Their Mountain Captive by Kayla Wren

3

Alec

Imake a dozen lists before I even reach my cabin half a mile away. Some things keep coming back, throbbing between my temples with their urgency.

We need to treat her injuries.

We need to figure out if Angelo sent her.

We need to find out who she is.

In fact… where the hell is her stuff? No one goes hiking on Lonely Mountain with nothing but the clothes on their back. No one without a death wish, anyway, and judging from her outraged squawk as I slipped the gag into her mouth, this girl definitely wants to live.

It’s not looking good. If Angelo Marino is here somewhere, biding his time in the trees…

I pick up my pace, striding faster between the rocks, a first aid kit and other supplies bundled high in my arms.

How the fuck did I get here?

That’s the biggest question of all. But I push it away, because I don’t have time for that right now. Don’t have time to consider what kind of FBI agent walks away from his whole life and winds up friends with the man he once hunted.

A really shit one, my brain supplies.

Yeah. Right.

I huff out a breath, walking faster. When I left ten minutes ago, she was tied and gagged and Dante stood nearby. For a horrible, guilt-drenched second I wonder if I should have left at all. If Dante freaked, if he went back to his original plan. And shit, he still has his gun—

My boots thud up the wooden steps just as Dante lets out a yell. I barge through the door, dropping the supplies, arms raised wide, and Dante turns to me.

“Have you seen this shit?”

He’s standing over the girl, the cuffs of his plaid shirt perfectly rolled, like he can’t quite forget his previous life’s tailoring. Despite his yell, he’s calm for once, his gray eyes steady and his dark hair smoothed back. Dante has always been like this—thrown into a tantrum by the smallest inconvenience, but cold and calculating in a real tight spot. She glares up at him, pure loathing shining from her eyes, as Dante waves one boot by the heel.

Her leg is stretched out on the bed, the ankle swollen and flushed purple.

“That is grotesque.” Dante tosses her boot to the floor, wrinkling his nose. “That looks like something from the deli counter. Alec, she really is injured.”

Her eye roll is so exaggerated, her gag shifts on her face. And I want to point out that he just said my name in front of her, that he identified me too, but who am I kidding?

We’re in this together.

“Guess she’s not a liar.” I bend and pick up the supplies one by one. Dante watches me, not helping. “Only a vandal.”

There’s an angry growl behind the gag. Dante snorts, nudging her elbow with his knee.

“Don’t get pissy, little girl. You don’t want to be called a vandal? Don’t break a man’s window.”

I don’t point out that we’ve committed easily the worst crime today. Dante knows.

“We need to find out who she is.”

“Roxy Williams,” Dante supplies immediately. He frowns down at her. “That’s the name she gave, anyway.”

“Her license?”

For the first time, Dante notices her lack of stuff, spinning on his heel to peer around the cabin. And he follows the same trail of thought I did—that if she’s out in the mountains without gear, she must have back up.

“Angelo,” he snarls, and I watch her face carefully.

Nothing. No flinch of fear. At least—no more than we’ve already put in her. Roxy Williams lies still, her eyes gone distant. Her forehead is beaded with sweat.

She’s in pain.

Good. Fine. Not good that she’s in pain, but good—I have a clear next step. I take the first aid kit and cross to the bed, lowering to sit on the mattress near her feet.

“Do you have any head injuries?” I murmur to her as Dante paces around the cabin, ranting under his breath about his brother. Roxy shrugs, not even looking at me.

Shit. We really are assholes.

“We won’t hurt you.” She looks at me then, scathing disbelief in her navy blue eyes as I shift forward, probing softly through her hair. “We’re… this is perhaps an overreaction.” Her eyes widen, like she can’t believe what I’m saying, but I push on. Her hair is so soft, and there are lumps on her skull from the fall she took. “These mountains aren’t safe. And you chose the worst possible cabin to break in. Dante is very… cautious. He has good reason to be.”

Roxy’s eyes have drifted back to the center of my chest, the focus leaving them again. And that’s not good—I want her present, fighting back, not drifting away into this bleak acceptance.

“Here.” I tug the gag over her head before I can overthink it. “We need you to speak, anyway.”

She licks her lips. “That is so generous of you.” Her voice is cracked and hoarse already. My gut twists. “Thank you, Mister Kidnapper.”

‘Mister Kidnapper’ is better than ‘Alec’, so I don’t correct her. I move down her body, checking for cuts and broken bones.

“Did Angelo send you?” I ask casually. The injuries may be real, but her story is still bullshit. No one goes for a pleasure hike on the Lonely Mountain. Especially not without any gear.

“Who?” I watch her closely, but she’s barely listening. Too busy hissing and wincing as I prod at her ribs.

“Angelo.”

Again, nothing. Either she’s an incredible actress or he really didn’t send her. Because anyone who knows Angelo Marino does not forget his name.

He’s a psychopath. A rabid dog with a bone.

