Page 6 of Far From Sherwood Forest (Far From #3)

That was almost easier than I expected.

It was also so much more satisfying.

I wasn’t surprised by the cocky grin he gave me after he got over the initial shock from seeing me, the same one he used to have constantly plastered on his face. The one I used to dream of wiping from existence.

But this time? It was shaky, lacking his usual bravado. Beneath it was fear.

And it was fucking glorious .

After shoving him into the passenger seat of my black pickup, I quickly round the truck and get behind the wheel before he can change his mind and bolt. Robin is silent as I head through town, and I see him rub his palms over his jeans like maybe they’re sweaty. Now it’s my turn to grin.

He’s changed. I’m not used to him being quiet or showing signs of weakness.

But I think I like it.

It’s not until we cross the town line, the dim lights of the city fading as I drive down the dark county road, that Robin finally opens his damn mouth.

It’s not that I was expecting it to last long, but I was really enjoying letting him fester in the tense silence.

I didn’t pick him up to have a conversation with him.

“Where are we going?”

“Shut up.”

“How’d you find me?”

My jaw clenches. “I said shut up.”

“So,” he says, and I can hear that fucking grin creeping back into his voice. “Do you already know how you’re going to kill me, or are you just gonna wing it?”

There’s the Robin Hood I know.

I finally reach the end of my fuse and punch him so hard in the jaw that his head snaps to the side, his temple smashing into the passenger window with an audible crack.

“Fuck!” he shouts, throwing his head back against the seat.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see him reach up to tenderly touch his fingertips to his face, hissing as he checks for blood. It’s too dark for me to see if there’s any, but it doesn’t matter.

I’ll make him bleed plenty tonight.

“Still a dick, I see,” he mutters.

The mere sound of his voice grates on my nerves, but I’m at least a little satisfied to hear it strained as he wrestles through the pain.

“You’re really not going to shut the fuck up, are you?”

“You basically kidnapped me, Sheriff.” Despite just being punched in the face, he still sounds far too pleased with himself. “I figured chivalry was dead, but apparently abduction is alive and well.”

“Don’t call me that.”

No one has called me that in five years, and something about it rattles me in a way I don’t quite understand.

I’m not a sheriff anymore, no, but it was once such a big part of who I was that I think when I lost it, I lost more than just a title.

The Sheriff of Nottingham is dead. I don’t know who I am anymore without him.

Robin laughs, and my hand flexes around the steering wheel as I barely resist the urge to punch him again for putting those fucking thoughts in my head.

“Right. You’re not a sheriff here. Let me guess. The shirt, the gun. Park ranger. Doesn’t exactly have the same ring to it, does it?”

I don’t respond this time because, clearly, he’s trying to feed off my thinning patience, seeing how far he can push me. If I let him, then I’ll make a mistake. That’s how it usually went. I’d let my anger and hatred get the best of me, make a mistake, and he’d get away. Over and over again.

I’m not making a mistake this time.

“Not much of a talker, are you? I bet you get all the girls, huh? I’ve heard they love the silent, brooding type.”

I grip the wheel even tighter but remain silent.

He sighs heavily. “Fine, Henry. What is it you really want? An apology? I’m sorry for everything that happened back there. But this is a whole new world, and we’ve both clearly changed. Why don’t we just let the past rest?”

He doesn’t even know the reason I hate him more than I ever did before.

“You’re obviously not sorry since you’re still a little thief.”

It’s his turn to go quiet, but it doesn’t last more than a few seconds. When he speaks, he sounds only slightly surprised. “You’ve been watching me.”

It’s not a question, so I don’t respond.

The ringing of a phone interrupts whatever he was about to say next—because he was undoubtedly about to keep prattling on. He takes his cell out of the front pocket of his jeans, and the screen lights up with John’s name.

“Don’t answer it.”

He hesitates, his thumb hovering above the middle of the screen. Eventually, he rejects the call and shoves the phone back in his pocket, slumping back against his seat.

Turning into the entrance of the park, I drive down one of the side roads. Robin has mercifully kept his mouth shut since realizing he can’t get out of this by lying or pushing my buttons. I can feel his apprehension filling the cab, but I relish in it as much as the silence.

I head deeper into the park, the road all the way back here turning rough until I drive off of it completely and into the grass of an empty campsite. With it being the middle of fall, the park isn’t as busy as it normally is.

Putting the truck in park, I kill the engine. “Get out.”

I don’t wait for him before I open my door and walk to the back of the truck. Removing my jacket, I toss it into the bed. A nighttime chill has swept through the air, but I’m about to barely feel it.

