Total pages in book: 25
Estimated words: 29800 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 149(@200wpm)___ 119(@250wpm)___ 99(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 29800 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 149(@200wpm)___ 119(@250wpm)___ 99(@300wpm)
“Tom,” someone warns quietly.
But he keeps going.
“You reporters come up here acting like vultures every damn year. Missing hikers, corrupt land deals, scary mountain stories.” He laughs harshly. “You people don’t care who gets hurt as long as you get clicks.”
Heat crawls up my neck.
Every eye in the lodge lands on me.
“I’m doing my job,” I say evenly.
“You’re making money off dead people.”
The room goes quieter.
Tighter.
I set my glass down carefully. “You don’t know anything about me.”
“I know your kind.”
“Then you should know I don’t scare easily.”
“Oh, sweetheart,” he says with a mean grin. “You should.”
Something flickers behind the crowd near the projector screen.
Movement.
Then suddenly the lights dim.
A photograph flashes across the giant auction screen overhead.
My stomach drops so hard it physically hurts.
It’s me.
Sleeping inside my cabin.
Taken through the window.
The entire room goes dead silent.
No laughter.
No music.
Nothing.
My pulse roars in my ears as another photo appears.
Me unloading groceries earlier that afternoon.
Another.
Me standing outside Devil’s Brew last night.
Close enough to see my face clearly.
Humiliation slams into me first.
Then panic.
Then pure cold fear.
People start murmuring immediately.
“What the hell…”
“Who took those?”
“Jesus Christ…”
I can’t breathe properly.
I stare at the screen while heat floods my face and my chest tightens hard enough to hurt.
The drunk tourist laughs nervously. “Well damn, sweetheart. Looks like somebody likes you.”
The room shifts instantly after that.
Dangerous.
Wrong.
Because now everyone sees it too.
I force myself to move, grabbing my bag and stepping away from the bar.
I need air.
I need out.
But before I make it two steps, the entire room changes again.
Silence spreads outward in a wave.
Not awkward silence.
Respect.
The kind men fall into when something dangerous enters the room.
I turn instinctively.
And there’s Rhett.
He stands near the back entrance, broad shoulders filling the doorway, dark thermal stretched across his chest, Spring snow still melting off his boots. His expression doesn’t change as he takes in the projector screen.
But his eyes do.
Cold.
Violently cold.
The auctioneer clears his throat nervously. “Rhett…”
Rhett doesn’t answer him.
He walks straight toward me instead.
Slow.
Deliberate.
Every person in the lodge moves aside automatically.
The crowd parts for him without being asked.
I should feel relieved seeing him.
Instead my pulse kicks harder.
Because the look on his face?
That’s not calm.
That’s control barely holding itself together.
He stops directly in front of me, gaze scanning my face once before shifting toward the screen again.
“Who touched the projector?” he asks quietly.
Nobody answers.
Rhett looks toward the drunk tourist next.
The man visibly swallows.
“I didn’t do anything,” he says quickly.
Rhett keeps staring at him.
Then he reaches into his back pocket, pulls out a thick fold of cash, and drops it onto the auction table hard enough to make everyone jump.
“Ten thousand.”
The auctioneer blinks. “For what exactly?”
Rhett’s eyes stay on mine when he answers.
“Her.”
The room erupts instantly.
“Oh my God.”
“No damn way.”
“Rhett Maddox finally bid?”
Margie practically smacks Rune in excitement.
Jace starts laughing into his beer beside the bar.
Liam mutters, “Told you he was gone.”
“What are you doing?” I hiss.
Rhett ignores me completely.
“She’s with me,” he says to the room.
And somehow that’s worse.
Because everyone in Devil’s Peak immediately knows what those words mean.
Possession.
Protection.
Claiming.
A local woman near the front gasps dramatically. “Holy hell.”
Margie looks ready to cry from happiness.
“You cannot be serious,” I snap under my breath.
Rhett finally looks down at me fully.
Up close, he smells like snow and cedar and something painfully male that immediately tangles my thoughts.
“You want to stay here tonight?” he asks quietly.
“No.”
“Good.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means you’re coming with me.”
My jaw tightens. “You don’t get to decide that.”
His gaze drops briefly to my mouth before lifting again.
“Yeah,” he says calmly. “I do.”
I should argue harder.
I should tell him exactly where to shove his possessive mountain-man routine.
Instead, my pulse jumps when his hand settles lightly against my lower back.
Protective.
Possessive.
Certain.
And the worst part?
For the first time since those photographs hit the screen, I actually feel safe.
Which is dangerous all by itself.
Chapter Four
Rhett
The second we pull up to Nora’s rental cabin, I know something’s wrong.
The porch light is off.
It wasn’t off earlier.
I kill the engine anyway, my eyes already scanning the tree line, the road, the dark stretch of woods surrounding the property. The storm moved in fast over the last thirty minutes rain pelting my windshield, thick clouds swallowing the mountain whole, and now the wind’s starting to bite hard enough to turn dangerous before midnight.
Nora reaches for the door handle beside me. “I can explain the auction thing later, by the way. In case you’re under the impression I enjoyed being publicly purchased like livestock.”
“Stay in the truck.”
Her head snaps toward me instantly. “Excuse me?”
I’m already opening my door. “Lock it behind me.”
“Oh, absolutely not.”
I shut the truck door and circle around anyway, my boots crunching over the gravel. The cabin sits too still in the dark, every instinct I’ve got pulling tight.
Wrong.
The front door hangs open barely half an inch.
Not enough for most people to notice.
Enough for me.
Nora sees it the second she climbs out of the truck behind me.