Chapter Twenty-Four

I pulled into the cabin’s driveway and avoided Cass’s eyes. I wanted to believe she wasn’t angry at me. But it was hard. Especially when I was so pissed off at myself. She obviously knew where we were, but she didn’t say a word as I carried her suitcase up to the cabin and dropped it on the front step.

She finally grabbed my hand and squeezed it.

“It’ll be cold in there,” Cass told me. “Do you mind grabbing some firewood from the shed? I’ll get us set up inside.”

“All right,” I said, unable to disguise my relief.

I marched over to the shed. It was full of big logs, and empty of chopped wood, so I grabbed an axe and got to work.

As backwards as it seems, I’ve always found when I’m at the point of collapse, physical exertion can bring me back.

I swung the axe with all of my strength, and the wood splintered underneath my efforts.

I was suffering, and even I knew it.

I couldn’t put into words how I was feeling. The sudden and overwhelming anguish I’d experienced when I believed Monato had taken Cass—it had almost undone me. I hadn’t felt anything like it since Colin had died. And even so, those feelings were nothing compared to the guilt-riddled relief I’d experienced when I’d opened the storage closet and found her there, barely alive. If Leo hadn’t been somewhere nearby, I might’ve collapsed right there.

I was impressed at how well Cass was holding up. I had subjected her to an awful lot over the past two days, and all she’d done to show it was to rub her eyes a little tiredly when I’d let her into the cabin. Even though she hadn’t yet said a word about the fact that we were using her friend’s parents’ cabin as a hideout, she must be thinking about it. If anything, she’d seemed relieved to be in familiar surroundings.

I glanced up, and I could see her through one of the windows, sweeping and smiling.

She’s doing better than I am, I admitted to myself as I took another wide chop at the unsuspecting wood.

The proof was in my near breakdown on the road.

What if she had died on my watch?

I pushed the disturbing thought aside and splintered some more kindling. But another one crept in.

A mole.

Cass had to be right. I hadn’t considered it before because it hadn’t mattered before. Because it was just me. With Cass in the picture… I inhaled and took another swing with the axe.

I looked up again, and saw that Cass had stepped onto the porch. She was shaking out blankets and pillows. I paused in my chopping to observe her performing the old fashioned domestic task. I relaxed as I watched her.

Monato thought she was dead, I reminded myself. At least for now.

So at least he had been placated temporarily. If he had been having me watched by someone other than Gary, he’d have lost at least some of his motivation to do so. If I had a say in it at all, I would find Monato before he even realized Cass was alive.

Cass waved at me from behind a small cloud of dust.

“I think it’s been a while since the place has been aired out!” she called. “You coming in soon?”

“In a minute,” I told her with an only partly fake smile.

I finished taking out my aggression on the pile of logs, then loaded up my arms and went after her into the rustic house. It was my first real look inside. It was a traditional log house, decorated with kitschy charm. A huge, clearly fake fish, surrounded by old fashioned rods was mounted on one wall. A stuffed elk’s head—maybe real, but probably not—looked out from above the single bedroom door. The curtains were made of red checkered cloth, and a cuckoo clock hung above the kitchen window. The whole thing made me grin.

“Don’t worry,” Cass said when she saw my face. “There’s running water and even a toilet.”

She had settled onto the futon and she was sitting with her legs curled up under a patchwork quilt. She had tucked back her long hair into a ponytail, too. Clad in my T-shirt and the flannel pants she’d found somewhere in the cabin, she looked perfectly at home.

I stuffed as much of the chopped wood into the fireplace as would fit, lit the kindling, and worked at getting it going.

“So…I take it you talked to Blair?” Cass asked.

“I saw her,” I replied with a chuckle. “She’s pretty protective of you.”

“Yeah.” Cass sounded a little sheepish, but her smile got wider. “She’s a good friend. Was she super mad?”

“Yes,” I admitted as I tossed in some crumpled up newspaper and poked it around a bit. “More worried than anything. She called me a gorgeous hunk of a man, though.”

“She did not!” Cass said.

I laughed. “Okay, maybe not. But for sure she was thinking it.”

“More than likely.”

When I was sure I had the flue open, and the fire stoked well enough, I joined her on the futon.

“Cass, I’m really sorry for getting you wrapped up in this,” I said softly. “And I’m sorry about the way I acted in the Jeep.”

