Mountain of Lies

Chapter 11

"Are  you going to talk to me?" She sounded calm. Rational. Like he was a tired kid in need of a timeout and she was the forbearing parent determined to make a teachable moment out of a tantrum. 

"Not now."

"When?"

"Later."

"Really? So we're just going to drive around aimlessly until you decide it's time for us to have a conversation we should have had hours ago? Are you waiting for some mysterious signal from the heavens? "

"Yep." Satellite, actually. He'd made a call to Mitch from the clearing while Mia was asleep in the car. He'd been unable to resist Neville's entreaties for a game of fetch, so had had to relay his information in bursts while the dog was far enough away that the bug wouldn't pick up the conversation. Even so, he'd managed to give Mitch an update of events and his suspicions about Mia, and was waiting for the man to get back to him. So far his state-of-the-art encrypted satellite phone had remained stubbornly silent.

"I don't think you understand what's at stake here, Hudson."

The nerves bundled into a tight knot of anxiety and disappointment in the pit of his stomach said otherwise. "Not now, Mia."

Not only had he walked away from his assignment for her, but she'd also made it very clear that his belief that romance and police work don't mix was spot on. She'd wormed her way all the way under the layers that had protected him for so long—just like she'd said at the hut. But unfortunately for him, he'd fallen for a fake. Someone who was even better at playing the game than he was.

She tucked her leg beneath herself on the seat and turned to face him. "I really need to tell you—"

"Not. Now." He increased the volume on the radio. She reached out to turn it down, and he grabbed her wrist and threw her hand back into her lap.

She lifted her hands, palm outs, and tilted her head to the side. "Okay, fine."

But it wasn't fine. It wasn't fine at all. His fingers were burning with the imprint of her skin and his mind was replaying memories of their time back on the mountain, her straddling him on the narrow bed. Giving every bit as good as she got. Even knowing that she'd most likely pulled the wool over his eyes in a way that would haunt him for the rest of his career—if he had a career after this point—he knew that memory would be the last thing he saw as his life drained away. No trip down memory lane for him, no flashbacks to an idyllic childhood and milestone moments as an adult. All of those had been variations on a lie for him.

She'd been so right. When his father had walked away and his mother had made it clear she couldn't stand the sight of him, he'd started putting on a character for everyone in his life. He'd done whatever he'd had to—been whoever he'd had to be—to ensure he had shelter, protection, food to eat. It was just a bonus he'd fallen into a job that prized those skills so highly.

He'd actually started to wonder if there was a real person at the centre of all the other identities. But he'd let Mia in, and she'd found something underneath. She knew the real him. And she was going to use that knowledge against him.

Enough already. She wanted to talk? He'd let her talk. He made a hard right onto a rural road and small stones pinged off the car's undercarriage. Mitch could catch him up later, but a morbid curiosity was taking hold and he suddenly wanted to know how far Mia would take the charade. Would she give it up when he confronted her? Tell him the truth? Or would she just keep spinning filaments of falsehood hoping something would stick?

The waterfront cabin looked like something out of a horror movie. Shutters hung from odd angles and the porch had given way in one corner, giving the whole front aspect of the place a menacing leer. He slammed his foot on the brake and felt an immediate flare of remorse when Neville yipped from his new location on the floor in front of the backseat. Mia had braced herself on the dash, but turned toward the centre console to check on Neville the same time Hudson did.