He pointed at me and yelled, "I'm going to—"
That's all I heard because I blacked out. In a way, it was a blessing. I wouldn't be conscious for my death. Goodbye world. I had fun, except for my wedding day. Maybe Derrick would feel sleazy for cheating on me now that I was dead.
TWO
Carter
WHO IN THE FUDGE-PACKING fudgsicles is this?
"Get out of my house!" I stood taller and rested my Marlin 336 rifle across my arm, taking a step into the room.
The woman didn't move. She was sprawled on the floor in a pink, white, and bean-covered heap next to my kitchen table.
I left the door open, in case I needed a quick escape. Looking back, Kitty was having an early dinner with the beans, trying to curl her tongue deep into the can. With each lick, the metal scraped over the floor and was pushed closer to the wall.
I'd let her enjoy her snack while I figured out what thief broke into my home to steal beans while wearing bright pink. Did she find the hidden stash of my belongings under the floorboards? Even if she did, she won't be leaving with them.
Moving closer to the breathing heap on the floor, I firmed my grip on my Marlin and tapped her knee with my foot. Just a nudge to see if she'd wake.
Nothing.
Pushing the hood from my head, I gathered a breath. "Shitake mushrooms, this is bad."
Realizing I was no longer in danger of being attacked by a deranged burglar with zombie-lust for cans, I moved back to the front door and closed it. Then I went to unload the rifle and put it away under my bed.
I came back out of the bedroom to find the woman hadn't moved yet.
"What am I going to do, Kitty?"
Kitty was now cradling the can between her paws, more concerned at retrieving the microscopic bean remains left than the intruder on the floor. I looked down and put my hands on my hips. "You're supposed to help protect this home. What kind of watchdog are you?"
Kitty lifted and tilted her angular head with surprise.
"Yes, I'm still here. This woman is still lying on the floor." I waved my hand. My dog glanced for a moment at the intruder before looking back at me, clearly unconcerned.
Sighing, I could hear my father's words in my head when I first chose Kitty from the litter to take home. "Don't pick the loud one, son, because the dog will grow up barking your ear off. And don't pick a boisterous one. That's a dog who will only care about playing. We need one that has enough energy to play but knows when to work."
And what did I do? In my infinite wisdom, I picked the runt. He never warned me against runts . . .. I'd since learned.
I moved back to the woman and crouched down to the floor. As I studied our new guest, I noticed her coat was ripped and dirty. Reaching over, I picked a tiny branch caught on a tear by her shoulder. The white skirt she wore was frayed and just as dirty as the coat.
Perhaps she came here out of desperation. To get away from someone who wanted to hurt her. There wasn't a whole lot of people on Fire Mountain, so it could easily attract shady types. I'd witnessed my fair share of characters hiding from the law. Was she running from someone wanted by the police, or was she wanted herself?
Those answers would come in time. What I needed to do was see if she required medical attention.
I brushed some golden hair from her face, surprised to see a woman so delicate and adorable lying there. Despite the smear of dried beans around her mouth, her skin was soft and as I rested my hand on her forehead, a spark of electricity shot up my arm.
I ignored the growing awareness of my body's reaction to her beauty as I realized she was burning up.
"She has a fever," I said to Kitty, not that my dog could understand or would care.
My hands massaged different parts of her body to see if she had any broken bones. Everything appeared fine, and she was able to throw that can though she won't be trying out for professional baseball anytime soon.
I didn't want to move her. Growing up, most of my life with just me and my father isolated in the mountains, he made sure I knew basic medical care in case something happened to either of us.
The closest hospital was forty-five minutes away. If something was life-threatening, I had to know how to help him until the ambulance arrived. He would still be alive if I had been here when he needed me most. Not off being young, stupid, and utterly selfish.
I stood and walked to the back door, pushing the mat aside. Lifting two loose planks from the wooden floor, I reached down and removed the things I had hid there this morning. I grabbed a blue blanket and my first aid kit.
