Page 44 of Hard Rain

Ah hell.

Ahead, Axel’s flashlight cut through the darkness before swinging left.

“There.”

Whip followed the beam.

The cabin sat tucked beneath a stand of pines, little more than a dark shape fighting to exist beneath the storm. Relief tried to surface and died almost immediately. Finding the cabin and finding Cutter weren’t the same thing.

They approached the structure the same way they’d approached dozens of others during the past year. No discussion. No hesitation. Axel moved right. Whip took the porch.

The one-room cabin was empty.

Coffee grounds in the sink. A half-empty soup can beside the stove. Ashes buried beneath the top layer.

Somebody had used it recently.

“Cutter was here.”

Axel glanced toward the stove.

“Yeah.”

Wind slammed against the cabin hard enough to rattle the windows. The walls groaned. Somewhere in the darkness, a tree cracked loudly enough to be heard above the storm.

Whip pulled out his phone.

Nothing.

Axel tried the radio.

Static.

The mountain had made the decision for them.

The road wasn’t opening tonight. The SUV wasn’t going anywhere. Whatever chance they’d had of catching Cutter in the dark had disappeared somewhere between the mudslide and the hike.

Another gust rattled the cabin hard enough to make the walls creak. Damp wood and old smoke lingered in the air.

Axel crossed the room and checked the door. Rainwater still darkened his shirt. Wet hair curled slightly at his neck. The man looked like he’d just walked out of a river and somehow still had enough energy to glare at a piece of lumber.

Whip moved to close the wooden shutters on the windows.

The hunt would continue at daylight.

Tonight, they locked down the cabin and waited for the mountain to finish trying to tear itself apart.

Across the room, Axel stalked over to him, rolled out a bedroll, and made himself comfortable on the floor. Shoulder bumping his, legs stretched out, thighs wedged. Any closer and he might as well sit in his lap.

Somehow, Axel always closed the distance without seeming to notice he’d done it.

Great.

FIRELIGHT

The cabin was fucking cold. And the fire was dismal, small, like a fucking match. Cold had settled into his bones sometime during the hike and now refused to leave.

More fire. More heat. Problem solved.