The
Stranger
Wounded Warrior, #2
by Anna del Mar
Date of
Publication: August 22nd 2016
Publisher:
Carina Press
Cover
Artist: Carina Press
Genre:
Romantic Suspense, Contemporary Romance, SEAL Romance, Military Romance
Tagline:
Ex-military pilot Seth Erickson is fighting
his own demons, but when he finds Summer Silva, a beautiful, warmth-loving,
Miami woman stranded in the frozen wilderness, he’ll do everything in his power
to keep her safe from murder, treason, and the ruthless Alaskan winter.
From The Book Junkie Reads . . . The
Stranger (Wounded Warrior, #2) . . .
There were some things that just
told me to questions what I was doing. One sleep walking sex. No let me say
sleep walking sex-a-thon. Repeated attempts on your life and brushing it off as
mistaken identity. Family drama extraordinaire. Family setting you up, not a
good thing.
Then there were others that said
keep reading and don’t stop. Alaska. Cold. Sexy, hot, alpha male. Strong arms. Hot,
sweaty sex-a-thons. The feeling of being protected, cherished, wanted
regardless of the extras.
Both Sam and Summer had family drama
going on. Mind you it was a different kind of drama for each. Both had a reason
to be secluded from the world and a bit standoffish with others. Both do not trust easily. Neither wants to
give in to the other. Together they make explosions happen. Both the good and
the bad kind.
I received an explosive romantic
suspense that hand me going on and on until I was finished and ready for the
next one.
**This eBook was provided via Bewitching Book
Tours in exchange for an honest review.**
Wounded
Warrior series:
The Asset – Wounded Warrior, #1
The Stranger – Wounded Warrior, #2
BLURB
When a
mysterious stranger is your only hope...
The scars of the past have left their
mark, both physical and emotional, on former military pilot Seth Erickson.
Off-grid in the far reaches of the bitter Alaskan wilderness, he wants only to
be left alone with his ghosts. But he can’t ignore a woman in need—beautiful,
stranded and nearly frozen with fear.
Summer Silva never imagined that the
search for her missing sister would leave her abandoned on a wintry back road,
barely escaping with her life from a cold-blooded killer for hire. Now, hiding
out in the isolated cabin of the secretive wounded warrior who saved her,
Summer knows she must do what she fears most. Putting her trust in a stranger
is all she has left.
All
defenses are down
After a fiery first night together,
Seth and Summer are bound by a need as powerful as a Bering Sea superstorm—and
vulnerable to enemies just as fierce. For Seth, reawakened by desire, there is
no sacrifice too great, no memory too dark, to keep Summer safe. But murder and
treason lurk everywhere and Summer may not survive Alaska’s ruthless winter.
Buy Links:
Author
Info
Anna del Mar writes hot, smart
romances that soothe the soul, challenge the mind, and satisfy the heart. Her
stories focus on strong heroines struggling to find their place in the world
and the brave, sexy, kickass, military heroes who defy the limits of their
broken bodies to protect the women they love. Anna enjoys traveling, hiking,
skiing, and the sea. Writing is her addiction, her drug of choice, and what she
wants to do all the time. The extraordinary men and women she met during her
years as a Navy wife inspire the fabulous heroes and heroines at the center of
her stories. When she stays put—which doesn’t happen very often—she lives in
Florida with her indulgent husband and two very opinionated cats.
Author Links:
Full Chapter Excerpt below . . .
Chapter
1
Trouble welcomed me
to Alaska. It ambushed me in the guise of an invisible patch of black ice that
launched my car spinning into a triple Lutz. I pumped my brakes. Nothing. My
rental careened over the ditch and bounced down the steep ravine. The rocks
pummeling the undercarriage rattled my brain. I was distantly aware that the
shriek piercing my eardrums came from my throat. My headlights illuminated the
spruce that materialized before me, down to the huge, corrugated trunk that
collided with the hood, bringing my involuntary detour to a jarring stop.
Silence. Only the
sound of my ragged breath and my pulse, pounding in my temples, interrupted the
atmospheric quiet. I pried my fingers from the wheel and stared at my shaking
hands. They flickered in and out of focus until I managed to even out my
breaths.
The good news? I was
alive and, although the wreck had probably relocated some of my internal
organs, nothing seemed broken. The bad news? The air bag hadn’t gone off and
pain throbbed in my thigh and somewhere behind my ear. Crap. I’d come to Alaska
to find my wayward sister, but my search had hit a major snag. Time to figure
out how bad of a snag it was.
My hand was still
quaking as I reached into my purse and found my cell. Zero bars. I groaned.