Bringing what I needed back, I sat down beside the mysterious and fascinating woman. I sighed. She was striking. It's too bad she was an unconscious lump on my kitchen floor. I had seen many pretty women in my life. There were several in the town nearby at Fire Lake, and The Lodge on the other side of the mountain was always packed full of the beautiful elite visiting from afar.
But the woman with bean-stained lips was prettier than most.
My big fingers made the process of unfastening the tiny buttons that formed a line down her back almost impossible. Clenching my jaw, I gave up after the tenth attempt at the third button. I curled my fingers into the lace and ripped it in half.
My mouth watered as I stared at her creamy back, tracing my fingers over her skin.
Kitty barked, snapping me out of my lonely need to fondle the unconscious woman's back. My head whipped around to find my dog wagging his tail and nudging his nose at the can.
"You'll get dinner in a bit. I have more important matters to take care of . . . like the intruder you did nothing about."
Kitty barked again and walked over to help.
"It's about time you took an interest in this person. Hey, Kitty, stop that!"
She sniffed the woman's face and began to lick, focusing solely on the intruder's lips. I got to my feet, puffing up my body and slapped my hands together. Kitty stopped licking and came to sit at my feet.
"That's better. I need to check her for cuts or worse, then I can feed you. Stay." I held my palm up.
I got back to work on the woman and removed her boots and socks. Her feet were fine. They weren't broken and no signs of frostbite. I hesitated before lifting her skirt. I grabbed the edge of the white hem and realized there were layers. Gathering all the material, I was about to lift when I caught Kitty's scrutinizing tilt of her head.
"I'm not a pervert, Kitty. I have to see if she's hurt," I said causing Kitty's brow to wrinkle. "Stop looking at me."
Groaning, I ignored my overly judgmental dog and pushed the fabric far enough that the woman's legs were on display. The sheer covering she wore had mostly been ripped to shreds. Her silky skin looked clean, smooth, and good enough to lick.
Gah, stop, Carter. If Dad were alive, he would be ashamed that I was thinking of unmentionable things while trying to help an unconscious woman.
My palm was sweaty as I gripped her calf to rotate her leg. If it was broken, she would have made a sound, even in her comatose state. I did it to the other leg and noticed a cut on her upper thigh.
It was deep and the area around it was swollen. Grabbing my kit, I found the hydrogen peroxide and poured a hefty amount over the gash. After I bandaged her up, I threw the blanket over her and went to find the phone to plug back into the wall by the kitchen counter.
I needed to call an ambulance. When I lifted the receiver to the phone, I heard no tone. I tried removing the plug and put it back into the wall, but it was still dead. The phone lines must be down due to the snowstorm that started earlier today.
"Looks like we will have a guest for a while. Since you like her so much, why don't you move her into the bedroom?" I glared at my dog and couldn't help but notice a few tail flicks. I guess the only way to my dog's heart was through beans.
"I'd better make the bed," I mumbled at Kitty.
I went back to the opening in the floor and removed the remainder of my things. After finishing up in the bedroom and putting ev
erything back where it belonged, I grabbed a torn piece of cardboard I usually reserved for my wet boots and a towel.
Slipping the cardboard under her neck and wrapping the towel around her head and neck, I gently lifted her, doing my best to keep her head from moving. I expected her to be heavier because of all the fabric encasing her body, but there wasn't much effort needed to move her.
Once she was on the bed, I tucked her in and waved at Kitty, who had followed me into the bedroom.
"Come here, Kitty. I'm going to shut the door now."
She didn't budge. Her legs and paws pulled together as she sat to keep an eye on our patient. I smiled at how my dog cared for the injured woman.
But then I witnessed my dog lean her head on the bed and start to lick. When I moved closer, my dog's tongue was slithering over the woman's bean-stained fingers.
