Page 24 of Omega's Vengeance

“I’m dying of thirst.” He grimaces. “Maybe there’s food in there, or first aid supplies. I need to clean and wrap my finger.”

“Still, we shouldn’t rush,” I murmur. “Let’s watch it a bit more and make sure there are no signs of anyone living there.”

He shivers and glances up at the sun that’s lowering behind the mountains. “It’s getting colder.”

“I know, but we need to be careful.” I also shiver, giving the cabin a longing glance. “Where are we exactly?”

“How would I know?” He frowns.

I grimace. “I don’t mean our exact location. I mean are we still near Los Demonios, or did you take me out of state?”

“Why would I have taken you out of the state? That would have made it harder for Valentino to find you. Iwantedhim to find you, remember?”

I meet his green eyes, and find resentment shimmering there. I need to remember we’re not pals or allies. We’re simply working together for now so we don’t die. Alessio is merely biding his time. As soon as he decides he doesn’t need me anymore, he’ll turn on me.

“If not for you and your failure of a revenge plan, I’d be home in my warm bed right now,” I grumble.

“Yeah, and if not for Carlo, you and Valentino would be dead.”

“You’re assuming I wouldn’t have escaped.” I smirk. “If I could get the drop on Carlo, I’d have got the drop on you too.”

His mouth thins. “I doubt it.”

“Of course you do. You’re an arrogant little shit.”

He clenches his jaw. “I’m going to check out the cabin. You can stay out here and freeze your ass off if you want.” He gives me a surly look and moves out of the cover of the trees.

Gritting my teeth, I stay where I am. He’s being reckless. We have no idea if someone is inside that cabin. I’m not rushing into anything. But if he wants to be the sacrificial lamb, he can do that. I’ll just wait and see what happens.

He creeps around the cabin, peering in the grimy windows. Eventually, he makes his way to the back door of the cabin. I watch as he tries the door. He tucks his arm up into the sleeve of the cashmere sweater he’s wearing, and he smashes the glass on the door with his covered fist. He waits, listening, and I do the same. When no one sounds the alarm, he slowly opens the door and disappears inside.

After about ten minutes, I’m feeling impatient. Why isn’t he giving me the all clear? I didn’t hear any noises like he’s been accosted. What the hell is he doing in there? Scowling, I slowly make my way out of the trees. I cautiously crawl around the side of the small house to the back door. When I step inside, I listen. There’s a crunching sound coming from the room just off the kitchen.

Heart racing, I slowly creep to the doorway and find Alessio sitting in a chair with his feet up on a big oak table. His hand is bandaged, and he’s chowing down on a box of dry cereal.

“What the fuck?” I rasp.

He glances over, looking bored. “What?”

“Why didn’t you tell me it was safe?”

He lifts one shoulder. “I’m an arrogant little shit, remember?”

“Yeah. And as you’d say, if the shoe fits,” I mutter, going back into the kitchen. I turn on the faucet and let it run for a few moments. Then I bend over and greedily slurp water into my mouth. Once my thirst is sated, I open the cupboards and find one can of beef soup, a dented can of peaches, and a loaf of bread that’s as hard as a log. The soup is two years out of date and the peaches more like five.

I’m starving and decide I’ll try the can of soup. I don’t trust the dented can of peaches. I don’t want ptomaine poisoning on top of all my other problems. I search the drawers but there’s no can opener. There is, however, a rusted steak knife. After a clumsy, swear filled struggle, I manage to open the lid on the soup can. I sniff the soup and it smells okay. The color is off and the vegetables pretty disintegrated. From what I understand it’s okay to eat out of code canned foods, so long as the cans aren’t dented and you don’t have very high expectations of flavor. I just need nourishment. I don’t care about taste.

I search the bottom cabinets and find one small, battered sauté pan. I tip the can of soup and the contents plop into the pan in a congealed blob. I grimace and my stomach churns, but I’m starving. I haven’t eaten since Alessio grabbed me. It’s imperative I get some calories and carbs in my body, disgusting or not.

I glance around the small area observing dusty yellow curtains hanging half off the rods, and peeling paint. As far as appliances go, it’s not promising. There’s no real stove or fridge, but on the counter there’s an ancient looking Coleman-type two-burner propane camp stove. The odds of the small canister still having propane is slim, but I set the shallow pan on the little stove hoping for the best.

Alessio wanders in, still eating cereal out of the box. I give him a grumpy look as he leans over my shoulder. “How are you going to light that?” he asks. “It doesn’t have an auto lighter thingie.”

I frown, my mouth watering at the scent of the cinnamon cereal he’s eating. “It doesn’t?” I bend down, examining the burner.

He snorts. “No. You need matches for this type of camping stove.” He looks amused, which pisses me off. “Didn’t you ever go camping as a kid?”

“No.”

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