Erasing Faith(84)

Abruptly, I wanted to take back the words I’d used in anger. I hadn’t meant them. I’d only said them because, if I was being honest, I’d wanted to hurt him, the way he’d hurt me.

And now that I had…

I found that wounding Wes caused self-inflicted pains as well.





Chapter Forty-Six: WESTON


COLD



The night air was even colder than the words Faith had spoken.

I zipped my leather jacket closed to the collar and crossed my arms over my chest, trying to hang on to some of my body heat. I’d survived colder nights than this, in far less comfortable locations. The sun would be up in an hour or so, anyway, and it would take the chill with it when it rose.

There was nothing to be done for the icy ache inside my chest, though.

There never would be. The pain I felt whenever I thought of Faith would always be there, even after this was over and I’d left this place — left her — behind.

The cabin was one of my emergency safe houses, stocked with enough canned food and water for two days — four, if we rationed. Command said it wouldn’t take longer than that to pin down Szekely’s hitman and put a bullet in his brain. Tomorrow, I’d make a quick supply run and then, all I had to do was keep her safe until the threat was eliminated. I wasn’t worried — we had everything we needed to survive out here.

So long as we didn’t kill each other first.

The sound of the screen door creaking open brought me instantly to my feet. I concealed my surprise when I saw Faith standing there, warring expressions of annoyance and contrition playing out on her features.

“Christ, it’s cold out here,” she muttered, staring at me like she thought I was a fool for leaving the warmth of the cabin. “Don’t be an idiot—”

Her words confirmed my thoughts and had me fighting off a smile.

“—come back inside the damn cottage. I promise to stop being a bitch, at least until the sun rises.”

With that, she spun on one heel and disappeared back inside.

I made sure to turn my grin into a blank expression before I followed her.





Chapter Forty-Seven: FAITH


THE WORST THING



I cursed myself for my moment of compassion as soon as we got inside. I should’ve left him out in the cold. With him back in the cabin, the atmosphere became painfully awkward. Neither of us spoke or even attempted to sleep. The only signs of life that stirred in the small space were the shifting logs in the fireplace, as they collapsed into cinders. Occasionally, one of us would rise to throw another piece of wood into the hearth but, otherwise, we were still as statues.

I leaned against the hard wooden windowsill, staring out at the trees and watching as the sky gradually grew pink with the coming sunrise. My ass was asleep within minutes, but no amount of discomfort would’ve convinced me to move onto the bed. Wes lay there, staring up at the ceiling and resolutely ignoring my presence.

As soon as full dawn broke, he stood, threw on his jacket, and started heading for the door — despite the fact that he’d had little food and no rest for at least a day. Not that I cared, of course.

“Where are you going?” I called after him. I might not like his presence here, but I had a feeling I’d like being alone in the woods even less.

He didn’t bother to turn around. “Out.”

“Well, when are you coming back?”

“Later.”

I huffed. The man was impossible. “What am I supposed to do all day?”

He reached the door, turned to face me, and shrugged. “Lock the door, don’t let anyone in — even me. I have a key. Oh, and try not to get shot, while I’m gone. That would just create a whole lot of unnecessary paperwork I have no intention of doing.”

His crooked grin appeared and at the sight of it, for just a moment, my mind blanked and I forgot all about the fact that I was angry as hell at him. I almost caught myself grinning back, until his harsh words registered in my mind. Before I could so much as retort, he’d shouldered open the screen and disappeared. My grumbles of indignation were overtaken by the growl of his motorcycle starting up, and I listened to the bike’s roar fade into silence as he drove away.

And then I was alone.

***

I soon learned that hiding out was boring as hell.

Bolting the thick oak door behind Wes, I spun around and faced the cabin. Going back to sleep wasn’t an option. There was no way I could ever relax enough to rest, not when I knew there were people out there who’d like nothing more than to end my life. Instead, I did what any normal person does when left alone in a household that doesn’t belong to them for an inordinate amount of time.

I poked around.

The only problem was, there was nothing of interest in the entire damn place. In my hour-long exploration, I opened every cabinet, drawer, and chest I could find. To my utter frustration, I unearthed nothing more than a weathered stack of playing cards, a dusty bottle of Irish whiskey, and a tiny store of food — none of which looked appealing, no matter how hungry I was. Given the choice between stale tins of oatmeal, canned beans, and saltine crackers so old, they’d long since turned to sawdust in their wrappers, I’d choose hunger.

A broom with cobwebbed bristles and a dusty mop leaned against the wall in the corner, and under the small sink, I found a bucket filled with rags and a bottle of generic, lemon-scented liquid cleaner. Judging by the filthy state of the cottage, it was safe to say they hadn’t been put to good use in several decades.