"You are unbelievable. She's lying here, maybe fighting for her life, and all you care about are the remains of beans. Get out." I pointed to the door, but my dog didn't move.
I resorted to bribing her with her true love.
"We're having sausages for dinner tonight."
My dog hopped up. Her paws had left the ground, she jumped with such excitement, and scurried out of the room.
After a filling meal of sausage and peppers with a side of my potato hash, Kitty and I rested. Actually, she curled up outside the door to the bedroom while I hunted for anything that would explain who this woman was and why she was in my home.
I took a flashlight outside and found footprints in the snow that I assumed were hers. They didn't come from the driveway but from the woods.
She couldn't possibly be a hiker. Not in her outfit. The boots she had on were nice, expensive, but not designed for trekking in the mountains.
The more I searched for clues to explain her presence, the more I was left with questions. If my father were here, he'd know what to do.
I miss you, Dad.
It's been two years, but it still felt like yesterday. I gulped at the biting air and stared into the dark woods. The noise from the animals was the only thing that reminded me of him. He worked hard to make our life comfortable, especially after the nightmare we ran from. My dad and I were a team. He taught me how to be a man, how to survive on my own, and how to enjoy the little moments.
Turning back, I walked up the three short steps to the porch. Knocking the snow from my boots, I stepped inside and removed them. Kitty was still curled up outside the bedroom.
"Don't get too attached, Kitty. She isn't staying. Remember what Dad always said. 'Everyone always wants something from you and most of the time it's not good. They'll hurt you the first chance they get. Trust in family.' That's you and me, Kitty. We don't know her and it's best if it stays that way."
THREE
Olivia
I WAS BURIED ALIVE.
More wood. But what did I expect from a coffin? It's surprisingly roomy and smelled of bacon. Maybe this was hell? Forever hungry and tempted by the smell of delicious fatty meat, but never allowed to taste it.
An eternity to covet that which was denied in life, now in death.
"Curse you, Mother. If you had only allowed me to eat what I wanted, I wouldn't be subjected to an afterlife of baconless torture."
There was a bark nearby. Did dogs go to hell, too? As fearful as I was of wild animals, I loved dogs. It wasn't right to punish them for eternity.
I should speak with the head honcho about cursing animals like that. They could do what they wanted to me, but not helpless creatures. No one ever said hell was nice, but this was uncivilized.
I sat up and the blanket I hadn't realized was on top of me slid off. I saw I was in the bedroom from the cabin I found. I wasn't dead. Hell and the head honchos had to wait.
Shock followed my rush of relief, and then immediately it turned into fear. That man was out there. He was the bacon torturer.
He must have locked me in this room to do things to me. Maybe the bacon was part of his sick fantasy. He would place it all over his body and make me eat it off.
A tear fell from my eye because it would be hard for me to resist that meat candy. I'd eat it and he'd get his sick jollies, but I wouldn't give him the pleasure of me enjoying the food. At least after a few strips.
There had to be a way out of here. I glanced around the room and saw my boots by the door while my coat hung on a hook. Removing the warm gray blanket—which I noticed wasn't Egyptian cotton but something far scratchier—I tiptoed to the door.
My leg throbbed so I lifted my skirt and found a bandage on my thigh. My eyebrow lifted. "Why would a psycho killer want to heal my body if he was just going to torture and kill me?"
There was a tapping sound that moved closer, followed by a bark right outside the door. My eyes widened as I covered my mouth.
Crap. I needed to stop having conversations with myself, especially now that I'm being held against my will. I didn't want the monster to use my words against me for his games of torment.
"Kitty, did you hear something?" a deep voice called from behind the door.
I had to get out of here, and quick. Despite the throbbing of my leg, I shoved on my boots and threw on my coat. Looking around, I noticed light coming in from a tiny square window high up the wall. While it was minuscule, I felt confident I could get through it. And my mom thought my time obsessed with parkour wouldn't pay off.
