by Ranae Rose
“Put that damn thing down!” A growl of a command sounded crystal-clear, even through what now seemed the feeble protection of her window.
She squinted against the darkness, sighting a familiar face down the barrel of her gun. “You!” It was the guy from the cabin – Mr. Inhospitality himself, hunkered down by her window, glaring at her like she was the one acting crazy. “What are you doing out here?” Her voice came out higher than she would have liked. It was dark outside, but there was enough moonlight for her to recognize his face and – good Lord, he wasn’t wearing a shirt at all this time – the muscles that rippled along his torso, striped with dark hair.
“I might ask you the same thing,” he drawled, his nose practically pressed against the glass despite the fact that she had her gun trained on him.
“Oh, I think you know exactly why I’m here,” she said, her indignance overwhelming her fear. He must have been the one who’d cut down the trees. Why else would he have returned to so near the scene of the crime?
“The trees,” he grunted. “Yeah, I saw ‘em. What the hell possessed you to spend the night in your car on the side of the mountain when you coulda called for help?”
A tremor raced through her tired arms. Holding a gun steady was a lot more exhausting than it looked on TV. She’d never aimed one at an actual person before, only targets at a shooting range she’d visited a few times to familiarize herself with the weapon she’d bought, just in case of an emergency. “My cellphone doesn’t get reception up here.”
He shrugged. “You coulda come up to my cabin and used my landline.”
She glared at him down the short barrel of her .22. “You weren’t exactly very welcoming the first two times I stopped by.” Besides, she wasn’t an idiot. He was her number one suspect, and the idea of returning to his cabin to call for help was laughable. “I figured I’d be better off waiting for help to come to me.”
He scoffed. “I reckon you’re in for a long wait, then. You got enough supplies in there to last?” He pressed his forehead against the glass, scrutinizing the interior of her car with his strange hazel eyes. They almost glowed in the moonlight.
“Back off!” she snapped, pressing her gun against the glass. “Don’t think I don’t know you’re the one who chopped down those trees.”
An arrogant smirk tilted his full, luscious lips. “I don’t think you know much of anything. Now put that gun down and get outta that car before the person who did cut ‘em down finds you.” He laid a hand on the door, trying the handle.
“I’m warning you,” Mandy shouted, “I’ll shoot if you make me.”
He seemed thoroughly nonplussed. “Might want to turn the safety off first.”
She narrowed her eyes at her weapon – he was right. The safety was still on. She laid her thumb on the little steel lever, ready to flip it. “Don’t tempt me.”
He sighed, his breath fogging the window, and straightened, leaving Mandy and her gun at eye-level with his ridiculously trim abs. “At least roll the window down a crack. Makin’ me yell like this is only gonna attract whoever trapped you on this mountain.”
“Fat chance.”
He shrugged, and the movement caused every muscle from his shoulders to his hips to ripple. “You’re the one with the gun. Tell you what – if you open that window a crack and talk to me for just a minute, I’ll leave you alone afterward, if you want.”
Huffing in irritation, she kept her gun steady with one hand while she turned her key a fraction of an inch in the ignition, putting the car into a mode that allowed her to work the power windows without actually starting the engine. When the window had sunk down by the barest of inches, she stopped and turned the car off again. “What do you want?”
He leaned down, his lips almost brushing the glass as he spoke in a deep half-whisper. The sound of it sent unwelcome shivers down Mandy’s spine, and the heat of his breath warmed her face just a little. “Someone blocked the road on purpose,” he said, his voice more serious than before, “and their reasons can’t be good. A pretty thing like you, out here alone in your car…you’re a sittin’ duck.”
“You’re not helping your case,” she said drily, switching the gun to her other hand.
“You can’t stay out here. It’s dangerous.”
“And just where else would I go? I’m trapped, remember?”
“To the only safe place between here and the other road block – my cabin.”
