Chapter Four

Max

It’s around midnight when I pull up outside of the little cabin in the woods. I’ve been to two other places, and this is the first that looks alive.

It’s a small place. I’d bet one bedroom. A smokestack chimney billows grey clouds into the moonlit sky and fallen pine needles blanket the ground surrounding the area.

Pine and cedar erase most of the other scents that could be lingering, though the faint hint of smoke does come through as well.

Inside, there’s one single light drifting from the kitchen. Curtains cover the windows, but the shadow of a person reflects through.

I crunch through the forest, maneuvering behind trees toward the house with my gun drawn. I don’t know what I’m walking into, but I’m sure by the way the shadow sits that he’s not expecting anyone. It’s a slumped look that tells me he’s relaxed, not on alert.

On the side of the house, there’s an open window and a few cut logs which are easy enough to stack, allowing me to climb in if I choose.

I’m not sure why people don’t think of these things, but it’s all I think about. When I button up for the night, I keep in mind what I have lying around the property that would garner an intruder easy access to my home. It’s part of being a man, part of protecting what’s yours. Clearly, this piece of shit knows nothing about that.

That said, I don’t climb through the window. Instead, I finally get a clear look at him. He’s wearing a baseball cap with a smiling orange bird on it. I don’t follow baseball, but even I know that’s a terrible team. He has no beard, piercings in both ears with those big gauge earrings, and he’s wearing a flannel and a pair of boxers.

Dinner tonight was venison stew. I can smell it through the window. He’s eating well, which means he’ll fight well… if he can fight at all.

I scan the room for guns or a rack.

Nothing obvious, but it’s a stretch to think that any grown man up here wouldn’t have a gun. Most folks keep them for protection from animals at the very least.

As for other weapons, his axe is out here next to the wood stack, and I don’t see anything else threatening aside from the knives he keeps by the stove. With my gun in tote, he won’t have time to use those effectively.

I round back to the front door and kick it open.

As I make my way through the room, I can’t help but think that’s another thing folks should look into. You can’t go with cheap locks. These older cabins weren’t built with protection in mind. They’re made for hunters passing through or hikers who’ve lost their way.

The man stands from his chair with wide eyes and the scent of fear on his skin. His hands go up and it’s easy to see he’s never fought a grown man. Apparently, he saves that for the women.

My blood crackles under my skin. “Do you know Collette McAdams?”

He nods. “Why? She in trouble?”

I laugh and aim my gun at his head. “Sit your ass down.”

He does what I ask immediately. That’s what men like him do… they listen. Simple, submissive, weak men, that follow orders.

“What’s this about?” he says, his voice shaking.

“You hit her. I saw the records. You have anything to say about that?”

He laughs.

I shoot, placing a bullet into his left calf. “Laugh again and it goes in your head.”

Every muscle in his body is twitching as he writhes on the floor. “What do you want?”

“Right now, I want you tied up on the back of my bike.”

“What? Where are we going?”

I toss him a rope and nod, watching as he ties himself in circles.

When he’s sufficiently wrapped it, I tighten the edges, and tie off the bleeding in his leg.

“What are you doing? Why are you here? Did Collette send you? You know what happened there right? She’s a liar. I… did what I had to.”

“I don’t give a fuck if she spit in your goddamn face and threatened you with a fucking gun. You don’t hurt a woman.”

“Right. So, women can do whatever they want because they’re women. But men… they just gotta stand there and take it?”

I laugh. “Wow, spoken like a true pussy. Yeah, men take it. Real men, take it.”

I grip the rope and drag him off the chair, not bothering to note what he’s slamming against or how he’s being dragged. I just move, and he goes wherever I take him, including down the steps, through the pine needles, and into the forest.

“Just shoot me now. Just shoot me.” He’s pleading and crying, but I don’t give a fuck.

“Nah, that’s too easy. I need you alive.”

“Why?”

“You’re the father of her child. It’s her decision what happens to you. I figure at the very least she should get the enjoyment of watching you suffer.” I drag him up next to my bike. I don’t usually take bounties to a second location so I’m not sure how I’m going to manage this, but I’m guessing I can tie him to the rack and keep his arms secure so he can’t pull some shit while we’re riding.

