26

They moved to her bed, which was small and sagging but clean—none of which mattered with her in his arms.

They’d lain there for a while, her head on his chest, when she broke the silence.

“I’m getting him out tonight.”

He stiffened.

“I’ll drive.” He paused. “Shit.”

She leaned up on an elbow. “What is it?”

“I don’t have my truck.”

She looked at him, confused. “What do you mean? How’d you get here?”

“It’s a long story.”

She sat up and leaned forward until the numbers on the microwave came into view. “We’ve got time.”

“You have this planned out then?”

She shrugged. “I leave here at two.”

“How were you planning to get there?”

“Walking.”

“Jesus, Abby. And then, what? You and Sammy would walk back here?”

“Yes.”

“You weren’t going to tell me, were you?”

Slowly, she shook her head, softening the blow with sweet, shiny eyes and a soft hand to his cheek. “This is your life, Luc. I can’t ruin your life.”

“No?” He mirrored her movement, touching the backs of his fingers against skin that was crushingly soft. “Non, mon amour?”

She put her ear back to his chest and her vigil over his heart, which was quickly breaking beyond repair.

When her breathing grew deep and regular and he was pretty sure she’d fallen asleep, he pulled away as carefully as he could, got out of bed, and dressed, shocked that she didn’t wake. He wanted to kiss her again before leaving but couldn’t risk it.

The hardest part, as he left her small nest above the Nook, was nudging Le Dog back inside and hoping he didn’t start crying or doing something else that would wake her. But it was a risk he was willing to take. Bringing the dog—or the woman—with him was not an option.

He crept down the stairs and out the back door into the cold, clear night. Above the parking lot, a single bare bulb shone, a solitary glow against the night. Nothing like the fancy streetlamps on Main Street meant for the tourists; this mean bulb was purely utilitarian. No prettiness here, nothing to distract from the dumpsters and the stink and what was possibly a puddle of vomit a few feet along the gravel drive.

He sucked it all in on a whoosh: the stench, the remorse of leaving her. A look around showed a dead downtown, cars congregated around this building, but nothing else moving. Luc didn’t want to go back into the bar. Nor did he want to call a cab or an Uber. Nobody else should be involved in what he had to do right now.

* * *

Abby woke up alone and groggy, in the half-light of her new apartment, sure that something was wrong. It took a few beats for things to click into place, but once they did, she was up and getting dressed. It was still before two, the bar downstairs audibly winding down for the night. Luc couldn’t have left that long ago, could he?

How dare he? How dare he leave when this was her mission to accomplish? Le Dog got up and stretched as she pulled on her new clothing—suddenly too tight rather than freeing. At the last minute, she remembered to grab the keys she’d have to get used to carrying around. Someday. Someday this would all be normal, and then maybe she’d wish for her old life again.

Doubtful.

She patted Le Dog on the head and, after a few seconds’ hesitation on the landing, went toward the bar instead of out the back door.

Rory blinked when he saw her.

“You here to help close up, love?” he said above the loud music.

“Oh, I hadn’t—”

“That was a joke.” He paused, eyeing her closely before his eyes flicked over her shoulder. “Where’s your bloke?”

“He left.”

Rory frowned. “You give me the word, and I’ll—”

“No. I just… I need to go after him. What’s the best way?”

“You can’t call an Uber in Blackwood, love.”

Abby blinked. She had no idea what that meant.

“Right.” Rory went to grab something from behind the bar and threw it at her. A set of keys that dropped to the floor before she could catch them.

“The truck’s old, but she runs fine. Just don’t too push her too hard on the uphills. She’s out back, parked beside the rubbish.”

She blinked. “Oh, I couldn’t—”

“Go catch him, love.” He paused. “Go on.”

She turned to go and then stopped to turn back. “I’m sorry, Rory. But I have another favor to ask.”

His brows rose. “Go on then.”

“There’s a dog upstairs. Luc’s dog. I hope that’s okay.”

“As long as it doesn’t piss all over, I don’t mind what you do up there.”

“Thank you, Rory. I owe you—”

“Go. Go on. Catch your bloke and give him what for.”

He shooed her out and went to calm a loud group of men insisting they hadn’t missed last call as Abby went out back to find the truck.

* * *

The walk to the mountain was long and cold, despite working up a sweat inside his parka. Somewhere around mile five, it started snowing, which would have added insult to injury. But by that time, Luc had developed such a steady rhythm that he hardly noticed it at all.

Jesus. He was really going to do this, wasn’t he? Forget about everything he’d worked for, ignore the danger to his land, his livelihood, and himself, and attack the crazy cult next door.

Not attack. Stealthily infiltrate.

The strange thing, though, was that there was no regret when he considered everything he risked losing. Not an ounce of fear, either, which he couldn’t possibly attribute to the glass of wine he’d consumed earlier.

His feet crunched up the road, gravel and snow and ice making the footing treacherous, keeping his mind on the here and now.

The smart thing would be to call Navarro, to get him involved now, because that made sense, instead of rushing in there on his own like some demented, French Rambo.