What was the point of technology if it never worked when you needed it most? I
snatched my purse and pulled on the door handle. The door refused to open. I
scooted across to the other seat and opened the passenger side door, grateful
to crawl out in one piece.
The cold hit me like
a slap to the face. My nostrils flared and my lungs ached with the arctic
wallop. To a tropical gal like me, the air smelled as though someone had
stuffed a live Christmas tree in the freezer. Delicate snowflakes floated in
the air like tiny speckles of silver. This was the first time I’d seen snow in
real life. It was pretty, kind of magical really, but the cold crawled under my
skin, stiffened my muscles and clung to my bones. I pulled my hood over my
head. Had it been this cold when my plane landed in Anchorage?
My wrecked rental was
wedged between the slope and the spruce like a deflated accordion. I had no
prayer of backing it up the hill. I tackled the ravine, scrambling on all
fours, and followed the wheel ruts up the slippery incline. It wasn’t easy. I
wore a narrow pencil skirt under my Burberry trench coat, and a pair of
four-inch heels I now wished I’d never bought.
It served me right
for allowing my stepmother to choose my outfit for the Darius project
presentation. Louise was a sucker for shoes—the taller, the better. Note to
self: never again relinquish your feet to someone else’s sense of fashion when
it’s you—and you alone—who has to suffer the resulting torture.
I’m not sure how long
it took me to climb back to the road, but by the time I reached the top, my
toes had gone numb, my hands ached and my fingertips had turned white. The road
I’d been driving on looked totally benign, not like the camouflaged skating
rink that had hurled my vehicle into the ravine.
I clapped my hands
together to warm them up. The sound echoed for miles around me. Stuck in the
Alaskan wilderness. Unreal. It was an unlikely predicament for a gal who’d much
rather be at the beach. Shark attack? Sure, it wouldn’t surprise me if that
ended up being part of my obituary. But frozen alive? Only if it involved a
freak accident in Publix’s frozen food section.
“Summer Silva, get
your act together,” I said out loud to break the eerie silence. My father
hadn’t clung to a capsized raft for three days in the Florida Straits in order
for me to die on my first day in Alaska.
I straightened my
coat, shoved my hands into my pockets, and began to walk. A layer of
slush-covered ice crackled beneath my heels. Crap. My feet slid every which way
and my legs wobbled. Steady , Silva . I could handle the unwieldy shoes...on
firm, unfrozen ground. The only ice I’d ever dealt with came out in little
cubes from the automated dispenser in the freezer door.
Five minutes later,
the cold skewered me and not a single car had made an appearance. I leaned into
the bitter wind. I wasn’t made of sugar and spice. I was tough, and I meant to
get out of this one, but I was majorly pissed. I was so going to give Tammy a
piece of my mind when I found her.
I envisioned my
sister lying on a white pelt in front of a roaring fireplace. I mouthed off
into the deepening darkness. I was the levelheaded one. I was the one who
always followed the rules, cleaned up the messes, did the responsible thing.
And yet, right now, I was the one freezing my ass off on a desolate Alaskan
road.
The headlights caught
me by surprise. They sprang out from behind the curve and pierced the dusk. I
waved my hands to flag down the speeding vehicle. As it got closer, I made out
a Ford F-450 Super Duty, black as night, the type that would’ve made my
truck-obsessed sister drool with envy. The truck drove right by me before the
taillights lit up and it skidded to a stop, then accelerated in reverse.
The window whirred
down to reveal the warmth and comfort of the softly illuminated cab. The
leather-scented, heated air wafted from the window and teased my frozen senses.
A man sat at the wheel, enveloped in a black thermal jacket that I would’ve
gladly traded a thousand bucks for, on the spot. His face might have been
handsome, if it hadn’t been distorted by the scowl that wilted my poor attempt
at a smile.
He more or less
growled. “Who the hell put you up to this?”
“Excuse me?” I
clutched my hood against a sudden burst of wind.
“You better come
clean right now,” he bit out in a tone that matched the frosty temperature. “A
name. I want to know who the hell hired you and what you were expected to do.”
“Hired me?”
“Don’t play dumb with
me.” He eyed me like a wolf eyed a meal. “Who was it? Was it someone related to
me? I swear, if you don’t tell me this goddamn minute, you’re going to be
sorry.”
I stared at the man
in the cab, unable to comprehend his rage. What on earth was he talking about?
The fury blazing in his striking amber eyes frightened me. As it was, I was so
cold I couldn’t think, let alone make sense of what he was saying. I rubbed the
sore spot behind my ear. Maybe I’d hit my head harder than I thought. Maybe
this was a dream or a nightmare. Oh, God. My stomach clenched. I really hoped I
was awake. I shoved my hand up my sleeve and pinched my arm. It hurt. In fact,
a lot of me was either throbbing or aching. A good sign, yes?
