Page 53 of Playing Dirty
I stepped closer, lowering my voice. “And Callie? He’s not taking you anywhere. Not today, not ever.”
For a second, the stubborn edge faded from her eyes. She nodded, and I caught the barest flicker of a smile.
“Better get moving then,” she said. “He’ll be here soon, but since my car isn’t here, he might take his time coming in or text me to see where I am.”
I took the truck down the narrow logging road just past the turnoff to her cabin. The dust curled up behind me before I eased to a stop in a clearing thick with pine. I killed the engine and sat there for a beat, letting the quiet settle in.
It wasn’t the kind of quiet that relaxed you—it was the kind that sharpened everything. Every sound stood out. The wind was combing through the trees. The faint creak of the truck cooling. Somewhere, a raven called low and distant.
I stepped out, shutting the door without a slam, and started back on foot. The air was cold enough to bite, but the walk kept my muscles warm. My boots barely whispered against the packed dirt as I cut through the edge of the trees toward the cabin.
When it came into view, I slowed, scanning the place like I was casing it. Curtains open just enough in the kitchen for light to spill out. The faint sound of movement inside—Callie getting ready, probably checking the clock every minute.
I circled wide to the back and climbed the porch steps. From here, I could see through the gap where the screen door didn’t quite close all the way. If I leaned just right, I’d have a clear line of sight into the living room without being spotted. I knocked on the window to let Callie know I was here.
Every muscle was coiled and ready as I settled into a crouch with my back against the wall.
Now all I had to do was wait.
It didn’t take long.
The low growl of an engine carried up the drive, getting louder until it was in front of the cabin. My shoulders tightened. Through the gap between the porch rail and the wall, I caught the first flash of a dark pickup as it rounded the bend.
Dust kicked up behind him, curling in the cold air. He didn’t hurry—he had the easy roll of a man who thought he belonged here. That alone made my jaw clench.
The truck came to a stop in front of the cabin. Engine off. Silence for a beat, then the groan of the door.
Boots hit the ground.
Heavy steps on gravel.
I eased forward just enough to catch a glimpse—broad shoulders, ball cap pulled low, jacket hanging open like he was strolling up to greet a friend.
The boards under my feet felt like they might splinter as my weight shifted from my crouched position. My hands curled into fists, the wood under them rough enough to bite into my skin.
Matt’s shadow stretched across the porch as he reached the steps. He took them slowly, boots thudding in a rhythm that hit me in the chest.
Any second now, he’d unlock the door and go in.
And I’d be right here.
Chapter Sixteen
The Reckoning
Callie
Istood in the spare room, my fingers clutching my phone like a lifeline. The door was slightly ajar, offering a sliver of view into the main room. My heartbeat pounded in my ears, so loud that I feared it might betray my presence.
Suddenly, the sharp sound of the front lock clicking shattered the silence. Matt entered, letting the door close with a deliberate thud. He wore the same jacket and carried the same swagger, as if time hadn’t touched him. He moved with the confidence of a man who believed nothing had changed between us, his boots dragging over the floorboards as his eyes surveyed the cabin with a calculating gaze.
A moment of hesitation clouded his features; something was amiss, and he sensed it. He shifted his stance, eyes flickering from the kitchen to the vacant couch. I wasn’t where he expected me to be.
Holding my breath, I watched as he reached into his pocket, retrieving his phone with practiced ease. His thumbs danced over the screen, a routine he seemed to know by heart.
A vibration buzzed in my palm moments later. I glanced down.
Matt:Where are you? I’m at the cabin. Can’t wait to see you.
