Chapter 12: Robyn

Thursday is a good day. Cara goes out of her way to avoid me, and no one tries to hit on me. Well, except for one old guy who’s got to be in his nineties if he’s a day. He’s harmless as he sits at the counter drinking coffee and working his way through two slices of Jenny’s homemade cherry pie.

Micah arrives right on time to pick me up. “How was work?” he asks as we head to his truck.

“Good.”

“Your transmission should arrive tomorrow. I should be able to get to it over the weekend.”

“Don’t work the weekend on my account. It can wait until Monday.”

“I don’t mind, really. I imagine you’re anxious to have your own transportation again.”

We pull into the auto shop parking lot, and Micah parks the truck near the entrance to the office.

“Make yourself at home in the cabin,” he says. “I have a couple more hours of work to do in the shop. When I’m done, I’ll start on dinner.”

“I feel guilty that you’re doing all the cooking.”

“I don’t mind. We’ve got to eat, right?”

I walk on back to the cabin and let myself in. I’d like to offer to make dinner for him for a change, but there’s not a lot I can make. Maybe I could learn.

My heart skips a beat when my phone rings. It has to be Ricky. No one else calls me. I glance at the screen, and sure enough, I’m right. I feel like having it out with him, once and for all, so I accept the call. “What do you want?”

“Robyn!” He sounds relieved. “I’ve been trying to reach you for days. Where are you?”

“You mean you don’t know?”

“What do you mean? I have no idea where you are. Are you somewhere safe?”

“Yes.”

“When are you coming home?”

“I’m not.”

“What? Don’t be crazy. You have to come home.”

“No, I don’t. It’s clear I can’t trust you, Ricky.”

He blows out a frustrated breath and suddenly lowers his voice to a whisper. “Robyn, you have to come home.”

“Is there someone there with you?” When he doesn’t answer me right away, I know he’s not alone. “Who’s there? Is it Verne?”

“No, not Verne, but a couple of his guys. I can’t talk long.”

I hear what sounds like the kitchen screen door close and then footsteps on the gravel path. It sounds like Ricky stepped outside. “Listen, Robyn, you have no idea how much trouble we’re in.”

“ We ?”

“Yes, we . You know a lot about Verne’s business. You’re a liability to him. If you don’t come back and work with us—”

“I already told you no, Ricky. Nothing’s changed.” Then I remember the tracker. “Did you put a GPS device on my car?” There’s dead silence over the line which makes me think I managed to shock him. “Ricky? Did you?”

“Of course not.” He exhales. “It was one of Verne’s men. He put it on your car so he could track you to Seattle and back. It was for your own safety, in case something went wrong. But that means they know where you are, Robyn, and if you don’t come back—” He sounds truly spooked.

My heart slams into my chest. “I have to go.”

“No, wait! They’re out searching for you right now. You—”

“Goodbye, Ricky. I really just wanted to say thank you for everything you did for me. I’ll always be grateful. But it’s time for us to go our separate ways.” Before he has a chance to respond, I end the call and put my phone on do not disturb .

I need to warn Micah, so I grab my coat, race across the yard, and enter the shop through the back door. I find all three of the mechanics gathered in the front office. The lights are off, and it looks like Margie’s gone for the day.

“Micah,” I say breathlessly, “Ricky says they’re coming.”

He turns to face me, his expression grim. “They’re already here.”

“What?” As I follow the direction of his gaze, I notice a dark SUV parked on the side of the road across from the auto shop. That’s when I notice a handgun is tucked into the back waistband of Micah’s jeans. “What do we do?”

“I’ve already called Chris. He’s on his way, with backup.”

Not thirty seconds later, we hear multiple sirens in the distance. As the sounds grow louder—closer—the SUV makes a sharp U-turn in the middle of the road and speeds off north, away from town.

A minute later, two police vehicles pull into the parking lot, lights flashing, sirens still blaring. They’re definitely making their presence known. Chris gets out of his vehicle and walks up to the building.

Micah opens the door for him. “Thanks for coming. They took off as soon as they heard the sirens.”

Chris’s gaze lands on me. “Robyn, are you okay?”

I nod, not trusting myself to speak. There’s a painful knot in my throat, and I’m trying not to panic. These people are in danger because of me.

Micah takes one look at me, walks over, and pulls me into his arms. “Hey, it’s okay. You’re safe.”

The reality of the situation hits me hard. Those people followed me all the way from Denver. I pull back. “This is all my fault. I never should have come here. You’re all in danger because of me.”

“We don’t scare that easily, Robyn,” Chris says.

“Yeah,” Pete says. “We’re not afraid of a bunch of two-bit drug dealers.”