She bit back a humorless laugh. “No way. You’re crazy if you think I’m going anywhere with you. It was probably you who cut down the trees in the first place.”
“It wasn’t,” he said, his voice edged with annoyance.
She leaned back against her seat and scowled at him.
“Come out here and I’ll prove it to you.”
“No! We’ve been talking for more than a minute. Leave me alone now, like you promised.”
He sighed, the rush of his breath sending a few stray tendrils of her unruly hair dancing. “The thing about that is; I lied.”
“You…!” She narrowed her eyes, wracking her mind for an appropriately insulting name to throw at him. Something unspeakably foul was dancing on the tip of her tongue when a loud noise rent the night, echoing through the forest and shattering the air of furious intimacy between her and the stranger. She squeezed the handle of her gun harder than ever. Whatever weapon had made that explosive sound was a hell of a lot bigger than her little pistol.
“Told you there’s someone out there up to no good,” he said, speaking quickly. “Now get outta that car. They’re too close to here for comfort.”
She slowly lowered her gun, her protests dying on her tongue, along with her insults. “I can’t,” she said quietly. She was trapped between two dangers – the stranger at her window and the unknown but clearly heavily armed menace lurking in the woods at her other side.
He tempered his voice with a reassuring calmness she wouldn’t have guessed he’d possessed. “You’ve got to. You can’t stay here with God-knows-who lurking in the woods with a gun that size. You come outta that car and I’ll keep you safe, I promise.”
It was insanity that she was considering obeying. But he was right about one thing: she couldn’t continue to just sit there in her car – not after that noise, anyway. “Prove to me that you didn’t cut down those trees,” she said, remembering his earlier offer.
“All right. But you’ll have to come out here and let me show you.” He nodded toward the road, which she knew bent around a curve, just past which lay the fallen tree.
“I’ll be keeping my gun trained on you the entire time, and if you make one false move…”
He nodded, flashing her a hint of a grin. “Feel free to turn the safety off, if you’d like.”
Chapter 2
Mandy unlocked the door and stepped carefully out of the car, flipping off the safety and keeping her weapon aimed at the sturdy wall of muscle that was the man before her.
He trod silently down the road and toward the end of the fallen tree, and she followed at a cautious distance. “Look here,” he said, stepping past the tree line. “This tree was cut with an ax.”
“So?”
“So do you think I had enough time to zip down here after talking to you and cut this down by hand?”
Her suspicion ebbed just a little. She hadn’t really thought of that. With his rugged physique, she had no doubt he could wield an ax with the best of them, but it seemed impossible that anyone could have cut down the tree by hand in such a short period of time. Whoever had done it must have started just after she’d driven past this place the first time…which meant that they’d knowingly trapped her on the mountain. A thick knot of anxiety formed rapidly in her throat, forcing her to swallow before speaking. “I guess not.”
He nodded, apparently satisfied. “Good. Now that that’s settled, you’ll come with me.” It was more of a statement than a question.
“I can’t just spend the night in a stranger’s cabin,” she prot
ested. True, he hadn’t even known that she’d been on the mountain whenever someone else had begun cutting the tree, which made it unlikely that he was in on whatever scheme was brewing, but still…
“You can use my phone once we get there.” He started forward, striding out of the woods and back onto the road again.
A chill raced down Mandy’s spine as gunshot echoed in her memory. She followed him, not stopping until he reached the edge of the forest on the other side of the road.
“I know a shortcut. I can have us at my cabin in fifteen…” He cast a discerning glance at Mandy’s hiking boots. “Twenty minutes.”
She trampled after him, trying unsuccessfully to walk silently like he did. How did he do it? She glanced down at his feet. They were bare. She was following a bare-footed stranger through the dark woods to his isolated cabin. Had she lost her mind? She gripped her gun tight, breaking into a light sweat as she thought of the hunter scouring the woods on the other side of the road. Could he be hunting people? Could he be hunting her? Every late-night TV special on serial killers she’d ever seen flashed through her mind. Before she knew it, she was coming up with nicknames for the unknown criminal. Maybe the police would call him the Smoky Mountain Killer. Or the Mountain Man. Wait – no, she’d already assigned that little moniker to the guy in front of her. “I hope you know I’m not giving up my gun – inside your cabin or out.”
