Page 44 of Auctioned to the Lumberjacks (Auctioned)

Something smashes into the TV behind us all, and we react, crouching to protect ourselves initially, but instinct drives us all to shelter Skye, and she's pushed behind the wall that we all make with our bodies as we try to work out what the hell has happened.

"What the fuck?" West sprints to the front door, yanking it open. I'm two seconds behind. We eye the shattered window before craning our necks to stare into the darkness. The trees rustle, and a bird calls in the distance, but there is no one visible and no footsteps to reveal the attacker.

Finn emerges, holding a large rock that could have killed one of us if we were unlucky enough to be standing in the firing line. This doesn't have the hallmark of a gangster, no matter how small-time Carter is. This has the cowardice of Ethan written all over it.

"Carter?" Finn asks.

I shake my head. "Trust me. Men like him don't throw stones.”

"Damn. Ethan?" West is on the same page as me. He would know. A man this desperate needs to be careful. He’s unwittingly getting himself tangled up in some very messy business. West storms into the darkness, uncaring that he’s not wearing shoes or a coat to protect him from the elements. I don’t follow him because I know Ethan’s running away faster than we can follow.

"I'm going to get some boards to hammer over this damned window. Let's get something happening here. And for God's sake, we need to get Skye to bed. This day needs to be over."

Finn follows me out to get tools and board and walk the perimeter. Ethan might be a coward, but I want to ensure he's not persistent.

When West returns, confirming what I already suspected, he disappears inside to make sure Skye gets the rest she needs.

We make quick work of fixing up the window, and there isn't any trace of an intruder around the lodge. Finn and I stare into the forest on every side, finding nothing but gently swaying trees.

"Ethan's becoming a problem," Finn says.

"Ethan's always been a problem, but it's one we can fix."

He nods, understanding what I mean. We've let this go for too long, feeling sorry for him rather than putting him in his place. It's left West looking guilty for something he's innocent ofand Ethan thinking he's a bigger man than he is. It's time for all of that to change.

Back inside where it's still stiflingly warm, I keep my boots on in case Ethan comes back for a second shot. I take off my shirt and sit in just my worn jeans. The mood is somber as we all take a seat around the table.

"What happened at the bar?"

West speaks first.

"Carter's bar is a fucking dive, full of the lowest elements. We couldn't wait to get the hell out."

"Definitely no place for an innocent child like Hallie." Finn shakes his head and folds his lips.

"What the hell was Skye doing getting mixed up in a world like that?"

I shut West down. We haven't got time for analyzing anyone's past mistakes. All we can work with is what we have now. "We don't know if Carter knows Skye's whereabouts. And now you two have walked among his fucking community, we are committed to dealing with this. It isn't just about Skye and Hallie anymore. Our whole damn livelihood is at stake here."

We let this thought settle, and none of us notices that Skye is back in the hallway, leaning against the wall for support as if even holding her own body upright is an impossible task right now, until her small voice cuts through the silence.

"I'm sorry. I really am. I don't know what else to say!" Her voice seems to come from far away and fades into nothingness.

"You don't need to apologize." Finn is on his feet and lumbers towards her, ready to comfort the girl who can't sleep. He leads her back to her room and doesn't return.

"I called Bill," I tell West. "He didn't pick up, but I left a message that he will respond to."

"Let me know what he says."

I nod and lean against the chair, cracking my back on the wood.

The events of this evening have wiped me out, and the familiar sense of foreboding that accompanies my exhaustion and wired emotions threatens to spill over the edges of my mind.

"You should go to bed," I tell West. "I'll keep watch. Set an alarm for three am. You can take the second shift."

As West leaves the room, I pull my rifle from the cupboard, making sure it's loaded.

I sit with it over my knee and pull my phone from my pocket.

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