by Debra Kayn
Her shoulders sagged. "Quint."
His chest squeezed. Standing there with her wet clothes clinging to her and her eyes red and swollen, he'd whisk her out of the country if he knew it would allow them to stay together. But men had been after him since he was fifteen years old. It was his life.
He kissed her. "I'll try and get back to the cabin early tonight, okay?"
"I can work—"
"Do it for me. Go pamper yourself." He inhaled deeply. "Please?"
She nodded. He dropped his hands to his sides, and she walked away with her head lowered. Maybe he should put her on a plane and let her go now.
He never expected to grow close to her or have sex turn into a relationship, but her feelings toward him were only half what he felt for her. The emotions she brought out in him, he never thought possible.
Hell, he had no idea they even existed. No one had ever put him first because he'd had no one but caregivers and foster parents growing up. The closest he'd come to care about someone was during the years he was held captive in Mexico.
Anders, Will, Mark, Two-crow, and Joney became like brothers. They'd had each other's back, worried about each other, and shared their fears and dreams when they believed tomorrow would be their last day alive.
But, he couldn't even compare how he felt about Katelynn to the others. He woke up every morning wanting to make her smile and went to sleep every night worried he wasn't enough for her.
Maybe he'd been drawn to her because of her own life experiences. She was a survivor and had taken an impossible situation with her parents and got out of there, taking care of herself. When she'd killed Cord, she'd been alone.
It was natural for him to help her. But, his need to be there for her and be a part of her life had come as a surprise.
He lost sight of Katelynn and set off making his way toward headquarters. It was because he was falling in love with her that he had to send her away.
Chapter 26
True to Quint's word to leave work early, he walked into the cabin at three o'clock. Katelynn set the book down she'd been trying to read all afternoon.
"I take it this is your favorite book, but I have to be honest..." She held up her hand. "It's not really my thing. I know nothing about riding horses, living off the land, and finding life lessons from the trees and sky."
Quint took the novel from her and put it back on the shelf. "It's not my book."
"Whose is it?" She uncurled from the corner of the couch.
He held on to the shelf board. "It belonged to Two-crow."
"Oh," she said softly. "You said belonged...is he or she gone?"
She couldn't remember him ever mentioning someone by that name, and she knew all the employees at the campground.
"He, and yes, he's gone."
"I'm sorry." She moistened her lips. "Was he a friend?"
"More like a brother. I met Two-crow as a teenager. I think he read that book a thousand times over the years." Quint moved away from the wall and inhaled loudly. "Do burgers on the grill sound good for dinner?"
"Sure." She watched him walk into the kitchen.
Knowing he grew up in group homes, he must've met Two-crow then. She looked back at the book. It was the only thing Quint had on the shelf. Actually, the only thing in the whole house that showed a part of his past. Everything else had to do with owning a campground and the outdoor activities he partook in.
Quint carried a plate out the door. Over the space of an afternoon, she'd given up hope of Quint changing his life around to include her. Her feelings were one-sided, and she had to respect his decision that she leave after Labor Day.
She couldn't fault him. He'd told her he enjoyed his life the way it was without her. Their agreement had always been until after Labor Day when the campers left, and he closed Bitterroot Campground.
Only, she'd fallen in love with him. When her attraction to him started, she'd tried hard to stop it. But, it was impossible, because he was Quint.
She went into the kitchen and not finding any hamburger buns, grabbed the loaf of bread and dressed each sandwich with lettuce, mayo, ketchup, pickles, and with no hesitation, used onion, too. Neither one of them were in the mood to worry about how their breath smelled tonight.
Putting a paper towel over each plate in case a fly or no-see-um got into the house, she walked outside to check on the progress of the burgers. Quint glanced over at her and turned the meat.
"I don't have any barbecue sauce," he said.
"That's okay. You don't have buns either, so we're going to use bread." She sat down on the rocker. "I'm not that hungry anyway."
Flames shot up past the grates. Quint leaned back. How many times had they stood beside each other, working as a team, making dinner or ordering supplies at headquarters?
"Quint?" she asked.
"Hm?"
Ever since he'd explained about not wanting to have a relationship at his age, it'd bothered her. Usually, people made choices because they'd either had a bad experience as a child or as an adult and never wanted to live through the bad time again.
At least that's what fed her choices.
She had a feeling he used his age and living arrangement as an excuse. That the real reason he couldn't see having her in his life was because of the trouble she'd brought to Bitterroot Campground. He hid Cord's dead body for her, and as much as she lived each second knowing what she'd done, he probably had his own nightmares...and regrets.
A small part of him probably blamed her, and he had a right to his feelings.
Her head pounded. "I'm sorry."
"For what?" He glanced at her.
She looked out at the yard, unable to face him. Maybe in another time or a different place, if they would've met, things could've turned out differently.
"For walking into your life and everything that followed." She sighed. "I wish I could take it all back and none of what happened had ever touched your life."
"Like I told you before, I'm glad I could help." He turned and took the burgers off the grill, shutting off the burners. "Is there another reason why you're bringing this up again?"
