Page 36 of Vengeance

"You do?" he asked.

Doc nodded. "One nobody knows about."

Vengeance looked skeptical. "Nobody?"

The older man smiled. "Not even Savage knew about it."

That got his attention. "Where is it?"

Doc stood, slinging the medical bag over his shoulder. "It’s my cabin." He looked directly at Chloe. "It's forty miles from here. There’s no electricity, no cell service, no neighbors. And unless Dante's suddenly learned to read my mind, he’ll never think to look for you there.” A grim smile crossed his weathered face as he turned his back to Vengeance.

Vengeance slowly pushed himself to his feet, every muscle protesting the movement. His side screamed, and his head spun, but as he looked at Chloe, she instinctively stepped closer, readyto steady him if he fell. He realized something that scared him even more than Dante. Somewhere between Huntsville and West Virginia, he'd stopped protecting Savage's daughter out of obligation. Now, he was protecting the woman he was falling in love with, and Dante would use that against them the first chance he got.

Chloe

The cabin looked nothing like she expected. After another hour of winding through narrow mountain roads, Doc turned onto what barely qualified as a driveway. Thick trees swallowed the old pickup truck almost immediately, hiding it from the road.

The cabin itself was small with weathered logs, a rusted tin roof, and a wraparound porch with two rocking chairs that had probably seen better days decades ago. It looked peaceful—normal even. Like the kind of place families escaped to for summer vacations. It didn’t look like a place to hide from traffickers, and that’s what made it the perfect safe house.

Doc climbed out of the truck first. "Bring him inside." Chloe was already helping Vengeance out of the pickup truck. The ride had been brutal. Every bump in the road had drawn another grimace from him. He'd insisted he was fine, but she'd stopped believing him somewhere around mile ten.

"I've got you," she said quietly.

He gave her a tired smile. "I'm beginning to think I'm becoming a burden."

She snorted. "You almost died trying to save me—again."

"I've had worse days."

She shot him a look. "You keep saying things like that."

"Occupational hazard,” he teased.

"What occupation exactly?" she asked.

He laughed softly. "I'll tell you someday." She doubted that. He seemed to have another secret, another story, or another piece of himself he kept locked away. Together, they slowly climbed the porch steps. The old wooden boards creaked beneath their weight.

Doc unlocked the front door. "Welcome home." The words caught Chloe off guard because she wasn't sure she'd ever feel that way again about a place.

The cabin smelled like cedar and coffee. A stone fireplace dominated one wall, and there was a worn leather couch in the corner of the room. A handmade quilt was draped over the back of a rocking chair. Bookshelves filled with medical texts lined another wall beside shelves stacked with mystery novels and Louis L'Amour westerns. It felt lived-in, comfortable, and safe. For the first time since Savage's death, she let herself exhale.

Doc noticed. "Is this okay?”

She nodded. "It feels—” She searched for the right word. "Safe."

"That's why I bought it." He pointed toward a hallway. "There's one bedroom."

Her eyes flicked toward Vengeance. "I'll take the couch." Both men answered at the same time.

"No,” Chloe said.

Doc folded his arms and looked between the two of them. "You're exhausted,” Vengeance said.

"So?" she said.

"So you'll take the bed,” Vengeance insisted.

"I'm not arguing with you,” Chloe said.