hotels rated less than five stars. Since there is only one bed and breakfast upmarket enough for him to even consider staying in, I head south and hope that the scout isn’t going to move up the mountain until the others arrive.
Three more SUVs are parked in the lot along with a couple other cars. I take a minute to find my breath again and skirt the building until I find a fire escape.
My heart is slamming in my chest as I pull out my lock pick and get to work. I ease through the door in seconds and pause as I wait for any signs someone has heard me.
It takes me a few minutes to locate the sign in registry so I know which room Eddie Falcone is staying in.
The house is still and silent, but in another hour, the owner will be up, getting breakfast ready for her guests, and then I’ll have an entirely different set of problems to contend with.
I keep my footsteps as light as possible given the age of the house and the loose floorboards and withdraw my lock pick. With a lock this basic, I have the door open in thirty seconds. I shove the pick in my pocket and pull my gun out from the back of my jeans and slowly turn the door handle.
I close the door, keep my back to the wall and scan every corner and every hiding place before I cross the floor towards the four-poster bed.
Falcone is fast asleep snoring with a sleeping mask on. I smirk at him. He’s so supremely confident I’d cower in the mountains that he’s not even considering I’d use the element of surprise. I edge closer and check the room again before pushing the gun against his temple and peeling the mask back.
He snorts awake and reaches for what is likely a weapon under the pillow. I jam the gun harder against his head and shake my head. “I’m not here to kill you, but you move again, I will pull the trigger.”
His eyes narrow until they're nothing more than slits. “You little fuck. Where’s my money?”
I edge back and gesture for him to get out of bed. He yanks his eye mask off, white hair sticking up on end, making him look deranged. “I’m here to make a deal.”
He coughs a laugh. “Dead men don’t make no deals, Sloan.”
I don’t say a word.
Falcone’s lips twitch into a smile. “Your poor little sister. What she must have gone through just so you could betray me to the feds. Smart though, isn’t she? Didn’t tell anyone where she was going, just picked up and left after the funeral.”
I don’t want to discuss my sister’s hasty relocation to New York without the feds consent. It’s like a stab to the chest that I caused her to lose more than I did.
I keep my voice tight. “I didn’t betray you. I was set up. I had no choice but to take the deal.”
His bushy eyebrows rise. “Set up? By who?”
I exhale slowly, never taking my eyes off him. I’ve been waiting two years for this moment. I can’t screw it up now. “Bobby. He took the money and ran. He pinned it on me and told you I was talking when I wasn’t.”
Falcone eyes me. Seconds tick away as we just stare at each other. Sweat starts to drip down my spine as he just sits in his silk pajamas eyeballing me. “You expect me to take your word over my only son?”
I lower the gun slightly as a gesture of goodwill. I’m not dumb enough to think he’ll just take my word, Eddie Falcone isn’t going to just roll over and place nice. “I know where he hid some of the money. If I tell you, you leave Natalie out of this, and I disappear again.”
He starts to cackle until his eyes are watering. “You always did have balls, Hunter. But you really expect me to believe you’ll just disappear and never see this woman again? I don’t believe it for a second.”
His expression clouds. “Where is my money?”
I hold his stare and don’t blink. “Since they planned it together, I’m pretty sure your mistress has the money Bobby stole from you locked up in her safe.”
His cheeks flush as his chest starts to rise and fall. “You know what I think, Sloan? I think you’re a desperate man who knows he’s living on borrowed time.”
I gesture to the phone with the gun calling his bluff. “W
hy don’t you have someone check the safe?”
With a scowl in my direction, he leans over and picks up the phone, looking at me as he waits. The phone is picked up on the second ring. “Estelle, I want you to go open Vivian’s safe. Tell me what’s inside it.”
He puts the phone on speaker so I can hear the housekeeper’s clipped British accent. “Right away, Mr. Falcone.”
Falcone keeps his steely-eyed gaze on me as we wait. “She must be some woman to make you come out of hiding.”
I don’t reply. Any information I give him could be used against either me or Natalie. “Where’s Waters?”
Falcone shrugs as if it’s no consequence. “Who?”
I can tell by the smug expression he knows too well where the double-crossing agent is. Probably lying at the bottom of the ravine or dead inside his trunk.
