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)
“Got it,” I say to Dean, but he’s already hung up. I drop my phone into the cupholder, my mind racing with possibilities, all of them bad.
Aubree looks at me, catching my gaze for a moment before looking away. She’s still upset. I can tell by the way her jaw’s clenched, by the way her shoulders are tense. I can’t blame her. This isn’t how anyone wants to spend their evening.
“So... this cabin,” she says, her voice soft, breaking through the silence between us. “What’s it like? Is it... comfortable?”
I glance over at her, trying to figure out how to put her at ease. “Yeah, it’s fine. Nothing fancy, but it’ll do. I’ve got everything set up for a couple of days. It’s a place to relax. At least, until we figure out who’s doing this to you.”
She nods slowly, but I can see the hesitation in her eyes. “And... you’re just taking me to your cabin? Like, no questions asked?”
Her voice is cautious now, like she’s testing the waters to see what I’ll say.
“Look, I’m not here to make things complicated,” I reply, my eyes back on the road. “I’m just doing my job. Protecting you. Nothing more. I don’t expect you to trust me right away, but you’ll be safe there. I’ll make sure of it.”
“Okay,” she says quietly, and I feel the weight of her gaze on me again. It’s almost like she’s trying to figure me out, and I can’t say I blame her.
The drive is long, and the silence between us stretches. The headlights cut through the night, illuminating the winding road ahead, the trees casting long shadows in the dark.
Aubree doesn’t speak again until we’re pulling into the gravel driveway of the cabin. It’s a little run-down but functional, tucked away from prying eyes, just like I need it to be. The isolation is key.
I park the truck, kill the engine. “Here we are,” I say, opening my door and stepping out, walking around to the passenger side to open the door for her. She hesitates for a moment, then gets out, her feet crunching on the gravel beneath her.
“I don’t need you to open the door for me,” she says, glancing up at the cabin. I’m not sure if she’s being sarcastic or not, but I don’t really care.
I give her a half-smile. “I didn’t do it because I’m a gentleman, sweetheart. I did it to keep you safe.”
She glances around quickly, her cheeks blushing pink. “Oh, right.”
I lead her up the porch steps, unlocking the front door and holding it open for her. Once we’re inside, I move immediately to check the security system, making sure everything’s armed and set up the way I want it.
Aubree watches me quietly from the doorway. “Do you mind if I take a minute?” she asks, her voice softer than it’s been all day.
I glance at her, meeting her gaze for just a second before nodding. “Yeah, take your time. I’ll be right here if you need anything.”
She steps further into the cabin, and I hear her sigh as she walks around. I don’t know what she’s thinking, but I’m pretty sure she’s feeling the weight of everything that’s happened. I can’t blame her. I’m feeling it too.
Chapter 4
Aubree
The air smells different here—fresher, cleaner. Maybe it’s the mountains, the distance from the city. The cabin is rustic, cozy, and quiet, and I realize I’ve been holding my breath ever since we arrived. It’s like I’ve been holding on to some tension that’s finally starting to settle, but it’s not going anywhere fast. I glance around, taking in the wooden beams of the ceiling, the soft glow of the overhead lights, the mismatched furniture that gives the place a lived-in, homey feel.
I pace around the cabin, feeling a little bit lost in the space. The windows are huge, looking out into the trees, the darkness pressing in from all sides. Everything feels so... still, and I’m not sure if that’s comforting or unsettling.
I run my fingers over the old wooden table near the fireplace, tracing the smooth grain of it. I can’t stop thinking about my shop. Who would want to hurt it? Why? Who's doing this to me? What do they want?
My mind races, spinning with questions I can’t answer. The brick through the window, the note, the endless emails. It wasn’t just a random act of violence—it’s personal. That much is clear. And I can’t figure out who would have any reason to target me. I don’t have enemies. I’m just a pizza shop owner.
I shake my head, trying to push the dark thoughts away. I'm so tired—physically, emotionally, all of it. I feel like I’ve been running on fumes for days, barely keeping my head above water.
The sound of boots on the wooden steps pulls me from my thoughts. Boone appears in the doorway, his face set in that unreadable expression, eyes scanning the space behind me.