There were conspiracy theories that speculated I was still alive. Most were recreational internet groups, but the cartel and Mark had their eyes everywhere. I wasn’t ever going to be truly safe. This was as good a hiding place as any. The police knew where I was, but with no one to prosecute and no reason to hold me hostage, they let me live here without forcing me back into the witness protection program. It’s dangerous but had become less so to the point that my life was just monotonous and boring.
The cabin was well camouflaged by trees in the heavily wooded remote area. The only thing I had to worry about were the glass windows. In the light of breaking dawn, they’d reflect across the valley. Anyone would’ve known it wasn’t a reflection which could naturally occur in a forest as dense as Eagle Mountain’s.
At night I made sure to shutter the thick metal overlays which obliterated any light generated in the cabin. After sunrise, I could open the metal shutters and enjoy the incredible view of the mountains and valley below. This place would’ve been heaven if it wasn’t also a prison.
That morning had started like any other morning. I got out of bed wearing my favorite pair of flannel pajama bottoms and went to the small media room to check security footage from the night before. I’d outfitted the house with several cameras, both around the periphery and in the nearby woods. I also had infrared scanners which could detect human movement and activity from at least a mile away.
Since the cabin was so remote, having only one dirt road and no signposts or lights, the only people who ever traveled this way were the delivery service I used to deliver my necessities each month and the occasional lost traveler. Since interactions with anyone were dangerous, I simply watched what was happening around me without engaging with anyone.
The lost travelers would go up the hill to discover a dead end and make their way back down again. My cabin couldn’t be seen from the road, or from the air; it was almost as invisible as was I. The previous night’s surveillance had shown me the antics of a family of raccoons who’d darted up and around my porch looking for food, with the younger male raccoons scuffling for dominance.
My friend the black bear and her cubs had come by sometime in the early morning probably looking for their last meal before hibernating and there was a constant buzz of woodland rodents scurrying this way and that. Just a normal day on my mountain, nothing scary or nefarious to worry about, so I decided to raise the blinds and let the sun in.
This was the best part of my morning, opening up to the natural world around me. I would never get tired of the view. Crystal blue skies, graced by pillowy white clouds, with evergreen trees towering above to the sky, perfuming the air with intoxicating aromas of cedar and pine. I’d open the window and let the scents waft in to chase out the stuffy musk of seclusion.
Next on my morning agenda was always coffee, the rich espresso was imported from Italy. I craved tastes, smells and textures more than ever as they made my isolation more bearable. Breakfast was a fresh fruit, yogurt, and juice smoothie, and then a hike in the mountains behind the cabin before I started work. Every day it was the same routine, it kept me sane and made me feel like my life had a purpose.
Looking down from the mountain, I could only see a hint of the solar panels on the cabin, but I knew what I was looking for. To the untrained eye, the large black glass panels looked like a small body of dark murky water. The tiny house with its bullet-proof shutters and intentional lack of human presence seemed even more lonely when seen from the mountaintop.
I decided to take a hike to the tiny house I had at the top of the nearby mountain and at about ten o’clock when I returned from my hike, I fired up my Mac Book Pro and got to work analyzing data and diving into my research. For company, I listened to the CB radio and chatter from truckers and workmen on local construction sites. I found their banter comforting and it informed me about happenings on the mountain. I also listened to the police scanner at the same time. It made for a bit of noise pollution, but after hours of deafening silence, a little auditory chaos was welcome and helped me think.
I liked the comfortable underscore of white noise and information. Apparently, the biggest storm of the season was expected to hit that night. I hated those kinds of storms. They were dark and foreboding and often snowed in the roads and pathways making me feel even more isolated and trapped in this place.
My heart raced just thinking of what the night was going to be like. The metal shutters on the house could be warmed to melt the snow around the house, but in order to open and close the front door properly, I’d have to shovel away the layers that piled on the porch. I did have a snow blower, but I hated lugging it around.
These storms were dark and miserable and often brought the demons in my psyche to the forefront. I hated grief, it robbed my soul, but on dark stormy nights, grief was often my only companion.
“Charlie, Charlie,” the CB radio cracked.
“Charlie, over,” A jovial man’s deep and rasping voice responded.
“What’s your ETA? Over?” The first man, maybe a younger man, asked.
“Gonna be in before that black cloud is, over,” he said offering assurance to the younger man.
“Ma’s cooking a goose, she wants everyone home tonight, she’s tellin’ me to tell you to get home now. You won’t answer your cell, over,” the younger man scolded.
“Lost reception. Tell Mom I’m fine. If I don’t make it home, I’m at the Rusty Spoon. Over and out.” He sounded like he had no intention of making it home for Ma’s goose, that made me laugh, wonder who was at the Rusty Spoon?
“Ma’s gonna kill you if she doesn’t see your face, over!” the younger man shouted.
“So will Lucy. Over and out again, lil’ bro. Tell Mom not to worry,” the older man was getting what he needed tonight, and it wasn’t going to be Ma’s goose.
Strangely the line went to static, either the brothers were out of range or that storm was gonna blow the roof off the place. I had my own satellite tower which was private and encrypted so I would probably still have internet and cell reception. It rarely went out, but a big storm could damage the tower and that’d be a problem. I looked out the window, crystal blue skies to the west and menacing blackness to the east. We had maybe a few hours left before everything would go dark. I made sure to make the most of it and took my laptop outside. Despite the cold, it was probably going to be the last daylight I’d see for a while.
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About the Author
Sarah has been writing since she was 16 years old and has published multiple Amazon bestselling books. No matter if her heroes are Billionaires, Bad Boys or both - she loves to write about hot and sexy alpha males, who are protective and sometimes bossy, as well as the women they crave. Her exciting stories are always steamy, with a lot of twists and turns and a guaranteed HEA that leaves you satisfied after a wild ride - just like it should be in the bedroom, you know?
Sarah loves to travel the world, because new places always inspire her. Right now she enjoys time in Europe while writing new books.
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