“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.
