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He grips my arm, pulling me against the rough surface. I cry out but the shadow presses a hand over my mouth. “Shh, Sunny, please. I don’t know if they’re here. We need to be careful.”
I know that voice. I’ve heard it before. The fog starts to clear, and the name becomes more than familiar. A weight settles into the pit of my stomach. Nausea sweeps over me.
This isn’t the dream.
This is my reality.
“Rhett.” I say it more for myself than him, but my eyes have adjusted enough that I see him nod his approval.
Stoll and Whitlock were here.
It’s starting to come back to me.
They were talking to Rhett and Nick, and I knew I had to hide. I jammed myself inside the log, hoping they wouldn’t think to check the beach. But the sun was setting then, and now it’s completely dark. How long was I hiding?
I’m past shivering. Too cold to try. The breeze only deepens that feeling, making me want to cry in my misery. It carries the dampness of the sea air. A sliver of a moon gives just enough light to orient myself. Two horses stand ready, fully tacked and impatient to get moving.
“Are you okay to ride?”
“Yes.” The answer is easy, but I don’t account for my wobbly legs. Rhett helps me swing up and presses the reins into my hands. My conscious mind rebels against the present. This has to be the dream, maybe even a nightmare. Thankfully, years of being in the saddle take the driver’s seat, and I ease my animal in behind his. Mist from the sea chills my already cold skin. We move in silence. I should explain it all, tell him everything that has led me to this point, but then he’ll be in over his head like I am.
I can’t do that to him.
By the time we make it to the ranch, I feel like an ice cube. I swing down, but my legs falter. Strong arms wrap around me, bracing my fall. For a second, I rest there in his grasp. I’m too weak, too tired to keep up this pace, and a bit of the truth slips out.
“I thought I could outrun them. I hoped they wouldn’t come looking for me.”
Rhett could ask me anything right now, and in the state that I’m in, I’d answer it, but he doesn’t. Helping me stand once more, he sets to work on my horse, pulling the saddle and tack before he releases both horses into the corral.
“You’re frozen solid. We still need to get your trunk somewhere safe. Are you strong enough, or should I walk you back to the bunkhouse?”
I shake my head. “I’m fine.”
Rhett doesn’t believe me, but he leads the way to the barn, only stopping long enough to unbolt the lock on the storm doors. Whatever happened with Stoll and Whitlock, it has him jumpy. I don’t blame him. They’re vipers.
“Let me get this grain out.” He climbs into the truck bed and starts unloading bags of pellets. Feeling guilty for what I’ve brought down on him and his family, I climb in beside him, following his motions of offloading the fifty-pound bags one at a time. At least the exertion helps to warm me up. Exhaustion begs me to stop, but I press on. My shoulders ache from the work I did this morning and adding to it is enough to make me want to cry. About the time I feel like I’m going to collapse, Rhett pulls the trunk free. I climb out the back, waiting for him to place it in my grasp. But Rhett has no intention of doing that.
The padlock hanging from the front rattles as he lifts it out of the truck and climbs down. Staring me down in the dim light of his truck lamp, he asks another question I can’t answer.
“What’s in the trunk, Sunny?”
“Not a dead body,” I say.
“You know that makes me assume it’s a dead body.” He shifts the weight of it in his arms. “It’s heavy enough. When that’s your first response, that’s where my mind goes. If you double down on it, I’m only going to believe it more.”
“But it’s not. I promise.”
“So, it is a dead body.”
“It’s not.” I want to give him more but assuring him it’s not a severed head either isn’t going to do anything to make him feel better. I get it. That’s the sort of thing a serial killer would tell him.
“Then open it.” Rhett sets it at his feet.
“No. I can’t.”
“You won’t.” He rubs his palm over the back of his neck. “Why won’t you open it?”
I’m too tired for any of this. I’m too worn. It’s all too raw. Seeing Stoll and Whitlock made it all fresh again. Biting back tears, I give him the truth.
