Kept by the Woodsman: An ex-MMA Fighter Mountain Man Romance

by Ambrielle Kirk

  I had no idea how long I'd been walking. According to the time on my watch, I'd been away from the tour at least a half hour. Getting caught in the rain didn't bother me, but what if I encountered one of those wolf packs the guide was talking about?

  “Oh gosh,” I breathed.

  Standing here wasn’t going to get me anywhere, so I stuffed the map down into my back pocket, picked one of the trails, and followed it to God-only-knew-where. I didn’t have a phone. Not even a drink of water nor a stick to defend myself. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.

  After a while of earth and dirt crunching and sinking under my sneakers, I began to panic. It was getting dark and I was afraid I was doing nothing but going in circles. I was lost, plain and simple. My heart drummed in my chest and my pulse swooshed through my ears.

  I ran a shaky hand through my ponytail and tried to stifle my anxiety, but it was getting dark, and I didn’t see another soul around me as far off to the horizon as my vision would carry.

  I glanced up at the sky. The clouds were rolling in and had a threatening, almost deep purple color to them. I knew a strong storm must be blowing in from the west. I should've listened.

  I shivered and rubbed my bare arms because I was only wearing a tank top and shorts. Chill bumps prickled against my skin and there was a new biting cold in the air that seeped into my bones. I was alone and trying not to panic, but I knew I was in trouble.

  When big droplets of water started to fall from the sky, I began to jog down the path that I thought led back to the base camp. I was wrong. When I got to the end of the trail, all I could see was fields of tall grass, thick woods, and mountains that seemed to go on forever. Not a building or house was in sight. I was in deep shit. Lost as fuck, as my friend Paige would say.

  The only thing that kept me from breaking down was praying that the tour guide or someone would notice that I didn't check in when they arrived back at the base. Someone would come looking for me.

  With a reluctant sigh, I decided to seek cover at least until the storm passed. I ran up to a thick oak tree just as a spark of lightning cracked in the distance. My heart jumped when it hit the ground a few miles away.

  As I leaned against the tree, panting and feeling like I’d run a freaking marathon, I spotted a long piece of wood propped up against a grassy hill. Despite the breeze threatening to blow sand in my eyes, I steered my focus and realized that the piece of wood had a handle on it. Was it a door?

  I made a desperate dash toward the hill as violent winds whipped across my face. Thank God. It was a door to some underground storage or cellar. I stooped down close to the ground and tried to peer inside, but it was dark.

  “Hello?” I called out, feeling stupid. Who the hell was going to answer me?

  Just to make sure, I picked up a few rocks and threw them down into the cellar. Nothing scary sprang out, so I decided it was the safest place for me right now.

  I grabbed hold of the ladder and inched my way down into the darkness. My body was shaking more than I realized and my clumsy ass missed a step and fell hard on my backside. The force of hitting the rock-solid ground knocked the air right out of me.

  When I opened my eyes again, I noticed a flashlight on the ground right where I’d fallen. My first thought was it belonged to a person. Someone had been here. I was silently relieved. I picked up the flashlight and turned it on.

  My relief then turned to morbid fear when I rose from the ground and looked around. This wasn’t a normal cellar. No. This was something different altogether. Nothing but rows of weapons lined the walls. Pistols. Handguns. Semi-automatic weapons. Knives. Numerous clips and boxes of bullets lay scattered on a makeshift table.

  What the fuck was this?

  Whatever it was…whoever it belonged to…I wanted nothing to do with it. Guns had killed my parents. Between being lost out here in the middle of the wilderness and surrounded by enough weapons to fuel an army, I just couldn’t deal with all that. With the door being open the way it was, I figured someone would be back. Anyone with weapons of that caliber was up to no good.

  I took the ladder back up. When I reached the ground level, a sheet of rain covered me. Shielding my eyes from the rain, I glanced out again trying to locate the big tree or another form of shelter. Stepping out on blind faith, I rushed out again into the unknown.

  I never made it to any shelter. The rain turned into a torrential downpour and I could barely see one foot in front of me. My sneakers were soaking wet and it was becoming harder to run through the mud. One minute I was on my feet and then the next minute I fell against something hard that caused excruciating pain. I heard my cry rip from my throat and then I landed face first into a ditch. I tried to claw my way back up, but the rain kept pouring down. Everything happened in a matter of seconds. The trench started filling up with rain. I fought to stay above the rising water, but I kept going down…down…down…

  …until I couldn’t breathe anymore.

