Page 94 of Recurve Ridge

I slung a quiver of handmade arrows across my back as I ran in a low crouch to the edge of a rise opposite to where we found Brandon. It struck me that he hadn’t come from anywhere near Blackthorne’s drive or the compound. Almost as if someone wanted me to find him.

I would give a solid answer to that demerit.

I stared across the valley that divided the land into twin thousand-acre blocks. More than once I’d stood on this rise during daylight hours, notched an arrow, and measured the shot I aimed at Gideon’s study.

It would only work if he was there, at the right time, in the right place. I prayed tonight would give me what I needed most.

The house beyond the walls was lit up, the too-bright glow bleeding into the night from every room. Standing out in the open should have screwed with my usual sense of self-preservation, but right now, I didn’t care. The pain of losing a friend had etched itself in my soul, another mark for a man I failed.

I didn’t have the convenience of guilt. Instead, I chose a straight arrow from the quiver and notched it, narrowing my gaze at the window. My rage sent dose after dose of adrenaline coursing through my body. My hands didn’t shake as I took aim, noting the wraiths that moved from place to place, but none shifted around his study.

Movement flickered lower, out on the edge of the wall. I stared into the blaring light, unable to focus on the figure without significant distraction. The height and build matched…. Who else would be out on the edge of his protection zone tonight? He knew I’d come for him. I aimed the shot, letting breath leave my lungs, holding myself still, silent.

Excruciating light flared my night vision out as I loosed the arrow. A spotlight worthy of the Super Bowl burned my retinas. I took a knee to the granite, pressing the heels of my hands into my eye sockets. I groaned at the intense pressure that bit into my brain in an instant migraine.

Shards of stone and shot ricocheted around me. I scuffled back under the course of aimed fire forcing me to retreat. The distraction worked. My night vision fucked up, I could barely focus on anything beyond stumbling away into the darkness and out of the sniper’s range.

Gideon Blackthorne had destroyed another life and walked yet again.

I staggered back to the house, snuffing out the need to hold Mari and focusing on vengeance, letting it consume me.

Nothing else mattered.

26

MARI

The manI loved hurt after the death of his friend, and he refused to let me help him. He’d barely spoken to anyone except for Miller since Brandon had bled all over the cabin floor that night. When he came back… we all saw a part of Robe I knew he’d never want exposed. The man had too much pride and ego invested in his infallible status. That didn’t mean I’d back down. I simply had to find a way around his stubbornness.

I slipped my arms around Robe’s waist. “Take me for a walk?” I knew he wouldn’t let me go alone, and today I didn’t want to be without him.

His spine stiffened. “Will can take you.”

“No,” I murmured firmly, squeezing around his stomach as I pressed my head to his back. “I need you. Please.”

His head turned to one side as he scanned the inside of the cabin without speaking. Blood still stained the scrubbed futon, though Alan and I had managed to remove all other remnants of Gideon’s violence from the house. I knew they had plans to burn the evidence. We just hadn’t gotten around to it yet.

Miller and Jon were nowhere to be seen. Alan left for the city a day ago. Will sat at the small kitchen table, eating cereal for lunch while staring at the wall.

“All right,” Robe conceded. He unwound my hands from his waist, turning to face me. The lines in his face had deepened in the wake of his tragedy. “Where do you want to go?”

My heart still burned with the vision of Brandon’s body tucked between the two large men while they tried to save a life taken by another.

“Will showed me a waterfall,” I said shyly, thinking back to our afternoon in the meadow, lying side by side. “I thought maybe we could see where the river goes, if that’s… safe?”

Robe stilled, then nodded. “It’s safe. We’ll be back in a few hours.”

Will raised his free hand in a thumbs-up, still eating from the spoon in the other.

“Thank you,” I whispered, finding my hand enclosed in Robe’s. “Can we go now?”

“May as well.”

He drew me out the door after bundling me in boots, a scarf, and a thick jacket that looked like it might belong to Miller. A beanie plopped onto my head, and he fussed, tugging it over my ears until he smirked at me. I held up floppy arms in the borrowed jacket, and Robe folded the sleeves back to create bulky wristbands. It fit, kind of, if I slouched into the excess of puffy material. I followed him along the same trail Will and I had taken on our picnic, though instead of the high path where the trail split toward the waterfall, we took the lower fork.

The dappled light deepened as we walked. A late chill obliterated the warmth I’d misperceived from my sheltered spot inside the kitchen. It swept over me, seeping upward from the ground instead of the frigid wind’s tendrils that made their way beneath my borrowed jacket and assaulted my cheeks.

The forest closed around us until the spaces merged between the trunks. Robe stopped where the evergreen foliage crisscrossing above us broke off, exposing a curve in the river’s bend. The water twisted, flowing in a declined stage before it tumbled over the edge a second time. I bumped into him and then stepped around to stand by his side, watching the water rush along its busy path.

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