Page 13 of Saving Scarlett

After lighting the fire, I fell asleep on the sofa as Scarlett curled up on the loveseat and read her book. I slept until late afternoon, grateful she was still there when I woke up. Part of me worried that she would take the first opportunity she could to run away, although she knew I was only trying to help her, and she’d agreed to let me. It was an unusual situation, and I still couldn’t read her, so I didn’t know what she was thinking. All I knew for sure–from the look on her face when I’d mentioned it–was that she wasn’t comfortable with me killing her husband. Still, that was non-negotiable, so I was going to have to get her on board. Either that, or she would just have to deal with it, because I was going through with it anyway.

Sitting up on the sofa, I reached for my phone on the coffee table, checking to see if I’d missed any calls. Scarlett was still relaxed on the loveseat, her eyes barely open as though she’d either just woken up or she was about to fall asleep. When I stood up, however, her eyes tracked the movement.

“I’m glad you got some sleep,” she said, closing her book. Dropping her feet onto the ground, she stretched her arms over her head. All I could think was how comfortable she looked curled up on the loveseat in her joggers, oversized sweatshirt, and thick white socks. I was glad to see it.

“Me too. I needed it.” Grabbing another log, I tossed it onto the fire before heading toward the kitchen. “Do you want some coffee?”

The sound of her footsteps followed right behind me. “Absolutely. Do you need some help? I feel like a freeloader. You should at least let me make dinner or something.”

I chuckled. “I won’t complain if you cook a meal while we’re here, but you’re not a freeloader, so don’t feel that way. I offered to bring you here and to keep you safe. In this cottage, I want you to make yourself at home. Cook if you want to cook. All I ask is that you talk to me before you go outside, because I need to know you’re safe. Inside, you’re safe. Once you go outside, you may not be.”

Chapter 13

The Survivor

After Bane woke up from his nap on the sofa, we took our cups of coffee and returned to the chairs on the covered back deck. What was unexpected was the lazy Sunday feeling of sitting next to him, even under such extenuating circumstances. There was so much that should have been plaguing my mind—my store, my alleged disappearance, the fact that my husband was trying to steal all our money—but having no access to social media, or even my phone, was forcing me to put it to the back of my mind. I couldn’t sit behind a screen and refresh repeatedly to see what was going on in my world. I knew that Bane’s contact, Phantom, was keeping an eye on things for us, so that had to be enough for me.

“So,” Bane started, turning his bright eyes in my direction. The midafternoon sky was overcast, making them appear nearly white. “I think we need to wait things out for a while. You’re safe here, so there’s no sense in bringing you back somewhere you won’t be. Not until we get a better idea of what Joshua is going to do.”

I nodded, setting my mug on the ground by my feet. “There has to be an end in sight, but I agree with you.”

Dipping his head, he turned and looked out at the sky. I followed his line of sight, finally taking in the landscape. It truly was beautiful. Dense forests surrounded the cottage on all sides, mostly pine trees, but deciduous trees were scattered in between them. I breathed in deeply, taking in the fresh scent that was nothing like the scent of New Orleans. The city I lived in may have been a tourist trap, but it was a stinky one. “Is this all your land?”

He nodded, pointing toward the right where I could just barely see a mountain ridge over the trees. “I have twenty acres. My property line goes from that ridge and then follows the river on the south side of the property and the road on the other side.”

The pride in his voice brought a smile to my face. My home was in a gated community and my yard was about five feet wide with no privacy. Although I always loved the idea of living somewhere with land and dimension, Josh never wanted to move away from the city. “This land is beautiful. I can see why you come here to get away. It smells good too. New Orleans kind of smells like piss and—“

“Vomit,” he added, making me laugh.

“Yes. Oh, and car exhaust—especially in the downtown area. It’s great.”

When he chuckled, I was drawn to his mouth and how perfect it was, how straight and white his teeth were. It really was unfair that one person could be so attractive yet be so morally…gray. “Well, you won’t find any of those smells here, except for maybe the vomit if you drink too much moonshine.”

My eyes widened. “You know, I’ve never had moonshine before. Do you really have some here?” Although I knew drinking in his presence was probably a bad idea, I was under a lot of pressure, so maybe it was exactly what I needed. All I would have to do was not drink too much. Easy.

The look on his face was mischievous, his eyebrow arching. “I’m not so sure it would be a good idea for you to get into the moonshine, but yes, this is Alabama. I definitely have some.”

Although his words said no, his face said maybe, so I decided to double down. “I’ve had a rough couple of days so how about we cook up food and then have some drinks while we play some board games or something. I mean, how drunk can I possibly get if my belly is full?”

“You really did think of everything.”

With his apparent concession, or at least a loose one, I rose from my chair and returned inside. Digging through the refrigerator, I had a hard time narrowing down exactly what to cook for dinner. I knew Bane had brought an ice chest and a box of groceries, and there had already been food in the cottage’s deep freezer and pantry when we’d gotten there, but we kind of looked like we were ready to film an episode of Doomsday Preppers. Since I was bound to a cabin in the middle of nowhere, I guessed it was fitting.

Approaching me from behind, he opened the freezer above me and pulled out a pack of frozen meat. “Do you want me to grill hamburgers?”

Just thinking about it made my stomach growl. Since Bane had slept through lunch, I’d only snacked on a bit of fruit and nuts throughout the day. “Absolutely.”

My husband always expected me to stay thin, so he was very critical about what I ate. At that moment, I realized it would have been sweet justice if I returned to New Orleans twenty pounds heavier. Maybe I would even get Bane to teach me how to shoot a gun, become a completely different woman—a woman Joshua could never truly want.

For so many years I had walked on eggshells, a prisoner in my own skin, always afraid of what to say, what to eat, what to wear, of not being perfect. But with Bane, I didn’t have to do that. I didn’t know what there was between us—killer and victim, captive and savior—something different altogether. I didn’t know, but I didn’t think it needed a label. Regardless of what it was, I decided as I pulled out the rest of the ingredients for our burgers that I was going to just be myself and ride the wave. Even though I was legitimately hiding for my life, I hadn’t felt so at peace—so safe—in a long time, and that said something about the state of my life. It was clear I was going through a metamorphosis and I was ready for every stage of that transformation. Bane, it seemed, would be the vehicle that would start the process of recovery and healing, as ironic as that was.

Since night had fallen and the air was too cold, Bane chose to cook our burgers on the stove instead of on an outdoor grill. While he worked on that, I washed the lettuce, sliced a tomato, pulled condiments out of the refrigerator, and plates out of the cabinet. We worked like a team, as crazy as that was. It was something Joshua and I never did. Although he’d agreed to let me have some of his moonshine after dinner, something I intended to hold him to, I brewed two cups of tea for our meal.

When the burgers were ready, we sat at the table together, the blaze in the fireplace warming the room and creating a feeling of camping. The thought made me stifle a laugh. “Maybe we should make s’mores one day.”

Bane chuckled, taking a sip of his tea. “I haven’t had s’mores in a long time. What made you think of them?”

Shrugging, I swallowed my food. I hadn’t had a burger in ages, and it was cooked to perfection. “I was just thinking that this feels so much like camping. Well, more like glamping, so we should make smores.”

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