Chapter 21
I was exhausted by the time we arrived in the Blue Ridge Mountains. The woods were dense; my two-story cabin was isolated. It would have made a good kill house if I'd ever needed it for that. No one was around for miles in any direction. I checked on the solar powered generators and the well water pump.
The place was dusty but well maintained. The outside rustic, dark wooden beams in a traditional log cabin fashion. The inside was modern and high-tech. Cameras, flatscreen monitors, sound equipment, and minimal furnishings dominated the interior. Across from the stone fireplace was a hidden weapons cache. There were a number of trapdoors and invisible wall panels, so that upon entering it seemed like a sparsely decorated place. The house was completely off-grid and self-sufficient.
Katie followed me inside as I said, "I built this place a few years ago. We'll be safe here."
I gave her a quick tour, but she only stared around in silence. I worried she was still in some sort of shock. She hadn't spoken in the last three hours. She slept a lot on the way down, but conversation was kept to a minimal the rest of the trip. Frustrated, I wondered what she was thinking. I didn't have a clue.
I decided against leaving her on her own again. It wasn't that I was afraid she'd bolt the moment my back was turned. I'd considered letting her go, but she'd said she wanted to stay with me.
The freezers were stocked but there were no ready perishables in the place. No milk, eggs, butter, cheese, fruits, or vegetables. The garden out back was bedded down for the winter. I was torn between wanting to make a food run and making sure everything was safe.
I wondered how Carter had missed the fact that Noel Riaz was already dead. Maybe he had known because after everything that went down in Cantana, Jorge and Noel were my perfect bait. I had never hidden my desire to finish the Cantana job—my way.
At the debriefing where I played ignorant to Katie's whereabouts I'd said as much. I debated if Jorge was still alive to be killed. Surely Carter had known the truth, but now he'd never tell a soul. The only reason Katie was with me was because she feared that Jorge still wanted her dead.
Jorge hadn't made a move on her in six years. He hadn't contacted Lana Rios or anyone else he knew in Cantana. With everything Carter had said in the cabin, it just wasn't likely he was the client. In other words, Katie had nothing to fear from Jorge. He was probably hiding in a hole somewhere. The threat to Katie's life was me. I was the one who had people out to kill him, not her.
I'd been set up by Carter. As far as I could tell, CJ was supposed to lead me to the cabin so Carter could kill me instead of picking up the location of the brothers. Katie was probably just bait, too. If I'd just met CJ at the cabin instead of the gas station, Katie wouldn't have been involved. I felt guilty again, an emotion I was growing to hate.
I headed outside to check the security equipment, set up the traps and alarms. My mind replayed the last thirty-six hours as I physically checked and rechecked the property to make sure it was as I'd left it. Katie was turning me into an idiot.
I sat up in the loft monitoring the outside and mulling over my every mistake when I heard a crash downstairs. Katie was in the kitchen area, bent over picking up broken glass off the floor with her bare hands when I reached her.
"What are you doing?" I asked while I grabbed her round the waist. I lifted her onto the countertop. "You're not wearing shoes!"
Her feet dangled down the side of the cabinet like a child's as she sat with an amused smirk on her face. She didn't say anything, simply stared at me with wonder in her eyes.
"I think you're a good guy. Creepy, but a good person." She smiled at me. It was nice to see her smile.
"Uh huh. And what gave you that odd epiphany?" I shook my head and tried to hide a grin. A sense of relief filled me as I ran my fingers through my hair. "What are you doing in here, anyway?"
"I was hungry. I was trying to make us some dinner," she said, looking down.
"But you can't cook." I shook my head.
"What do you mean I can't cook? How would you know?" She crossed her arms under her breasts defensively.
"Just get out of the kitchen." I frowned.
"No, I can cook just fine." Katie's eyes hardened.
"You can insta-chef, but cook, no. Not you." I smirked at her.
She gasped and pretended to be offended. "Insta-chef? What the hell is that?"
"If it comes out of a box and isn't more complicated than boiling water." I shrugged my shoulders. "You're pretty good with microwaved meals. But that's about it."
"How do you know?" Katie rolled her eyes and smiled.
"Get out of the kitchen before you cut yourself." I turned to face her.
"Answer me first."
"Scoot." A small grunt escaped my mouth. She didn't make a move to leave as I stared at her.
"Fine," I said while moving to the closet. I retrieved a broom and dustpan and swept up the broken glass. When I finished I caught a strange look on her face.
"What?" I asked.
"Nothing." Her smile got bigger. "You're sorta cute," she said, seemingly from nowhere. I didn't trust her sudden change in attitude, but I went with it.
"Cute?" I frowned. "Why cute?"
"Just—I don't know. You're like irritatingly protective of me. I find it, kind of...adorable." She hopped down from the counter and landed on the balls of her feet in front of me.
"Adorable? Cute? Could you come up with some more masculine adjectives here?" I smirked and put away the broom.
She swallowed a giggle. "Hmm, let me think about that one. I was going to try to cook dinner at least. I was looking for a pan, and that glass jumped out of the cabinet and attacked me. It wasn't my fault." She pouted and gave me wide innocent eyes.
"Attacked you, huh? I'll show you an attack." I grabbed her around the waist without thinking about it. She gasped as I lifted her off her feet and swung her around the kitchen. There was a moment of tension and then she laughed.
"Stop. You'll make me dizzy," she yelled, playfully slapping at my arms where I held her around the waist. I let her body slide down mine as I set her on her feet in the living room. I felt like a nervous teenager, awkward and unsure.
"Go put on some shoes first." I patted her on the back and pushed her in the direction of her boots by the door.