  Chapter Two

  Erik

  I didn't normally like the hiking trails near my cottage. Ever since that new tour company set up shop in town, they'd been expanding their sight-seeing trips further out into the wilderness. I felt like they were encroaching on my territory or invading my privacy or something. It wasn't like I owned the entire mountain region or anything, but I liked to be reclusive. I enjoyed my alone time. I had to tolerate them because I lived in one of the most astoundingly beautiful areas in all of the Northern U.S. I wasn't leaving anytime soon. In fact, I didn't want to leave at all.

  The Arrow Lake, Minnesota region was blanketed with an abundance of beauty and attractions like fishing, boating, and hiking. I couldn't blame the people who flocked to this area in droves. It was part of the reason I chose the mountains to dwell in. The main reason I sought seclusion in the woods was the fact that they would never whisper my secrets through the privacy of the trees protecting and towering over me. Whenever I did go into town for groceries and supplies, the locals often asked me if I was comfortable living out in the woods with all the wild animals—bears, wolves, coyotes, and everything in between. The truth was I'd rather take my chances with the animals. I didn't bother them. They didn't bother me.

  Today wasn't the best day for hiking or sight-seeing, but I could tell that the guides had been out with tourists. There were fresh tracks on the ground, and just like all the other times, someone always left some trash behind. I scooped up a crushed up plastic bottle and threw it in a metal trash can.

  I glanced up at the sky as the clouds rolled in. They were ominous, threatening and dark. I searched the atmosphere. Thunder bellowed and boomed through the air and shook the ground beneath my feet. There was an enormous storm brewing, and the bottom of the sky was getting ready to fall out and trample the earth below with thick, heavy rains. If I were going to make it to my underground storage unit and back in time before Mother Nature let it rip, then I'd have to hurry.

  Right as I crossed one of the asphalt trails marked for tourists, I spotted something brightly colored sitting on a park bench. Against better judgment, I walked up to the bench and picked up the item. It looked like some kind of sack or purse—something that someone would wrap around their waist. Tourists always left things behind, so this didn't surprise me. Whoever this belonged to, they were now long gone. There wasn't a chance in hell that anyone was still out here with the storm coming. Anyone lingering around despite the bad weather that was coming had to be a damn fool.

  I chuckled under my breath. “Yeah, like me.”

  Curious by nature, I inspected the small sack. It was pink with a black rose patch sewed into the front of it. On the back, there was another sewed on patch of the letter A. Despite the tiny size—it was heavy. I wasn’t surprised by that either. It also smelled like it belonged to a woman, and just about every man knew that women liked to carry a shitload of things with them. The sack was probably filled with makeup and beauty items. I could already smell the sweet scent of perfume on the fabric.
>
  I wanted to open it and determine whether there was any identification, but I restrained myself. It wasn’t my business. I was better off just dropping the bag off at one of the lost and found receptacles on the way back. There was no use letting it sit out on the bench to get wet in the rain. I was a bad man, but I wasn’t that evil.

  I stuffed the small sack into a pocket in the inside panel of my jacket and began to jog toward my secret storage unit. I’d figured out all the shortcuts over the years, and I got there in no time.

  I knelt down into the grass just as big pellets of rain began to fall, pulled back the bushes and thick vines used to hide the door, and unlocked the padlock. I folded back the wooden door and leaned it against the hill. Feeling the urge to take a piss, I rose from the ground and walked off to relieve myself on the other side of the hill.

  When I bought the land to build my cottage on, I hadn't realized that the property had so much history. Heck, all I wanted was a secluded place to call home and Arrow Lake fit the bill. I'd found the old abandoned cellar unit purely by accident one morning when I stumbled on some old crumbling bricks. After closer inspection, I realized that a home had burnt down but that the cellar was still intact. Now I used the cellar to keep my shit. Stuff I'd bought and collected over the years that I couldn't stand to get rid of. But I knew that if I wanted to put my fucking past entirely behind me that I'd have to get rid of all of it soon.

  Another cackling batch of thunder fired through my ears and in the next split second, thick rain pelted my skin and soaked me.

  I zipped up my pants and walked back around the hill. To my disbelief, a grown ass woman dashed out of the cellar and raced across the field.

  The fuck?

  My gaze traveled from the pair of legs pumping in the distance back to my cellar in shock.

  Had a woman just rushed out of my cellar? What the fuck was she doing there? Did she steal something?

  I raced over to my cellar and peered down inside. From what I could see, everything was still intact. I looked up again at the back of the woman running away. The heavy downpour blinded me and all I could make out was her legs and long brown or black hair.

