Page 1 of Shadow Games

1

The axe thumped into the wood, splitting the block of poplar in a single swing. Leaning down, Wyatt set the pieces vertical and split them again, then he moved on to the next block. He had a gas-powered splitter down at the cabin, but he preferred this method. It was good exercise, and it was a decent day to be outside. Snow was still melting on the mountain, but the sun was out and radiating heat. He’d long ago lost his jacket and shirt but sweat rolled down his head. It was well-beyond time for a haircut.

Loading his haul into the slick-bottomed sled, Wyatt slipped the harness over his chest and began to pull. Once the snow was gone, he would have to get the four-wheeler and the trailer out, but for now, the sled was easier. It glided on the snow easily. Sometimes, too easily. He’d have to be careful on the downhill sections it didn’t let loose and take him out.

After an hour of hiking, he reached the final slope down to his cabin, and his senses went on alert. There was a four-wheel drive parked at his cabin. Gray Jeep, it looked like. Kneeling down, he reached for the rifle in the sled and lifted it to his shoulder. Fitting his eye to the scope, he looked for the trespasser.

It was hard to see through the trees and brush, and the angle he was looking down on the scene, but he thought there was someone waiting in the vehicle. Who the fuck was up here? This was his property, and there were multiple no trespassing signs on the way up the mountain. This person had deliberately ignored them. At his peril.

Wyatt had no friends, so he could only assume this was a developer or something. Time to scare the shit out of him.

Leaving the sled behind, he hiked the rest of the way down to the cabin, rifle at the ready. He scanned the area, looking for others, but he saw nothing. If he came at the vehicle from the diagonal rear, the driver probably wouldn’t be able to see him. When he was within ten feet of the passenger side window, he took a steadying breath, then lunged out of the brush.

The driver, a dark-haired male, had his hands up. There was a grin on his face.

A face that Wyatt recognized. “Mitch?”

The man nodded and made a motion like he wanted to get out. Lowering the weapon, Wyatt nodded.

Abraham Mitchell had been on his SEAL team, and he’d been a decent operator. They hadn’t really been friends, though. Which had been proven when Mitch had helped pack his shit when Wyatt had been booted off the team.

Mitch held a hand out to shake, but Wyatt made a motion with the rifle, which he still held in his hands. Mitch’s hand fell to his side.

“Wyatt. Good to see you again.”

Wyatt didn’t say anything, just stared at the man. Mitch shifted on his feet. It took a lot to intimidate a SEAL, and Wyatt was glad he still had the ability to do so. “What do you want, Mitch?”

Holding up a finger, Mitch ducked back into the Jeep. He turned back with a satellite phone in his hand. “You have a phone call.”

The phone rang in his hand. Flipping the device around, he punched a button to connect the call, then held it out to Wyatt. Wyatt didn’t want to take the phone, but he shifted the rifle to his good side. If he needed to, he could still swing it up and get off a shot.

He lifted the phone to his ear, aware that this could all be an elaborate trap. Was Dillon nestled in somewhere above him ready to take a shot? Or was Hess even now weaving his way through the brush, knife in hand? He glanced around, looking for danger.

“This is not a hit,” a woman’s voice said on the other end of the line.

Wyatt drew back and stared at the phone incredulously. “Who is this?”

“This is the person who is going to change your life,” the woman said.

Wyatt rolled his eyes. He couldn’t help it. Mitch gave him an encouraging nod. “Right…” he drawled. “I think I’ve heard that before.”

“But I actually mean it,” the woman said. “My name is Charlie, and I have a proposition for you.”

Wyatt fought not to roll his eyes.Here, you live on a mountain on your own, you must need money.Which was far from the truth. He did okay.And he didn’t need much to keep him going.

He’d moved to this mountain to lick his wounds in peace, and this woman was disrupting his peace. “I’m not interested.”

“You might be when you hear that Blade is dead.”

Wyatt went still, wondering if he’d heard her right. “What happened?” he asked, despite himself. Curiosity was going to kill the cat. Him, being the cat, of course.

“Bullet to the back of the head, execution-style.”

Sweet satisfaction rolled through him. He hadn’t been the one to do it, but someone had called the man on his shit. That had been a long time coming.

“What a shame,” he said, grinning slightly. “If you’re looking for an alibi, I don’t have one. I’ve been on my mountain for the past three weeks with my dog.”

“We’re not looking for an alibi. We’re looking for someone to rescue the ex-wife.”

---