Free Last Resort by Jeff Shelby Page B

for stocking the cabin with food and beverages. And creamer.
    I set the carton back on the counter and held the cup to my lips.
    And froze.
    There was a window above the sink that looked out over the deck.
    And on the deck were two men.
    One wore cut-off denim shorts and a dirty gray tank top. His long stringy hair splayed out from under a gas station hat that sat backwards on his head. He was short and squat, a small roll of fat visible beneath the tank top. The wish of a beard shaded his bony face.
    The other guy was taller, lankier. His black hair was cut in what could only be described as a serious mullet—bowl cut bangs in the front, long curly tendrils down to his shoulders in the back. He wore wraparound sunglasses, a black T-shirt and dirty jeans. I could see the outline of a large pocket knife in his front pocket. He was moving slower than the other guy, disinterested in whatever it was they were looking for.
    I ducked beneath the window, set my coffee on the counter and hustled back to the bedroom. I jumped on the bed. “Wake up!”
    Jake jerked to a sitting position. “Huh?”
    “Wake up,” I said, looking over my shouldering and whispering in his ear. “There are two guys out on our deck.”
    He rubbed at his eyes. “Two guys?” he mumbled.
    “Yes!” I said, pushing on his back to get him moving. “They're going through the cooler and the storage bench! And they are creepy!”
    “I thought you didn't want me getting in any more fights.”
    “This is different!” I whispered. “Go see what they are doing. Scare them away or something.”
    He swung his legs over the edge of the bed. “You make them sound like raccoons.”
    “Just hurry up!”
    He pulled on his shorts and sat there for a minute.
    “What are you doing?” I hissed.
    He looked pointedly at the shirt I was wearing. “Looks like someone else was grabbing things that didn't belong to them.”
    I pulled it over my head and tossed it at him.
    “I didn't mean...” he began.
    I reached for my own shirt and tugged it on. “Shh. No time.”
    He shook his head, sighing, but he stood up. I tucked in behind him and followed him out to the kitchen.
    The guys were still out on the deck, nosing around.
    Jake paused at the kitchen sink, frowned, then walked around through the eating area and living area.
    “Are you just going to go out there?” I asked.
    “You wanted me to do something, didn't you?”
    I felt a little twinge of panic. “What if they're armed?”
    He rolled his eyes. “You watch too much TV.”
    “I don't watch any TV.”
    He yanked the curtains open to the slider. “Then you're just crazy.”
    “Hey,” I started to protest but he ignored me.
    He jerked the slider open and both of the intruders froze and turned toward the door.
    Jake stepped outside and, after a second of hesitation, I sidled out next to him.
    “Help you?” Jake asked.
    The two men looked at one another, clearly confused. I wasn't sure if it was because they'd been caught or because they didn't understand the question. Or both.
    The one with the backward hat said, “Uh, no.”
    “Then why are you on my deck?” Jake asked.
    “It's not yours,” the one with the sunglasses said. “It's Delilah's.”
    “I'm staying here,” Jake said. “At Delilah's invitation. So it's mine right now. What are you looking for?”
    They exchanged more confused looks.
    “We're lost,” Hat said.
    “Lost?”
    “Yeah. We were out for a walk—”
    Jake stared at the guy in jeans, his eyes zeroing in on the belt buckle looped around him. “You and...” he said, squinting. “Jaw? Is that your name?”
    Jaw paled, tugging his shirt out of his jeans and pulling it down over his belt buckle.
    Hat's cheeks flushed. “That's not his name...that's his...uh, nickname.”
    “Thanks a lot, Chuck,” Jaw sneered. “Jesus.”
    “Dude!” Hat, aka Chuck, eyes were bulging. “Now you said my name!”
    Jaw's face colored.
    “Chuck and Jaw,” Jake said. A thin smile