  After slamming the door shut and securing the padlock, I ran out into the open field. My heart thumped erratically with fresh anxiety. Heat flushed my face through the coolness of the rain. As I took off in the direction that I saw her flee in, suspicion and paranoia rolled through my belly like the angry clouds churning in the sky above me.

  This wasn’t good. This wasn’t good at all. If someone had sent her to find me…

  I had left that world behind a long time ago. I was retired now, and my former clients knew that I was out of commission from now until eternity.

  I stood under a tree and watched her for a second or two. I was trying to take shelter from the pounding rain, but I also wanted to observe her and determine what her next move might be. She appeared to be flustered and out of her element.

  At that moment, a jagged, hot, white lightning strike scorched the ground and I heard the girl scream and jump a mile in the air. She took off again toward the mountains, toward the trail that would lead her straight to my cottage. This action made my suspicion widen even further. If she was somebody sent by one of my clients—or worse—one of my enemies, I was going to be infuriated.

  I did my best to follow her, but it was impossible to keep up in this storm. The wind was so fierce that it was pushing the rain into horizontal strands of hell that were pelting me left and right. My sight range was impaired by how strongly the wind was blowing the rain around and before long, she was gone.

  I stumbled on something. A rock? Bricks? Something…and landed hard on my ass. I grabbed my right elbow which had taken the brunt of the fall and cursed. While lifting myself up off the muddy ground, my fingers touched something. A flashlight. I’d fallen on my ass because of a flashlight. I lifted it up to my face and realized that it was my flashlight.

  Frowning, I looked out into the storm again. If that woman had taken my flashlight, what else had she taken?

  Beyond frustrated for losing her, I ran in the direction of my house, thinking that if my luck worked out and the stars aligned, I would find her along the way. If it was this difficult for me to trek through the storm, then I couldn’t imagine she was having an easy time of it. She looked slender and petite. The storm would beat her.

  When I was close enough to the cottage to see it in front of me, I found the woman again. She was deep in a muddy trench that had seen better days. It looked like it was on the brink of sinking and collapsing right on top of her.

  She screamed and I took off running toward her. And then she was gone.

  Scared for her life, I jumped into the trench and reached for her. The water came at us strong and it took all my effort to pull her up out of the mud.

  After realizing that she wasn’t breathing, I laid her out on the grass and began performing the life-saving measures I’d learned decades earlier but had never had to use. While pumping her chest, I prayed anxiously that she’d wake up. Even though she’d been snooping in my cellar, I didn’t want her dead. Less than a minute later, she took a breath of air and coughed up water.

  Hair was matted to her face and I could hardly see it. Her eyes were a hypnotizing hazel. She mumbled something incoherent and then passed out again. After confirming that she was still breathing by placing my face against her lips, I scooped her up and she was limp as a noodle. I carried her like a football as her arms and legs flopped along in her comatose state. I had to rescue her because I knew she'd die out there alone, but more importantly, I was determined to find out who she was and what she wanted with me and my things.

  I took her to my cottage. When I got her inside, I immediately lit a fire in the fireplace and laid her down on the rug in front of it. My goal was to thaw and dry her. She was muddy and had a few scrapes and scratches on her arms and legs, but nothing life-threatening. I bandaged her up and peeled off her drenched clothing. I was surprised that she remained asleep throughout the entire process. She must have gotten extra tired trying to run from me. She was severely knocked out, but I checked her pulse and her breathing was fine. She was alive. Now all I had to do was sit and wait for her to emerge from the realms of unconsciousness and awaken to tell me why the hell she was going through my shit.

  As I watched her chest rise and fall, she looked like a beautiful doll. Her lips were plump and perfect. She had long, dark eyelashes that swept the top of her cheeks. Her body was slender and athletic, and her wavy brown hair was shining under the glow of the embers in the fireplace despite still being damp. Her skin was lightly bronzed to perfection. She was innocent and attractive, a combination I found dangerous and tempting.

  * * *

  On my mountain, I take what I want.

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  About the Author

  USA Today Bestselling Author Ambrielle Kirk pens tales of romance in various subgenres. Her favorites are contemporary, erotic, paranormal, and urban fantasy. As a child, she never really dreamed of being an author. It was a destined path that chose her. Now she writes with her readers in mind, but the characters, of course, dictate the outcome.

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  Ambrielle Kirk, Kept by the Woodsman: An ex-MMA Fighter Mountain Man Romance