by Kim Amos
“We needed to be together, obviously,” Hunter said, his sharp cheekbones lifting as he smiled. “I thought you’d like it here. You enjoy the outdoors, right?”
There was an eerie, disquieting calm to Hunter’s dialogue. He was so sure about their being here—about being together. It was as if he couldn’t imagine that she’d disagree with him about it.
“We’re at your cabin, then,” she said, trying to redirect the conversation, to get more information about her whereabouts, in case she could find a phone. Or a road, so she could just run. “What lake is it on?”
“I knew you’d like it,” Hunter said. He brought one of the wineglasses to his lips and took a sip of the smooth, red liquid. He motioned at the other glass, but Audrey stayed rooted in place.
“This is an Oregon pinot,” he said. “Organic grapes. Pressed the old-fashioned way. You wouldn’t think it makes a difference, but it does. More flavor.”
“Hunter,” Audrey said, making sure to use his name. “I need to get home. My sister’s coming over, and she’s going to be wondering where I am. She’s older than me, and when we were kids, she took care of me.” She was lying to give Hunter personal details, trying to get him to hear who she really was, not who he thought she was. Another tip from her training.
Too bad this detail singed her heart. She was in danger of never seeing her sister again—and they’d left their relationship in such a horrible state.
Not to mention Kieran was probably waiting for her at the festival, thinking she’d never come. Her heart twisted.
“We have plenty of time,” Hunter said. “You should sit down.”
“You need to let me go, Hunter. I can’t be here.”
Hunter’s eyes darkened. He studied the wine in his glass, twirling the red liquid around and around. “I hope you liked my rose petals. I’ve done that before, you know, leaving rose petals for girls, but it never felt right. But for you—it felt perfect. Girls like Alexis look so silly next to a real woman like you. I can’t believe I ever wasted my time with them.”
He set down the glass and took a step toward her. Audrey squared her shoulders. “No,” she said firmly, “do not come any closer, Hunter. I am going to leave and you’re not going to follow me or lay a hand on me. Do you understand?”
Hunter’s slow smile returned. It was ice cold. Outside on the lake, the trembling, eerie call of a loon echoed across the empty water. Audrey shivered.
“Older women are so much more exciting,” Hunter said, taking another step forward. He studied Audrey’s legs, his eyes raking over her body, slowly.
She assessed him, too—but quickly, calculatingly. He was strong and solid for a teenager, but she might be able to overpower him if she landed a few choice blows. If he drugged her again, though…
Audrey’s chest heaved as if she’d been running. She had to get out of here before Hunter did something even more reckless.
He took a step closer and there was so little room left. Only a couple feet. Audrey had to take control of the situation now, or she was going to be in even more trouble. Her thoughts flailed, and she desperately tried to control them.
Think, dammit.
She looked at the wine. It was Hunter, playing at being a grown-up. Playing at the two of them being together. Playing…
She stilled. Her thoughts crystallized. Her resolve grew, and became razor sharp. If he wanted to play, she’d give him the role he wanted.
And when she did, she’d make her break.
“All right, Hunter,” she said, her heart hammering so loudly she wondered if he could hear it. She lowered her voice. “Why don’t you sit down and let me take care of things? I’ll stoke the fire, maybe put on some music. We’ll talk.”
His black eyes glinted. “That’s more like it. I knew you’d come around.”
“Yes. You knew because you’re smart. Anyone can see that.”
She forced herself not to scream as he reached out and closed the remaining space between them. His fingers landed on her bare arm and squeezed. His skin was only just warm. Room temperature, she thought, like a lizard’s.
“You let me do all the work. You’ve already done so much.” She led him to the couch, motioning for him to sit. Behind her, the fire flickered. The flames sent her shadow dancing on the wall all over again. The fireplace was just a few feet away, she assessed, glancing at the fieldstone behemoth. But more importantly, the set of fireplace tools—poker, shovel, log hook, and broom—were right next to it. They might aid her self-defense if she made a break for it.