Sweat creeps down my forehead as the seconds draw out into minutes. Finally, his housekeeper comes back on the line. “Are you there, Mr. Falcone?”
“Of course, I’m here. What did you find?”
The housekeeper clears her throat. “Madam Vivian’s safe contains several videotapes labeled ‘Bobby’ and what appears to be a large amount of money, Mr. Falcone.”
Falcone’s thin jaw works as he eyes me. He reaches over and ends the call with all the calculation I’ve come to expect from him. “My son knows nothing about loyalty and honor.”
I steadily lower the gun until it’s resting barrel pointing downwards at the carpet. “I can slip away. No one knows I’m alive. No one needs to know you met with me.”
He sighs and shakes his head like he’s deeply disappointed. “What did you tell the woman?”
My fingers tighten around the gun. “She doesn’t know anything about the case that wasn’t already public. She’s completely clueless.”
Falcone scratches his nose. “She’s a loose end who’s writing a story for her editor that’s what she is.”
Cold sweat creeps down my spine and forehead. My arm is rising again, palm slippery as dread surges through me.
He laughs and raises his hands. “What? Are you going to shoot me? Then what? Shoot everyone here? You’ve got balls Hunter, but you are not a murderer.”
My arm starts to tremble. All the horrific things, all the ways he’s killed people before, are running through my mind.
He’s not going to let this go. I was a fool to think I could get him to see reason. I flick a glance at the pillow at the foot of the bed and feel familiar anger flowing through me.
Falcone is everything I hate about this world. He’s everything Natalie isn’t, and if he lives, he’ll seek her out, and she’ll die in a far worse way than Waters did.
I detach from what I’m considering doing by thinking about Natalie, about what he’d have someone do to her before they slit her throat and dump her body.
I move too quick for him to shout. I shove the pillow over his face and hold him down. He bucks and kicks like a wild man, fighting me until his body stills. I don’t need to check for a pulse to know he’s dead.
Nausea twisting my gut, I slip out, pausing only to wipe my fingerprints off the door handle. My entire body is numb as I ease back out the fire escape and climb down.
I pull my hoodie up over my head and don’t hurry as I walk down the main street. I yank Natalie’s cell from my pocket and dial. He picks up immediately. “Well?”
Even the sound of his voice makes me want to kick his teeth in. “She’s with Jack Holloway. But one of Falcone’s men is already at the clearing; you need to move fast.”
He grunts his response. “Don’t you even think about contacting my wife again you piece of shit or you’ll have an arrest warrant on your head in every damn state.”
I scowl as I walk. “She’s not your fucking wife anymore, dipshit.”
I end the call, switch Natalie’s phone off, jam it in my pocket, and start walking towards the highway. I jerk my thumb out and keep my posture as stooped and defeated as I feel.
I’m a ghost again. A dead man. Just another worthless drifter hitchhiking into the city about to get lost forever.
Natalie will be safe with Jed looking after her, and even though I hate his fucking guts, that’s the only thing I can do for her right now.
Chapter 11.
Natalie
Tuesday 4.48am
I wake to the sound of birds chirping loudly. I stretch, pain burning down the side of face from where Waters slapped me. I’m still disorientated, drowsy from an uneasy sleep, staying warm by being curled up against Hunter’s chest. Hunter?
I twist around, tossing the blankets off me as my heart leaps about. My body groans as I pull my aching legs to standing and grab my purse.
My fingers are stiff with cold as I stumble out onto the frosty grass. I wrap my arms around me, hugging my purse to my chest as I search for Hunter or Jack.
When I can’t see any sign of Hunter outside, I yawn and walk towards the treeline in case Hunter is watching the track up here.
I’m mid-yawn when I hear someone approaching. I freeze mid-step, adrenaline flooding my veins as I inch backward, keeping as quiet as I can. “Jack? Jack Holloway?” Someone calls.
I spin around, wide-eyed as I rush back to the shack. My heart is hammering relentlessly in my chest as I reach the door.
Jack staggers out, rubbing at his eyes as he adjusts the sweater he’s hurriedly pulled on. “He’s here then?”
