Page 48 of When It Reins (Three Rivers Trevors Ranch #5)

juniper

Nerves rattle me as I see Aaron hastily packing a bag for me. It is such a ruse. I know it, he knows it, and yet, he’s doing it anyway. Acting like this whole situation is some sort of reunion where we get back together and are about to drive off into the sunset together.

I shift my stance, glancing around the room for something, anything, to use as a weapon, but I’m a minimalist by nature, and there is nothing out, nothing handy that I can grab. Aaron still holds the gun in his hand, his focus moving between me and his task.

“Where are we going?” I ask, bravely speaking since the dreadful phone call he made me make. I didn’t want to do that, didn’t want to say a word of what I did to Mitch, but I was left with little choice.

Above all, I don’t want Mitch to get hurt in any of this. It is my fault it is happening to begin with. I was the one who went snooping around, the one who got myself involved when I shouldn’t have.

“Now that your little boyfriend is out of the picture, we’re going far, far away from here.” He smiles at me, somehow keeping that mask of the old him on his face. “Say goodbye, because we won’t be returning.”

I swallow and think of anything to say to distract him, to keep him from making me leave this place. Surely, Logan would say something about me being gone. Maybe Mitch would notice that my voice and tone were off. Maybe he will come and see for himself.

That thought is both hopeful and full of fear. If he comes, there is a chance he can help me—a good one, considering he is a very capable person. But if he comes, he might also end up on the receiving end of that gun, and that thought is terrifying to imagine.

“What about your parents?” The memory of him talking about his family in Denver strikes me, and I add a little smile to the question, trying my best to keep up the act that this isn’t the most horrifying situation I’ve ever been in.

“Parents?” He frowns, zipping up the bag he packed. “I don’t have parents, Juniper.”

“But—”

“I lied, sweetheart.” He steps closer to me, his face soft as he says, “I’m so sorry I did, but I wanted you to think I was normal, that I had a family at all.

” He looks down, then back to me again, his hand reaching up to trace my jawline with his finger.

I try not to flinch at the contact. “Truth is, when I was six, they died in a fire.”

I blink, surprised by this new information. “I’m sorry.” And I am. As an orphan myself, I know how awful that feels.

“I didn’t expect the blaze to go up so fast.” He whispers the words, his eyes landing on something over my shoulder, and I watch as they glaze over. “I found the matches in my father’s desk. They never let me play with matches.”

I stand in shocked horror, my mouth slightly agape at the words that are pouring out of his mouth.

“I just wanted to light one thing, but I couldn’t find a candle.

Then the curtains were near the buffet table, and I thought, fabric is probably flammable.

So I lit the match, held it to the corner of the curtain, and watched as the fire ate it.

“It happened so fast. The blaze caught the old wood that framed the window, then the paint on the walls and the drywall beneath. I barely had time to get out.”

He looks back at me, coming back to himself, and smiles sadly. “They were upstairs, sound asleep, and had no idea what was coming for them.”

Oh my god.

Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god.

He killed his own parents.

“Now, time to go,” he says, grasping my arm tightly in his hand and pushing me through the bedroom doorway, guiding me out of the apartment, and not bothering to shut the door behind him.

“That will tip Mitch off that I didn’t leave of my own accord.”

Aaron looks back at the door and then turns to me, a wicked smile on his face. “Huh. Maybe it’ll keep him up at night.” He steps closer, my feet inching back. “Maybe he’ll think about this open doorway for the rest of his life and always wonder where you possibly could have disappeared to.”

Another step, and he’s in my face, his hand grasping my jaw as he pulls my lips to his own.

He shoves his tongue into my mouth, and I bite it hard, making him jerk back.

Anger visibly pulses through him, and the back of his hand hits my face before I can take another breath.

I feel every ounce of control slip through me at the pain his hand leaves.

“Now, that’s not very nice, Juniper,” he says this calmly, but the look on his face says he’s not at all calm, that he’s barely hanging on to the thread of control he has left. “You behave, or we’ll make a stop at that sweet old lady’s house, and I can show you how you’ll end up if you disobey me.”

I swallow down the pain, grasping the handrail to the stairs and glaring back at him. “Don’t you dare hurt anyone else.”

“Then fucking obey me. It’s not that hard,” he snarls, grabbing me by the back of the hair and hauling me down the stairs. I search around desperately, hoping someone will see what is happening, hoping someone will figure out that this is so wrong and alert someone who can help me.

