"Of course I've fallen." I laugh at him and smile, gripping the front of his shirt. "I'm in love with you, you idiot. I have been for weeks."
Opening up is scary for me, but I can tell it's terrifying for him. Still, he kisses me, and his lips communicate everything he's unable to put into words. His hands slide into my hair, holding me close, and I kiss him back with equal intensity. When we finally break apart, both breathing hard, his forehead rests against mine.
"I love you too," I whisper, because I know what he's trying to say. I feel it. The words are quiet, reluctant, as though saying them out loud makes them more real and therefore more dangerous. "I'm scared to death of it, but I do. I love you."
He doesn't speak, but I finally know what he's thinking. I let my head rest on his chest, listening to his rapid heartbeat hammering against his ribs and clinging to him. So it's not perfect and maybe it never will be, but it's a start.
After all of this is over and we've managed to put Cal Maddox behind us, I'll make him open up more. For now, I have to be content with the way he communicates and as long as he keeps me safe, I'll assume he still cares.
23
DANE
Ipull on the most boring clothes I can find in my go bag—plain gray hoodie, worn jeans—and a baseball cap I borrowed from Ellie's coat closet. My goal is to look as normal as possible as I walk down the street because staying stuck here is driving me mad. In my previous life, I was a ghost. Today, it's time to become one again.
Sloane watches from the doorway with her arms crossed over her chest and disapproval written across every line of her body. "This is a bad idea."
"It has to be done," I grunt before I check the gun tucked into my waistband, making sure the hoodie covers it completely. "We need ammunition and supplies, and it's not like information on what's happening in town is gonna walk right up to the door."
"Then let me go. Cal's people don't know my face as well as they know yours." While her suggestion makes sense, there's no way in hell I'm letting her anywhere out there without me. She'd be a sitting duck. And we can't go out together either. They'd recognize us immediately.
"They have a photo of you at that Halloween party. They know exactly what you look like." I turn to face her fully. "And we agreed you'd trust me. I'm expendable. You're not."
"That's not—" She stops herself, jaw clenching in frustration. "You're not expendable to me."
I can see the fury in her eyes but I'm not backing down. If we have a breath of a chance of getting out of this town, we'll need ammo at the very least, and if I can get back to my place for my stash of cash, I can buy a car at a used car lot, one Cal's men won't recognize. We can find a new place to settle. I don't like the thought of living on the run like that, but I'm outnumbered here in Sutter's Gap.
"I'll be careful." I cross to her, cupping her face in both hands before pressing a kiss to her forehead tenderly. "In and out, two hours maximum. And if I'm not back by then, you take the snowmobile and get out of town. Find Varen and tell him everything. Let him handle it." I swallow the lump forming in my throat at that idea. Sloane out there on her own against these sick fucks…
Even the state police are no match for Maddox's crew. But if I’m not here to defend her, going to the police is her only safe option. She'll at least be eligible for Witness Protection and the US Marshalls do a decent job.
"I'm not leaving without you."
"Sloane—"
"No." Her hands cover mine. "We're partners. We're in this together. So you come back, or I come looking for you. Those are the only two options." Her face hardens into a stern scowl and I get the point.
She's fierce and stubborn and absolutely refusing to let me go alone into danger, and I find I don't want to. I want her waiting for me here when I get back because there's no point in taking the risks I'm taking if I don't have anyone to risk it all for. Life alone is no life at all.
"Then stay inside, away from windows, and I'll come back to you, deal?"
"Deal." She rises on her toes to peck me on the cheek. "Be safe. And don't do anything stupid."
"Stupid is my specialty," I tell her, touching the bill of my hat as I dip my head.
"I've noticed," she grumbles, and she's smiling when she says it.
I slip out the back door into the cold December afternoon. The sky is overcast, threatening snow, and the temperature has dropped enough that last week's snow is still here, now hardening to ice. But the bitter temps are a good thing for me. The worse the weather, the fewer people out on the streets, the easier it is to see whether someone's following me or watching.
The gun shop's on the far side of town—a fifteen-minute walk, normally, but I'm taking the long route, staying in alleys, cutting through backyards, using every bit of cover available. I've done this a thousand times in cities far more dangerous than Sutter's Gap, but my pulse is elevated anyway. Because this time, if I'm caught, it's not just my life on the line.
I move from shadow to shadow, checking every vehicle, every person, every window that might hide watchers. The black SUVs are nowhere visible, but that doesn't mean they're gone. They could be parked somewhere out of sight or waiting around any corner. Though, my guess is they're holed up at the motel onRoute Three hoping to let things die down until the Christmas festival which is coming up.
I pass the diner and resist the urge to stop in for coffee. The less I'm seen near Ellie's business, the better. I can't have Cal's people making the connection between us, putting her at risk for helping.
A truck drives by, and I duck behind a dumpster before it comes into view and wait until it passes. But it's a false alarm—just a local I recognize from the hardware store. Still, the adrenaline spike reminds me of how exposed I am out here. I've been hiding in my damn cabin for so long, I forgot how tense it makes me when things like this happen. And it's harder to blend in when no one's around walking the same direction as me.
When I cut through the back entrance of the hardware store, nodding at Gideon Strath behind the counter, he barely glances up from his newspaper, giving me the cover of normalcy. Either he's so absorbed in the daily news that he doesn't recognize me or he's deliberately giving me privacy. Whatever the case, I'm out the front door and across the street during a gap in traffic, then into the narrow space between the post office and the bakery before anyone can question it.
