Her gaze went to above the door. The mountain man had left the Personal Location Beacon she'd rented from The Shack. She could get help if she could break free.
She needed to leave before the man came back. A shiver ran through her, and goosebumps broke out along her arms. He would've scared her fully clothed.
Naked, he terrified her.
Chapter Three
Keenan broke through the surface of the St. Joe River and gazed around in the dark as he floated with the current, getting his bearings. Two hundred yards ahead of him, the bridge at the west end of town darkened the horizon. He let the water take him the rest of the distance.
He could've got out of the river at the RV Park and searched out Hank, one of the originals in the Alpha Bio Project, and his MC brother, but there were too many people around. It was safer to meet with Trip.
Retirement from the project had distanced Trip from the controller. He no longer had daily contact with the handlers. He'd put his family first in his life and remained a loyal member of Avery Falls Motorcycle Club.
At least that was what he'd witnessed last year. He hoped Trip was still free.
Under the bridge, he flipped to his front and swam with strong strokes toward the bank. He reached the rocks underneath the deck, hanging over the river, and stood, navigating through the darkness.
The cold failed to penetrate his skin. He shook his head, dispelling the water from his hair and beard as he climbed up the bank and pulled himself up and over the railing.
"Trip, brother, I hope to fuck you can hear me." He fell back into speaking under his breath, knowing if Trip still retained his enhancements, he'd hear him.
The sliding door off the kitchen opened, and Trip stepped onto the deck. Keenan soaked in someone as familiar to him as himself.
Trip, along with the other five originals of the AB Project, had been there through every training session, every shock treatment, every drug-induced mind play spanning over two decades.
Trip kept his distance. "You're supposed to be dead."
The originals knew the project had enhanced them for the sole purpose of using them as killers in the future. They lived each day under the threat of an upcoming switch—a simple command that would order them to kill, be killed, or take their own life.
When he'd regained consciousness and found himself alone in the mountains, he believed he was dead and experiencing the afterlife. That's what the controller had drilled into his head. Except, death wasn't like he'd imagined.
The switch wasn't pain-free.
He was alert for every criminalizing second.
For months, he battled with taking his own life to stop the misery happening to him. He found out what kind of man he was before he joined the project. He lived through every experience, every hardship, every painful existence he'd already lived through.
"I'm alive." His voice broke, still unfamiliar with talking. He'd lived too long on his own, in silence.
"I have to let the others know." Trip stepped forward, standing in front of Keenan, and put his hand against his chest. "Jesus." He raised his gaze and looked Keenan in the eyes. "How can you be here?"
"I'll explain later." He grabbed Trip's hand, clutching him. "You can't let the handlers or the controller know I'm still alive or I'm here in Avery Falls."
"Where are you?"
"Can I trust you, brother?"
Trip dipped his chin. "Always."
"You'll keep this secret?"
Trip let go of him, glanced behind him. "Bonnie's awake. Let me take care of her so we can talk."
He slipped back into the shadows of the deck as Trip went inside and shut the door. He could hear everything.
"What are you doing outside?" said Bonnie.
"Getting some fresh air."
"Mm." Bonnie kissed Trip. "Nothing takes you out of my bed but your club."
"I'm just enjoying the night air. Why don't you hop back in bed? I'll be inside in a minute."
"Okay." Bonnie paused. "Whichever biker you're talking to, let them know it's the middle of the night. They should be sleeping, too."
Keenan turned from the house and leaned his elbows against the railing. Trip hadn't told Bonnie he was here but hadn't denied he was talking to someone from the motorcycle club. Obviously, Trip getting up in the middle of the night to deal with club business happened often not to raise Bonnie's alarms.
He'd missed out on a year of his life. In that time, things could've changed within the club. Not to mention, the town. He had no idea who still lived here or if the tourism business continued to support the club.
The controller probably brought in more men, graduating them to the MC after their training.
The number of people he trusted dwindled until he had only the originals to rely on. To the others that'd come after him, he was the outsider now.
He grabbed onto the railing, prepared to propel himself over the edge, and slip back into the water. The information he held couldn't escape the safety net around him.
The glass sliding door opened, stopping him from disappearing into the night.
"Stay. She'll give us privacy," said Trip.
He straightened and faced Trip. "I'll need to go back soon. Every second I'm here, I risk the knowledge of my freedom getting back to the controller."
Trip set a pile of clothes on the rail. "They should fit you."
Knowing he'd need to swim upstream to where he left the ATV outside of town, he would make better time going naked. But if any of the campers, awake before the sun rose, spotted him, being naked would alert them to something going on. If he were clothed, they'd more than likely shrug off what they seen as an illusion of their drunken night.
"I'll get you a pair of boots," said Trip.
"No need. This will do." He pulled on a T-shirt.
Having material against his skin seemed like a luxury. He'd grown used to being naked. Slipping on the jeans, he tucked his cock in and fastened the waist. He brought his leg up, stretching the fabric, feeling confined and not looking forward to swimming with clothes on.
"You don't need to leave. You can stay here. You'll be safe." Trip crossed his arms.
"I'm not safe anywhere. They think I'm dead."
"Shit has gone down since you've been gone. The project is over. Nobody has been around in over a week. They blew up Sether mountain. The cave is gone."
Keena cocked his head. "When?"
"Last week." Trip inhaled deeply. "Today's our first day without our allotment of drugs."
At the mention of drugs, Keenan's spine stiffened. "I haven't had anything since I've been gone."
"Eleven months, sixteen days," whispered Trip. "We thought you were dead."
"I thought the same thing until I became aware I was butt-naked and still breathing." He studied Trip, unsure how much he should say. "I've been close this entire time."
"You never contacted anyone?" Trip stepped away and leaned against the railing. "What's going on?"
"You tell me." He joined him at the edge of the deck. "Where are they? You said there was no project, no drugs. Is there training?"