Chapter 13: Ruth

When we arrive at my place, I park in my usual spot near the front porch. Jack pulls up beside me. His two friends park their SUV on the far side of the barn, out of sight. While we carry in the groceries, Jack's friends slip into the barn. I imagine they're making plans to dispose of the body. I don't even want to think about how and where they're going to do that.

I feel like I'm living an episode of Law and Order, or maybe it's more like The Equalizer. Surely, this kind of thing doesn't happen in the real world. I can't help thinking I'm going to end up a fugitive from the law, or at least a person of interest, when this is all over. Or maybe even an accessory to a crime. But it was self-defense, right? What Jack did—killing an armed mafia thug who was pointing a rifle at my house. Who'd come here with the intention of killing Jack, and perhaps me along with him.

We carry the groceries into the cabin, and I immediately start unpacking the haul. I picked up the basics—milk, eggs, bread, beef, cheese, beer, soft drinks, and coffee. Plenty of coffee. Some fresh fruits, veggies, and lettuce. Toilet paper and paper towels. I even bought extra supplies to stock the bunkhouse as well. There's no telling how long we might find ourselves barricaded here.

"Your friends can stay in the bunkhouse," I say. "In the barn. It's comfortable. There's a small kitchen and a bathroom. It has electricity, heat, and running water."

Jack chuckles. "Thanks. I'll let them know."

"Feel free to join them." I'm still mad at him for bringing this trouble to my town—hell, to my door. I'm also feeling a bit unsettled because he was supposed to be gone by now, out of my life. My one-night stand is still here the next day. It wasn't supposed to go like that.

Jack's smile fades. "Look, I know you're pissed at me, and you have good reason to be. But I'm not staying in the bunkhouse. I'm staying in the cabin with you."

I shove a package of paper towels into the cupboard. "I don't need you to babysit me."

"I don't care what you call it, but I'm sticking by your side." He grabs the four cartons of eggs off the counter and puts them in the refrigerator. "Who did you call on the drive here? I saw you on your phone."

"I made two calls. One to my friend Hannah, at The Wilderness Lodge, to give her a heads-up. The other call was to my brother."

"Fair enough. But the fewer people who know what's about to happen, the better."

"Better for them, or for you?" I ask, failing to keep the sharp tone from my voice.

"For them," he says with a sigh, as if he's tired of defending himself. "So, am I still in the spare bedroom? I'm guessing your bed is not an option."

"You think?"

He nods. "Fair enough. At least it's better than the sofa or the barn. But if you change your mind about sharing your bed—"

Growling, I grab a kitchen towel, ball it up, and lob it at his head.

He catches it effortlessly and turns away so I can't see him grinning.

* * *

Later that evening, when I'm seated at the desk in my bedroom finishing up cleaning my shotgun and two handguns, there's a knock on my door. "Come in."

Jack opens the door and steps inside, his hands going to his hips as he observes my preparations. "Let's hope you won't need any of those."

I shrug. "What do you want?"

He winces. "Still pissed, I see." When I don't bother to reply, he adds, "I just wanted to let you know that Mike and Aleksa just left to take care of business."

"You mean they're dumping the dead body."

"Yeah."

"Where?" Even though I ask, I'm not sure I want to know. Are they dumping the body in a river, where a fisherman might encounter it? In a ravine, where hikers could stumble across it and be traumatized? Or, are they burying it deep somewhere off the beaten path where no one will ever find it? That last one would be my choice.

"The less you know, the better," he says. "If this goes south, you can honestly claim you have no knowledge of what's going on."

He crosses my bedroom and closes the curtains hanging in front of the two windows. "You should keep your curtains closed and turn off your lights as soon as possible. It'll make it much harder for someone to see inside the cabin and monitor your whereabouts."

"You have this all figured out, don't you?"

"I've been dealing with situations like this for a long time."

I load a full magazine into my 9mm and stash it in the middle drawer of my nightstand. I put the other handgun in a box on the top shelf in my closet, along with the shotgun. Finally, I switch off the lamp beside the bed. "Happy now?"

He chuckles. "Far from it."

"Too bad." I walk past him and out the door.

"Where are you going?" he asks as he follows me out.

"To load the wood stove for the night and get ready for bed."

"I already took care of the stove," he says.

"Fine." So I head for the bathroom instead.

"Sleep in your clothes tonight," he says through the closed bathroom door. "Be ready to move at a moment's notice."

After cleaning up, I open the bathroom door, surprised to see he's waiting there, leaning against the wall. The rest of the cabin is dark. All the lights are off, and the curtains are drawn.

"Can I help you?" I ask.

Jack exhales heavily. "Ruth, I really am sorry."

My throat tightens. I hate being mad at him, but I don't know how to shake this. I don't like feeling out of control. I hate the unknown. I hate worrying about Micah and my friends. "So you keep saying." I want to say it's okay, that I understand, but the words die in my throat.

