SEALed at Midnight

by Cat Johnson

  As she came out of the haze of sleep enough to be more aware of her surroundings, she realized the house wasn’t just ice cold. It was also pitch black.

  There wasn’t a single light burning. The television was dark. Even the tiny green power light always glowing on the cable box was off.

  She had no clue what time it was. The middle of the night, if she had to guess. She’d have to find her cell phone in the dark to check the time and know for sure.

  Shivering, Ginny sat up. She’d had the foresight to find the flashlight in anticipation of the power going out, but she hadn’t thought to bring it to the living room with her. It was still on the kitchen counter where she’d left it.

  In the dark, in an unfamiliar house, the kitchen might as well have been a mile away, but there was no getting around it. She stood and wrapped the blanket around her shoulders.

  Blindly feeling along the furniture, she made it past the coffee table and rounded the end of the sofa, which left her without any guide to hold on to until she reached her next landmark.

  Aiming in the general direction she believed the kitchen doorway to be, Ginny took one slow step and then another. Hands extended in front of her in the darkness, she kept up her slow and steady progress, one shuffling step at a time . . .

  The pain was sharp and immediate stabbing into her hip.

  “Shit.” That was definitely going to leave a bruise. She rubbed the spot with one hand.

  She’d obviously walked into something but the question was, what?

  Feeling the object that had jabbed her, she realized it was the corner of the desk.

  On the bright side, at least she could tell where she was in the room.

  Now that she had her bearings, she knew she was just steps from the kitchen and the flashlight she so desperately needed.

  With both hands on the wall, Ginny felt her way through the doorway and along the countertop. She blindly swept her hands across the surface, encountering the lid from the soup can she should have thrown away and hadn’t.

  Aside from her slovenly ways, that was good news. She swept her hand farther along. The flashlight should be right . . . there!

  Her fingers connected with the light and she pulled it to her.

  Feeling for the switch, she finally found it without dropping the precious item. The golden beam illuminated the room, casting shadows that could only be described as creepy.

  She was so over having no electricity. No heat too. But now that she had the light, she could at least go find her cell phone in the living room and not feel completely cut off from the world.

  Maybe if she called the power company’s emergency line, they could tell her how long the electric would be out. Then she could decide how dire the situation was.

  If it wouldn’t be out for too long, she could just light candles, make a fire and wait it out.

  Of course, she’d have to figure out what power company serviced this area. Which would require an online search, and that would require her cell phone.

  Step number one, get her phone where she’d left it last night—hopefully right on the coffee table.

  Happy with her plan and armed with the flashlight, she turned to make her way back to the living room. She’d just made it past the killer desk without further injury to herself when she heard it, a loud bang outside.

  She halted in her path across the living room. After another few seconds the first sound was followed by another.

  A gust of wind blew past the house. Through the window, by the light of the moon, Ginny saw the snow blow across the yard and add to the drift forming against the hedges that lined the driveway.

  The banging repeated twice more.

  City girl that she was, it took Ginny a few minutes to identify the sound. It had to be the barn door. It must have blown open in the wind. If she didn’t go secure it, it would likely bang all night.

  She was going to have to go outside and get firewood anyway so she might as well fix the door while she was out there. Barring two feet of snow on the ground, of course.

  In that case, there was no way she was making the trek across the yard to the barn. She’d just deal with the banging.

  Why did these people even need a barn anyway? It wasn't like they had any animals to put in it. Well, no animals except for the crazy cat that avoided Ginny like its life depended on it.

  The homeowner’s tall rubber snow boots were sitting right by the door.

  Apparently the woman of the house was more prepared for the weather in this region than her. Ginny had brought her cute fuzzy booties with her, but those were more for looks than for actual snow.

  She pulled the homeowner’s boots on. They were probably two sizes bigger than Ginny’s size seven. She was swimming in them, even with her big fluffy socks on, but she figured she could make it to the barn and back.

  After slipping on her winter coat over her flannel pajamas, she was as prepared for the great outdoors as she was going to get.

  The wind slapped her in the face and whipped her hair into her eyes the moment she stepped onto the porch. She could hear her mother’s voice in her head with every step she took. Warning her against taking this position. Insinuating she wouldn’t be prepared should something happen while she was there alone.

  It was those words echoing in her head that kept Ginny slogging toward the barn through the some six inches of snow already on the ground as more fell.

  Even if she didn’t know how to use the snow blower, she’d be fine. There was firewood on the porch and she’d spotted a snow shovel in the barn.

  She was young and healthy and most of all, determined to prove she could handle this job, no matter what happened.

  Fueled by her stubbornness, she quickened her pace—at least to as fast as she could without the oversized boots falling off her feet.

  The cold air had numbed her face by the time she reached the barn.

  Just as she’d guessed, the door wasn’t secured. That was odd since she’d been pretty sure she’d latched it from the outside the one and only time she’d peeked inside. She’d been curious as to what was in there. It turned out it was nothing too exciting.