Across the room, Dante groans, dragging a hand through his hair.

“No, I don’t know some fucker called Angelo. Will you let me go now? Look, if you just untie me and let me leave, I won’t press charges, I swear. I won’t even mention you guys. Deal?”

It’s tempting. So tempting. Especially when she looks at me with such hope, leaning forward an inch like she doesn’t even realize it.

We could undo this right now. Set her loose again—god knows she probably won’t last the night alone in the mountains with the state she’s in—and plead ignorance if she ever tries to accuse us. We’d have time to sweep the cabin, to remove any evidence, and she’s just had a fall. Any good lawyer would point out—she could have hallucinated all of this.

It’s not a bad option.

If the slightest attention might not draw the Marinos here. And I don’t believe for a second that she wouldn’t report us—she’s just saying what we want to hear.

We can’t let Roxy go. But a ridiculous part of me still wants her to understand. I tear open an antiseptic wipe, cleaning a cut on her hip with tender hands.

“We won’t hurt you,” I repeat, though it sounds hollow, even to my ears. Aren’t we already hurting her, scaring her like this? Keeping her against her will? “We just need to be sure.”

“Sure of what?” she asks, her voice raised and thin, and Dante strides over, snatching up the gag. Roxy strains away, her teeth clenched shut, panic sparking in her eyes, and I speak quickly.

“Leave her.”

Dante stares at me, stretched across her body. She’s dwarfed by his shoulders, by the bulk of his chest. “Excuse me?”

Maybe his polite psycho act worked with his family, but I’m already too tired for his bullshit. “Leave her,” I snap again. “No more gags.”

“You were the one—”

“Dante.”

He clams up, a muscle ticking in his stubbled jaw.

I talk quietly. Calmly. Enunciating each word for them both to hear.

“We’re going to treat her injuries. Check out her story. Then if she’s telling the truth… we’ll go from there. Alright?”

“No,” Roxy says, as Dante hisses in response.

Good. Great. Glad we’re all in agreement.

What a fucking day.

* * *

The moon hangs swollen above the trees when I finally step out onto the deck. I just need a moment—need to catch my breath away from Dante’s loud brooding and Roxy’s sarcastic remarks.

She’s vicious when she wants to be. And I know we can’t blame her, but part of me regrets the no-gag rule already.

The breeze is scented with pine and crisp snowfall from further up the mountain. I breathe deeply, feeling the throbbing in my head begin to subside, and listen to the wind shiver through the trees.

An owl hoots. Something scurries over the pine needles.

We’re okay. Somehow… we’ll make this okay.

“You’re tired.” The deck creaks as Dante joins me, resting one hand on the wooden rail. He stares up at the stars, his face as smooth and relaxed as if we’d spent the day fishing.

The Marinos.

That goddamn family.

“Why don’t you head back?” Dante asks, and he says it like an offer. Like he’ll take care of this. But I know what he’s really asking: whether I trust him not to hurt her.

“And do what?” Bitter amusement curls my mouth. “Take a nap? Make dinner? I’m in this now, Dante.” I turn to him, gripping the railing. “I’m not walking away. I’m part of this.”

And I hope he can hear what I’m saying—that I trust him, yes, but I couldn’t look myself in the eye ever again if I just left Roxy in there. Not with him, not with anyone.

Dante swallows and turns back to the stars, eyes bleak.

“If it’s Angelo…” he says quietly. He doesn’t finish that thought. He doesn’t need to.

If Dante’s brother has tracked him here, only one of them will leave alive. And though Dante hates and fears Angelo as much as any sane man, I’m not sure he could do it. If he could kill his own blood.

There was never much Marino in Dante. He never quite had their savage glee.

“I don’t want her hurt,” he says suddenly. “Even if she’s helping Angelo. She probably doesn’t have a choice.”

I stand on the deck, watching the man I chased around the world and then somehow settled on the mountain with. And a tight knot I hadn’t noticed eases in my chest.

“Good. I don’t want that either.”

“So we’ll figure it out. And if he’s found me… we’ll run.”

He hates that it comes out like a question. Dante jerks his head to the side, like he can shake off this sudden vulnerability.

“Yeah.” I grip his shoulder and squeeze, my knuckles so close to the warmth of his throat. “We’ll run. Start over again on a different mountain.”

We.Together. I won’t stay behind.

That’s what he’s asking, though he should know it by now. Where Dante goes, I go, and vice versa. I’m not sure how we got here, but what’s done is done.

Dante grunts. “Somewhere warmer next time.” But he’s stepping closer, a hand raising to cup my elbow. The moment pulls taut between us—months and years of tension twisting tight.

“I’ll check on Roxy.” I slip away, his warmth washing over my chest, and then the moment’s gone.

Coward.

My boots drum over the deck.

Because I can’t deal with that right now. The… thing between Dante and I. Everything that’s unsaid.

One life-changing mess at a time.