Rambeau, he thought with a snicker.

Going serious again, he reminded himself that Abby didn’t want that. And Abby had good reasons for things, didn’t she?

They’re all waiting for the Apocalypse, she’d said. They’re expecting the End of Days. And I’m beginning to think Isaiah would not be against bringing it about himself, if need be.

The whole thing rigged to blow.

Abby doesn’t want me to do this either, he reminded himself with a stab to the gut.

By the time Luc reached the bottom of his drive, the sweat inside his coat didn’t keep him from shivering. He’d left his place open to attack again, gone for hours—although they wouldn’t know that, with his truck parked in front of the cabin. But there was that same fear at the back of his throat: the possibility that they’d attacked him while he was gone, and he was impotent against them.

Well, fuck that. He was done being scared, done worrying. Done letting them walk all over him. And more than anything, he was done letting them walk all over Abby.

* * *

Abby hadn’t driven in a while, although she’d done it a few times on market duty. In fact, she’d even had a driver’s license made. Of course, Isaiah’d taken it away from her. For safekeeping.

The closer she got to the mountain, the tighter her stomach twisted, and still, there was no sign of Luc. This truck was older than anything she’d driven before, and she kept her pace slow, despite the nerves trying to shove her foot onto the accelerator. It was a good thing, too, because she might not have seen him if she hadn’t been inching along in the newly falling snow.

She pulled up beside him, leaned over, and used the hand crank to roll down the window.

“Luc!”

He stopped and turned to squint at the truck, and even from here, the man looked cold.

“Get in! Come on!”

Shaking his head, he turned and waited for her to pull up the lock before opening the door and climbing in beside her.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m getting Sammy,” he said, and for the first time in her life, Abby had the urge to hit someone. Not hard, just…

She grabbed him by the collar instead and shook him before plastering her mouth to his in a hard kiss. He kissed her back with equal vigor, his lips as cold as ice.

“You are a…a nightmare.” She bit out the words before letting him go and putting the truck back into drive. “You have a plan?”

“First, I was going to get my gun,” he said with what sounded like humor, “and possibly defrost my feet. And then I was going to get Sammy out.”

“Yes?” She nodded, as slow and calm as she could.

“Yes.”

“You’re a…a stupid man.”

“I am.” His hand covered hers on the steering wheel. “But you were going to do the same.”

“I wasn’t going to go in like some…dumb, stupid man.”

He chuckled, and the feeling that sound brought up in her chest should have worried her. Instead, it warmed her up.

“We go in quietly and get him out. Together.”

“All right,” he said with a sigh. “Together. We go together.” He moved his hand to her thigh and gave her a squeeze that lit her up inside, the sensation utterly inappropriate in this moment, but so good that she almost purred.

“We can’t drive in now that they’ve put up the guard.”

She swung her face around. “Guard?”

He sighed, hard, as if he hadn’t meant to say that. “They’ve been watching me.”

“That’s why you don’t have your truck tonight?”

“Yes.”

“Through the fence, then.”

“We’d need tools for that, and we can’t drive up to my cabin without them seeing us.”

“Right.” They must have been keeping Sammy in the Center with the kids. “Your driveway. That place where it runs up on the fence.”

“The snowbank we got stuck in on the way out.”

“Exactly. By the slaughterhouse.”

“Where will he be?”

She doused the lights and started up his drive, passed the slaughterhouse, and parked, hidden from view, keys dangling from the ignition. Ready to run.

She laid a gloved hand on Luc’s, stalling him.

“Let me out, Luc. I’ll do it. I’ll go in.”

He shook his head, pressed his forehead to hers, and whispered, “We do this together, Abby. Now, where is Sammy?”

She inhaled his warmth. “The Center.”

“Okay.”

He gave her a hard kiss and pulled away, then seeming to change his mind, he grabbed her hand, threw a sidelong glance her way, and whispered, “We’re in this together. But once we get him out, you leave town. You take him and go.”

“I know, Luc.” Though she didn’t want to. She wanted to stay with him. She wanted to be his family.

“Don’t worry about me. Just leave town.”

“I will.” Lord, those words were the saddest thing she’d ever said, each syllable like ripping out a piece of her heart.

“That way?”

“Yes.” Before they took off, he went to the back of the truck and came back with an ax.

Abby followed closely behind Luc, marveling at how much better these boots were than the shoes she’d had to walk in before. The sky over the mountain was changing as they climbed the low fence and trudged toward the Center as quietly as they could over the hard-crusted snow. Strange to see this place in the cold light of dawn.

Dawn. It shouldn’t be dawn for a few hours yet.

About twenty feet from the main double doors, Abby stopped and threw her head back. The clouds shone bright orange.

“Luc,” Abby gasped, but he’d already seen it. Probably smelled the smoke, too. “Go, Luc. Run. Go take care of your vines.” Her whisper came out harsh and frantic and much too loud. She expected him to run, but he didn’t. Of course he wouldn’t.

Instead, he took hold of her hand and continued the trek forward, shaking his head and muttering what she thought might have been “Together.”