I knew how to twist and squeeze my body to get through small spaces. That's a lesson every person should learn. You never knew when you would be held captive by a bacon torturer.
More than being able to twist my body, I could easily get to that window. I assessed the space and figured I could use the bed as leverage. Pushing off the wall, I ran and hopped up on the bed, leaping toward the window . . . but fell short.
I landed on the floor with a loud thud. More barks came from the door. I stilled and waited for them to subside.
"Let her get her rest. Then we can interrogate her." The man's voice sent a ripple of fear down my back.
Squeezing my eyes shut, I fought back a wail. Marrying Derrick was looking a lot more preferable than being stuck in this cabin. Curse my body's natural tendency to always choose flight instead of fight when faced with something bad. Maybe if I had stood up to my fiancé, I wouldn't be lying here about to die.
No time for feeling sorry for myself. I wanted to live.
I got up and after a few seconds of taking in the room; I came to the decision to push the bed closer to the window. That would decrease the distance needed to jump.
Walking around the bed, I secured my hands on the frame and pushed but it didn't budge. I tried again and leaned hard against it, throwing my body weight against the frame. Nothing.
Going to the other side, I pulled. That got it to move an inch. I groaned and tugged at the bed, panting by the time I had the bed in position.
There was no time to rest. I had to escape. I went to the door and pushed off, racing toward the bed. I jumped as if my life depended on it . . . because, well, it did.
When I landed, my fingers were gripping the edge of the window frame.
All I had to do was pull my body up with the tips of my fingers. The only problem was that I was never good at that part. It was the reason I gave up parkour. My fingers were weak, and the others in the class nicknamed me "princess fingers."
"What in the name of pickle fries is going on in here?" I heard the man's voice come from behind. I hadn't heard him come in the room as I struggled to pull myself up. He was a stealthy one.
"I won't let you kill me!" I tried to scream but was too out of breath.
It had been two years since I did parkour. I forgot how much strength it required.
"Kill you? Why would I kill you?" He didn't wait for me to answer. "Do you believe this, Kitty? I help the woman, make sure her cut didn't get infected, let her sleep in my room overnight—even after she broke into my home and stole my food. And now she thinks I'm going to murder her."
; I slid down the wall, letting go of the window and rubbed my fingers.
"When you put it like that, it does sound a little ridiculous."
We stood in silence. I stared at the floor, nibbling on my lip while he folded his beefy arms. My misadventures through the woods seemed to have muddled my brain. I'd been rude since the moment I stepped foot into this wood lover's paradise.
"Let's start over." I hoped he'd take my peace offering, which was only my extended hand, but it was all I had to give.
I could almost feel the burn in my palm as his green eyes glared at my hand.
"I promise, I won't bite." My laughter faded quickly from my silly joke as the man remained unmoved.
He was tall and must have a trainer because his arms were cut. The scowl on the man's face seemed to add to his appeal. The combination of the dark look he was giving me, his dazzling green eyes, thick beard, and that flannel shirt molding to his rippling chest made him the perfect mountain man fantasy.
It's like he was made for a laundry soap commercial.
I gave up on the handshake and lowered my arm. "Look, I'm sorry. I was cold and lost last night. When I saw your cabin and heard those wild animals, I had to protect myself. So, I ran in here."
"What wild animals? I didn't hear anything last night." His eyes widened and he raced away. I couldn't help but notice the perfect shape of his ass in his fitted jeans as he left the room.
"Hey, wait . . . where are you going?" I heard the back door open and wondered if he was abandoning me. Scurrying after him, I yelled, "At least give me a little bacon before you leave me here to die."
He stood outside the back door, pushing his feet into a pair of thick boots. They were covered in mud and as I stepped closer, all I could smell was that I had been too quick to judge the brown mess on his boots. It wasn't mud, but feces.
I crooked my arm and covered my nose. What was out here?
Cabin Fever (Lost and Found Book 1) Page 2