She blinked an extra beat. "I just wanted you to know."
"I know." He closed the lid to the grill and motioned her inside.
Okay. All right. Wonderful. He knew.
She walked inside, emotionally exhausted. Whatever she'd expected from him remained out of touch. If he would've gotten angry or snappy, she would feel better. But he'd shrugged everything off as if the whole summer hadn't mattered. That she hadn't involuntarily forced him to take a role in a crime.
Removing the paper towels from the plates, she stood back as Quint put the hamburgers on the sandwiches. Then, she walked over to the couch and sat, holding the plate on her lap.
Instead of going outside to eat, Quint sat beside her, leaving a foot of space between them. It would've been easier if he had gone out on the porch.
Being near him without the ease of being with him only made her heart hurt worse.
Halfway through his burger, he said, "There are some things that I can't change. I should never have touched you or slept with you."
She choked on the food in her mouth. He patted her back. Having him reject what had happened between them pushed her anger to the surface. Standing up, she walked into the kitchen and got a drink of water from the faucet.
"Don't take what we experienced away from me." Her body shook in frustration. "You're the only..."
He set his plate down and stood. "I'm the only what?"
She stared at him. How could he not see how she was feeling? How he was acting? How wonderful it was when the two of them came together?
"You're the only good thing that's ever happened to me," she whispered.
His eyes softened. "Kate—"
"No." She shook her head. "Don't say anything and ruin this for me. I'll be leaving soon, and I want to keep what we have...this connection."
His shoulders expanded, growing ever broader, and h
e nodded. She tossed her uneaten burger in the trashcan. No amount of time would solve their problem.
Quint wasn't budging, and it wasn't up to her to change his mind. She'd never be satisfied if she believed his feelings weren't one-hundred percent his, and she had somehow forced or convinced him to love her.
She couldn't blame him if he were under the impression that she was desperate for a relationship. Meeting Cord over the internet and traveling to Idaho, having never met him in person, brought a lot of assumptions about her. She knew that. She hated that. But, what could she do?
Wiping down the counter, she glanced at Quint. He stood in front of the window with his back toward her. She set the dishcloth in the sink.
"I think I'll go outside and sit on the porch for a little while." She escaped the cabin.
Staring out into the woods, she willed herself not to cry as she walked to the end of the porch, out of view from the living room window. She'd miss the late sunrises coming over the mountain behind the cabin and the early evenings, listening to the birds as they wound down from their busy day.
She inhaled deeply, wanting to bottle the fresh scent of pine and take it back to Vancouver with her.
The door shut and boots thunked across the porch. She closed her eyes to dispel the tears that clouded her vision and prepared herself to face Quint.
"Katelynn?" Quint's arms came around her, and he pulled her back against his chest.
Thankful to face away from him, she squeezed her eyes shut. There were times she fell right into his opinion that she was too young for him. This was one of those moments.
She had no idea how to grow a relationship. The wall that Quint erected pushed her away. She wished with all her heart, she knew how to scale all the obstacles in her way.
"I don't want to take anything away from what we shared." He kissed the side of her head. "I also won't forget that we had sex or...or what it was like. I shouldn't have said I regretted being with you because that's the farthest thing from the truth. I'll always remember you, Katelynn Pierce."
She clenched her teeth together to keep from opening her mouth and begging him to keep trying to find some love inside of him he could share with her. She wanted to replay his confession every night when she went to bed for a long, long time.
While he wasn't confessing an attachment to her or making promises, he'd given her the truth.
Quint's phone rang. His arms fell away from her. She inhaled deeply, thankful for the interruption that gave her time to get ahold of herself.
"Yeah?" said Quint.
She closed her eyes, hoping he wouldn't have to go back to the campground and they could spend the extra time together.
"What the hell?" The urgency in his voice opened her eyes and had her turning around. He stared at her without seeing her. "Get him out."
Quint whipped around and stormed into the cabin. She followed. Her heart raced, knowing something was wrong by the tone of his voice.
"Jesus Christ. Why can't you?" Quint removed the shotgun from above the door.
She moved out of the way, holding on to the couch.
He opened the long, slim door below the rifle rack and grabbed a pistol and a box of ammunition. She held her breath.
"What about Jaster?"
Katelynn hugged her middle. Something bad was happening.
"How far away from him are you?" Quint stuck the pistol under his belt. "Fuck. I'm on my way but do whatever you can to get to him. It's going to take me a good twenty-five minutes if I speed the whole way." He looked at her while holding the phone to his ear. "I can't leave Katelynn here. I'll need to take her over to the Lair, so tack on a half hour more."
Her stomach spasmed, and she stepped toward him, afraid that whatever was going on would take him away from her. She didn't want to leave him or the cabin.
"I can't." His eyes flinched, and he looked away. "She'll know."
Several tense moments passed, and Quint disconnected the call. He turned to her. "We need to leave."
"You go wherever you need to go. I'll stay here." She hugged her middle.
In his current mood, she wanted to stay away from whatever upset Quint.
"You can't stay here." He looked down her body at her feet. "Put your shoes on and meet me at the truck, and hurry."
