Ariel

 

We pull into the driveway of a massive log cabin. The wraparound porch is larger than my apartment in New York. It sits at the top of a mountain, no real level yard, just a slope. Huh, maybe that’s an added advantage. You can definitely see someone coming.

The car stops, giving the garage door time to open before Zack pulls inside.

The garage is bare, just a few empty shelves lining one wall. One red five-gallon gas can sits in the far corner.

Zack pulls a key from his pockets and opens the door. He steps inside first, looks around, then waves me in.

It’s breathtaking. Round wooden beams hold up high ceilings and then double as rails for the staircase. Wooden floors are covered in thick rugs. It makes me want to kick my shoes off just to feel it squish between my toes. High windows show off the view of the mountains. With the fall leaves, it’s a gorgeous sight. But it’s also more open than I’m used to and my heart races with anxiety.

“All clear,” Zack says as he walks back to the living room. “You can have the master bedroom.”

I glance back at the large window before I face Zack. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” His eyes linger on my throat. “The doctor said not to get your dressing wet for seven to ten days, depending on how it looks.”

“Okay.” I give him a slight smile, one that doesn’t reach my eyes. “I’m going to take a bath and lie down for a while.”

I perform the menial task of running water in the oversized corner bathtub, gazing around at the expensive white tile while I wait for the tub to fill.

Slowly, I strip the clothes from my body, one garment at a time. My mind is blank. Everything is too much and I think I’ve found my breaking point.

Sinking into warm water feels good on my back. I make sure the water can’t get higher than my chest.

I’m all alone . . .

Again . . .

My mind shifts to Luca, and I wonder if he knows where I am. Does he miss me?

Every time I think of Luca stroking my hair when I lay sick on the couch, Davie’s face shatters the memory. My heart races as sobs tear from my throat. I thought I was dead . . . I knew I was dead.

It’s not fair! I think as my lower lip quivers, tears streaming like a river down my face. I don’t even care.

When I’ve finished shedding a thousand tears, I take a deep breath and feel better. It’s amazing how letting it all out helps, at least a little.

When I climb out of the tub and towel off, I’m surprised to see clothes in the closet and in the chest of drawers. There isn’t a lot: T-shirts, sweatshirts, jogging pants. I have my dirty underclothes with me that can easily be washed.

Grabbing a plain grey sweatshirt, I pull it over my head, and then put on a dark blue pair of jogging pants. When I walk back to the living room, Agent Cummings . . . Zack, is sitting on the white leather couch.

“Feel better?” he asks, a magazine in his hand.

“A little.” No need to lie. This is a terrible situation. Three years of not living and I still got caught.

He closes the magazine. “Would you like something to eat?”

“No, thanks.” I sit down in the chair opposite Zack, a glass coffee table separating the two of us. “What happens now?”

“We wait until the trial. I don’t think we’ll need you to testify, but the Diaz family might blame you for Davie’s death.”

I lean back in the chair as dread pools in my gut. “For how long?”

“Until the trial?”

“No, how long do I have to be in protective custody?”

Zack sighs, then rubs his forehead before admitting, “At least until the trial ends.”

I glance around the cabin again and know this is my new home for a few months. Not that I want to be here, but I tried it my way and it didn’t work. My only options now are to pick up and start over in a new city with a new name, or wait it out and go back to New York, back to my friends, back to Luca.

“How did you find me so fast?”

When he averts his eyes momentarily, I’m on high alert. I’ve trusted men in the past, sort of, and I’m not inclined to trust wholeheartedly right now. Not after Matt.

“Mr. Damonte told us you had been taken, gave us a picture of the guy who kidnapped you. We instantly knew who he was and who he worked for.”

 Luca told them. Luca told them so he knows I didn’t just leave without saying goodbye. A weight lifts from my shoulders and I breathe a little easier.

“Can I call him? Let him know that I’m okay?” I need to hear his voice. His arms are the only place I’ve ever felt safe.

Zack is shaking his head while he says, “No, I’m sorry. There are no phones, and no Wi-Fi here. Even if there were, they’d be off-limits.”

My heart hammers in my chest. No Wi-Fi? Seriously? What does he expect me to do for . . . “How long until the trial?”

He hesitates . . . again. “I’m not sure.”

I cock my head to the side. “How about a guess.”

He shrugs, then opens the magazine again. “Maybe six months if we’re lucky.”

