Luke's Touch (Walker Security - Lucifer's Trilogy 2)
She’s an FBI agent and she takes that seriously. FBI agents don’t look away. Family does not look away. Damn it to hell, but I did when I left.
Ana stirs beside me, stretches, and sits up. “How is it snowing this much?”
“It’s Colorado, baby. It likes to do wild and crazy.”
“That it does,” she agrees. “How close are we?”
“Based on the directions you gave me, about an hour out.”
“Well, let’s hope I’m right because I only came out here with him one time.”
“Yeah, about that,” I say. “Tell me again why you came to a secluded place with Darius?”
She laughs. “I know you do not think I fell into Darius’s bed when we broke up.”
“I know he would have, he liked you, too.”
“You also know I told you I didn’t fall into anyone’s bed and I don’t want to think about you doing so.”
“Baby, you are it for me. Anything I did was me trying to survive you hating me.”
“I could never hate you, Luke. Pain is just a brutal emotion.”
No words have ever been truer, which drives home why I can’t tell her what I’m theorizing about Kurt until I know more than I do now. Unfortunately, up here in the mountains, I may not even be able to share those theories with Blake.
The snow falls harder now, and I focus on the road. “Check your phone, baby. Do we have service?”
“I already did. And we do not.”
I glance behind me in the mirror, ensuring no one is following us. The only way being cut off from the rest of the world while being hunted by a dangerous enemy is really being cut off from the rest of the world, is if we’re really cut off from the rest of the world.
Chapter Thirty
Luke
The cabin is an absolute shithole, and with the snow suffocating us in every direction, it’s our only form of shelter in sight. I park the SUV behind the broken-down wooden structure, out of the line of sight of anyone approaching. Once me and Ana have pulled on our coats and covered up with our hoods, I say, “Let’s do this, baby.”
We exit into the cold, snowy, early evening, not much sunlight left to pierce the clouds and allow us any opportunity to search. The temps are chilly but not freezing, however with the snow coming down this hard, it’s going to build up. It’s already building up. Thank fuck my inner survivalist urged me to buy supplies and we’re prepared for this, but I’ll come back for it all after I know what’s inside. For now, I grab a lantern, and leave the rest. Hurrying toward the cabin, we climb the surprisingly solid steps, and find a lock on the door with a key code.
“Let’s hope it’s the same as it used to be,” Ana says, punching in a code, and bingo, we’re in, with the bonus of expecting no one else to be waiting inside, but I never assume anything when it comes to Ana’s safety.
I motion for her to hang back, crank up the lantern, and open the door, the scent of dust tormenting my nostrils, but it’s far better than the stench of death we might have found. I’m prepared for anything with the shit we have going on. For now, I’m greeted by nothing but a worn-out ancient brown couch, a couple of equally worn chairs, and a stack of firewood. Darius made this place his own all right. It’s not that cold out, forties maybe, twenties later tonight up this high. In this environment without a fire, we’d be chilly as fuck.
“I’m going to grab the other lantern,” Ana calls out as I make my way to bathroom and what I assume to be a bedroom.
I wonder whose land we’re on, and kick myself for not checking that before we came up here. What drew Darius to this location? What was the case? Who was it connected to and why? All questions to ask Ana and find out.
I check the one back bedroom, and then call out to Ana. “All clear.”
She doesn’t answer.
“Ana?!”
When she doesn’t answer this time, it’s a gut punch, and I’m moving forward, setting the lamp on a wooden table and rushing toward the door. I step onto the porch and Ana is nowhere to be found. I fight the urge to call out to her again, drawing my weapon, with the fear, that I was wrong. We are not up here alone.
I’m moving toward the truck, scanning the area as I do, my gaze cutting through the snow, with no movement to be found. Damn it to hell, the cool, calm soldier that I am is not cool and calm right now. I round the cabin and bring the truck into view, finding my way to the passenger side where Ana’s bag is sitting on the ground. Footsteps are scattered about the snow, leading toward the woods directly behind me and I swear a part of me dies right here and now at the idea of her being dead. Gone. Lost forever. Why the fuck did I take my eyes off of her?