“Fine.” His answer was barely audible.
Mandy’s spine prickled as she tried once again to assume the stealth mode he’d slipped into so easily. He moved silently and effortlessly, like a ghost slipping through the trees. A well-muscled ghost that smelled of pine and raw masculinity. Maybe he really was a crazy mountain man. He seemed more at home among the trees and their shadows than she could possibly imagine him being indoors. “What’s your name, anyway?”
“Jack Bryant.” He answered in a clipped tone that stunted his usual southern drawl. Clearly, he thought conversation time was over.
She followed him as quietly as she could manage in her clunky hiking boots, musing over the scrap of information he’d granted her. Of course his name was Jack. It was simple, rugged and manly. What else would a possibly crazy mountain man be named? She restrained a snort, remembering their unseen enemy. “I’m Mandy Foster,” she offered, whispering.
He grunted his acknowledgement, the sound so low it was almost a growl. Mandy cut him a little slack, since there was the harrowing possibility that they were being hunted by a cold-blooded killer. She’d ask questions when they reached his cabin. How he’d found her by the side of the road would be question number one. She gripped her gun a little tighter. What had drawn him out of his cabin and to where she’d parked for the night?
Jack stopped in his tracks.
Lost in suspicious thoughts, Mandy tripped and collided with his back.
“What the—” He whirled, growling, to face her.
She gasped as he caught her windmilling arms, preventing her from bouncing off of him and falling into the underbrush below. Instead, she was caught against his bare chest. His surprising heat warmed her instantly, as if her t-shirt were nothing. A strange look passed through his eyes as he stared down his nose at her, and for a moment, she could have sworn his irises were pure, liquid gold. “Sorry,” she huffed, struggling against his grip.
Seemingly oblivious to her efforts, he continued to hold her wrists, binding them tightly with one large hand. “Are you wearin’ some kinda perfume?”
“No…” His unexpected question threw her senses off kilter, and for half a moment, she nearly lost herself in the heady pleasantness of his smell. As for her own scent, she’d foregone her usual make-up and spritz of perfume that morning, as she hadn’t been counting on meeting anyone that day.
The dazed look vanished from his eyes, and he focused at once, looking…strange. Stranger than usual. Scarily strange. “Let me go!” She jerked her wrists, and this time they slid from his grasp easily. Stumbling backward a few steps, she took deep, cleansing breaths, trying to rid her lungs of his rich scent. It was having a strange effect on her; that natural, woodsy perfume he’d acquired from his time alone in the mountains. He smelled like a man completely at home in the wild. It was a raw smell; primal and slightly intoxicating in its simplicity… “I’m an idiot,” she mumbled under her breath, shaking her head and squeezing her eyes shut, trying to forget the way his hot body had felt against hers.
“You dropped your gun.”
When Mandy looked up, Jack held her .22 in his hand, pointed directly at her.
“You!” She jumped backward another yard or so, breathlessly mumbling obscenities.
He simply stood still, arm outstretched, the weapon gleaming in the moonlight that filtered through the forest canopy.
Then she noticed that he held it by the barrel, pointing it at himself as he offered her the handle. Her cheeks burning, she hastily took the gun.
He turned his back to her. “We’re here,” he said gruffly, then stepped through a veil of pine branches, disappearing.
After a moment’s hesitation, Mandy followed him, emerging in the small clearing that housed his cabin. He marched across the modest yard and she followed, not stopping until they climbed the porch steps and reached the front entrance. Jack pulled the screen door open and shot an expectant look at her over his shoulder, as if sensing her reluctance to enter. “I don’t reckon you came all this way to spend the night on my porch.”