“I’m not the father of that baby.” He’s angry now. “The dad is some guy named Mac or Max or something.”

My stomach tightens and I glance back at the man I’m currently tying in knots. “What did you say?”

“She told me the fucking baby wasn’t mine. That’s why I lost it.”

I stare toward him, calculating the months between the time she left and now. Then I calculate it again. The math fucking adds up!

Fuck! Why didn’t I see that? Why the fuck didn’t I see that?

Elation, anger, frustration, and happiness roar through me all at once. I know why she left. She didn’t think I’d make a good father. She didn’t think the violence and the bullshit would be good for a baby. She’s not wrong, but still, she should’ve told me.

I swallow hard and try to gather my thoughts, but my head is spinning.

“Why did she tell you that?” I growl, tightening the rope until I see it’s cutting off his circulation.

The man struggles against my grip. “We argued all the damn time. I told her I was only staying because of the baby, and she said it wasn’t mine. That it belonged to this Mac guy, and I lost it.”

I punch the man in the face, repeatedly. I don’t give a fuck what she did. The fact that he hurt her kills me.

Max, you fucking idiot!

This isn’t how this was supposed to go. I was tying him up. I was bringing him to her. I was letting her decide. That makes sense. This… this doesn’t.

Fuck!

“What are you doing in Rugged Mountain? You’re from Wyoming, right?”

The man spits blood. “Yeah, but I can’t go back to jail. I got family up here. Didn’t think anyone would find me.”

Every fucking asshole skips bail and goes on the run, thinking the same damn things. ‘I won’t get caught if I go somewhere I know.’ They all make the same stupid mistakes. They go toward family, or they go in a straight line toward the border.

“Nothin’ else? You didn’t come up here to fuck with Collette? How am I supposed to believe that?”

He spits blood from his mouth and glances up toward me. “Look, man, I’m on the fucking run. The last thing I want is to worry about someone who knows me. I’ve stayed here without anyone seeing me for a week. I’m just buying some time until I can get out of the country.”

I dial Outlaw and step away from the bike.

He picks up on the first ring.

“Hey. How’s everything? You need help?”

“Maybe.” I don’t want to get into details because I need to talk to Collette before I start telling everyone that she’s having my baby, but it’s really fucking hard not to say anything. I want people to know.

I suck in a deep breath. The pine in the air is heavier now. “I need a transport back to the police in Wyoming. Can you get one of the guys to come grab him?”

“Send me your location and I’ll have someone roll out there. The dude awake?”

“Yeah. You want him asleep?”

“Ideally,” Outlaw laughs.

This makes things a hell of a lot easier.

“My pleasure.” I hang up the phone and swing into the asshole one last time, knocking him out cold. Why does it feel so good to hurt someone who fucks with the people you love?

I lean back against a pine tree and slide down to the ground as I wait for backup.

I’ve missed nine months. Nine months of watching Collette grow. Nine months of feeling my baby girl kick.

My baby girl.

The baby girl Collette and I made.

Fuck.

I stare up at the sky and drag in a harsh breath, fighting back a tear. I’m having a baby.

My little cat and I are having a baby girl.

Visions of diapers, bottles, late night feedings, little pink blankets, and my girl curled up on the couch with our bundle, singing her songs.

I’m not sure I knew I wanted this so badly.

Backup can’t come fast enough. I need my Collette in my arms. I need her against my skin. I need her all over me. I need to tell her that everything will be okay, and reassure her that we’ll figure this out. I need to make sure she’s taken care of, that she’s healthy, that she’s loved, that she doesn’t want for anything.

Most of all, she needs to know she’s mine. Mine to love. Mine to take care of. Mine to cherish.

It’s after one a.m. I shouldn’t show up tonight. I should rest, take a shower, and do this right. She needs to see that I’m not all soaked in aggression and violence. That I’m capable of acting with others in mind, and not reacting like I have in the past. I glance toward the asshole who’s currently gone limp in the dirt.

Trouble is, I’m not sure I’ve got that in me.