  Another blast of frigid air whipped around her and Ginny decided she didn’t care all that much about how the door had blown open. All she wanted to do was grab the snow shovel, secure the damned door, and hightail it back to the house.

  She still had to build a fire big enough to warm at least the living room. That wouldn’t be easy considering the wood outside on the porch was now covered with snow and she’d neglected to bring any inside to dry yesterday.

  Sighing, she reached for the light switch just inside the door as she vowed to herself to never procrastinate doing something again.

  She flipped the switch and nothing happened, and she sighed again, remembering that there was no power.

  Having electricity was a hard habit to break.

  Maybe her mother had been right. Ginny wasn’t cut out for this job. Pushing that depressing thought aside, she turned to shine the beam of the flashlight into the barn so she could find the shovel.

  The hand came out of nowhere, covering her mouth and pulling her back against something big and hard. She screamed but barely any sound came out past the fingers blocking it.

  She dropped the flashlight. It fell to the floor of the barn and the beam went out, plunging her into darkness.

  It was like a horror movie, but this was very real.

  She couldn’t move, never mind run.

  Her heart thundered. She gasped for breath but the steely hand was so large it blocked her nose and her mouth.

  He—whoever this was who had captured her—was going to kill her. She knew it. She was going to die, here and now, just like every stupid heroine in every horror movie and it would be her own fault.

  All alone, in the middle of a snowstorm with no power, she’d chosen to wander out to the barn, right into the grasp of the killer.

  Had she been in the audience for thi
s horror show, she would have been yelling at the too-stupid-to-live heroine on the screen right along with everyone else.

  If this was the end, she wasn’t going to die quietly.

  Ginny kicked backward, nailing the man in the shin with her boot. Probably not the most effective defense but he had her in an iron grip, pressed up against a body that felt as hard as granite.

  “Shh! They’ll hear you.” He spoke low, his mouth pressed close, his voice rough and intense.

  It had been so long since she’d had the heat of a man’s words against her ear . . .

  Focus, Ginny!

  Despite the husky voice and hard body, this man was most likely a lunatic who’d throw her in a hole in the ground, fatten her up and then wear her skin like a coat after he murdered her.

  “Is anyone else outside?” he asked, just as softly as the first time he spoke.

  He moved the hand over her mouth enough that she could answer. “No.”

  Shit! She should have said yes. That her big, burly husband the Marine was in the house cleaning his guns and he’d be looking for her any second.

  Too stupid to live. Yup, she was living up to the horror movie heroine stereotype perfectly.

  He was shivering behind her, shaking so badly the vibration traveled through him and into her. She realized his jacket was soaking wet. Her hands gripping his arms that held her were starting to freeze just from touching him.

  Maybe he wasn’t a killer, and just a nutcase. In that case, kid gloves were required.

  She asked in as calm a voice as she could muster, “Who are you hiding from? The police?”

  “No. The targets.”

  “The who?” Ginny asked.

  “The insurgents.”

  “The insurgents? Um, where are they?”

  “Building A. According to the plan we rehearsed back at the base, Alpha team was to hide in the storage shed, building B, and take the targets by surprise while they slept. Brava team is behind the goat shed waiting on our signal.”

  “Let me guess, the goat shed is building C?”

  “Yes, but I can’t find the rest of Alpha team and I lost my communicator. We didn’t plan on an American civilian. What are you doing here?”

  Oh, boy. He definitely wasn’t all there. At least, he wasn’t here where she was.

  “Um, where exactly do you think you are?”

  “I told you. Building B.” He sounded frustrated by her question.

  “Yeah, the storage shed. Got that. I meant, what country do you think we’re in?”

  He hesitated at her question. His breaths came quicker while his grip on her loosened.

  Slowly, she turned in his grasp and took a step away. He let her go.

  Now would be the time to run. Sprint for the house, lock the door, find her cell phone and call the police.

  Instead, she stood frozen in place listening to his teeth chatter in the darkness.

  “Where are we?” he asked.

  “Massachusetts.” She hoped her answer didn’t send him into some sort of fit.

  “Massachusetts,” he repeated it before letting out a shaky breath. Then again, everything on him was shaking.

  “You’re wet and freezing. Come inside.” She shushed the voice in her head that kept repeating the word stupid, followed by skin coat.

  Blindly, she pushed the barn door wider. She abandoned the flashlight. The bulb was probably broken, even if she could have found where she’d dropped it in the dark.

  The moonlight would offer enough illumination for her to get to the house. She stepped out of the barn and into the snow, wondering if he’d come and not sure she wanted him to.

  When she turned back she saw he had followed her out of the barn. He stood in the snow, his arms wrapped around himself as he looked around, as if seeing it all for the first time.

  Afraid they’d both freeze to death, she reached out and touched his arm, gently to not set him off into another delusion. “Come inside the house?”

  He nodded.

  That was a relief. She was even less prepared to deal with hypothermia and frostbite than she was for this storm. And a man frozen to death in the yard would be hard to explain to the homeowners.

