Page 11 of Lose Me In The Shadows

He turned back to her, wrapping a hand around her hair and dropping a brief kiss on her lips—which turned into a long, slow make out session. Butterflies, actual fucking butterflies, flew around in his stomach and chest as he tasted her and she sighed and moaned into his mouth.

Finally lifting his head from hers, he said softly, “I’m glad you didn’t drive away. Kara, I will do everything in my power not to hurt you—emotionally, at least. But we have to be open and honest with each other, okay?”

She sighed. “I can try.”

He hugged her tight. “That’s all I can ask for.”

It was too much to ask for, really—since he couldn’t and wouldn’t be honest with her.

This new version of him was a liar, and as they headed back down the trail, hand in hand, Luke marveled at how little he cared. Especially when he could see a bright, shining future with her by his side. One without betrayal or abandonment. One where she wouldn’t leave him.

He couldn’t wait.

3

Now

I’m free.

I’m really fucking free.

As Kara drove down the midnight-dark mountain road, using the Tetons as her guide, she kept reconfirming her freedom to herself, as if, by doing so, she made it more real. And the repetition kept her from thinking other thoughts like,they’re probably after meandI shot him in the shoulder, Luke’s not going to die, right? Even if he deserves to?Andwhy didn’t I shoot those other two assholes while I had the chance?Andhow the hell am I going to get home?

She had promised Luke that she wouldn’t go to the police, and she wasn’t sure why she was keeping her promise, when he had broken his own by setting her up. She’d trusted him not to lie to her, and he had, anyway. The time she’d spent with Luke a little over a year ago had given her insight into him…a man she truly believed stood by what he said. And in the cabin over the past few weeks, he’d seemed so earnest in their interactions, so hurt when she’d called him out on whether he was a good man. Even after she’d learned he’d lied to her in Denver, something about his nature—the juxtaposing sexual roughness and emotional gentleness, the way he’d talked her through panic attacks, and even came to her defense with the others—called to her, made her believe she could trust him. That at least emotionally he was truthful.

She’d been wrong. Oh, so wrong.

But she wasfree.Everything had worked out the way it was supposed to.

So why did she feel so fucking awful?

“He deserved it. They all did,” she told her dark reflection in the rearview mirror. But the troubled look in her own eyes said differently.

So she focused on the road in front of her. There were no other lights, no other cars. Just her alone in the trees, with the mountains growing closer. That, at least, meant she was growing closer to Wyoming…or she at least thought she was. She’d known she was in Idaho somewhere southwest of Jackson—Swan Valley, maybe, or Irwin. She’d know if she reached the Palisades Reservoir. There were no people for miles and miles, and any second Conor and Micah could come after her.

Except they wouldn’t. She’d been angry, but she’d still been thinking clearly. She could’ve tried to shoot all three of them, but her shot wasn’t good enough to hit Micah or Conor at further range, and they would’ve disarmed her too quickly. By shooting Luke—twice—she not only got to have her revenge, she’d also set up enough of a distraction that she could get out of there.

And the feeling of…hurt? That they hadn’t even tried to stop her? That was something only a psychologist could explain—and she wouldnotbe telling a psychologist about any of this shit. Especially if it turned out she’d murdered a man. She doubted it. She’d aimed for his shoulder for a reason, but—

“No,” she told rearview mirror Kara. “Do not go down that thought path. There be sexy, sadistic, maybe dead dragons there…”

She hiccupped, something between a laugh and a sob. A small part of her considered what would happen if she turned around, but before she could fully examine that insane thought, a fork appeared in the road—and with it, a sign for highway 89.

Turning onto it, she wove slowly around the dark foothills, careful to shift her gears when she saw the 10% decline sign. The last thing she needed was to get in an accident, with no cellphone or identifying information. Because wouldn’t that be fun, after everything that happened to her, to die in a fight between a stolen Jeep and a mountain?

Another hiccup laugh-sob. Kara hummed to herself to remain occupied, eyes on the dark reservoir as it appeared in front of her, confirming that she was where she thought she was. But even with her eyes on the dark scenery in front of her, she could see Luke’s shocked green eyes as the bullets found their way into his shoulder. The way his body jerked backwards, once, twice, before collapsing to the ground with the soft thud of a toppled redwood.

They’d talked once about that, hadn’t they? So long ago, about going to see the Redwood Forest together.

“Stop it,” she told herself.

As she drove, she did her best not to think about Luke. The house he and the others had built—for her, she could finally admit to herself. The way he held her in his arms at night, and how safe it had made her feel. How he’d saved her, all those months ago, from passing out on the climbing wall; how he’d taught her how to work her way through a panic attack.

She could hear him in her head, calling her sweetheart, coaxing her to breathe.

All you have to do is inhale and exhale.

She followed the directions, slowing her breathing and keeping her attention fixed to the road.

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