Page 53 of Defending You
Garrison drove about fifteen minutes before turning off the narrow country road and parking in front of a log cabin deep in the woods.
He shut the car off. “My wife owns this place, so be careful with it.”
“We will.” Asher opened the door and climbed out.
Cici stood, too, and gazed around. The world was awash in greens and browns, all pines and oaks with the occasional whitebirch to brighten it up. There were no other cabins in sight. “Thank you so much for letting us use it. For everything. You have no idea what this means to us.”
The man smiled at her. “Happy to help.”
Garrison gave them the food, along with a couple of grocery sacks he’d stowed in the trunk. He handed Asher a folded piece of paper. “If you need help.”
Asher angled the phone number toward Cici, who said, “We’re trying not to use our phones.”
“There’s Wi-Fi. Call over the internet, or even text. All the info is in a binder on the kitchen counter. Someone will be back tomorrow. Not sure if they’ll drive you somewhere or bring you a car or what. Brady’s working on it.”
Asher dropped his duffel so he could shake Garrison’s hand. “We’re grateful for you and your friend. You might’ve saved our lives.”
The man grinned, nodding to Cici. “No trouble at all. Have a good night.” He jogged back to his sedan and drove away.
Asher pushed open the door and followed Cici into a cozy little haven—bare log walls, a stone fireplace, and a beige couch and love seat facing a round coffee table. The living room bled into the kitchen, a small, efficient space with a big table off to one side. Through the windows on the back wall, he spied a patio and, beyond that, a small pond.
It was idyllic.
Asher set the bag of food on the counter, his shoulders loosening. They’d survived another day. They were safe, for now.
The sun dipped low, casting a golden glow over the small pond beyond the screened-in patio where Asher and Cici sat, the coolevening air a relief after the truck’s stifling heat. They’d both taken quick showers. Asher had been eager to wash away the stench of the swamp that clung to his skin.
Now, the forest added a melody of croaking frogs and buzzing insects batting against the mesh between them and the night. Fireflies flickered around bushes on the edge of the property, growing brighter as twilight deepened.
Garrison and Chief Thomas had supplied a feast—a burger, a chicken sandwich, onion rings, french fries, a container of rich clam chowder, and a couple of oversized cookies.
Cici claimed the chicken sandwich, Asher took the burger, and they poured the soup into two bowls, sharing the fries and rings. They sipped lemonade they’d found in one of the grocery sacks, not talking much beyond remarking on the meal. This place reminded him of where he’d grown up. Not the cabin itself, which might be small but was much nicer than the trailer he and his family had called home. The land, though. The forest, the sounds, the smells. All of it brought back memories of Asher’s childhood, climbing trees with his brother, or catching lightning bugs and trying to keep them in a jar. They’d poke holes in the metal top and enjoy them for a few hours. Amazingly, the little bugs always managed to escape by morning.
In retrospect, he’d realized Mom had let the poor creatures go after Asher and Drew went to bed.
When the last cookie had been reduced to crumbs, he pulled a laptop from his duffel bag.
“What else do you have in there?” Cici eyed his bag. “A rocket launcher? A three-course meal? A parachute?”
“If I’d had food, I’d have scarfed it down hours ago.”
“Hmm. I noticed you didn’t deny the rocket launcher and parachute.”
Chuckling, he set up the laptop and connected to the cabin’s Wi-Fi.
“Should you do that?” Her joking tone was gone as she straightened. “They can track your IP address.”
“I’ve got a VPN. A virtual private?—”
“I know what it is. You sure it’s secure?”
He gave her a look intended to conveyThis isn’t my first rodeo.
When she said nothing else, he opened his email and found a message from Bartlett that contained a link to an online folder. It was packed with lists, mugshots, and articles about people involved in or suspected of being involved in Philly’s organized crime.
“Whatcha got?” Cici asked.
“Bartlett came through.” He angled the screen so she could see, and she scooted closer to study the information.
