2,179CHAPTER 2
FINNEGAN SCOTT POV
A gentle breeze blew across the front porch, sending pollen flurrying in the air. March was my favorite time of year. The weather was a perfect seventy-three degrees—not too hot and not too cold. The plants and trees were sprouting with new growth, a sign that Spring was just around the corner.
I leaned back in the old wooden rocker, wondering when this Stephanie Plum woman would finally show. Sensing my impatience, Maggie placed her snout on my thigh, and I absently smoothed her black fur. She calmed, but I wasn't as easily mollified. I checked my watch, noting it was almost 6:00 p.m. Maggie whined again. "I know, girl. I'm getting concerned, too."
I knew the route up this mountain like the back of my hand. Still, those unfamiliar with the terrain could become lost or slide into one of the many deep ruts etched into the dirt road. I blew out a breath. I didn't relish going down the mountain in search of a woman who couldn't get herself from point A to point B without finding trouble. I'd give it another thirty minutes, and then I'd have no choice.
I wanted to kick my own ass for returning Burrows' call. If I hadn't, I wouldn't be in this mess. I'd been alone up here for so long that I wasn't fit for civilized company and liked it that way. I just wanted to be left alone in peace with my damn dog. Was that too much to ask?
I certainly didn't want to be stuck training some woman for twelve weeks. Hell, I wasn't even sure I still had it in me to train anyone after being out of the field for five years. Maybe training was overstating it a bit. She probably wanted the novelty of being trained but didn't want to do the hard work it took to actually learn the skills. In that case, this little favor would end up being a very long babysitting session for an adult woman who, with absolutely no training under her belt, had no business being a bounty hunter.
I recalled the picture in the dossier I put together of Stephanie Plum. She was young and had an innocence about her, but from what Burrow's said, she'd been through more harrowing situations than most seasoned agents I'd worked with. She'd been shot, had her cars blown up, and been kidnapped multiple times. The last time was by Hunter Durant, the Curio Killer. She'd suffered greatly at his hands but still got away, killing him in the process. I called in a favor and was able to get my hands on the feds official report. It was a riveting reading. Everyone seemed to agree that the woman had luck in spades. But luck wouldn't get her through the course I had planned. She'd pull her weight or go home. I wouldn't take it easy on her.
Maggie's ears perked up, and a second later, I heard a car engine as it came around the bend. I dreaded this next part—introductions. In the last few years, I've only interacted with the occasional store clerk when I went to town for supplies. What little social skills I'd once possessed had died with my wife and daughter.
I assessed her as she pulled into the driveway and lowered the window. Her hair was shorter than in the file picture, but there was no doubt she was pretty. She was probably used to manipulating men to get everything she wanted. That wouldn't work on me. I evaluated women on their skills for the job and nothing else. If she was hoping for cotton treatment, she came to the wrong place.
STEPH POV
When I left Delectabelle's bakery, it was four o'clock in the afternoon, and I still had another hour and a half of driving before I reached my destination. Since I wasn't supposed to arrive until six, that should have given me plenty of time. But I didn't account for the condition of the road going up the mountain. As soon as I turned off the main highway, the road increasingly became narrower until the asphalt finally ran out, and I was driving on dirt. Heavy rainfall had created so many large gullies that I had difficulty avoiding them.
"Shit," I hissed as my right tire slid into another hole, and the car bounced, knocking my head against the window. A knot of anxiety lodged in my chest. Thankfully, I didn't get stuck, but the further I went without seeing a house or another car, the bigger that knot became. Jeanne said Mr. Scott had been living in seclusion for years. What if the isolation caused him to go mad? I took one hand off the wheel to hit the door lock button—again. What was I thinking coming up here?
As I came around the bend, my mouth dropped open in awe. I was looking at a luxury cabin that would fit right at home on the slopes in Aspen. It was a massive A frame with a front porch that spanned the entire length. I had to be lost. There was no way this was the cabin I was looking for.
I stared at the steep porch, about six feet off the ground, making no effort to get out of the car. A man was sitting in a rocker with a large black dog at his feet. I swallowed back a lump of fear when he stood and walked to the edge of the porch. Instead of smiling or giving me a friendly wave to put me at ease, he was stone-faced, unwelcoming. Doubt flooded my system. Maybe I should turn the car around and head back to civilization.
After gathering my courage, I put the car in the park and lowered the window. "I'm looking for Mr. Finnegan Scott's place," I yelled loud enough that he wouldn't need to come closer.
