Their Mountain Captive by Kayla Wren

12

Alec

The town is nervous. A frazzled energy hangs in the air, buzzing like flies. I stride across the square and focus on that.

That, and not Dante and Roxy. Alone together in the motel. Moaning into each other’s mouths, tugging at each other’s clothes. Were they waiting for me to leave the whole time?

My footsteps drum against the paving stones, and I shove my hands deeper in my pockets. The mountain breeze is fresh, laced with pine and lake water, and I breathe deeply, but the knot in my chest doesn’t ease.

It doesn’t matter. We’re running for our lives; this doesn’t matter.

I walk faster, eating up the sidewalk with angry strides. The trees bristle with drying leaves, turning gold for the fall, and the mountains that rise in all directions are capped with snow. Lonely Mountain stands the highest, looming over this little town, and everyone who lives here must feel constantly small.

Even though I’m moving openly through the space, I’m still aware. It would be more noticeable to skulk along the edges of buildings—better to cross openly, fearless, and draw fewer eyes. My senses are heightened, straining for any sign of Angelo, the hairs raised on my bared forearms.

I hunted Dante like this once. Prowled after him, so determined to see him behind bars. So determined to make the Marino prince pay for his crimes.

Most of them weren’t his. I know that now. Well—the worst crimes, anyway. The violent, depraved ones. Those were his father. And it was those gut-turning crimes that broke Dante’s will, that made him cut all ties and flee to the mountains.

I tracked him just like this. Through motels and greasy diners. Through changed name after changed name; over state lines and along freeways. Until finally, I had to choose—my career or following Dante.

I chose Dante.

He was always my weak spot, even then.

We got lucky this morning. Though the bags were left in the cabin, Dante and I both had wallets and phones in our pants pockets. We’re not flush with cash, but we’ve got enough to make do. To survive, so long as we keep Angelo away.

I start with the town pharmacy. Pick up some things to take care of Roxy’s leg and Dante’s arm—I should have come here first. Too late now. It’s too late now for a lot of things. I grab deodorant, toothbrushes and toothpaste too.

Next, I fill a paper grocery bag with snacks. Apples, pre-made sandwiches, chips, juice boxes. Dante will flip, but I don’t care. He’ll make do.

I get the clothes last. Plain t-shirts and sweatpants for all of us, plus fresh socks and underwear. And all the while, I watch for Angelo out of my peripheral vision, blinking so rarely that my eyes run dry. The check-out guy gives me a funny look, but I pay without a word, peering over his shoulder at the street outside.

Nothing. No sign of Angelo. That could be good, or it could be very bad. I step back into the crisp sunshine, our supplies tucked under one arm, feeling for the hundredth time how exposed I am out here. How easy it would be for a bullet to punch through my chest.

My footsteps echo as I stroll back to the motel. I take a looping, circuitous route, checking in dusty shop windows to make sure I’m not being tailed. Strains of tinny radio music float out of open shop doors, and for a surreal moment I let myself imagine that this is innocent. That the three of us are really just tourists, here to enjoy the sunshine and fresh air. Maybe to fish or try hiking the mountain.

We couldn’t stay in that motel. Not if we wanted Dante to stop complaining. So maybe a nicer hotel, or one of the rental cabins by the lake, with a private rowing boat bobbing at the dock…

Yeah. That’s it. That’s where I’d take them.

It’s such a sweet image, it steals the air from my lungs. Makes a lump grow in my throat. So I cough, once, and push it from my mind. Bring myself back down to earth with a thud.

It’s a daydream, and there’s no time for that.

I head back to the motel.

* * *

“Anything?” Dante watches from the bed as I peel the curtain an inch away from the window. A street lamp glows orange nearby, muting the stars overhead.

A whole day. A whole day hiding in this motel, holding our breath as we brace for Angelo.

He hasn’t come. And when I scan the motel parking lot, it’s as empty as it’s been all day.

“Maybe he left town.” I let the curtain drop. “That was the plan, right? He’d assume we ran, since that’s the smart thing to do.”

“We’re being dumb on purpose? Like a double bluff?” Roxy wrinkles her nose, her temple resting on Dante’s shoulder.

