Julie dumped a second load of wood by the stove and brushed off her shirt. Then she headed back for another. Before returning to the woodpile, though, she plopped down on the step inhaling the fresh air, hugging her arms to her chest. The smell of wood smoke had—since she was tiny—made her feel warm and protected. It still did.
Nic came and sat beside her. She hadn’t heard him come out. She could stay here forever.
If only...
“It’s a beautiful day,” he whispered. Then he held his hand out to her and she placed hers in it. A shiver went through her at the simple, sweet feeling of holding his hand.
It truly was a beautiful day. The sun shone brightly on the pond out back, melting the snow that had accumulated on it. It was frozen nearly to the center. It must have been colder than normal to have done that.
“Are there fish in the pond?”
“Used to be. I was never into fishing.” Julie pointed at the rock outcropping across the pond from the cabin. “I much preferred climbing the rocks and just sitting up there. Jenn would never follow me. She was afraid she’d scrape a knee.” Julie laughed at the memory.
“I called it my chapel.”
“Julie’s chapel.”
Nic shivered suddenly. Julie turned and shooed him back inside, then grabbed another armload of wood.
By evening, after a short nap and with a full stomach, Nic was beginning to feel almost normal. Movement hurt, but didn’t suck the life from him. He must be better, ‘cause all he could think about was Julie.
The clank of dishes in the sink made him look over. There she stood, wearing jeans and a huge flannel shirt, looking sexier than any woman had a right to. Her hands were immersed in steaming water and her hair fell down to shield her face. She was, no kidding, the most angelic creature he’d ever seen. Angelic with a big dose of spicy. He wished again, for the umpteenth time, that he could freeze this moment in time. That they could be here and enjoy each other’s company without the specter of death and danger hanging over them. Who knows what they could be to each other?
Nic woke with a start. The bed was empty beside him and it was full light. He hadn’t slept so well since this whole thing started and it left him drowsy, slow. Truth be told, he hadn’t slept like that since before Joey died. And he shouldn’t have let himself sleep like that now.
A note on the pillow.
Didn’t want to wake you. I’ll be in after I finish digging out the car. Then I’ll make breakfast.
J
There was a smiley face beside the “J” at the bottom.
Apart from the damned impending sense of doom that came when you waited for danger to show up, Nic couldn’t remember when he’d felt so good. That didn’t make any sense whatsoever. And he’d be damned if he’d fall for some slip of a girl just because she looked amazing doing dishes and made him think of forever. From now on, he’d change his own bandages, too.
With that thought, Nic swung his legs over the side of the bed and sat up. No dizziness. Good. He flexed his right arm, rotating it slowly. Pain, yes. As bad as yesterday, no. Could he shovel? Not likely.
What the hell was she thinking anyway?
Nic glanced over at the table on her side. The .357 was gone. Well, at least she’d had the sense to take a weapon. That left the 9MM for him. Good. The grip on it might not fit her hand, but it sure as hell fit his. The downside—having only six shots.
Nic dressed, this time not struggling quite so much to tie his boots. Before going out the door, he checked the magazine on the nine and stuck it in his waistband. If he couldn’t shovel, at least he could try to drive the damn car out. He had plenty of experience with that. It would have been easier to get it out of the bank had it not been an automatic but Nic wasn’t sure he had the strength right now to shift anyway.
As he walked down the road, his thoughts went back to Julie. Holy hell! Even just thinking of last night balled up his gut and derailed his train of thought. Hell, that was his train of thought. And, after all he’d said about getting out of here, now he was thinking about making sure they spent another night here. Or maybe another week. Or maybe until their food ran out and they began to starve to death. At least he’d die happy!
Nic came around the final corner before the car, breathing like he’d just done eight miles in the pool. At first, what he saw didn’t compute. He stopped and slowly backed up, not wanting to call attention to his arrival. The man who spoke with Julie had his back to Nic. He wore a plaid wool hunting coat and looked to be near their age.
Every muscle in Nic’s body tensed as if a silent alarm had gone off. A chill touched the back of his neck. It was the same feeling when he was with other team members and all their pagers went off. It wasn’t quite the adrenaline rush of jumping from a plane or rappelling off an eight-hundred-foot cliff. But it was the start. If there were such a thing as a pre-adrenaline rush, this was it.
Before the guy could hear him, Nic backed around the corner and was no longer in sight. He silently drew the weapon from his back and scanned the surrounding forest for the best way to approach. From the quick glance he’d had of the guy, Nic wasn’t able to tell if he was dangerous or not. He wasn’t about to take a chance.
The snow cover was both a help and a hindrance to stealth. The snow muffled any sounds that he made, but it also hid stumps and branches that lay beneath. There was no way to be silent and fast at the same time. Not with the kind of undergrowth that littered the forest floor. But, at least the trees were dense enough to hide him from view.
Why the hell hadn’t he been on alert? Probably, because he was thinking about her. Served him right. The irony, of course, was that it was difficult to purposely not think about something. But now he had something else to push the thought of making love to her, if not out of his head, at least to the back half. The threat of death had a way of doing that.
It would have taken only a minute to walk to the car from where he’d stopped on the road. Going the long way to come up on the side of the car took considerably longer. As he got closer though, he had a better vantage point.
What he saw pushed him to full-on alert.
When he first approached, she’d thought the guy might just be lost. But, he looked really familiar.
“We went to high school together. You’re Julie Galloway.”
“And you’re...” Julie searched her memory for a name.
“Doug. Doug Davis. We were in algebra and history together.”
How did he remember that? Julie vaguely remembered her algebra class, probably because the teacher used to throw erasers at students if they fell asleep. And having the class right after lunch heightened that probability. But history? Nope, she couldn’t even remember the teacher much less her classmates.
“Oh, yeah, sure. Now I remember.” Julie lied. “How’s it going? You still live in Susanville?”
“Not still. Again. I, uh, left for a time. But now I’m back. And you, you never did move back did you?”
Dang, this guy obviously knew way more about her than he should have. It was creepy. Who the heck was he, and what brought him here? Realization and panic washed over her in close order, draining the blood from her body. It must have showed on her face.
Doug’s eyes narrowed and his smile turned ugly.
And then he pulled the gun.
She worked hard to pull in a breath. To think.
Keep him talking.
Her own gun was in the pocket of her jacket—discarded a few feet away.
Panic closed her throat.
She sucked in another breath and forced words out.
“Did you kill my parents?”
“No.”
“Do you know who did?”
“Yes.”
Chapter Twelve