Page 83 of Saved By the Boss

Jade

My truck’s engine hums steadily as I guide it toward the turnoff to my cabin. It’s still early afternoon, but the gray sky makes it feel like later in the day, the heavy clouds smothering any hint of sunlight. The air feels dense, charged with the kind of pressure that makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up. And maybe that’s all it is, just a change in the air.

Still, I can’t shake the feeling that something is wrong. I can’t quite put my finger on it, and I shake my head, deciding it’s probably just a rush of hormones that I’m still trying to get used to. I’m also under a lot of stress right now. Between the pregnancy and worrying about Declan’s meeting with his brother, not to mention the man who threatened me yesterday, I’m feeling an insurmountable amount of tension.

I let out a slow breath, adjusting my grip on the steering wheel. The road to my cabin is quieter than usual, a fresh layer of snow muffling the sound of my tires. The morning sun filters weakly through the canopy of trees, casting long shadows across the narrow road. Normally, this drive is peaceful, calming even.That was one of the appeals of moving up here. Driving up from town was a chance to clear my head and appreciate the stillness of the mountain. But today, my nerves are wound so tight, I can barely keep my hands steady on the steering wheel.

I can’t stop replaying yesterday’s encounter in my mind. The man, his face hard and his voice low and threatening, had left a chill in my bones that even Declan’s warmth hadn’t entirely chased away. Somehow, in Declan’s presence, I had found a way to minimize my fear, but now that I’m alone, it’s crashing over me again in breathtaking waves. The cabin that once felt like a refuge suddenly seemed too isolated. There aren’t any neighbors close enough to help if anything were to go wrong.

Until now, it seemed smart to be tucked away, out of sight from prying eyes. I’ve never seen anyone up here who didn’t belong.

Which is why the black car that pulls onto the road behind me sends a cold chill down my spine. My stomach suddenly feels like it’s full of lead weights.

The car is sleek, expensive-looking, and completely out of place. Even if it weren’t winter, it looks completely impractical for this terrain. The cabins up here belong to people who value practicality over flash. Most of us drive trucks, Jeeps, and SUV’s that can handle the snow and ice. This car sticks out like a sore thumb.

The car keeps its distance, its dark windows giving away nothing about who might be inside. I tell myself it could be nothing, just a strange coincidence. The car could easily belong to someone who’s gotten lost or turned around on the winding mountain roads. Maybe one of my neighbors has a friend visiting. These are all completely rational explanations, but the pound in my chest won’t let up no matter how much I try to tell myself thatthere’s nothing to worry about. The way it moves, slow and deliberate, makes my skin crawl.

I force myself to focus on the road ahead, my knuckles white as I grip the steering wheel. The cabin isn’t far now, just a few more turns, but the car behind me doesn’t waver or break off. I resist the urge to speed up. If they are in fact following me, I don’t want them to know I’ve noticed. It’s better to pretend I haven’t so they don’t do anything reckless.

I force myself to keep moving, to keep breathing.

The access road curves up a hill, and I take the turn carefully, my heart pounding. As I crest the hill, I glance in the mirror again. The car has stopped, sitting at the base of the incline like it’s waiting. Or watching. I want to throw up at the terror breaking over me in waves now.

I don’t wait to see if it moves again. As soon as the car disappears from my view, I press my foot down on the gas. The truck surges forward, the engine growling in protest, but I don’t let up. I need to get to the cabin, to get inside and lock the doors. My heart is racing so fast it feels like it might burst out of my chest.

By the time I pull into my driveway, my hands are shaking so badly I can barely shift the truck into park. The cabin looms ahead of me, its familiar shape offering a small measure of comfort. But even as I climb out of the truck, scanning the trees for any sign of movement, I can’t shake the feeling that I’m being watched.

I fumble with the keys, my breath visible in the cold air as I unlock the door and step inside. The familiar creak of the floorboards beneath my boots does little to calm me. I lock the door behind me, sliding the deadbolt into place, and thendouble-check the windows. The curtains are drawn, but I peek through the edges, my eyes darting across the driveway and the trees beyond. There’s nothing out there. No sign of the car or anyone else. I’m completely alone.

Still, I don’t quite feel safe.

I go into my room, crossing the room to the bed and reaching for the hatchet I keep tucked under the frame. It’s small but sharp, easy enough to swing at someone with some considerable force if I have to. I grip it tightly, the weight of it solid and reassuring in my hand. A gun would probably make me feel a bit safer right now, but I don’t love guns in general and don’t own one. This will have to do as a weapon. I pray I don’t have to use it.

My breath comes in shallow, panicky bursts, my mind racing with worst-case scenarios. I’m off of work today, so the only person expecting to see me is Declan, but that won’t be for hours.

I need to tell someone what’s happening, to let them know that if anything happens to me, who to look at. Tawny is the first person who comes to mind.

I grab my phone and press her contact info, pacing the small space as it rings. She picks up on the third one, her voice bright and cheerful despite the early hour.

“Hey, girl!” she basically chirps, and I desperately wish I were in town with her right now. “What’s up?”

“Tawny,” I say, my voice tight. “There’s something important I need to tell you, and I may not have a lot of time.”

The cheer in her voice fades instantly. “What do you mean? Are you okay?”

“I don’t know,” I admit, clutching the hatchet like it’s a lifeline. “There was a car on the access road. Black, fancy-looking, and totally out of place. It stopped at the bottom of the hill, and I don’t know if it followed me once I got inside my place “There are some things about me I haven’t told you. Things in my past. I think they’ve come back to haunt me.”

My head swims from my hyperventilating and I’m nearly in tears now, but I have to force myself to focus on the task at hand.

“Jade, listen to me,” she says, her voice firm. “Lock all your doors. Close the curtains. And don’t go outside for anything. Do you hear me?”

“I already locked everything and the curtains are closed,” I tell her, my voice shaking. “But if something happens, if you don’t hear from me again today, there’s an email. I’m sending it to you. It has everything you need to know. It explains everything, and I need you to take it straight to the cops.”

“Jade, don’t talk like that,” Tawny snaps. “Nothing’s going to happen. You’re going to be fine. Just stay calm, okay? I’m coming up there.”

“No,” I say quickly. “Don’t. I don’t want you driving up here and getting involved in this. These are bad people Tawny. Just promise me you’ll stay where you are. If you don’t hear from me every hour on the hour, go to the cops.”

Tawny doesn’t sound convinced, but she agrees reluctantly. “Okay. But make it every half hour. On the half hour.”

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