Page 27 of Recurve Ridge

Come at me, you fucking assholes.

My hands loosened at my sides as the wind whipped my hair around. The distance required a decent shot, even with a sniper rifle, though I had no doubt Gideon’s men would be able to account for the gale that assaulted the ridgeline more days than not.

When no shot pierced my chest, I nodded once and made my way back along the domed rock face. I didn’t glance back at the compound with its twin lights that no doubt lit my path, but even when the trees closed over me, obscuring its view of my back, I knew we’d jostled the hornets’ nest.

A manic grin split my lips, emitting the sort of restless energy I possessed when I first arrived at the cabin.

Robe needed to know I sided with Team Mari all the way.

8

MARI

Conversation carriedon around me as I finished my regular morning waffles. After six weeks of Alan serving me the things on a daily basis at my best count—though I hadn’t been game to mark out a calendar on Robe’s walls or risk asking for one or a phone—I thought I might start tolooklike a waffle. I ignored the snippets that offered a sweet reprieve from the dark thoughts tangling me up in their knotted strands, luring me back to the darkness.

Never again.

The waffles were my comfort food. I needed that, as my period hadn’t turned up yet. And being six weeks late, whether the absence was stress related or not, terrified me of the repercussions. Alan knew; I hadn’t brought it up with anyone else. He seemed my best and most likely advocate, the one least likely to hit the panic button.

The day after I mentioned my quandary, a pregnancy test found its way into my sweater collection. I didn’t ask how, but the negative result left me relieved, though I still worried at a low level.

And so…waffles.

After losing myself in Robe’s protective embrace and doing my best to sandbox my head in an excess of mountain-man energy time and again, my days blurred, each running into the next. I was determined not to let it happen again while I remained in his house, intent on preserving the slim pickings of my sanity. Vagueness became my constant retreat from the world, from everyone. Including myself.

Focus, Mari. Go home. Be safe.

But I didn’t have a home I could go back to, which meant nowhere was safe for me. Except right here. The haven Robe offered with open arms and a guarded smile, though Will made that easier when he produced a pretty sundress with the tag still attached and a pink knitted cardigan so soft I swore I could sleep in it. Not a word passed his lips as he handed over the present, not reacting to my open-mouthed stare, and then left the cabin with long strides while Alan watched on from behind the bar, a broad grin covering his face.

“Go on. He wants to see it on,” the bartender encouraged.

I gestured with my free hand toward the open door. “But he’s not here.”

Alan sent me a knowing smile. “He’ll see you.”

I took him at his word and changed. Will must have seen and liked what he saw, because the day after, a few more dresses and knits arrived in my bedroom. Now I wore them snow day or no snow day, and it also helped that the fireplace off to one side of the kitchen roared all day long regardless of the weather.

After finishing my daily quota of waffles, I scraped my chair back, got up, and edged through the throng of males that occupied the small living area that was not at all big enough to contain their combined mass and testosterone. The food and whiskey had done almost as much for me as the enforced rest of these past weeks. I understood the unspoken solo assignment. Sleep, heal, repeat.

But I wasn’t a princess, and Robe’s hard bed had no pea beneath the mattress.

I moved among the men, hesitating when fingertips or elbows brushed my skin, but the touches weren’t intentional. No one grabbed at me or hindered my progress. They wanted me to eat waffles, so waffles, I would.

I knew I should reestablish a new normal even if my facade masked my pain because right now, I needed to function in the face of a household full of strange men.

Strange as in odd. Not all of them remained unknowns in my heart, which fell under a separate category of odd altogether—though they seemed the safer option as opposed to… out there, where the police couldn’t help me because my boss’s bosom buddy was the most powerful man in NYC. I did my best to face that reality, but denial offered such a pretty distraction.

I took another step forward and managed to draw the attention of everyone in the cabin. Alan’s gaze lightened as he looked up from where he spoke with Will and Miller, the barrel-chested man who still glared at me.

I dropped my eyes too fast and cursed myself. Gripping the plate between whitened fingertips, which made the whole thing shake rather than prevent its tremor, I placed the crockery on the counter, then lined the cutlery up in a neat stack. I didn’t just seek denial. Anything that could whisk away the dreamlike memory wraiths that taunted me from the edges of my vision with their nightmarish touch was welcome.

If I screamed, would anyone hear me? A philosophical question about downed trees and woodsmen crossed my mind, and the room shrank.

Robe and Jon stood off to one side, speaking in quiet tones. The latter’s shirt stuck to his skin, transparent with sweat. Tiny tears decorated his cloth-covered arms. He took off earlier, as appeared to be his habit, and had come back sweating. I wasn’t sure what Jon did out there, but he couldn’t look at me when he returned. Whatever strange family unit Robe had put together, I screwed with it just by being here.

And yet a desperate, torn part of me wished Jon had taken me with him.

Where Robe presented himself as a hardworking, controlled specimen of strength, Jon’s wilder nature won out in his tangled, untrimmed beard and hair, the unkempt button-down shirt in contrast to Robe’s pressed wardrobe.

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