“It’s okay.”

I tried to avoid her eyes, but something about her gaze held me.

“Your moneyman—Gary—told me he thought you were after revenge,” she said. “He thinks that’s the only thing that could make you act the way you do. He said you were an unfeeling man.”

“Big mouth,” I muttered.

“And he’s got the broken nose to prove it,” she reminded me.

I cringed inwardly, thinking of how I’d last seen Gary in the Polaroid photo—eyes closed with a knife sticking out of his chest. I decided not to tell Cass about it. She’d been through enough.

She was too observant.

“What happened to him?” she asked.

“He was the informant you so astutely mentioned earlier,” I replied.

Her eyes widened. “Did you…?”

I shook my head.

“Not me. I have a bad temper,” I said with a shrug. “But not that bad.”

“But he’s not okay,” Cass persisted.

“No,” I admitted, and I couldn’t keep the disgust out of my voice. “I think Monato felt he’d served his purpose.”

“It bothers you?”

“People aren’t disposable, Cass. I don’t like what Gary did. But I like what Monato did even less.”

She was examining my face carefully, as if searching for honesty, and I shrugged again.

“In my line of work, it’s helpful to have a temper. More often than not anyway,” I told her. “I am not going to bother faking an apology for mine, either. But contrary to apparently popular belief, that doesn’t mean I’m unfeeling in other regards.”

She went quiet for a minute, and I worried our entire stay at the cabin was going to be like that—long silences punctuated by awkward conversation.

“Do you think I’m unfeeling?” I asked.

“There’s some scotch in the cabinet,” she offered.

Her lack of response to my question made me uneasy.

“I don’t want any,” I told her with transparent irritability.

“I was telling you for selfish reasons.” She bit back a grin. “And no, I don’t think you’re unfeeling. But you made it clear you don’t like it when I call you a hero.”

“You want scotch?” I responded, pretending not to have heard the rest, even though it lifted my spirits.

“Just to take the sting out.”

She pointed to her neck and I winced. Somehow, I’d managed to momentarily forget about the zip cord that had been tied around her throat. The mark was fading to an angry purple already, but I winced at the thought it might leave a scar.

Something else that’s my fault.

My hands clenched into fists, and I fought to relax my fingers, one by one.

Cass cleared her throat, and I jumped up to search the cabinet. I found it on the top shelf and I knew right away it was a good bottle. I opened it and sniffed it appreciatively—it was an aromatic single malt, and the scent was enticing as I poured it. Sighing, I grabbed a second glass and pulled two neat shots. Cass drank hers back quickly and held it out for a second before I even took a sip of my first.

“Much better than the acetaminophen Billy left for me in the suitcase,” she said.

I poured her another, then sealed the bottle back up. Cass’s eyes were already bright by the time I got back to the futon.

“You look…happy,” I teased.

“Drink yours,” she replied. “You’ll look happy, too.”

I laughed. “I’m really more of an angry drinker. But you should’ve guessed that.”

“I don’t believe it, actually,” she said. “Sit.”

She pulled back the quilt and patted the spot beside her. I raised an eyebrow deliberately and slowly, and Cass giggled. I liked this easygoing side of her as much as I liked the quiet but straightforward one.

“So you’re not going to sit?” she asked. “You’d rather stand there staring at me?”

I rolled my eyes and joined her. I stretched my legs out and pretended not to notice as her thigh brushed mine. I took a sip of the scotch, savouring the flavour in my mouth.

“Are you about to get angry again?” Cass teased.

“Maybe.”

She grabbed my drink and took an exaggerated sip.

“You wanna tell me what it is you’re so mad about?” she wondered out loud.

“No.”

She made a ridiculous pouty face that reminded me of the convincing role she’d been playing at the warehouse. My eyes focused automatically on her lips, and the immediate memory of the way they felt pressed against mine made me very conscious of how close she was sitting to me. Cass smiled and winked, and her expression gave away the fact that she was playing it up on purpose.

I sighed and pushed down a sudden urge to pin her to the futon. I moved away and she moved closer again.

“Does alcohol always have this effect on you?” I asked.

“Yes. No.”

I narrowed my eyes at her.

“I’ve only had one drink. And a bit. Although…I do feel a bit funny,” she confessed.

“You said Billy gave you acetaminophen, right?”

“I thought it was. I have the bottle here. Somewhere.”