Chris says he’ll write up a report so he has something on record. Other than the make and model of the SUV, he doesn’t have any actionable information. There was no license plate. Nothing to follow up on or trace. “My deputies and I will patrol the area heavily. If they come back, we’ll catch them.”

Pete and Tony head out for the night, and I wait with Micah while he locks up the shop and sets the alarm. We exit from the back door and walk across the yard to the cabin. I find myself watching over my shoulder and jumping at every little sound.

Once we’re inside, Micah turns the deadbolt. Somehow I don’t think a deadbolt is going to keep drug dealers out for long.

“Have a seat and relax,” he says as he makes a quick sweep of the cabin, checking the closet, the bathroom, and the pantry. He double checks all the doors and windows to make sure they’re locked.

When he’s done, he says, “How about we whip up something quick for dinner, and then have that shooting lesson?”

“Do we have to?”

Grimly, he nods. “I’m afraid we do, now more than ever.”

* * *

After Micah grabs my gun, a few human-shaped paper targets, and two pairs of earmuffs from the gun cabinet, we put on our coats and head out the back door. I follow him a few yards into the trees. Many of the leaves have changed color and fallen, creating a crunchy carpet beneath our feet.

He tacks one of the targets to a tree, piercing the sheet of paper on an existing nail. Apparently, he’d done this before. He draws me back away from the target, fits a pair of earmuffs on me, and then puts a pair on himself. “Ready?”

“No.” I’m only half kidding.

He laughs as he motions me closer. “Come here.”

To my surprise, he positions me right in front of him so that I’m facing the target.

His arms come around me, drawing me back against his chest. “Always use both hands when aiming. Use your dominant hand to hold the grip, and this index finger on the trigger.” He manipulates my hands to illustrate. “Use your other hand to support your dominant hand.” He places the gun in my right hand, then wraps my left hand around the handle, positioning my thumb just so. “Good, just like that.”

He shows me how to use the sight. Then he loads the magazine and hands me the gun.

“Ready?” He grips my shoulders to hold me steady. “Take your time. Flip off the safety. Aim and then slowly squeeze the trigger. Be ready for the kickback and the noise.”

I do as he said, squeezing the trigger. The gun kicks violently in my hand, and my aim goes wide.

He squeezes my shoulders. “It’s okay. Try again.”

I fire a second shot and miss the paper target, hitting the tree instead and knocking off a chunk of bark. “I’m terrible at this.”

“At least you hit the tree this time. That’s an improvement.”

“Ha ha.” I try again. This time I manage to hit the very edge of the paper target.

“See? You’re getting it. Keep going. Empty the magazine.”

I fire again, completely missing the target. The remaining shots are better, but not by much. “If this were a real firefight, I’d be toast.”

He pats my shoulder and hands me ten more bullets. “Here. Reload.”

“But you said one lesson.”

“That doesn’t mean just one magazine. Shooting requires practice. A lot of practice. Now reload.”

I load the bullets and shove the magazine into the gun. I fire all ten, my aim marginally better this time.

“Hey, you’re getting the hang of it,” Micah says. He holds out ten more bullets.

“No,” I say, stepping away from him. “My shoulders hurt.”

He quickly inserts the bullets himself and slams the magazine into the grip. “Are we done for tonight?”

“I am. But I want to see you shoot.”

Micah hangs a new target and returns to my side. Without pause, he raises the gun in a practiced two-hand grip and empties the magazine, firing in rapid succession. He absolutely shreds the target, right where the heart would be.

“Show-off,” I say.

“After a tour in Afghanistan, I’ve been in more firefights than I can possibly count. If I wasn’t a good shot, I wouldn’t be standing here today.” He reloads, flips on the safety, and tucks the gun into the back waistband of his jeans. “Come with me. There’s something I want to show you.”

We walk deeper into the woods, following a well-worn dirt path until Micah abruptly stops. “See this here?” He points to a tree with a branch that has been sawed off. “Here’s where you get off the path and walk into the trees.”

I follow him through the trees, stepping over fallen logs and skirting around thick shrubs. It’s starting to get dark, which makes it even harder to see where we’re going.

When I trip over a small log, he takes my hand and steadies me. “It’s not far now.”

A few minutes later, we come across a small wooden structure nestled amongst the trees. It’s hardly bigger than a shed.

“My grandfather built this decades ago. He let me use it as a playhouse.”

He walks right up to the shed and opens the door. “Go on in.”

“It’s dark in there.” The shed has no windows, so it’s pitch black inside.

“Use your phone’s flashlight.”

I switch on my light and peer inside. It’s tiny, barely wide enough for the single cot holding a stained pillow and a threadbare blanket. “What is this place?”

