Page 3 of Liberated By the Logger

I scoff, but pause for a heartbeat when I hear thunder rumbling in the distance, almost like it’s mocking my fate.

My stomach twists uncomfortably as the gravity of my situation settles in my gut. “This isn’t safe, Gary. A storm is coming.”

“Good.” He nods with approval. “This tree needs the rain.”

My eye twitches at his aloof response. High or not, he can’t be this dense.

“Gary, you asshat! The tree is dead. Water will not help. Let me out!”

“I know you’re big mad right now, but it will all be worth it if we can save these trees from being cut down.”

He turns toward the trail, set on leaving me defenseless and restrained to a trunk of dried timber with a thunderstorm heading our way.

“GARY! If you leave me here, we are done. Do you hear me, Gary? We are so over!”

The walking dick blows me a kiss before he takes off down the rocky trail.

For a moment, I’m too stunned to do anything but stare at his retreating figure.

He left me. That sonofabitch left me!

Thunder rolls over the mountain, echoing around me. It sounds closer.

Panicked, I tug against the chain wrapped securely around me. It doesn’t budge, no matter how hard I pull and wiggle my body.

I fight my restraints for what feels like forever.

When the sky grows darker, the real terror sets in.

Screaming and kicking is useless. The harder I fight, the more labored I become.

I’m not one to lose my head under pressure, but when I see a bolt of lightning overhead, a sob escapes me and tears track down my face.

This is bad. REALLY. FUCKING. BAD.

I’m forty-five miles away from the city of Fort Collins and civilization. The likelihood of anyone finding me out here with a means to pick locks is zilch. My only hope is Gary coming to his senses and returning to me—something I have little faith in.

CHAPTER TWO

AMBROSE

With my head tipped back, I focus on the darkening skyline, watching for signs of bad weather. The weather app predicts a nasty thunderstorm, and it certainly looks like the storm is coming to fruition.

As co-owner of this smaller logging operation, it’s my job to keep my crew safe. My brother—Alan—is the other co-owner, but he’s less involved in the field.

Not to say my brother has the cushy end of the business arrangement. He has his own headaches to deal with. Alan handles the science and corporate end while I manage the dirtier logging operations. It’s a lot between the two of us. In the future, when we’re more established, we’ll hire someone to handle the science end, preferably someone with a degree in forest science. For now, we manage.

My job is more labor intensive, but I prefer my position over Alan’s. The thought of sitting behind a desk all damn day hurts my back thinking of it. I enjoy working with my hands and being in nature. There’s something rewarding about seeing the timber you cut being stacked and trucked out of the work zone, knowing that spilling your blood, sweat, and tears has made the Rockies safer for nature lovers to enjoy for ages to come.

Each of us does the job we’re best suited for. It’s why our little logging business does well and continues to grow.

My brother works as our forest engineer, designing and directing operations for cutting from the comfort of headquarters. I’m the first-line logging superintendent on-site, managing the crew in the field. Thus, the safety of my employees is in my hands entirely.

This line of work is dangerous enough without Mother Nature getting involved. However, when she gets in a mood to conjure a storm, I need to be extra vigilant. Things can get ugly quick in these mountains. I need to be alert at all times to ensure my team gets out quickly and safely when shit goes south.

The rumble of thunder in the distance has me groaning internally. Damn weather, always screwing with the job.

With the fall leaves mostly on the ground, our busy logging season has begun. My crew has been putting in long hours, felling as much of the problematic timber before we move on to the next job. This storm is troublesome not only in terms of my workers’ safety, but for their pockets. Some of my men have been on unemployment for months. A storm this early in the season is the last thing they need.