She reached down to the floor, and her T-shirt slid up, exposing the smooth skin on the small of her back. I ached to lean over and run my fingers along it. I had to grip my knees tightly to stop myself from doing it. Cass righted herself and grinned at me with a flushed face. She handed me an unmarked, white pill bottle and I grimaced as I opened it.

“These aren’t just acetaminophen,” I informed her. “These are prescription acetaminophen. With codeine.”

Her arm was still draped across my lap, and I tried unsuccessfully to disentangle myself from her. She sighed and buried her head against my chest. I could smell my shampoo in her hair, and knowing she’d used it did nothing to ease my increasingly apparent desire.

“This is nice,” Cass said softly.

“Nice,” I agreed in a thick voice.

She turned her face toward me, and I found myself staring into her slate-coloured eyes. Her pupils were big, her skin was pink, and when she parted her lips to speak again, I had to look away in order to control myself.

“John?”

“I had a brother,” I said through gritted teeth. “Colin. He died. He was killed, actually.”

Cass sat up and I exhaled with relief, mingled with regret.

“Who did it?” she asked.

I decided impulsively to take a chance.

“I don’t know. Maybe Monato. Maybe someone else in the game. My little brother was in the same line of work as me,” I explained. “He looked up to me, wanted to be like me in every way he shouldn’t have been. He born when I was eight, and after my parents died, he became my responsibility.”

“I get it,” she said. “Siblings have to stick together.”

Cass was still watching me, and her face was full of understanding. What could she possibly understand about my violent world? Nothing. But I nodded anyway.

“I tried to keep him out of it,” I told her. “I actually moved him away from this city for a while, just to avoid getting him involved. But as soon as an opportunity came up to come back, he jumped on it, of course. I pretended I was okay with it, and I tried to help him from where I was. He knew Billy, too, so I had him keep tabs on Colin when he could. But with the kind of work we do…I had to move back.”

“I understand,” Cass told me softly, and she sounded like she meant it.

“He was busy with work, but I knew something was wrong the last few times I talked to him,” I admitted. “Although it wasn’t until our very last conversation I realized he was putting himself in danger. He was investigating something that had nothing to do with him, nothing to do with work. I told him to leave it alone, but he was stubborn. I was out of town, and even though I got out here as fast as I could, I was still too late.”

I stopped for a second as a fresh surge of guilt and pain coursed through my body. My throat felt thick, and I was grateful when Cass handed me the last of her scotch.

“If I’d been twelve hours earlier, I might’ve been able to stop it,” I told her. “But by the time I arrived home, they’d already cleaned house. His boss was dead. His girlfriend was dead. Colin was dead. No one was talking because they didn’t want to wind up dead, too.”

I closed my eyes. It was so hard to think of how one decision I’d made had changed the course of my life. It was impossible to not blame myself. And I remembered it like it was yesterday. I had flown in—why had I decided it was a good weekend to go away?—only to be greeted by Billy at the airport. The second I had seen his face, I’d known I was too late.

“So when you got home, you did what? Took over so you could figure out who did it?” Cass wanted to know, and I sensed she might be trying to steer me to a less painful conversation.

“Yes,” I replied gratefully. “I forced my way in right in the middle of the chaos. I knew the business—I was doing it before Colin was an adult. I knew Billy, and he vouched for me. I came in with my family money and picked up the pieces quickly. God knows I had the motivation.”

“And no one knew Colin was your brother?”

I shook my head. “Nobody except Billy. To everyone else, he was just some guy in the wrong place at the wrong time. As far as I know, nobody except the man who killed him knew much more than his name. If that.”

Cass put her head on my shoulder, and I took a shaky breath, enjoying the way she made me feel. It was glad, too, to have explained myself, and to have shared a part of it with her I couldn’t really discuss with anyone else.

“John…”

“Yeah?”

“Colin was a mercenary, wasn’t he? That’s why you hate them?”

I drew in an involuntarily sharp breath.

“Yes,” I admitted. “He was.”

“It’s okay,” Cass told me in a sincere but sleepy voice, and patted my hand gently.

“Thank you,” I said.

She didn’t answer, and after a minute, I realized she’d fallen asleep. I wrapped my arms around her, carried her to the bedroom, and tucked her into the big, wrought iron bed. I kissed her gently on the forehead, and decided to try and get some sleep myself.