When she made a break for it.
“Does your family use this place often?” she asked, closing the distance to the fireplace as if nothing were wrong.
“Not really,” Hunter said. “That’s why I like it.”
Audrey swallowed a sob. The place was not only remote, there was little chance of someone else showing up. She focused on the tools in front of her, on the weight and heft of them.
She picked up the poker and pulled the screen away from the fireplace. The heat blasted her face; the logs popped with the sound of gunfire. She jumped, then stabbed at the wood halfheartedly, wondering what to do next.
Her palms were sweaty. They wanted to slide off the slick wood handle.
She had one shot. She would not drop it.
She took a breath.
God give me strength, she prayed.
Then she whipped around and bolted for the hallway, yelling for him to stay away or she’d hit him with the poker.
She heard more than saw him jump off the couch. His footsteps were heavy behind her. When his hand clawed at her shoulder, she screamed, swinging the poker blindly.
Then she heard more than saw the heavy iron connect with Hunter somewhere above his shoulders. He grunted once before he collided with the wall, then stumbled backward and landed in a crumpled heap.
Horrified, she stifled a cry as she sprinted away. She came to a wide foyer with an antler chandelier hanging from the ceiling and an enormous cream-colored rug on the floor. The front door was right there and, next to it, on a small walnut table, was a phone. She picked it up and dialed 911. When the operator answered, she yelled for help, then hung up. She knew 911 protocol would have them sending officers to the premises when they called back and didn’t get an answer.
As long as Hunter stayed where he was and didn’t answer the phone, that is.
She wasn’t about to wait to find out if that was the case.
Throwing open the door, she stumbled into the night. She was dimly aware of a shrill sound, and realized she was screaming. She ignored it, eating up the miles on her runner’s legs and never looking back.
* * *
Officer Reynolds raised an eyebrow at Kieran. “So you saw Audrey this afternoon, but now you’re worried about her because she didn’t meet you at the festival?”
Kieran wanted to wipe the smirk off the man’s face. They were standing outside Audrey’s home, which was dark and empty. Kieran knew how it looked. He seemed absurd, calling the cops and overreacting because his date stood him up. Supposedly.
Probably.
He was struggling to find a way to explain to the policeman what he suspected: that Audrey was going to come to the asparagus tent tonight, but even if she’d changed her mind, surely she’d still answer a call from him.
But her phone had clicked to voice mail each time he’d dialed. It wasn’t until he’d stopped at her house to see if she was all right that he’d discovered the rose petals.
The kind that Alexis had described.
The kind that her stalker ex-boyfriend had left her.
“Can you just check inside?” Kieran asked. “See if there’s anything amiss? There’s someone I think may have been following her.”
Officer Reynolds shook his head. “At this point, not without a search warrant,” he said, tapping his police notepad with a pen. Kieran noticed he had thick fingers—same as his thick neck. And thick head, for that matter.
Dr
ead crawled along his spine as he remembered how Alexis said Hunter had backed off from following her so suddenly. What if Hunter hadn’t stopped stalking Alexis so much as he’d found a new target? And what if that new target was Audrey?
Easy there, he told his racing brain. No one needed to jump to conclusions. If this were a bet, the odds would be extraordinary that anything was wrong with Audrey or that this Hunter kid was anywhere near her. And yet, his gut told him this was a bet he should take.
His body went cold, thinking that Audrey could be in danger.
The officer was staring at him, forehead wrinkled with irritation. “So?”
Kieran blinked. “I’m sorry. What were you saying?”
“So does this stalker have a name? The guy you think is after your date.”
“Hunter something,” Kieran said. “I know I’ve heard his last name, but I can’t recall it off the top of my head.” Reynolds jotted something down, then looked off into the distance, as if bored. Kieran’s anxiety mounted.
“I really need you to help me find—” Kieran was cut off by the squawk of Reynolds’s walkie-talkie.
“Fifty-five and 67, we have a 10-42 at 9945 Moccasin Lake Drive.”
