“That feels like a stretch, baby. This is bigger than one man’s personal feelings.”
“While I get that, and I do, what if Mike is involved in something, and he simply thought—I hate Kurt—why not use him to solve a problem?”
She’s really reaching, but it’s not impossible. “We still need to find out what Mike is into.”
“I have an idea,” she says. “Why not kidnap him, take him to the cabin, and just leave him there until he talks? And of course, I’m not serious. We wouldn’t come back from that, but a girl can dream, right?”
This time, her idea isn’t all that bad. She can’t do it, but if it means saving lives, I’ll damn sure do it. But I don’t tell her that.
She sighs heavily, frustration and weariness etched in the sound. “Clearly, I’m missing something obvious. As you said, what do I know that I don’t know I know? What do we know that we don’t know we know, Luke?”
Those are the questions that hang in the air while we eat and as we hit the first two fishing spots with no results. This is exactly why I spend most of those drives on the new MacBook I purchased, looking for answers.
But it’s not until I’ve taken over the driving again, and we’re traveling up a winding, narrow road, that I’m reminded of the day we scattered Kurt’s ashes over the mountainside. If nothing is as it seems, what if those were not Kurt’s ashes at all? It’s a crazy thought, one I don’t dare share with Ana for fear I’ll get her hopes up. I’d thought something similar about Trevor, only to be proven wrong, and for that reason, I mentally try to reel myself back in. And yet, I can’t let it go. We’re almost to the cabin when snowflakes begin to fall.
“You have got to be kidding me,” Ana murmurs. “Isn’t it like once in years that it snows in September? I mean, what are the chances of this happening?”
Yes, I think. What are the chances?
It’s almost as if the universe is telling me long shots can be real and over and over during the drive, I find myself thinking, what if…
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Luke
Snow floats in the air around us, gathering in white clusters on the side of the highway.
Ana rests her eyes in the passenger seat next to me, as I had hours before when she was driving. The knowledge that she’s my precious cargo has me driving with far more care than I would otherwise, especially during the past two years without her. During that time, I didn’t give two shits what happened to me, and I lived every mission with that attitude. I could have, and should have, ended up dead.
The question is, did Kurt end up dead?
This idea that Kurt isn’t dead isn’t new. I’ve considered it, especially with his missing money in the inheritance situation, but always in a fleeting and dismissive way. Kurt was protective of Ana. He wouldn’t have left her without protection. Hell, if I knew Kurt, and I did, he wouldn’t have left me without a word and a warning—protect her, or I’ve ensured you will die a brutal death.
I glance over at her and smile at the way her hair is now draped over her face. God, I love this woman. This is exactly why I need to tamp down on my urge to talk to her about Kurt possibly being alive. It’s a long shot. I don’t want her to get her hopes up or question why he would fake his death. Okay, she’d know why he was faking his death. He’s running from something. The real question would be why he didn’t let her know he was alive.
I rummage through my memories, trying to think of something, anything Kurt might have said to me that would have given me a clue I can decipher. Of course, Kasey was in the picture, and for all I know, he knew what Ana does not, but then again, Kurt didn’t respect Kasey much. He loved him, but they weren’t blood, and Kasey didn’t perform to Kurt’s standards. Ana did. Ana was the son he never had. He didn’t even need me to fill those shoes. She was both his princess and his warrior.
He can’t be alive. He would never leave her in the dark like this. I’m about to fully dismiss the idea of his faked death when I have another jarring thought. Kurt was a powerful man. If he felt the need to fake his death, the heat was hellish, and the problem was massive. And along those lines, if he didn’t tell Ana, he had a good reason. She would have gone after the problem, attacked like a lion, who would never have allowed its prey to survive. As much as he trusted me to protect her, he knew what I know, too. I would have had to lock her away in a cave somewhere to keep her out of trouble.