He chuckles. “I guess you could call it the original man cave. My grandpa built this back in the 1930s, when he built the cabin—the one I live in now. This was before he and my grandmother moved into a larger home.”

I glance around the interior of the shed, underneath the bed, and in the corners. Even though it’s barebones and old, it’s clean inside. I don’t see any raccoon droppings or giant spider webs. “Why are you showing me this?”

“I wanted you to know this place exists.” He closes the door, shutting us inside, turns the deadbolt, and then drops a heavy iron bar across the door. “If you’re at the cabin and you’re in trouble, consider this a safe place to hide. You can sneak out the back door and disappear into the woods. No one besides me knows about this place.”

“So, it’s a panic room of sorts.”

“Yeah, you could say that.”

* * *

There’s a loud thud against one of the cabin walls, and I flinch.

“It’s just the wind,” Micah says. He looks at me, gauging my response.

“Sorry. I guess I’m a bit rattled tonight.”

“Tomorrow I’ll install a security system in the cabin. If you’re here alone, I want you to feel safe. And if there are any issues, I’ll get an alert on my phone.” He pulls out his phone and starts tapping on the screen. A few moments later, he sets it aside. “Done. It’ll be delivered tomorrow. I’ll wire the doors and windows. If anyone comes in, you’ll be alerted, and so will I.”

“I hate for you to go to all that trouble just for me.”

He reaches out to touch my cheek. “It’s no problem. I want you to feel safe.”

Our gazes lock, and neither of us seems in a hurry to look away. The longer he looks into my eyes, the faster my pulse races.

His thumb, warm and a bit calloused, brushes my cheek. “I don’t suppose there’s any way I could talk you into quitting the diner, staying here on the property until we get to the bottom of this.”

I shake my head. “I can’t quit. I need that money. I can’t pay you for—”

His brow furrows. “I don’t care about the money, Robyn.”

“Well, I do.”

He winces. “I know you do. But what I care about is your safety.”

“I’ll be careful. I won’t leave the diner without you. Besides, I don’t think anyone would dare come into a public place like that to cause trouble. There would be too many witnesses.”

“Fine.” He doesn’t look happy. “Do you want to watch more of your show tonight?”

“Really? You’d be up for that?”

“Sure. I love watching fancy dressed-up folk dancing and flirting and conspiring with each other.”

We watch another two episodes, although this evening it’s a quieter affair than it was last night. Micah doesn’t ask as many questions. I think he’s preoccupied by what happened earlier today.

I’m hyper aware of the fact we’re sitting together in the dark, side by side, on the sofa. The only light comes from the TV.

I’m so preoccupied by his proximity. It feels like gravity keeps drawing me toward him. I can feel the heat radiating from his body. I glance down at his left hand, which is resting on his thigh. I study his long fingers, his blunt nails. With the lights off, his skin tone looks even darker. At one point, he must be getting hot because he pushes his long sleeves up past his elbows, and I’m treated to a view of his muscular forearms.

And now I’m feeling warm because I’m staring at the sexy veins running the length of his arms.

By the end of the second episode, I’m struggling to keep my eyes open. “I think it’s bedtime for me,” I say as the ending credits roll. “I call dibs on the bathroom.”

He chuckles. “I think we’ve established that fact.”

I head for the bathroom to get ready for bed. When I emerge, I find Micah on his phone. “No, we didn’t get a look at them. Just the SUV. They took off as soon as they heard the sirens.” He’s quiet a moment, as he’s listening to someone. “I already tried to talk her into quitting the diner, but she refused.”

Another pause.

Then, Micah says, “I’d really appreciate it. Chris and his deputies are going to patrol the diner and the auto shop. I’ll give Jenny a heads-up so she can be on guard.”

Another pause.

After a moment of silence, Micah signs off the call, saying, “Thanks, Jack. I owe you.”

“It’s all yours,” I say, trying to sound chipper, as if I wasn’t just eavesdropping on his conversation.

I climb into bed while Micah uses the bathroom to get himself ready for bed. When he’s done, he comes out and turns off the light over the kitchen sink, casting the cabin in darkness. Only a little bit of moonlight filters through the curtains.

On his way to the sofa, Micah stops beside my bed. “Can I sit a moment?”

I scoot over a bit to make room for him. “Sure.”

Micah reaches for my hand and squeezes it gently. He brushes the back of my hand, sending shivers up my arm. Somehow those tingles find their way down my torso, and a liquid heat settles low in my belly.

“We won’t let anything happen to you. I won’t.”

He sits there unmoving, just staring down at me. I think for a moment he might kiss me, but then he releases my hand and stands. “Goodnight, Robyn. Sleep well.”

“Goodnight.” I listen to his footsteps as he walks away, then lies down on the sofa. “You, too.”