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)
Large.
Male.
Purposeful.
Not hiding them.
That tells me everything I need to know.
He wants her frightened.
My jaw tightens.
Bad idea.
“You find something?” Nora asks quietly behind me.
I glance back at her. “Yeah.”
Her face pales slightly. “What?”
“He’s getting cocky.”
“That doesn’t exactly make me feel better.”
“It should.”
“How?”
“Cocky people make mistakes.”
Her eyes hold mine for a second longer than necessary.
“You really believe you can stop him.”
It’s not a question.
I step closer again, stopping directly in front of her while rain and wind hammer the cabin outside.
“Yeah,” I say simply.
“Why?”
“Because he’s hunting somebody on my mountain.” My gaze drops briefly to her mouth before lifting again. “And I don’t lose.”
The air changes between us after that.
Sharpens.
Her breathing shifts slightly, her fingers tightening around the strap of her bag.
Attraction.
Awareness.
Dangerous combination.
“You really need to stop looking at me like that,” she murmurs.
“Like what?”
“Like you already decided something.”
Maybe I have.
I take the bag from her hand before she can argue again and sling it over my shoulder.
“We need to move.”
“You’re impossible.”
“So I’ve been told.”
She follows me outside reluctantly, locking the damaged cabin behind us even though we both know the lock’s useless now.
Rain falls harder by the second.
Nora stops beside the truck and stares up toward the barely visible ridgeline above us.
“You live up there?”
“Yeah.”
“Of course you do.”
I open her door.
She eyes it suspiciously. “You always this bossy?”
“Only when someone keeps ignoring good advice.”
“I barely know you.”
“You keep saying that like it matters.”
Her mouth opens.
Closes.
Then she climbs into the truck anyway.
Good choice.
I shut the door behind her and circle back toward the driver’s side, already scanning the tree line again automatically.
Watching.
Waiting.
Because whoever broke into that cabin made one mistake tonight.
He pushed too hard.
And now?
Now I’m involved.
Chapter Five
Nora
The higher we climb, the worse the storm gets.
Rain has turned to snow and it slams against the windshield hard enough to blur the road entirely some seconds, and the narrow mountain trail twisting beneath Rhett’s truck barely looks wide enough for one vehicle, let alone safe enough to drive during a storm that feels determined to bury the entire mountain overnight.
“You sure this road actually leads somewhere?” I ask, gripping the door handle tighter as the truck fishtails slightly around another bend.
Rhett doesn’t even blink. “Yeah.”
“That confidence is honestly starting to concern me.”
“It’ll concern you less when we don’t slide off the mountain.”
I glare at him while he drives one-handed through what feels like certain death.
Infuriating man.
The cab smells like cedar, leather, and cold air every time the wind sneaks through the vents. His massive hand rests loose against the steering wheel, steady and controlled while mine are practically white-knuckled against the seat.
“You’re enjoying this,” I accuse.
His mouth twitches slightly. “Watching you panic? Little bit.”
“I’m not panicking.”
“You almost grabbed my arm back there.”
“I was bracing for impact.”
“Sure.”
I cross my arms tightly and look back out the windshield.
Cocky asshole.
The truck finally crests another ridge, and then I see it.
The cabin.
Warm golden light glows through the windows against the snowstorm, tucked deep between thick evergreens high above Devil’s Peak like something out of a survivalist fantasy. Smoke curls from the chimney while snow piles along the porch railings.
Isolated.
Completely isolated.
The realization lands hard in my chest.
No neighbors.
No nearby road.
No help for miles.
Rhett parks beside a woodpile half buried in snow and kills the engine.
Silence settles instantly except for the storm hammering outside.
“That look on your face is interesting,” he says calmly.
I glance toward him. “I’m deciding whether this is romantic or the opening scene of a true crime documentary.”
His low laugh does something dangerous to my stomach.
“You coming?” he asks.
I eye the cabin again. “Do I have a choice?”
“No.”
The answer comes so easily it almost makes me laugh.
Almost.
By the time we get inside, snow’s clinging to my coat and boots, my fingers numb from the cold. Rhett shuts the heavy wooden door behind us, throws the deadbolt immediately, then checks the lock twice before even taking his jacket off.
I notice that.
I notice everything.
The cabin is exactly what I expected somehow.
Masculine.
Rugged.
Dark wood walls. Heavy furniture. A stone fireplace crackling in the center of the room. Hunting knives mounted neatly beside shelves lined with survival manuals, old maps, and military books.
Everything about the place feels controlled.
Like him.
Rhett takes my bag without asking and carries it down a short hallway. “Bedroom’s there.”
I blink. “You only have one bedroom?”
“Yeah.”
“And where exactly are you sleeping?”
“Couch.”
“That seems uncomfortable.”
“I’ve slept worse places.”
Something about the way he says it shifts the air slightly.
Not softer.
Just heavier.
I stand awkwardly in the middle of the cabin, suddenly hyperaware that I’m alone on a mountain with a man built like violence and entirely too attractive for my own peace of mind.
Rhett glances over his shoulder. “You planning on standing there all night?”
“I’m assessing.”
“Me?”
“The murder cabin.”
His mouth curves slightly again. “Spoken like a true crime reporter. You always talk this much when you’re nervous?”
“I’m not nervous.”
“You keep lying to yourself like that, sweetheart.”