Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 78603 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 393(@200wpm)___ 314(@250wpm)___ 262(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78603 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 393(@200wpm)___ 314(@250wpm)___ 262(@300wpm)
Aubree leans her head against the window, and I can practically feel her disappointment rolling off her in waves. I want to reach over, rub her shoulder, something—anything—to comfort her. But I don’t. I just keep driving.
After a while, she starts talking again, filling in more details about the threats. How she got an email with a crudely photoshopped image of a broken pizza sign, her shop’s sign, made to look like it was burning. “That’s when my mom hired Maddox Security,” she says. “I guess she was right. I should’ve done it sooner.”
“You did the best you could at the time,” I reply, my voice quiet. “Nobody expects something like this until it happens.”
She nods, tears gathering again, but this time she blinks them back. “I can’t believe I might lose my shop,” she says, voice trembling. “I’ve worked so hard for it. Seven years, Boone.”
My throat tightens. “We’ll do everything we can to make sure that doesn’t happen. And in the meantime, just focus on staying safe. I can’t help you rebuild if you end up hurt—or worse.”
She swallows, glancing my way. There’s gratitude and sadness in her expression, and maybe a flicker of something else. Something that reminds me how she felt in my arms the other night, how I almost lost my damned head over her. I shove the thought away and focus on the road.
The trees grow thicker as we climb a gentle slope, the road twisting and turning. The safe house is a friend-of-a-friend’s cabin near a lake, if I recall correctly. I’ve never been there in person, but I have a rough idea of where we’re going. Supposedly, it’s secure, out of the way, and rarely visited. Dean said the owners are traveling abroad, which suits our situation perfectly.
I keep my eyes peeled for the turnoff. The sunlight filters through the foliage, creating patches of shade and light across the asphalt. Another ten minutes or so, and we’ll arrive.
I glance at Aubree again, her features drawn in exhaustion. She’s been through hell—anyone can see that. The guilt pricks at me once more, reminding me I’m the reason she can’t even call her mother. But the moment she’s in a truly safe spot, I’ll figure out a way to get a message to her mom discreetly—assuming Dean can clear the step-father of suspicion. If not, well… we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.
Finally, I spot the unmarked dirt road that leads down to the lake. I slow the truck, turning onto the path, branches scraping the sides of the vehicle. The further we go, the quieter it becomes. No passing cars, no houses in sight—just dense woods and the occasional chirp of birds.
Aubree sits up straighter, peering through the windshield. “Where are we?”
“Just about there,” I answer, scanning for the right fork in the road. “The place is tucked away, so we might have to do some searching to find it.”
After a few hundred yards, the path branches. I take the right fork, which slopes downward toward a distant gleam of water. The truck bounces over rocks and ruts, the tires kicking up dust. Eventually, we come to a clearing. A small, single-story cabin stands at the edge of a lake, framed by towering pines. The water sparkles in the midday sun, and for a moment, it’s almost picturesque—like a painting.
I park the truck near a weathered wooden porch. Cutting the engine, I wait, scanning the surroundings. Everything looks deserted—no other vehicles, no sign of recent activity. My phone vibrates in my pocket, and I fish it out. Dean’s name appears on the screen, but I ignore it for now. First, I need to secure the property.
“Stay here,” I tell Aubree firmly, though I already know what she’ll say.
“But—”
“Stay,” I repeat, fixing her with a stare. “I’m just gonna scout the place, make sure nobody’s around.”
She folds her arms, but I see the worry in her eyes. “Fine,” she mumbles, sinking back into her seat.
Gun in hand, I step out of the truck, the door creaking. The air here is cooler, carrying the scent of pine and lake water. My boots crunch on gravel as I move around the cabin, checking windows and doors. No signs of forced entry, no footprints in the dirt except for animal tracks. Once I’m satisfied, I unlock the front door with a code given to me by Dean.
The interior is small, just a living room, a kitchen, one bedroom, and a bathroom. Minimal furniture—a couch, a table, a couple of chairs, a bed. Dust motes float in the beams of sunlight from the windows, suggesting it’s been empty for a while. Perfect. This is exactly what I need: a secure, out-of-the-way location nobody would think to check.
I do a final sweep, then head back outside. Aubree’s perched on the edge of the truck’s seat. I open her door, and she steps out, glancing around like she expects someone to jump from behind a tree. “All clear,” I say, tucking the gun away. “Let’s get your stuff inside.”