Page 96 of Billionaire Lumberjack's Bargain

Dammit.

I scan the trees in the direction Pop said they fled, but instead of climbing back onto Apollo, I grab his reins and lead him that way, surveying for any signs of human activity or anything they might’ve dropped.

Even the smallest clue or tiniest confirmation could give us some ammunition against whoever might be coming after us.

Though Pops still insists he has this “under control,” that doesn’t dissuade me from feeling like we need the biggest arsenal possible if theydocome—physically or otherwise.

I reach the tree line where the trunks are packed so densely that there’s no way Apollo will be able to get through. “Wait here, buddy.” He whinnies his annoyance, and I rub his neck as I tie him to one of the branches so he doesn’t wander off too far. “I’ll be back.”

The quicker I make my sweep, the quicker I can get back to the cabin.

I have no intention of lingering any longer than necessary to ensure the men are long gone and gather whatever I can that might identify who was involved.

The woods thicken even more as I head down the most obvious route. Though there isn’t a true trail, only places where there’s enough room between the towering trunks for people to slip between, broken twigs lead the way.

Proving the old man right.

They definitely came this way.

But where the hell did they go?

We’re so far up the mountain that they couldn’t have come all the way on foot.

It takes hours to reach James Creek in a truck—or car, if you dare attempt that gravel and incline in one—from our place, double that by horse, which they couldn’t have led through this part of the forest, anyway.

Which means they had to have another mode of transportation.

I push my way through the trees, stepping over fallen logs, broken branches that they hastily snapped on their way out, and pick my way down the slope, away from the lake and both our and Camille’s property.

Another hour passes of following their obvious route before the trees start to thin, and I reach the small clearing that always has the most magnificent wildflowers every spring and summer.

It was one of Mom’s favorite places.

Somewhere she would come withhermother before she passed and left Mom alone with Pops, who never had time to trek down here with her, too busy running everything else to actually enjoy the mountain he owns.

Memories of running through the field with her, bright buds in hand to bring back to Pops and Dad, flow through my head, simultaneously making my heart warm and my eyes burn.

I only have to take a few steps into the familiar open space to know how the two men got up here—deep tire marks mar the otherwise pristine clearing, moving from one side across it and toward the end that would be closest to the road coming up the mountain.

The fuckers came up on ATVs, then they hiked up to the lake and back.

Which means I’m likely not going to find anything useful, nothing that could help tell us who they are or why they were here. Certainly not a way to track them beyond here.

Once they hit the road, they no doubt loaded up into a trailer and used a big truck to disappear themselves and their equipment out of the area quickly.

Motherfuckers.

Not only have they invaded our land, but they’ve shaken Camille’s sense of safety when she’s already faced enough for ten lifetimes.

That nightmare that hit her last night wasn’t random.

She had it because of what happened at the lake.

I dismissed the contents of it easily last night—both because I didn’t believe it was actually possible anyone could have hurt Dave and because if I even remotely entertained itwaspossible, it would’ve sent Camille into a further downward spiral.

But now, standing here, it seems a lot less crazy of a proposition.

They could have gotten to her property the same way they made it to the lake, all without anyone ever knowing if they were careful about where they left the ATVs to ensure no one heard the engines.

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