  Stepping in her own footsteps she started for the house. A half a dozen steps later, Ginny realized that she’d forgotten to latch the barn door—the whole reason she’d come outside in the first place.

  It didn’t matter. The banging wouldn’t keep her awake because she seriously doubted she’d be getting any more sleep tonight. Not with Mr. Alpha Team in Building A with her.

  CHAPTER 7

  On the porch she glanced back to make sure he was still following before she gathered as much wood as she could fit in her arms.

  She managed to open the door and took a step inside, remembering she wouldn’t be able to see without the flashlight.

  Dumping the wood on the floor, she turned back to him. “Come in and close the door, but watch the wood on the floor. I’m going to light some candles. Stay right there so you don’t trip.”

  Being inside the dark house with the stranger was a little frightening. That inspired Ginny to find her cell phone first.

  Creeping across the living room, she ran into the sofa, and felt her way around it.

  By running her hand over the coffee table, she found the cell phone and let out a breath of relief. She hit the button and the display lit.

  Thank God it didn’t have a dead battery. She could use it as a flashlight until she got to the candles and matches. And she could call for help if necessary.

  The candles were on the mantle. She lit the first one and warm candlelight flooded her end of the cold room. She lit another and carried it to the coffee table.

  With the room lit enough to safely see she went to get the wood she’d dumped by the door where she’d left the stranger.

  In the candlelight, she got her first good look at her find. He stood shivering in a lightweight sports coat, T-shirt and jeans, totally inappropriately dressed for this kind of weather.

  Ginny wasn't winning any fashion awards in her flannel pajamas, knee-high rubber boots and puffy insulated jacket, but at least she was warmer than him.

  What she looked like wouldn't have mattered to her, except for the fact that her male guest was freaking gorgeous.

  The candlelight glinted off the icicles forming in his dark wavy hair. Tall and broad and probably not much older than herself, even half-frozen he was better looking than ninety percent of the men on the matchmaking site she’d recently sworn off.

  And he was shaking so badly he was vibrating the front door he was leaning against.

  “I’m sorry. The house isn’t much warmer than outside. The power is out so the heat won’t work, but I can try to make a fire. I’m not the best fire maker and the wood’s wet but . . .”

  “I can make the fire.” He bent and reached for a piece of wood . . . and swayed. He grabbed for the wall with one hand and pressed the other to his head.

  Ginny took a closer look at him, this time not evaluating his good looks, but rather his current condition. She saw that his hair was frozen with more than just snow. There was something dark that looked a lot like blood.

  “I think you might be bleeding. You must have hit your head. Were you in a car accident?”

  “I don’t know.”

  An accident. That made perfect sense. It was a completely logical reason why he’d be disoriented, wandering around in a storm unsure of where he was and talking nonsense.

  She wasn’t going to become a skin coat for a lunatic.

  That he thought he was on Alpha Team and was sneaking up on his insurgent target was still a little strange, but she could deal with it.

  Relief overwhelmed her as she ran to the kitchen and felt for the dishtowel in the dark. She handed the towel to him and he pressed it to his head.

  “Come sit down.” She reached out gingerly and took his arm. When he didn’t protest, she guided him to the couch. “Sit.”
<
br />   He did and she draped the blanket around his shoulders. She left him shaking on the sofa and rushed to the pile of wood. While she was by the door, she kicked off the wet snow boots before grabbing a few pieces of firewood.

  After dumping the logs next to the hearth, she kneeled on the stone in front of the gaping fireplace and grabbed a few sections of the newspaper from the stack on the floor. The more paper the better since she had no kindling and only snow-soaked wood to build the fire with.

  While balling up the paper, page by page, she said, “You’re soaked. You’ll never get warm in those wet clothes.”

  Not in a house with no heat and whatever crappy fire she’d be able to make.

  When he didn’t answer, she glanced back at her guest. While she’d been busy, he had stood. His jacket was already off and he was in the midst of unbuttoning his jeans.

  “Um, what are you doing?”

  “F-f-freezing.” His teeth literally chattered. She could hear them from where she was.

  “Oh.” She watched as he sat and toed off his shoes.

  He stood again and pushed his jeans down what looked like some pretty muscular thighs.

  Of course there was a chance he was preparing to rape and murder her while she sat there and admired his body. In that case, she deserved anything she got.

  He pulled off his socks and his T-shirt and holy shit was he in good shape. Like fitness magazine cover kind of shape.

  Thank God he left his boxer shorts on. She wasn’t sure how she’d react if faced with all of him.

  She felt a huge relief when he sat again and wrapped the blanket around himself.

  With the fear of his being a sex pervert sidelined for the moment, she realized he was still shivering.

  Her fire making abilities were in question but at least there was one thing she could do to help him. “I’ll get you another blanket.”

  His chattering nod was his only response as she grabbed the candle from the mantle.

  Shielding the flame with one hand, she made her way to the bedroom and grabbed the comforter from her bed.

  She hadn’t been gone long, but by the time she got back he was on his knees in front of the fireplace where a flame burned inside.