Page 40 of Axe-ing for Trouble
The sun was low in the sky and the air was cool as I walked into the house and flipped on the lights. The place hadn’t been this dark in a while. Not since Mila had shown up. And it hadn’t been this quiet either.
Assuming she was sleeping, I toed off my boots, hung up my stuff, and headed to the kitchen for a glass of water. My head was pounding, so I popped a couple of aspirin and chugged the whole glass.
Aside from dirty dishes in the sink, there was no sign of the woman who’d infiltrated my life.
I whistled softly for Ripley, and when she didn’t come, I assumed she’d been shut in my bedroom with a sleeping Mila.
As silently as I could, I opened the bedroom door. Rather than being met with my dog and a hurricane of a woman in my bed, the room was empty.
“Mila?” I spun around, my heart thudding against my sternum.
Where was she? Was she hurt? Had they found her?
I raced around the house, opening every door, scouring each room and closet.
Vision tunneling and hands shaking, I darted to the back door. It was locked, and there was no sign of a break-in. I hadn’t noticed an issue with the front door, but I checked again to confirm. Nothing. The place looked as it had when I left this morning.
“Mila,” I called as I jogged out onto the driveway, boots untied, and scanned the yard.
I turned in a circle, surveying the tree line, at a loss.
My heart pounded in my ears, worsening my headache, as I formulated a plan. She had no car, and Ripley was with her, so it was unlikely she’d gone by road. I jogged to the back of the house, where a path led into the woods. Could she have taken Ripley for a walk and gotten lost?
The possibility of her being lost in the woods, in the cold, hit me like an arrow to the heart. Fuck.
I picked up the pace, headed down the back of the hill toward the trail system. Quickly, I was ensconced in the thick canopy of forest.
It wasn’t dark, but it would be soon. I needed to find her before then.
When I hit the fork in the path, I only hesitated for a moment before choosing the direction that led toward the state park.
A wave of nausea hit me as I ran as fast as I could down the trail, jumping over roots and scanning the ground and surrounding trees for any sign of her.
The slightest jingling sound—barely audible over my pounding heart and labored breathing—eventually caught my attention. Coming to an abrupt stop, I turned one way, then the other, letting my ears adjust to the sounds of the forest.
I whistled loudly, and seconds later, Ripley appeared, trotting toward me, tail wagging.
“Good girl.” I crouched and scratched behind her ears. “Where is she?”
With a yip, she took off down one of the side paths. I darted after her, pulling my phone out of my pocket, ready to call for help if needed.
In a matter of seconds, she came into view. She was walking along the overgrown path, wearing one of my old sweatshirts, her expression serene.
“Mila.” I pulled up short. “Where have you been?”
She walked toward me slowly, her dark brows knitting together. “I went for a walk.”
“This far from the house? Are you crazy? It’s not safe,” I spat.
Adrenaline coursed through my body. Over and over, I silently told myself that she was fine. That she was safe. Everything was okay.
But that wasn’t true.
Iwas not okay.
“In daylight, in the woods. And I brought the dog. Not a big deal.” She walked past me without slowing.
“Yes, it’s a fucking big deal.” I spun on my heel and stomped after her. “You’re being hunted by violent criminals.”
