Page 72 of Light the Fire

And I didn’t think for a second that Haina didn’t have some kind of tracker on her.

We were sitting—or sailing—ducks.

I glanced up into the trees and nearly swallowed my tongue when I saw what loomed dark and mysterious on a tall bluff behind a sentry of tall firs.

A cabin.

And not just any cabin.

A big, opulent, two-story log cabin.

And it did not look inhabited.

I moored as close as I could, double-checked that the cloaking device was on and covering the entire boat, then I set down the anchors and climbed into the rowboat, releasing the towline.

I’d let the horny trio sleep a little longer. First, I wanted to check out this cabin and make sure it was worth risking all of us going to shore.

The only sound to be heard was the gentle dip and slap of my oars in the water. In no time, I was at the rocky cliff.

A set of dilapidated stairs hung against the short rock bluff but ended abruptly just at my chest height.

There had probably been a dock here at some point and the stairs led down to it. But over years, the dock had washed away, leaving nothing but weatherworn wooden steps half-rotted by the salt water and covered in barnacles and limpets.

I wasn’t going to risk climbing those fucking stairs. Not if I wanted to keep my vertebrae intact.

I made a lasso with the towline and looped it around a jagged rock, securing myself to land, then I climbed out of the boat, my bare feet and ankles getting soaked as the water rose up to my shins.

The rocks were not round or smooth, and they dug viciously into the arches of my feet, but I’d been through fucking worse. Way fucking worse, so I paid the pain no mind and quickly clambered over the mossy, lichen-covered bluff, using the branches of overhanging trees to pull myself up.

I was on flat land in no time.

With my automatic rifle out—because no fucking way was I approaching this place unarmed—I stalked around the shaded side of the cabin, allowing myself to blend into the darkness for as long as I could.

It was getting lighter by the second, even though the sun had yet to burst free of the horizon.

Careful not to step on any twigs that might snap and alert my presence, I padded softly and quietly around the house, peering in windows.

So far so good.

It didn’t look inhabited. It did, however, look fully furnished.

Since going to the front door would be what the average person would expect, I found a side door of a patio and tried it.

To my surprise, it was unlocked.

That only made the hair on the back of my neck stand straight the fuck up, but I paid that very little mind, slid open the door, and stepped inside.

My training kicked in, and I swung my gun around, keeping my back to the wall as best I could so nobody could sneak up on me. I climbed the stairs up to the second floor, which was a loft containing a large furnished sitting area and a giant bed. Spindle railings made up the half-wall looking down onto the living room of the house. There was also a bathroom up there but no living, breathing person besides myself.

My foot stepped on a creaky board as I descended the stairs, and I paused.

That’s when I felt it.

Another heartbeat.

Fuck.

Did I announce myself or stay quiet?

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