When I pass him on the way to my bedroom, he grasps my shoulders and maneuvers me so that my back is flush against the wall.

His touch is light, but it's enough to keep me there because my traitorous body likes it. I think back to last night and early this morning, to sharing a bed with him. Was it really only this morning? It seems like it was a lifetime ago. I want that again, so badly. And I hate myself for it. I don't want to like him. I don't want to want him.

My heart starts pounding and my belly clenches in anticipation. "What are you doing, Jack?" I'm trying desperately to hold onto my resentment, but the truth is, it's slipping away.

He leans close, his hands framing my face. I gaze into a pair of dark eyes, lit with an intensity that steals my breath. "I'm sorry," he says again. His gaze drops to my lips, and I know he's thinking of kissing me.

When I thought he was leaving the next day, I was okay with having sex. But now everything has changed. He's not leaving—at least not anytime soon. And that changes everything. A one-night stand I could deal with, but anything more than that—no. I'm not going through that again.

I press my hand to his chest. "We need to talk, Jack. Or, rather you do. I want to know what's going on. All of it."

He's silent for a moment, as if warring with himself, trying to decide what he can tell me, if anything. Then, he nods through my open bedroom door at my bed. "All right. Sit."

I take a seat on my bed as he starts pacing.

"Yuri's outfit has been dogging me since I left the organization. Somehow they seem to be just a few steps behind me. I've made it a point to keep moving since I retired. I've never spent more than a day in one location. I slept in my car more often than not. I ate drive-thru and gas station food. I paid to take showers in truck stops. As long as I kept moving, I was fine. They couldn't catch up to me. But I made a mistake by staying in Bryce too long."

"How are they tracking you?"

Jack shakes his head. "There has to be a mole in my old organization. The only ones who know my whereabouts are my guys—my former team members. They've been monitoring my location."

"You mean Mike and Aleksa?"

"They're not the moles," he says, shaking his head adamantly. "I'd stake my life on it."

"It sounds like you already are."

He's still shaking his head. "Mike and I served together in the SEAL Teams. He's like a brother to me. Same for Lexi."

"Then who else is there?"

"There are two other guys—Diego and Lenny. They're on their way."

My eyes widen. "So, your potential mole is coming here?"

He nods. "Mike and I thought this would be the best way to identify the mole—if we had him right under our noses and could set a trap for him."

"So, now what?"

He chuckles bitterly. "Now I take out Yuri Yevgeny. Ironically, I have to do the one thing I hadn't planned on doing. But he's forced my hand. This won't stop until one of us is dead—it's either him or me."

"Can you do that? Take this guy out? I mean, if he comes with an army of his own?"

Jack nods. "With the five of us standing together, Yuri and his henchmen don't stand a chance." He says that with utter confidence, although there's no joy or satisfaction in his voice. It's clear he doesn't want to do this. That he's being forced into it.

His jaw tightens. "My only other option is to leave the country and cut all ties to my former teammates, to everyone. If the mole doesn't know where I am, then Yuri won't be able to trace me. Not without the insider information he's getting now."

"No." The thought of Jack banishing himself, friendless, is unacceptable. "You can't keep running."

"Would you please reconsider leaving town until this is over?" he asks. "Your brother could take you somewhere. Or I can ask Mike to do it."

I turn to face him. "Sorry, no. I'm not the running type."

He smiles. "Yeah, I kind of figured that. I guess that's why I'm so attracted to you." He tucks a loose strand of hair behind my ear. "You have an inner strength I find irresistible."

The way he's looking at me makes my breath catch. His gaze is locked on mine, as if he's searching for something. "I wish things were different," he says.

I nod. "Me, too." I wish I weren't afraid of trying again and that I was willing to take a chance.

When his phone chimes with an incoming text message, Jack checks the screen. "It's from Mike. They found a place to dump the body and the vehicle."

"Where?"

"He didn't say, although I take it the location isn't close by because he says they won't make it back before the wee hours. We're on our own for the next four or five hours." He glances at his watch. "It's getting late. You should try to get some sleep. The next twenty-four hours are going to be hairy."

"What about you?"

He shrugs. "I'm on guard duty until the guys return. You go to bed."

"I can wait up with you."

Jack shakes his head. "I'd rather you didn't. You're going to need rest, sleep if you can get it." He gets up and walks to my door, turning just to say, "Goodnight, Ruth. I'll be right here if you need me."

And then he's gone, closing the door behind him and leaving me alone with my thoughts. I should be focused on what might happen, but instead my head keeps replaying Jack's words to me.

I'm sorry.

He's apologized several times for bringing his troubles into my life, and I believe he's sincere. If I'm being honest with myself, the truth is I'm not mad at him. I'm just scared. I'm afraid to risk my peace, and my heart, taking a chance on another guy.

But if there was ever a guy worth taking a chance on, it would have to be Jack Merchant.