When I see no one, I glare at the trunk. “Are you locking me in there?”

Aaron looks from me to the trunk, popping it open and tossing my bag inside. “Hmm. Tempting.” He looks at me, then uses his hand on the back of my head to pull me closer. I grimace at the pain and nearly spit in his face.

“Are you going to behave? Or do I need to do what you suggested?”

I don’t say a word. I keep my mouth shut, hoping that this nightmare will end, and I can get out of this alive.

The odds of that happening are becoming more and more slim by the minute.

He nods his head, maybe deciding that I am going to listen to him for once.

I don’t want to. I want to fight, to take back control of this situation, to show him that men can’t just go around and hurt people because they are mentally ill.

And man was he. You don’t light your parents on fire when you’re six years old and claim to be a healthy, functioning human being.

I nearly bang my head on the frame of the car when he shoves me into the passenger seat, and I sit primly, not wanting to touch anything that this psychopath owns.

I take a moment to take stock of the car as he rounds the hood.

Nothing in the car can be used as a weapon, and I have seconds before he opens the door.

I look at the seat belt and wonder if I have the strength to do what I’m thinking.

I have no idea.

I’ve never had to contemplate the thought of hurting anyone.

It isn’t in my nature to want to, even when I am fighting for my own life.

I may have wanted to do some questionable things to Eric, Thea’s abusive ex-husband, but that was for my sister.

Not for me. I will do anything to protect the people I love, even letting this crazy person get me out of town so that he can’t hurt them.

I picture Mitch, probably very confused that I broke up with him right when we felt like we were on the cusp of great things.

Of life slowing down, of us getting our shit together.

Maybe we would have rebuilt his cabin and moved in together.

Maybe we would have gone on a tour together and made music.

Maybe we would eventually settle down, and he would let me love him for the rest of our lives.

Now, none of that would be happening.

Because at the end of this, I am going to be dead.

I let the dreadful thoughts come in. I let myself think about what is about to happen to me.

As Aaron merges onto the two-lane highway, down the mountain to the big city below, I let myself imagine scenarios I don’t want to.

I let myself think of the things he might do to me, of the things he might force me to do, of the life that I will have if I let us get any further.

The visions in my head finally propel me to do something, and I send up a silent prayer, hoping and praying that everyone I love knows that I had no choice. That it was this, or something far worse for me.

I pray my sisters will go on and live good lives, get married, have happy lives, and maybe more kids.

I pray that Mitch’s brothers will take care of him once I’m gone, that he’ll have a chance at life after this.

I pray that Mitch will know that I loved him until the very end.

That I would have done anything to get out of this alive, but I wasn’t sure how.

I pray that no matter what, he’ll be able to feel my love through the wind that comes upon him, that every sunrise greets him with a fresh start to a better life, and that he can peacefully sleep each night, knowing that I feel no more pain.

Because if I leave with Aaron, if I let this monster take me, Mitch will always have to wonder where I am, if I am safe. He will never be able to settle. He will never be able to move on.

This is for both of us, and I hope that he can forgive me when all is said and done.

I spy a curve up ahead. The side of the road I am on has a drop-off into boulders. It is a dangerous road that inexperienced drivers shouldn’t touch when winters hit up here.

But it is a place where accidents happen all the time. And I am about to make a big one.

I take a steady breath, my movements slow as I reach over to unlatch my seat belt.

I count to three in my head, glancing over at Aaron and seeing him glancing in the rearview mirror, looking for anyone following us.

If that were the case, I might not be willing to do what I am about to. But there are no cars in sight.

Quickly, I release my belt and grab for his. My right hand gets caught by his as he yells at me, and I climb over the console to grab the belt with my left, pulling strong and getting a wrap around his neck. I pull tight, cutting off his air supply.

He screams at me, choking as he grips my hand and bends my wrist strongly.

I hear a snap and let out a cry as the car starts to heavily swerve.

I don’t release the seat belt with my left hand and fall back into my seat, pushing him with my feet and keeping my hand firmly wrapped around the seat belt, unwilling to let go.

It digs in, threatening to slice the skin of my palm, but I don’t let go.

Tears stream down my face at the severity of the situation.

I nearly panic when I feel the car swerve beneath me and let go, but I remind myself of what’s at stake if I do.

He tries to correct the car, but it is too late, and just as he grabs the hand holding the seat belt, the car tips off the edge and rams into a large boulder. My head cracks against the window on the passenger side door, and everything fades.