Reynolds pressed the switch on his walkie-talkie. “Fifty-five copy.”
Kieran clenched his fists with frustration as Reynolds blabbed inane code. Leave it to the White Pine police to start getting a bunch of calls during the Asparagus Festival. Probably some drunk guy chasing the asparagus drum major was his guess.
That is until Reynolds turned to him, the sarcasm gone from his face. “Just got a 10-42 for 9945 Moccasin Lake Drive. Any of that ring a bell?”
Kieran shook his head. “No. What’s a 10-42?”
“A 911 hang-up. That address is for the Haglunds. They have a kid, name of Hunter.”
Haglund. “That’s it. Hunter Haglund.”
“Moccasin Lake is where their lodge is.”
Kieran’s throat went instantly dry. The officer clipped his talkie back into his belt. “It’s probably just Hunter and his friends stirring up trouble,” he was saying, “but we’ll look into it.”
“Can I follow you out to that cabin?”
Officer Reynolds shook his head. “I can’t give you any kind of escort. But if you wanted to keep a respectable distance behind me as I drove, I suppose that’s all right.”
Kieran had his helmet on and his keys out before the officer got halfway to his car. He took in the slow pace of the cop, ambling to his vehicle as if nothing in the world were wrong, and swore under his breath. At this rate, they wouldn’t be there for ages. He took out his phone and typed in the address. Within seconds, he had the route to the cabin.
Not waiting for Officer Reynolds, he revved his engine and tore out of the drive. If he heard shouting and yells of protest, he ignored them.
Instead, he opened his throttle and raced toward Moccasin Lake, the cool air whipping around him and his headlights cutting through the inky night. The town’s streets quickly gave way to farmland and forests. The darkness got thicker, closer. He imagined if he turned off his bike, the silence would be deafening.
Glancing at the GPS on his phone, he took several turns before finding Moccasin Lake Drive. It was a potholed dirt road with cabin names written on crude wood signs. Harry’s Haven, the Brown Beach Bums, Olsen’s Landing. And there—he spotted the Haglunds’ Lodge. This was it. He was just giving his bike more gas when a shape came racing into his headlights. He hit the brakes so hard his rear wheel fishtailed. Gravel spewed in an arc. He nearly lost control.
Hunter, he thought, and leapt off his bike. He would smash Hunter’s throat if he’d laid a finger on the woman he loved. Hunter Haglund would rot in a jail cell if he’d harmed one hair of Audrey’s head. He was tensed, ready for a fight when, to his shock, he saw it was Audrey barreling forward, waving her hands. “Help me! I need you to call the police!”
A primal surge rolled through him, something so visceral he felt it beyond his bones—he felt it in his every cell. Her hair was disheveled, her dress was torn. She was sweating and panting—terrified. Seeing her frightened, seeing her reeling, gave him an awful knowing, a terrible realization, of how very much he needed her. In a blinding, crippling flash he suddenly understood that he would never, ever be able to live without her. He would die protecting this woman. He would give his life for hers a thousand times over.
“Audrey,” he managed to say above the rumble of the Harley’s engine. Her face contorted with shock.
“Kieran?”
He lunged forward and grabbed her, pulling her into his arms. He crushed her to him. Dear God, what had she been through? What had happened?
He allowed himself only a moment. He tore himself from her and ran his hands over every part of her body. “Are you hurt?” he asked.
She shook her head. “N-no. I’m fine.”
“What happened? Are you being chased?”
“I don’t think so. I ran pretty fast, and I knocked Hunter out.”
If she’d knocked Hunter out, things had gotten bad indeed.
He lifted her up, placing her roughly on the bike. “We’re getting you out of here,” he said. Over the motorcycle’s rumble, he could hear police sirens. They’d be here soon, and they could deal with Hunter. In the meantime, he was taking the woman he loved away from this mess.
But she clutched his wrists, her hands clawing into his flesh.
“No,” she insisted. “If those are sirens, we’re going back to the house with the police.”