I shake my head, mouth opening to ask where Hunter is when I hear a voice that makes my confusion deepen. “Nat? It’s okay. Everything’s under control.”
My eyes widen as Jed struts breathless towards me, looking far too pleased with himself. I shake my head. This wasn’t the plan. I spin around and face Jack. “Where’s Hunter?”
Jack looks like he wants to say something, but it’s Jed that answers with a smug look on his face. “He’s gone. You can’t trust a man like Hunter.”
A low growl comes from Jack, but he just turns and hobbles off, muttering to himself, leaving me alone with Jed.
Cold chills spill down my spine as I glare at my ex. Hunter lied to me. Told me he’d wait until Jed arrived then face Falcone with Jed as backup.
And now Jed’s here, staring at me like he’s my hero. His face is far too smug as he extends his hand. “Come on; I’ll take you back to the city.”
Numbness crawls over my skin as he steps forward and tries to take my frozen fingers in his.
I ignore him and walk the few paces to Jack’s fence. “I heard him talk to you.”
Jed shrugs. “The first call you did. The second one he made when you were asleep.”
I’m so angry as we climb down the track in the early morning light, I’m not sure I can be pleasant let alone coherent, so I save my questions until I’m calmer.
Police are everywhere in the clearing. A fire marshal is pouring over the remains of the smoking remains. Everywhere I look, uniformed officers are filling out forms, examining the evidence, and cracking jokes.
I stare wordlessly, feeling utterly humiliated, loss like a raw wound in my middle, only growing as Jed gestures to the empty space where my truck was parked. “Falcone’s man had stripped it pretty good by the time we got here.”
I tune him out. I can guess the rest. I don’t need to hear how my plan to help was overturned while I slept.
While Jed goes to talk to whoever is in charge, I climb into his truck and try not to let him see how devastated I really am. When he’s done talking and looking ridiculously pleased with himself, he slides in behind the wheel and pats my knee. “Let’s get you home. You can put all this shit behind you. You never even have to think about Hunter Sloan again.”
I rest my head back as he drives down the track. He’s wrong. I’ll never be able to stop thinking about Hunter even if I wanted to. “I owe my boss a story,” I mumble.
Jed shakes his head. There’s a hint of regret in his voice. “Falcone Senior is dead. Things are going to either go in our favor while his son sorts
everything out or they’ll get a whole lot worse for you.”
Eddie Falcone is dead? A sob is caught in my throat. Was Hunter planning this all along? Was he planning on murdering Falcone? For me?
I feel sick. My head is starting to pound. He’s gone. But if Jed is right, he can’t come back, not if he killed a man.
Waves of exhaustion roll over my body as we drive through the main street. Police are everywhere. A dozen cars surround the old homestead that Selma Wilkins turned into a bed and breakfast recently. Crime scene tape has been placed around the perimeter, and locals are milling around looking both horrified and excited.
I turn so I’m looking at Jed as we reach the highway. “Did you know Hunter planned to kill him?”
Jed’s jaw tightens, and his fingers grip the wheel tighter. “We found Sloan’s handler’s body in the trunk of his car; there’s no doubt you were next,” is all he says.
I slump against the door. “What will happen to Hunter now?”
His voice gets harder. “I’m not worried about your deadbeat boyfriend. I’m worried about protecting you. If you’re connected in any way to him or to this, this isn’t over, not by a long shot.”
He flicks a look at me. “Get some sleep. You look exhausted. We’ll talk more when we get to your place.”
I’m so bone-weary, so ashamed Jed came to get me like I’m a runaway teenager, I just meekly close my eyes and let the vibrations of the truck lull me into a fitful doze.
MY NECK ACHES FROM sleeping at such an odd angle as I slowly become aware we’re sitting outside my apartment.
I reach inside my purse, searching for my keys as Jed stretches beside me. My brow furrows as I try to locate my phone. Jed seems to understand and places his hand on my knee again as if he has the right to do so. I slap it off and scowl at him. “Stop doing that.”
He shrinks back and looks down at my purse. “If you’re looking for your phone, Hunter took it. It’s probably in the trash.”
I glare at him. My ire rising as I think of the two of them conspiring against me like I’m some damsel in distress incapable of rational thought.