I jump to my feet. “Six months? Six months? You expect me to sit here with nothing to do for six months?”

Blue eyes shoot to mine, almost as if he can’t believe the outburst. But what does he expect? My entire world has just been turned upside down.

“It may not take that long. And we don’t have to stay in the cabin the entire time. We can go out.”

Slack-jawed, I ask, “How can we go out? Won’t that make me an easy target?”

He lets out a long slow breath. “No. This is not a designated safe house. It actually belongs to a buddy of mine who is out of the country right now. This is a tourist town and very easy to hide in.”

He sits on the couch with his right ankle resting on his left knee as he turns the pages of the Bow Hunting magazine. I don’t know if he’s a hunter, or if that’s the only magazine in the cabin.

My anger abates slightly. “Okay, then.” There’s no rebuke if we’re allowed to go out. It sounds more like we’re on a really long vacation.

I study the man I will be living with for the next six months. He’s handsome with his sandy blond hair, deep blue eyes, and strong jaw sporting two days’ worth of stubble. He’s very easy on the eyes, not that that matters.

One last glance at Zack and I head to the kitchen to see if there is any wine. Not that I expect there to be.

Sitting next to the refrigerator against the wall is an unopened bottle of Apothic Red. My eyes narrow as I grab a glass from the cabinet, pop the cork, and pour the glass half full before heading back to the living room.

“What are you not telling me?” I plop down on the chair and take a sip of wine.

Zack looks up with his eyebrows pulled close. “Nothing, why?”

“Let’s see.” I tick off the facts with my fingers. “You found me very quickly at Davie’s house. I can’t have any contact with anyone. You know I prefer tea, and there is a bottle of my favorite wine sitting in the kitchen.” I take a sip and stare suspiciously at the man in front of me. The wine tastes good.

“Should you be drinking that? I don’t think you should mix pain pills and alcohol.”

“I’m not. I haven’t taken any pain pills today.”

He closes the magazine and sits up a little straighter. “What was that red liquid in the pill bottle?”

I feel my checks burn red from embarrassment. It was a harebrained idea to begin with, and to have to tell someone about it . . .

“You didn’t answer my questions.”

“What was in the pill bottle?”

It’s a stare off, neither willing to concede first. I take another sip of wine while he patiently waits, his gaze never leaving mine. Finally, I look away first and answer.

“Nothing. It was just a stupid plan I came up with.”

Zack leans forward and rests his elbows on his knees. “Tell me.”

He’ll probably think I’m stupid, but what does it matter?

“I was at work one night when this guy left his medicine behind. I had every intention of returning it to him, but it slipped my mind.” I take another sip and continue. “When Matt . . . Alex kidnapped me, the bottle fell out of my purse and lodged under the driver’s seat. My hands were tied, but after a while I managed to grab it and hide it in my bra.”

I swallow hard and mask it with a sip of wine. I hate admitting to this crazy idea. After a brief silence, I take one more drink and finish the story. “I decided that I would kill Davie, or myself if I couldn’t find a way to escape the hell I knew would come. I used a paperclip and poked a hole in the end of the gel caps, knowing that if I got the opportunity to slip the liquid into his drink, it would bottom his blood pressure and he would either pass out or die. With that much medicine, I was betting it would kill him.”

I take another big drink to keep from grinning. I know it was a stupid idea, but I was desperate. And the look on Zack’s slack-jawed face and his incredulous round eyes almost makes me want to laugh. “I never got the chance,” I say with amusement, “because the FBI saved the day.”

After a few stunned moments, he asks, “How many pills were in the bottle?”

“I think twenty-seven.”

He frowns and says slowly, “Twenty-seven days of high blood pressure medicine. I’d say it would kill an ogre.”

“I doubt that, but maybe a normal-sized man. But to actually pull it off was a problem I hadn’t figured out yet.” I take another sip of wine, and after licking my lips, I ask, “So how does this protective custody thing work? Do I stay here alone, or does someone stay with me?”

Again, he hesitates. “I’ll stay here with you.”

Maybe I’m wrong, but this doesn’t feel like it would be kosher. Not one girl shacked up in a cabin with a FBI agent. Shouldn’t there be at least two? Maybe even a female FBI agent present?

“I’m getting another glass of wine. Want one?”

“No thanks.”

I stand. “Suit yourself,” I say as I head back to the kitchen. Something isn’t right. I feel it deep inside, and after what happened with Matt, aka Alex, I need to keep my guard up.