He had to have heard the wariness in my voice, yet he made no effort to appear friendly as he descended the porch steps, his dog happily following at his heels. I told myself that animals were good judges of character. It was a positive sign this dog seemed happy and well cared for, but the closer he got to my car, the more on edge I became. He stopped about ten feet away as if he knew I didn't want to be crowded. He had a head full of short brown hair, graying at the temples, and lines around his blue eyes. I guessed him to be in his mid-forties. He would be considered quite handsome if it weren't for his slightly crooked nose, probably broken at some point and not set properly. Instead, he looked dangerous.
"I'm Finnegan Scott." He crossed his muscular arms over his chest, straining the seams of his blue flannel shirt. Without taking his eyes off me, he told the dog to sit, and it immediately obeyed.
This wasn't the safe older man I'd been expecting, but since my Spidey sense wasn't setting off warning bells, I decided to go with it. I breathed in deep for courage, got out of the car, and offered my hand. "It's nice to meet you, Mr. Scott. I'm Stephanie Plum, but everyone calls me Steph."
He had a flinty expression on his face while he took my measure. Finally, he came to some sort of decision and placed his calloused hand on mine. The surrounding air sparked with energy, and he dropped my hand as he stepped back without breaking eye contact.
I looked around for some way to break the awkward tension. "This is a nice place. I feel like it took hours to drive up the mountain. That road is horrible. I must have hit every hole."
The dog did a whole body shiver and whined impatiently. "Go ahead," Mr. Scott said to the dog. In a black blur, it bounded toward me.
Did he just give it permission to eat me?
I tried to step back, but when I bumped into the car, I had no choice but to brace for impact. Before I could draw my hands up in front of me, the dog's paws landed on my chest, and a big, wet tongue licked my face.
"Be nice, Maggie," he scolded, and she dropped to the ground on her belly. She was a Collie mix with long black hair and a healthy sheen. When I squatted down to pet her, she looked up at me with eyes that seemed to ask for forgiveness. Strings pulled at my heart.
"Maggie, huh? That's a pretty name for a pretty girl." She barked in agreement and wagged her tail as if she understood me. I gave her a thorough rub down while she ate up the attention.
While kneeling, I discreetly observed Mr. Scott. His feet looked huge in a pair of trail-worn hiking boots, and his jeans fit his muscular thighs like a second skin. He had a rugged quality that made me think of lumberjacks. He looked so at home here on the mountain that I had trouble imagining him wearing the standard G-Man suit that FBI agents wore. The image seemed comical. But there was nothing humorous about how he glowered at me.
Annoyed that his dog and I were becoming fast friends, Mr. Scott whistled and turned toward the cabin. Maggie dutifully followed. Good grief. The dog had better manners than that man.
I slung my messenger bag across my body, retrieved my bag from the trunk, and trudged up the stairs to the porch. I paused. Maggie was waiting by the open front door, but there was no sign of Mr. Scott. I felt monumentally stupid going inside a strange man's home, especially when the nearest police station was over half an hour down the mountain, and no neighbors to come to my rescue if he turned out to be a deranged killer. Sensing my reticence, Maggie pranced in a circle and gave me a reassuring look. I sighed. "I hope you're not leading me into a bad situation, girl."
My gut told me it was safe to go inside, but I was still cautious as I hesitantly stepped over the threshold. I set my bags on the slate entryway and took in my surroundings. There were doors to my right and left, probably closets, and straight ahead led deeper into the house. Maggie licked my hand, encouraging me to follow her. The slate floor transitioned into rustic wood. I stopped in my tracks, taking in the large open space with a vaulted ceiling and massive beams. The back wall of the A-frame cabin was floor-to-ceiling glass that let the natural light come through and framed the picturesque view.
In the center of all that glass was an enormous stone fireplace. A worn leather couch and chair were in front of the fireplace, and behind the couch was a wall of bookcases separated by a long hallway. I suspected it led to the bedrooms. On the left side of the cabin, Mr. Scott was in the kitchen cooking. His back was to me, but I wasn't fooled. The man knew exactly where I was and what I was doing. He probably had eyes in the back of his head like my mother.
Ignoring the yummy smells, I crossed the room to get a better look at the view outside. A set of folding glass doors flanked the fireplace, giving access to the covered deck spanning the length of the house and allowing an unobstructed view of the crystal-clear lake. It was impressive.
