Chapter 6

Sunday 6.56pm

Hunter

My legs are burning when I reach the cabin again. The rain has stopped, but the ground is muddy, so I pick a spot in the trees and settle down on the pine needles and build a fire with the firelighters I carry.

I rest my back against the tree and start to pull out everything I need. My pack is a little lighter, more room inside and I’m baffled until with a curse I realize why.

I was in such a hurry to get out of here, I left my jeans inside, along with my spare t-shirt Natalie was wearing. My lips twitch into a smile as I think about how the shirt clung to her nipples.

I let my thoughts stray to what she felt like, and how she tasted when I spread her legs in the kitchen.

I’m starting to get hard, and since thinking about her is a waste of time right now, I shrug on a hoodie and pull out my sleeping bag.

I’m about to start cooking the rabbit I snared when I hear a branch crack behind me.

I spin around, reaching inside my pack for the gun I carry. I ease it under my thigh as a shadow creeps towards me.

I stay tense, ready to pull out the gun until the intruder is close enough for me to see the scar across his cheek.

He leans against the tree and eyes me like I’m a piece of shit he needs to scrape off his shoe. “What part of this arrangement was unclear to you?”

I exhale a long breath. “Nice to see you too, Agent Waters.”

He adjusts his posture and folds his arms over his chest and peers down at me. “This isn’t a game.”

I draw myself up to standing, holding the gun behind my back. “You think I don’t know that? I’m the one who’s been up here for two fucking years. I’m the one who can’t even let my sister know I’m alive.”

Waters scratches his nose. “Are you regretting pushing for your relocation up here?”

I shake my head.

Even if I have to sleep rough, and even if I have to catch most of my own food, up until three days ago, the isolation, the quiet, had been just what I wanted.

It’d been the perfect way to escape what I’d done. What I’d seen, who I’ll eventually have to testify against.

I was fine until a knockout redhead showed up and I’m suddenly feeling like a love-struck teenager who’s lusting after the prom queen.

“You took an unplanned and unscheduled exit in an unapproved vehicle with an unapproved woman. Do you want to die Mr. Sloan?

“She’s legit.”

Waters voice stays level though I know he pissed at me. “She’s a journalist Mr. Sloan, that’s what she is.”

My stomach twists. “What?” I croak.

He shakes his head. “Yes, I see you were too busy screwing her to ask her anything about what she does for a living. She happens to work for a paper Mr. Sloan, not only that but her ex-husband is a police officer.”

“Fuck,” I spit.

He slowly uncrosses his arms. “Camping out by her cabin, stealing their firewood like I assume you were doing before she arrived is now out of the question.”

He turns to leave. “It goes without saying that you absolutely cannot see this woman again.”

Waters flicks his flashlight on and turns around. “I can see the smoke from a mile off. First light, pack up and get as far away from this cabin as possible.”

I watch his back as he stalks through the trees to the track. I hear a motorbike start, then hear him driving down back into the valley.

I should have known he’d spot me and he’s right to be pissed off. What I did was beyond stupid and beyond reckless.

I risked a cover I’ve earned as a drifter who blends into the landscape all for a woman, I can never see, let alone touch again.

***

Sunday 2.36pm

Natalie

I’m groggy when I wake, Hunter’s name on my lips as if he’s lying in bed next to me. I groan and turn over in my bed and tuck the sheets up to my chin.

I close my eyes and try to go back to sleep, but all I hear is my father telling me to take a chance on Hunter, and then I start to think about all the questions I’d like to ask him if I do see him.

I check the clock and give up when I know I won’t sleep anymore. I throw the covers back, step out of my bedroom, and switch on my laptop.

While it’s firing up, I stretch out my back and put the coffee machine on in my tiny kitchen and stare out the window.

The streetlights cast everything in a subdued artificial yellow glow. Smog prevents me from seeing the stars in the sky, of all which makes me miss the mountains even more.

I wrinkle my nose as I start to think about whether or not I should call in sick tomorrow. I doubt Geoff will mind. He knows Dad is sick, and since I can work from home, I’m pretty sure he’d approve a day or two extra leave.

When the coffee is brewed, I take a mug from the shelf and pour myself a half cup.

I slide my glasses over my nose and sip my coffee while I spell check my final draft.

I read it one more time then send it through to Geoff to approve before the print run on Friday night.

Since I’m awake, I phone the hospital and speak to the nurse’s station.

The report is vague, but my father is asleep, as expected for almost three in the morning. I place my cell to one side and type out an email to a night admin clerk in Jed’s precinct.

I send all the information to her and hope she’s having a slow night. Since I was too tired when I got home, I strip off my clothes and take a long shower.

I pull my fluffiest pajamas on, and hurry back to check my email; smiling when I see the reply she’s sent.

Hey Nat!

So great to hear from you. I miss you! All the girls in the office do.

Must be some story you’re working on, huh?

I found your tattooed guy; Hunter Sloan was involved in a bank robbery a couple of years back.

It was going to trial, he was going to testify, but he was shot and killed before he could.

I can’t find any information on how he was involved or where he was buried. He does have a sister who is living somewhere in New York though if that helps?

Anyway, I know things get weird in divorces, just wanted to say you’re missed.

If Jed couldn’t see what a catch you were, then good riddance. Give me a call if you want a shoulder to cry on.

Kelly

I stare unblinking at the screen. Dead. Hunter Sloan is dead. It must be a mistake. I squint at the screen and open the attachments.

I barely look at the gory photo of a man lying shirtless, dragon tattoo obscured by blood splatter before I delete it.

The other document is a death notice, verified, and certified as true and accurate. I sit back in my chair and piece everything together until two words resound in my head.

Witness protection.