Sighing something unintelligible, she followed him inside, trying not to shudder at the soft sound of him easing the door shut behind her.
It was dark inside the cabin. Curtains must have been drawn over the windows, because little moonlight had made its way in. “Is there a light in here?” She began feeling along the nearest wall for a switch.
“Don’t.” He captured her wrist, wrapping his fingers around her slender bones. “The light would be like a beacon to whoever’s out there.”
It was true. A sinking feeling settled into the pit of her stomach, but she was buoyed by the thought of calling the police. “Where’s your phone?”
He relinquished his hold on her wrist, and her skin felt hot where he’d touched her. His footsteps were soft against the floorboards as he crossed the room. “I’ve got it right here.” He began to dial.
Finally, he was doing something reasonable. “You’re calling the police, right?”
“That’s what you want, isn’t it? I reckon they’ll send someone to fetch you if I explain about the trees.”
“Yes,” she said emphatically, her hope surging at the idea of being off the mountain and safely ensconced in a motel room for the night.
Beep. Beep. And then silence.
“Is something wrong?” It was quiet enough for her to hear, even from a few yards away, that the phone wasn’t ringing.
“Phone’s not working.” Mandy’s stomach sunk, and then Jack said the one thing that could have made her feel even worse. “Maybe the line’s been cut.”
“Do you really think…” She clutched her gun tightly.
“I don’t know,” he said. “I’ll go outside and investigate after you’re safe in bed.”
A strangled sort of sound escaped her throat. “So I’m just supposed to spend the night in here with you in the dark?”
“You can have my room – there’s a lock on the door. I’ll stay out here.” He put down the phone and walked to her side, touching her wrist again, as if he meant to guide her through the darkness.
After a few moments she sighed and nodded her consent, eager to put a door and lock between herself and Jack, whose heat was suffusing her, making her feel as if she’d suddenly caught a fever. Her head spun a little as he guided her through the dark interior of the cabin, maintaining his steady grip on her wrist. Hinges squeaked faintly as he pushed a door open. “Here we are. The bed’s right in front of you.”
She found the bed when she tripped over it, banging her shin on the footboard as she pitched forward, braci
ng herself against the mattress with her free hand and losing her gun in the process. Jack caught her around the waist, looping one arm below her breasts, saving her from face-planting into the mattress. A strong shiver raced down her spine, causing her to spend a few moments trembling in his hold before she regained her senses. “Thanks. I’m fine.” She struggled out of his grip before he could speak and quickly snatched up her gun. “I’ll be fine. Goodnight.”
“’Night then.”
She listened to the sound of his footsteps, counting them until she figured he was at the door.
He paused. “And Mandy?”
“Yes?”
“Keep your gun handy, just in case.” He exited, pulling the door shut behind himself.
Mandy hurried blindly across the room, feeling her way around the door until she found the lock. After securing it, she climbed into his bed, where she was assaulted by his concentrated scent. Visions of pine boughs, freshly crushed needles and golden eyes whirled through her mind as her cheek touched his pillow. This was not going to work.
Tossing the pillow aside, she laid her head on the sheet, which was a little less saturated with his earthy smell. She’d sleep on top of the blankets tonight, too frightened of what she’d dream about if she climbed between them. After making sure the safety was on, she slipped her gun beneath the pillow beside her. Then, curling so that her still-booted feet scraped across the blankets, she closed her eyes. When she finally fell asleep, Jack and his scent permeated her dreams despite her efforts to avoid them both.
****
Mandy emerged slowly from the haze of sleep, the scent of pine needles at the forefront of her mind. She was in the woods, tucked deep into the seemingly endless Smoky Mountains. With a possible killer. She sat up with a start, expecting to hit her head on the roof of her car. But she didn’t. Instead, she found herself staring wide-eyed around an unfamiliar room.