Maggie nudged my hand to get my attention. I followed her as she trotted past the wooden dining table and into a large sunroom built onto the west side of the house. Since it was late in the day, the sun shone through the floor-to-ceiling windows and bifold glass doors, casting an aurora borealis of colors onto the blue L-shaped couch and slate-tiled floor. I took a moment to enjoy the spectacular sight. This room offered a better view of the dense woods surrounding the cabin. After being held prisoner in the Pine Barrens, I'd been worried when Jeanne told me I'd be training in a secluded wooded area, but I wasn't scared. In fact, I felt oddly peaceful.
With a sigh, I dragged myself away from the view and returned to the main part of the cabin to see if Mr. Scott needed help. The kitchen was outfitted with a restaurant-quality stainless-steel range, refrigerator, and dishwasher. A long black granite island with a large stainless sink defined the space. My assumption of roughing it on this mountain was way off base. This place had everything.
"What can I do to help?" I asked with more confidence than I felt.
He had a few days of stubble covering his jaw, which gave his scowling face a dangerous quality. A shiver ran through me, reminding me that even though he was a trusted friend of Jeanne's, I didn't know this man. I'd be wise to remember that he obviously had issues, or he wouldn't have checked out of society and chosen to live up here on this mountain all alone for years. But then I remembered that he'd lost his wife and daughter a few years ago. Maybe his gruff demeanor was a form of self-protection from his pain, which was something I could understand. He was probably still grieving for his family. It wasn't like there was a statute of limitations on how long people could grieve.
"You can get the cornbread out of the oven," he said.
I picked up the oven mitt and carefully retrieved the cornbread from the oven, placing it on the stovetop. While he stirred the contents of the crock pot, I leaned my elbows on the island and drank in the lake's view. When the silence went on too long, I felt awkward. "You have a nice place. I wasn't expecting something so…."
"Don't get used to it," he said curtly. "This isn't a vacation."
I straightened, chastised by his rudeness and oddly emboldened to stand up for myself. In the last couple of months, I'd faced off with Durant and won, confronted Morelli about his cheating, ended things permanently, and laid down clear boundaries with Ranger. I might have been weakened in the cellar, but I came out stronger. This man didn't know me, but he was about to get a crash course.
"I'm not looking for special treatment. I can get that at home. But I will be treated with respect, and in exchange, I'll do the same for you." He stared at me for a beat, and I thought I saw a glint in his eyes. Could that be a smile trying to break free? Injecting some pep in my tone, I asked, "Whatever's in that crock pot smells delicious. What is it?"
"Chili. Grab bowls and silverware, and let's eat while it's hot. After dinner, I'll show you where you'll be sleeping."
He tossed a rawhide to Maggie, and we ate cornbread and chili on the island. This was probably the best chili I'd ever eaten, but then I took a bite of cornbread. I closed my eyes and moaned at the sweet goodness. "This is amazing."
The edges of his mouth tipped up for the first time since I met him. This man was just as stingy with his smiles as Ranger, which made me sad. "It's my grandmother's recipe," he said. "She always added a couple of tablespoons of sugar into the batter."
"Your Grandmother must be an amazing cook." I stuffed my mouth with another bite.
"She was." He nodded, and we continued eating in comfortable silence.
After a second helping, my stomach was so full I could barely move. For a change, I wasn't worried about gaining weight. I was still trying to regain what I'd lost in the cellar. Unfortunately, he didn't give me time to bask in my gluttony. As he got up to take his bowl to the sink, I took it from him. "You did the cooking, so I'll do the cleanup." He nodded and left me to it.
While I cleaned the kitchen, he fed Maggie and refilled her water bowl. We finished at the same time. "Grab your bags, and I'll show you where you'll be sleeping." I got my bags from the entryway and followed him down the hallway flanked by bookcases. Each side of the hall had two doors. He pointed to a door on the right. "This is the laundry room. Use it whenever you need." Past the laundry room was a bedroom with a queen-size bed made of logs, matching nightstands, and a mirrored dresser. "This is where you'll be sleeping." I put my bags in the room and went back into the hall. He was standing in front of a closed door on the opposite side of the hall. "This is my bedroom, and this—" He pointed to a door a few feet back the way we came. "This bathroom is also accessible from my bedroom. Be sure to lock both doors when you're in there."
Great, looks like I'll be sharing a bathroom with a super friendly stranger. Probably he'll kill me in my sleep if I leave a hair in the sink.
"I'll leave you to settle in."