He rushed out the door. His urgency spurred her forward. She slid her feet into her sneakers and hurried outside.
Quint sat in the truck, the motor running. She climbed into the passenger seat. The momentum of him turning around and heading down the driveway kept her from buckling up until they entered the campground.
Only when they got out to the highway, could she no longer hold back her curiosity. "Where are we going?"
"Will's cabin." He looked over his left shoulder and merged with traffic, speeding ahead.
He raced on the interstate. She held on to the armrest, afraid to ask him more questions.
She'd never seen him so rushed. Even after she'd stabbed Cord, Quint had dealt with the aftermath calmly and handled her patiently.
Watching him out of her peripheral vision, she barely recognized him. His hands clenched the steering wheel. His cheeks twitched underneath his beard. But it was his eyes that made her feel as if she was looking at a stranger.
Chapter 27
"Stay in the truck. Lock the doors." Quint shut Katelynn in the vehicle and carrying the shotgun, ran the six feet to Anders' Hummer where he sat with Mark.
His heart raced. Not from exertion but from the sight of the four dogs tied to the porch of Will's cabin. Sweat rolled down his temples and his shirt stuck to his back. His reaction was always the same when forced to be in sight of a dog.
Four dogs sent him to a place he was afraid he'd never come back from.
He understood more than most people that you couldn't outrun an animal who craved the taste of blood.
Closing the door to Anders' truck, he gasped for breath. "What are you waiting for? Will's inside. Let's shoot the dogs."
Mark handed him his cell phone. "Take a look first."
He stared at the screen. Sweat burned the corners of his eyes. He tapped the play button.
On the video, Will hung by his neck from a rope tied from the rafter in his cabin. His hands fought against the pressure, strangling him. The tips of his boots struggled to find purchase on the piece of log underneath him.
Quint exhaled harshly, holding the phone closer. Will's hoarse grunts as he tried to breath came over the speaker.
"We need to go help him," he said, reaching for the shotgun between his knees.
"Look at the time on the message." Anders ran his hand over his face. "Then, look at the next video that was sent to me twenty minutes ago."
He looked at Anders and Mark. Both of them sat still, staring at the cabin or the dogs. Their lack of urgency to save Will pissed him off.
"Fuck," he muttered, scrolling to the next text. They had no time to waste. Will wouldn't last long. The damage to his neck and not being able to breathe—if he passed out, the rope would kill him.
He tapped play.
Somehow, between the first and the second video, the rope around Will's neck had loosened enough to allow him to teeter on the upright log beneath him.
"Stay away," said Will, hoarsely, looking at the camera. "It's over for me."
Quint glanced at Anders and Mark, who looked straight ahead. Will's voice drew him back to the phone screen.
"They've made it impossible for anyone to come in." Will's gaze raised to somewhere higher in the room. "You open that door, and you'll be killed."
Quint rubbed his eyes, clearing the sweat out of his vision. It wasn't the sound going out on the video. Will grew weaker.
"You know." Will stared into the camera. "You know."
Knew what? Quint's head pounded. They'd figure out some way to save him.
"I'm tired." Will coughed, his knees buckling on him, pulling the rope tight around his neck.
For several minutes, Quint watched
Will struggle. He wanted to go to him. He wanted to keep Jaster and McCloud from hurting Will more. He wanted to kill them for what they'd done.
The veins at Will's temples protruded. His face turned deep red from lack of oxygen.
Quint's stomach cramped and his hand holding the phone shook. He wanted to look away, but he couldn't.
Finally, Will's foot found the log, and balancing, afforded him a couple of inches of relief from the rope choking him. Quint panted as if he, too, was suffocating.
"It's over for me," whispered Will.
Quint held his breath. The silence in the Hummer allowed his heartbeat to echo in his head. They'd promised each other never to give up. They'd lost Joney and Two-crow already. They couldn't lose Will, too.
Will looked at the camera, coughed, and closed his eyes as he gained control again. When he opened his eyes, they were clear. Yet, when he opened his mouth, no sound came. Quint leaned toward the phone and tilted his head.
Finally, barely a whisper, Will said, "Thank you for being the ones who loved me."
Quint's head snapped back as his pulse accelerated. He wanted to stop the video. He wanted to yell for Will to stop. He wanted to give him a hundred reasons why he should fight.
Deaf to the others, he stared at the screen as Will's legs voluntarily bent and he kicked the log over with the toe of his boot, making it impossible to save himself.
Quint gasped for breath and stared at the screen as Will's body twitched and flopped like a fish on the bank of the river taking its last breath.
After several minutes, Will's body stilled at the end of the rope. Quint threw the phone up on the dash.
Every nerve in his body jolted. He sucked in air as his stomach cramped and his throat closed, gagging him.
The dogs paced on a six-foot lead, winding themselves around the poles and then walking the other way. Nervous, full of energy, the animals looked for a reason to attack. The scars on Quint's legs and arms burned from the memory of all the dogs that had faced him in the past, fighting to the death.
"He—" Anders cleared his throat. "He said we can't go inside. The place is booby-trapped."