Kieran stared at her. “Why? They can handle that kid.”
“Because I want to document what happened. I want to be at the scene. He’s sick, Kieran. This kid needs help. Serious help.”
“He’s not a kid—he’s practically an adult,” Kieran growled. “And he doesn’t need help. He needs to be behind bars.”
“The courts can decide that,” Audrey said. “In the meantime, we are going back. I’ll run once to save my life—but I’ll be damned if I run twice. From anything.”
The sirens were close now, and he could see the police lights approaching, casting eerie shadows through the trees. He drove the bike to the side of the road a ways, and let the squad cars race by. He and Audrey coughed at the cloud of dark dust they kicked up.
“Go,” Audrey insisted. His heart collapsed on itself. The woman he loved had defeated her stalker and was going back to confront him. He swore in that moment she was made of iron and stone.
She was a lion roaring through life, and he wondered how he could ever keep her safe. How could he ever keep her from being hurt?
And then he realized he couldn’t. She would fight when she needed to fight. She would swing her sword when she had to, and that was part of what he would always love about her. She didn’t need him to ride in and save her.
She just needed to know he was there when the battle was over.
And by God, he would be there. Always. Every day.
He kicked the bike into gear, and raced after the police.
When they’re not looking, he thought, I’ll punch that little stalker in the face.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Hunter was still out cold in the hallway. He was sprawled on the floor, his head tilted to one side. Audrey realized she’d sprinted for two miles, cutting through yards and bushes to try to lose him in case he chased her, and here she could have just stayed in the foyer, waiting for the police by the phone. Hunter hadn’t moved.
“Do we need to call in a rape kit?” the stocky one, Officer Reynolds, asked. His partner, Officer Collins, tall and with wire-rimmed glasses, kept anxious eyes on her, waiting for a reply. She shook her head. Next to her, Kieran exhaled audibly.
“I’m all right,” she said, taking his hand. Kieran was a tower of barely contained fury. She knew he wanted to dunk Hunter in the lake and possibly smash his skull against the fireplace’s fieldstones for what she’d been through tonight. But she wasn’t about to let the cops show up and hav
e Hunter mislead them about what had happened. “I couldn’t let them find this scene and not explain,” she said to him, letting her tired eyes find his storming ones, letting the warmth from his strong hand flow into her. She was still shivering, still afraid of what would happen when Hunter actually woke up, but by God she was done running.
“I’m here,” Kieran said, his voice so low it rumbled at the base of her spine. It was exactly what she needed to hear to help her stand up straighter and face Hunter.
“He’s a minor,” Audrey said to the cops, “so you’ll need to phone his parents.”
“Thanks,” Reynolds said. Collins slapped Hunter’s face to try and wake him. Audrey didn’t hate the sharp sound it made.
Hunter bolted awake with a grunt. “What?” he yelled, standing to his feet. He was confused and panicked—not a good combination. Audrey felt sweat break out on her forehead.
“Hey, easy there,” Reynolds said. “Settle down. We need to ask you some questions.” Audrey had told them the abbreviated version of events as they’d approached the house. The police hadn’t drawn their weapons when they’d entered, but she’d seen their hands tensing over their holsters. She’d explained where she’d left Hunter, but they’d made her and Kieran wait outside until they were given the all-clear. That was when she’d come back in to find him still passed out.
“That bitch hurt me!” Hunter cried, pointing at Audrey. He held a trembling hand to his head. A visible egg-sized lump had already formed just underneath his hair.
Reynolds called for medical assistance on his walkie-talkie. Collins stood near Hunter, his lean figure towering over the teenager, hands on his hips. “What’s your name, son?”
Hunter glared at the cop. “Screw you.”
Audrey closed her eyes. Hunter wasn’t doing himself any favors, and it was a reminder that he was still just a high-school kid. Albeit a sick and dangerous one.
“She brought me out here to seduce me,” Hunter said, glaring at Audrey. “Don’t believe anything she says.”