They’ve been like that since I got back. Glued to each other. Even when one of them gets up to pee, they seal back together afterwards like it’s nothing. The most natural thing in the world.

I sit on the edge of the single bed, ignoring the ache in my chest. Guess the sleeping arrangements have changed.

“He’s grumpy,” Dante murmurs into Roxy’s hair. Her mouth twitches, but when she looks at me, she seems worried.

“Come over here.” She lifts an arm. I stare at it, nonplussed.

“Do you need help? Do you need to go somewhere?”

Roxy huffs. She and Dante are so alike. “Are you always this clueless?”

“Yes,” Dante answers for me.

I sigh. And it’s been too many hours without sleep, too much adrenaline coursing through my veins, too much time spent watching them curling closer and closer. “Apparently so. I’m going for a walk.” I push to my feet.

“Is that wise?” Roxy asks, at the same time as Dante snaps, “Sit down.”

God, I want to storm out. Leave them and this mountain and this nightmare behind. But Dante’s right—if Angelo’s still out there, I might lead him here. And I may be bitter, but I’m not about to risk their safety.

“I’ll get another room.”

“Sit down.”

“You clearly want to be alone—”

“For fuck’s sake.” Dante scrambles upright, lunging across the bed to grab my wrist. One yank and I’m toppling forward, narrowly missing Roxy’s bad foot. I catch myself at the last minute, bouncing on the mattress in a chorus of bedsprings.

“Dante.”

He shoves backward, making space between them. Drags me into the center of the bed and holds me there slumped between them, a vice grip on my arm.

“Huh.” Roxy wriggles on my other side. Curls into me just like she did with Dante, and Jesus Christ. She’s so warm and soft. I press back against her automatically, a plant shoot seeking the sun. “I get it now. This manhandling never worked for you, Alec?”

“I don’t…”

I don’t understand. I stare up at the stained motel ceiling, my body rigid on the bed, trying to make sense of the last thirty seconds. Heat seeps into me from either side, and I can smell them both. Feel both their chests rising and falling.

Roxy props up on her elbow. Leans over me to address Dante, her dark hair tickling me through my cheap gray t-shirt.

“You know, you could try a little harder. Dust off an emotion.”

“Shut up,” Dante snaps. I elbow his side.

“Don’t speak to her like that.”

“Oh, now you can talk?”

“Both of you!” Roxy hisses. “Shut. Up.” She draws in a slow breath, still leaning over me, twin spots of anger shining red on cheeks. And when she speaks again, the words are low. Calm. We both lean closer, the bed frame creaking, desperate to hear.

“I’ve had one mobster take me hostage, and another chase me down a mountain. I know it’s not me he wants—” she holds up a palm as Dante opens his mouth “—but I don’t care. This has been some messed up shit. And now we’re hiding out here, hoping he doesn’t find us so we live until morning. Correct?”

I nod.

“Correct,” Dante rasps.

“Then we’re not going to fight. I won’t even give you assholes a hard time for everything you’ve done. We’re going to hold each other and talk and do whatever else we feel like, because there is no freaking way I’m spending my last night alive hearing you two bicker.” She bites off, muttering under her breath. Something about pining idiots.

There’s a long pause. Roxy settles back against the bed, pillowing her head on my shoulder. After a breath, I draw her closer. Tuck her tight against my side. And as we breathe together, the tension slowly drains out of my limbs.

“Whatever else we feel like,” Dante murmurs after a while.

“Hm?” My fingers trail through Roxy’s hair, scratching at her scalp.

“That’s what she said. Isn’t it, bella? Whatever else we feel like.”

“I… yes.”

Dante rolls closer on my other side. He’s trying to get to her, obviously, but the added warmth still sears my skin. Crackles over me like nervous energy.

“Whatever do you mean by that, Roxy? Explain.”

She huffs. “What do you think I mean?”

“I would hate to presume.”

I snort. His elbow digs in again. Then he reaches over, his toned arm stretching over my chest, and takes hold of Roxy’s wrist. Places her hand on my stomach, flattening his palm over hers, spreading her fingers and interlocking them.

“Show me.”