After grabbing what I had stashed in the bed of the truck, I walk around to the other side, passing Robin who’s still standing in front of the passenger door.

“What’s that for?” he asks, his voice hitching slightly at the end.

Despite his unease, he follows me into the clearing. The only light here comes from the full moon that’s already high in the sky, dousing the whole area in a silvery white.

Just like that night we arrived in this world.

Pushing that thought out of my mind, I turn around and toss the bow and quiver with exactly three arrows in it onto the ground between us.

It’s an older hunting bow that I found left behind at the last park I worked at, not one of those wooden one-piece bows that Robin’s used to. Or, at least, was used to.

“Pick it up,” I tell him.

His eyes narrow. “Why?”

I remove my gun from its holster and hold it at my side. “Because I’d prefer not to shoot an unarmed man.”

“Well, in that case…” He grins and folds his arms across his chest. “I’m good.”

“I said I’d prefer not to.” Raising my gun, I aim it right at him. “Not that I wouldn’t.”

His grin falls as he drops his arms to his sides. “Have you spent all this time hating me? Holding onto the past? Because that sounds miserable.”

You have no idea.

I almost want to ask him if he’s been able to let go of it all so easily, but I didn’t come all the way out here to have a fucking conversation.

My grip tightens around the gun, my finger itching at the trigger. “Pick it up,” I repeat, my jaw clenched.

“Or we could talk through our shit instead.”

Taking a step forward, I raise my weapon, pointing it at his head. “We didn’t come here to fucking talk .”

“Fine.” He holds his hands out in front of him as he finally moves to pick up the bow and arrows. “Fine, Henry.” He throws the quiver onto his back and holds the bow at his side. “Now what?”

“Now, you’re going to fucking run.” I lower my gun and turn to the side, gesturing to the dark line of trees. “One last chase, Robin.”

“Are you sure about that? Those jeans look unnecessarily tight.”

“I could just shoot you right here then?”

He sighs as he takes a few slow steps toward me.

“I’m guessing you don’t care about this being fair considering you have a gun .

That’s cheating, you know.” Stopping in front of me, he peers up into my face.

“But if you’re wanting this to be like old times, Sheriff, you do know what that means, right?

” He pauses and smirks. “You’re going to lose. ”

I want to shoot him right now just for calling me that again.

Instead, I lean forward until my face is inches from his, dropping my voice low. “Run, Robin.”

As he moves backward toward the woods, he keeps his gaze on me. The moment he reaches the tree line, he turns to head deeper in.

But he’s still not running .

Raising my gun again, I pull the trigger. A deafening report echoes off the trees as the bullet strikes the one closest to Robin, bits of bark flying through the air. He ducks, covering his head with his arm.

It’s only a little after hunting hours, so gunshots won’t be completely out of place. Even if someone does call, it’d just get routed to me anyway.

It’s worth it to see another spark of fear in Robin’s eyes as he peers back at me.

But then it’s gone as he mutters, “ Dick. ”

He breaks out into a sprint, disappearing into the darkness of the forest. I don’t waste any time before I follow after him. I know he’s quicker than me, but I’ve spent every waking moment of the past couple months scouting this entire park. I know it like the back of my hand. Even in the dark.

Robin is still close enough that I can hear him crashing through the brush, so I follow the noise, keeping a tight hold on my gun.

The hunter’s bow is a little louder than the ones he used to use, and I hear it as he releases an arrow.

I duck.

It goes whizzing above my head and a little to the left.

A warning shot like I gave him.

“We don’t have to kill each other, Henry!”

“You’re right. I just have to kill you .”

He starts running again, and I chase after him once more. I keep my ears open for another sound from his bow, but none comes. I quickly realize that he’s making a wide arc through the woods, and it doesn’t take much guessing to figure out what his plan is.

Letting him think he’s getting away with it, I stay behind him but start cutting a bit into the inner curve of his path. I reach the edge of the trees before he does, stepping into the clearing several seconds before him. He doesn’t see me as he runs straight for the driver’s side door of my truck.

As he reaches for the handle of the door, I lift my gun and fire off another shot. This time, the bullet grazes his hand, the one holding the bow. He drops it with a shout as he jumps back from the truck.

“Like I said,” I say, stepping further into the empty campsite and keeping my gun raised. “Still a little thief.”

Robin turns toward me, his chest heaving as he holds his left hand with his right, blood dripping between his fingers. And, yet, he still has that fucking grin on his face.

“Oh, come on. Give me a break. A madman just chased me through the forest with a gun. The least you could do is let me borrow your truck to escape.”

“Don’t you get it, Robin?” I take one more step forward and stop. “You’re done escaping.”

Then I pull the trigger.