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“You’re right. At least the video gives you something of an insurance policy.”
Matt curled his hand around hers. “Exactly. It guarantees mutually assured destruction if the family tries to take you down. I’ve made copies, given Jack a copy, who I’m sure has made his own copies… In the event of your untimely demise, someone will release it to the public immediately.”
Jack nodded. “Deke will make it very clear to them that, if they don’t play nicely, we won’t be afraid to use this footage.”
Madison nodded miserably. “I don’t think I have a choice. I just hate dragging anyone else into this mess. You have wives and children, friends, neighbors—”
“Safety in numbers.” Jack pointed out. “And I’m pretty sure Matt would do nearly anything to keep you safe. If you don’t know that, you should.”
Madison turned to him, looking almost afraid to believe it.
“That’s why I tried to quit my job,” he admitted.
Jack nodded. “Only a few minutes more until we arrive.”
The Cajun made small talk and outlined the history of the cabin his grandfather had built decades before and used for fishing, hunting, and avoiding his wife.
Finally, they pulled into a small parking lot off the shoulder of a dirt road and unloaded their bags, along with groceries in canvas sacks Jack schlepped to a pontoon boat moored at the nearby dock. In his other hand, he carried a kerosene lamp. Stars winked overhead as he hung the light on a nearby hook, stepped in, settled his bags at the bottom, then held out a hand to Madison. “In you go.”
Around them, bullfrogs croaked. Insects sang. In the dark water, something splashed. The swamp was alive.
She gasped and backed away. “Is that slosh…”
“Gators? Yep. They’re restless at night. That’s when they like to hunt most. But around here, there’s never a good time to stick your feet in the water.”
Madison paled and stepped back. “Is there another way there?”
“I’ve done this a million times. You’ll be safe.” Jack thrust his hand out more forcefully. “Grab onto me.”
She hesitated, glancing between the big Cajun and the water and clutching the strap of her backpack like it could save her.
“It’s okay,” Matt promised. “You’ve got this.”
She shook her head. Her breathing turned choppy. “I’m a local girl, but I’ve always been afraid of the swamp.”
Matt wasn’t comfortable, either. Wyoming had hardly prepared him for this shit. But they didn’t have any more appealing options.
“Madison,” Jack’s voice dropped to something smooth but steely, and he squared his wide shoulders. “Look at me.”
Her stare stopped nervously bobbing over the crawling darkness around them, and she focused on Jack.
“Good. I know this is difficult for you, but I won’t let anything happen. Trust me. Take my hand,” he commanded, oozing a power he’d never seen Jack exude. “Now.”
Matt expected fear to get the better of her, but instead of breaking down, running away, or protesting, she dropped her gaze somewhere around Jack’s knees, swallowed audibly, then put her hand in the Cajun’s and stepped onto the boat.
He tried not to gape.
After Jack took the pack from Madison and set it down, he cupped her shoulder. “Good job. I know that wasn’t easy.”
“I’m still shaking.” Her voice warbled.
Jack sent her an understanding smile. “You’re okay. Thank you for trusting me. Have a seat.”
When he pointed to a padded bench inside the boat, Madison sat, folding her hands in her lap.
Jack turned to him, disapproval all over his face. “Get your ass in.”
Matt scowled, feeling almost chastised. As he stepped on board and stowed the duffel, his confusion must have shown. Jack just shook his head like he was a dumbass, lifted the lamp, untied the boat, then pushed from the dock.
