The Hit (Team Zulu 1)

15

Cameron

Thefogliftedasthe mid-morning sun warmed the air. I’d lost all sense of time in my heightened state of panic. Had I been riding along this track for one hour? Two? Was I going the right direction? I navigated using the slope of the mountain and the sun in the east. The last thing I wanted was to ride in circles.

I hoped I had enough gas. In my hurry to leave, I hadn’t thought to check if the bike needed refueling.

It was too late to turn back. Shep might already have returned home and discovered I’d gone. He could be searching for me right now. My heart rate soared thinking of him hunting me down, mostly because I didn’t want my plans thwarted, but also because facing his reaction petrified me.

At the crest of a hill, I slowed.Yes!A small town sprawled in the distance. If I kept up my pace, I might be there in thirty minutes.

And there was that goddamn sinking in my gut again. Something inside me telling me this was wrong, that I should turn back and return to Shep. He’d be pissed with me, but also relieved. It wasn’t too late to choose that path and make things right between us again.

And I wanted that so badly, but I couldn’t let guilt and my growing feelings for Shep sway me from my task. I was safe, and Justin was in imminent danger. There was no choice to make.

With a steadying breath, I pushed on. The trail descended and remained well hidden from the road. At some point, I’d have to abandon the quad bike in the woods and walk the rest of the way. Although that would eat into precious time, I didn’t want to attract unwanted attention by riding through the streets.

I came around a bend and slammed on the brakes.

No!

Blocking the track was Shep’s black truck and one pissed-off hulk of a man leaning against the tailgate. He was menacing with huge arms crossed over his broad chest, chin angled low, and a murderous look in his eyes.

My breath caught in my throat. I was in the deepest level of shit possible. There was nowhere for me to go, nowhere to hide.

I’d failed Justin and Shep. And as I hung my head, averting my gaze from the man struggling to contain his anger before me, my world crumbled. It hit me hard in that moment how much I valued Shep. Both as someone who’d helped me through this disaster and as a person I cherished. And deceiving him like this? It was a shitty thing to do.

He strode toward me, jaw clenched. I held his intense stare despite every bone in my body screaming for me to look away.

Leaning over the bike, he shut it off and removed the keys.

“Get in the truck.” His gravelly voice was clipped. He returned to the pickup without waiting to see if I’d followed. I closed my eyes and let my shoulders slump. What choice did I have?

With heavy legs, I made my way to the pickup and climbed into the passenger side. Ranger sat silent on the back seat, alert and aware of the palpable tension filling the cab. My hands shook in my lap as I stared out the window and waited for the explosion of anger.

“Buckle up, Cameron,” was all Shep said as he started the engine.

Cameron? I guessed I deserved that, but it still felt like a glass of cold water tossed in my face.

I expected yelling, swearing, growling, but not this silent drive home. Shep stared straight ahead, eyes on the road, hands white knuckling the steering wheel.

When we reached the cabin, Shep parked the truck in the workshop. He collected a bunch of brown paper bags from the rear and slammed the door. He took the stairs two at a time before heading through the front door. Ranger followed close behind. Even the pointer seemed pissed with me. I drew in a shuddering breath before following them.

Inside the cabin, I found Shep crouched, running one hand along the scratch marks I’d made on the floor. My mouth went dry. All hell was about to unleash.

“You fucked up my floor?” His stare glazed over as he inspected the damage.

If he heard my pained moan, he didn’t acknowledge it.

He moved to the coffee table that lay abandoned in the kitchen and clicked his tongue at the hacked-up mess before him.

“You ruined my table?”

The one he’d made with his own hands. I didn’t know what to say. He couldn’t even look at me. I assumed I wouldn’t be around to see his reaction to my escape, and now that I was witnessing the hurt in his eyes, it was worse than I could have imagined.

He picked up the knife and ran his finger along the dull blade. “And my knife?” Walking to the pantry, he tossed it into the metal trash can.

I flinched at the jarring clang it made when it hit the bottom.