"Wait!" I remembered that I still hadn't paid him. I retrieved the $20,000 cash from my bag and met up with him in the hall. "Here you go."
He took the envelope and walked away. Before he got too far, he called over his shoulder, "Be ready at 0600."
I shut my bedroom door and looked out the window. Unsurprisingly, my bedroom overlooked the driveway, while Mr. Scott's bedroom had a gorgeous lake view. I plopped down on the patchwork quilt and scanned the room. There were no pictures or anything personal adorning the walls. I was probably his first and only guest.
I rolled onto my side and pulled out the burner phone Hector gave me. I called him and my parents to reassure everyone I was okay and agreed to touch base at least once a week. Feeling tired from the long drive yet too restless to go to sleep, I dragged my suitcase onto the bed and unpacked. I left my toiletry bag on the dresser for easy access and put everything else in the drawers and closet.
My curiosity about what lay in store for me tomorrow wouldn't let me rest. I left the room and quietly explored the house. The sun had set while I'd unpacked, but there was enough light to walk without tripping. I saw Mr. Scott sitting on the deck in front of a cozy fire pit. I grabbed my jacket from behind the bedroom door and made my way to the deck. Considering there were no other chairs around the fire, he was sending a message that he didn't want company. But that was too bad because I had questions, and he was the only one with answers.
I was prepared to sit cross-legged on the deck, but luckily, I spotted a chair on the other side of the stone chimney. I pulled it closer to the fire and sat. Maggie scooted over to me and rolled onto her back, encouraging me to rub her belly. I looked out over the peaceful water, listening to the sounds of nature as I obliged.
Predictably, Mr. Scott didn't say anything, but his silence wasn't uncomfortable. After everything that happened, it would be natural to fear this strange man who could break me like a twig, but I felt comforted by his strength. When it became apparent he wasn't going to say anything, I blurted, "Could you tell me a little about what you have planned for tomorrow?"
He continued staring into the darkness as if he didn't hear me. I waited and then waited some more. I was about to go back inside when he spoke. "Tomorrow is about evaluating your fitness level to discern your strengths and weaknesses. Once I have a good read on you, we'll go from there."
He didn't come right out and say it, but I could tell he didn't think much of my capabilities. He probably thought I was a big waste of his time. Instead of letting his negative opinion affect me, I resigned myself to giving this course my all. If I couldn't cut it, I would quit my job and find something else to do with my life… even if that meant finding a job away from Trenton.
After several minutes of silence, he turned to me. "What do you hope to accomplish by coming here?"
I looked down at my hands, taking a moment to put my thoughts into words. When I was ready, I met his waiting eyes. "I want to become capable of doing my job as a bounty hunter without getting injured or putting my loved ones at risk of getting hurt. And it'd be nice not to have my property destroyed."
His eyes narrowed, encouraging me to go into detail.
"I've developed a reputation in my community as a bit of a pushover." I shrugged. "My capture rate is close to 90%, but sometimes it takes several attempts before I can apprehend the fugitive, and that victory comes at a hefty cost." I focused back on the fire, not wanting to see his reactions as I continued. "I used to shake it off when my cars blew up, and my apartment was broken into or firebombed, but I can't do that anymore. The bottom line is that I want to be capable of my job and want people to respect me instead of laughing while they bet on whether I'll fail."
"Who places bets on you?" he asked, his voice turning dark.
"The cops mostly, and some of my friends." I sounded defensive and tried to brush it off by adding, "Their intention isn't to be mean. I've been told I'm entertaining."
"Some friends you've got there," he scoffed.
"That's why I'm here. Regardless of whether I remain a bounty hunter, I want to learn how to defend myself. I've begun Krav Maga classes, and Jeanne has been training me in kickboxing. After what happened…." I looked away as my voice trailed off, but not before his perpetually stony face softened a little.
"I've read the Bureau's case file on your kidnapping." From his steely tone, I could tell his flicker of compassion had vanished. That was good because the last thing I wanted was his pity. "I won't take it easy on you. At the end of every day, you'll be so tired that you'll want to throw in the towel. You can do that anytime. Your success is up to you."
I could feel him studying me—judging me—as he came to some decision.
"I'm curious about something. I'm familiar with Rangeman and your connection to the company. Still, I don't understand why you never asked Manoso or one of his men to train you?"
"Their help comes with a different set of problems. I don't want anyone judging my ability and betting on my success."
"So, you decided to fail before you tried."
