Page 51 of Collateral Damage
I retrieve my backup and hold it out. "You remember what I showed you?"
She nods, her fingers brushing mine as she takes it—a brief spark of warmth in the chill. "Safety on until I need it. Don't point it at anything I'm not willing to shoot."
"Good." I grab my coat, the heavy fabric stiff with cold, and check my own sidearm. The slide clicks home with a mechanical finality. "Lock the door behind me. Don't open it for anyone but me. Stay away from the windows. If you hear anything—anything at all—get in the bedroom and barricade the door."
"Wait." I stop, turning back. "I'm coming with you."
Every instinct I have screams that this is a mistake. She’ll slow me down. If something goes sideways, my focus will be split between the threat and the woman behind me. But leaving her here alone, with no way to call for help and a potential access point I haven't cleared? That thought makes my blood run cold.
"Ava—"
"You need someone to keep watch while you check the road," she says, standing. Her voice is steady, but I catch the slight tremor in her hands. "And I'm safer with you than sitting here alone."
She's right. I hate the logic of it, the way it binds us together in the line of fire. "You do exactly what I tell you," I say, stepping closer. "When I tell you. No questions, no hesitation."
"Understood."
I hold her gaze for a moment, looking for any sign of doubt. "Get your warmest layers. We leave in five minutes."
She nods and heads for the bedroom. I watch her go, then turn back to the window, scanning the tree line until my eyes burn. Lord, I'm running on fumes here. Help me see clearly. Help me make the right call.
Because if I'm wrong about this, it won't just be me who pays the price.
I check my gear while she layers up—extra ammunition, the knife sheath cold against my thigh, the sat phone secured in my inside pocket where my body heat can keep the battery alive. As I’m checking the magazine, a wave of exhaustion hits me like a physical blow. I have to brace my palms against the counter, my head swimming.
Two hours of sleep in the last forty-eight. Maybe less.
I blink hard, forcing the hazy room back into focus. This is exactly when the world blurs. When your brain starts filling in the gaps of the forest with ghosts.
Ava emerges from the bedroom, bundled and ready, her eyes searching my face too closely. "I'm fine," I say before she can ask.
"I didn't say anything."
"You were thinking it."
She doesn't deny it. I hand her the backup weapon again. "Stay close," I tell her as we step out. "We're just doing reconnaissance."
Outside, the world has gone deathly still. The snow has stopped, leaving an unnatural, muffled silence that makes the heavy crunch-clump of our boots through the fresh powder sound like a gunshot. We move around the north side of the cabin as the air bites at any exposed skin.
Ava stays close as we circle the north side of the cabin, breath fogging in the cold. The coordinates glow on my phone.
“Half a mile,” I say.
The forest swallows us as we push into the timber. Evergreen branches sag under the weight of the snow, the shadows between trunks deep enough to hide a man if he wanted to.
Twenty minutes out, the timber breaks. The service road cuts through the forest, a narrow white scar in the gray light. I raise a hand. Ava stops instantly.
I move ahead, my boots sinking into the crust. I scan for a break in the white—tire ruts, a boot print, anything that doesn't belong to the wind. Nothing. Just fresh powder, blinding and flat.
I start to turn back when a flash of color catches the light near the shoulder.
My pulse skips. It’s a crumpled jerky wrapper, half-buried. I crouch, turning the plastic over with a gloved finger. The edges aren't weathered yet. The foil hasn't been dulled by the sun.
It could be anyone. A hunter. A hiker. Someone cutting through the timber weeks ago before the first heavy drift. It’s a thin piece of trash in a thousand acres of woods, but somehow it got here.
“Anything?” Ava calls. Her voice is a low, breathy thread from behind me.
“Nothing definite,” I say.