I hadn't thought about it in such black and white terms, but he was right. I had no incentive to get trained because Ranger was always there to bail me out. Now that I'd drawn lines involving our friendship, I couldn't depend on him like I had in the past. I had to sink or swim on my own. Luckily, Mr. Scott's question was rhetorical because it would have hurt to verbally admit that.
"Your training will be grueling," he said. "I'm not your mother or your friend. I won't wake you up in the morning or force you to work hard. How much you learn is up to you. I expect honesty, and I'll give it in return. You have a reputation for not following the rules." He motioned to the lake and wooded area. "Out here, we're all we have, and I need to know I can count on you."
I grimaced at his assessment of my character. "You can count on me, Mr. Scott. I won't waste your time."
He stared at me, assessing my determination. "You can call me Finn." He put a metal dome over the dwindling fire and got to his feet. "Be ready at 0600." He clicked his tongue for Maggie to follow him inside.
Now that I was alone, I leaned back and looked up at the full moon, letting the weight of my undertaking settle over me. Finn's expectations were clear. He wasn't going to be my cheerleader or my friend. I exhaled loudly. These next twelve weeks would be a difficult and lonely journey, but it would also be a turning point in my life. I shivered and wrapped my jacket firmly around me. Now that the fire had been extinguished, I could feel how cold it was up here on the mountain at night, but I couldn't go inside yet. I wanted to give him time to finish his nightly routine in the bathroom.
I toughed it out as long as I could before going inside. The kitchen was empty, and the bathroom door was open with the light off. I took that as an invitation to shower while I could. I sat on my bed to take off my boots and removed the stiletto blade Hector gave me. Since I got home from the hospital, I've always been armed. Even while I slept.
I gathered my toiletry bag, long pajamas, and knife, and headed to the bathroom. It was rustic and beautiful, nothing like my 70s inspired bathroom. There was a long wooden vanity with double sinks, a stone archway leading into a massive walk-in shower, an enclosed toilet, and a luxurious garden tub nestled in the corner under a large window with a lake view. There was a door on the right, which must lead to Finn's bedroom. Since the sink closest to his bedroom was wet, I assumed that was the one he normally used. I claimed the other sink and unpacked my toiletries into the empty drawers.
I wanted to know more about the man I would be living with for the next twelve weeks, so I locked both doors and quietly snooped through his drawers. I found an electric razor, hairbrush, deodorant, lotion, aftershave, toothbrush, toothpaste, and floss. In the next drawer, I found a small first aid kit, sore muscle cream, bandages in multiple sizes, sunscreen, and Calamine lotion. Great. There was poison ivy nearby. In the third drawer, I found a lone prescription bottle. I picked it up, hoping it wasn't Viagra or something more disturbing. It was for anxiety and was out of date by three years. I was relieved that my nosy search had been fruitless: no condoms or lube, no medications for STDs, no illegal drugs, and no creams for weird rashes.
I grabbed a towel from the stack on the shelf and hung it on the empty rack. I breathed in the scent of Irish Spring as I stepped into the shower. No Bulgari body wash for him. The stone walls and floor were wet from his recent shower. It felt intimate to be standing in the same space, knowing these water droplets had run down his naked body. I showered quickly and left my shampoo and other items next to his. There was plenty of room. If he had a problem with it, he could let me know.
My curls were back now that I'd wet my hair. I made a disgusted face in the mirror. Would I ever be able to look at them without remembering they were the reason Durant noticed me in the first place? I grabbed my round brush and hair dryer and got to work. In minutes, my hair was smooth again. I gathered my dirty clothes and was on my way to my room when I remembered to unlock his bathroom door. That was close. He'd be pissed if he woke up in the middle of the night and had to go into the hall to get in the bathroom.
I locked my bedroom door as soon as I was inside. Not that I thought Finn would hurt me, but I wasn't going to be careless, either. I put my dirty clothes in a bag in the closet and laid out my clothes for the morning. Before I got into bed, I moved my gun from my messenger bag to the nightstand for easy access and put my knife under my pillow.
I tossed and turned, unable to relax enough to fall asleep. It was too dark in here. I got up, plugged in the nightlight I'd brought, and got back into bed. I lay there for some time, still feeling vulnerable. I wished I had a chair to wedge under the doorknob. I thought about the dining room chairs. There were six of them. Surely, he wouldn't miss one. I tiptoed to the main room and dragged a chair back with me. I wedged it under the knob and was asleep in no time.