“Well?” he said. “Are
you going to speak up or are you dumb, deaf, and mute?”
“Um, no.” I rubbed my
arms. “I usually have a lot to say. It’s just that...well...I’m cold and
you—I’m really sorry to have to tell you—but you sound like a crazy person.”
He launched another
blistering glower in my direction. “For the last time,” he said, his tone
intractable, “who the hell put you up to this?”
“Nobody,” I said. “I
don’t know what you’re talking about. My car skidded off the road and I’ve got
no cell reception.”
“Your car?” He looked
up and down the road. “I don’t see a car. Where is it?”
“Back there
somewhere.” I’m not sure whether my treacherous heels slid on the ice or if
fatigue did me in, but my feet went out from under me and, though I clung to
the window, I landed on my knees. “Ow,” I might have said aloud.
“What the hell?”
I let go of the
window and my dignity at the same time. I surrendered to the elements and
settled precariously on the frosty ground. The cold iced my shins, traveled up
to my core, and chilled my spine. I was about to pass out from exhaustion. I’d
been up for over seventy-two hours. On top of that, I was suffering from a bad
case of jet lag. If all of that wasn’t enough, the wreck had jarred my senses.
I wasn’t in good shape and I knew it.
But I couldn’t allow
myself to go unconscious. No, sir, no way in hell. I knew the risks of passing
out in front of a stranger too well. I just needed a moment to gather my
strength, defrost myself and get my act together. I leaned my forehead on the
door and, basking in the warmth radiating from the undercarriage, forced myself
to stay alert. Surely, I could get some help, the crazy man would go on his
merry way, and I could move on to finish what I’d come to do.
The engine quit. The
truck quaked with the slam of a door. Angry steps crunched on the road. A pair
of hiking boots parked by my side. I looked up and cringed. The man’s scowl
pummeled me. From my perspective on the ground, he soared above me, tall and
imposing, a giant really. His knees cracked when he crouched next to me.
“Did Alex hire you?”
he said. “Alex Erickson?”
“Who?”
“Are you telling me
you don’t know who Alex Erickson is?”
“I don’t.”
His breath came out
in angry puffs that condensed in the air. “Do you know who I am?”
“No clue,” I said.
“Am I supposed to know?”
“You tell me.” He
looked like he was about to spit fire. “If no one put you up to this, then what
the hell are you doing out here in the middle of nowhere?”
“Not taking a walk in
the park, that’s for sure.”
My throat made this
weird noise, a cross between a sob and a giggle, a sound that combined
confusion with hilarity, fear with absurdity. But I wasn’t going to cry. No
freaking way. I wasn’t going to panic either. The part of me that felt utterly
ridiculous kneeling on the frozen pavement in the middle of nowhere won out. I
pressed my hand over my mouth, but the quiet giggles leaked out anyway.
The man rubbed the
back of his neck and frowned, a dip of full eyebrows that screamed vexation.
“Do you think this is funny?”
“Funny?” I couldn’t
stop giggling. “No, not funny, more like hilarious.”
“Jesus Christ.” He
raked his fingers through his longish hair, leaving a bunch of straight, flaxen
strands in disarray. He didn’t know what to make of me, but he sure knew how to
scowl.
The shivering,
combined with his radioactive glower, stifled my giggle attack. I forced myself
to pay attention. Determination whetted the man’s features and set the line of
his jaw into a straight angle. A shade of stubble covered the lower half of his
face, imbuing him with a golden glow that echoed the gleam in his eye, but
there was nothing soft in his stare, not a hint of humor or friendliness.
At least he looked
clean and groomed, unlike the rugged, hygiene-challenged bunch I’d met in the
back-to-back episodes of Alaska’s Bush Men I’d binge-watched on the plane.
Alaska had never been on my long list of places I wanted to visit, and after watching
the show, I’d questioned my sister’s sanity along with that of people who lived
away from even the most basic human comforts. Now I wondered about this surly
stranger too, the first off-the-grid Alaskan I’d met.
“Is your cell
working?” I said. “Could you please call the police?”
“There’s no reception
on this stretch of road.” The copper-hued eyes probed my face. “If you really
need help, I’m all you’ve got.”
Great. Just great.
The world whirled around me. I steadied myself against the truck. Three days
ago, I’d been in the middle of the most important presentation of my
professional life when Louise had called to tell me about my stepsister, Tammy.
I’d already been short of sleep and high on stress, but since then, I’d been on
the go, trying to get to Alaska.
The earth beneath my
knees shifted again. I tightened my grip on the truck and took a deep breath. I
wasn’t one to fall apart so easily. To bad weather , a brave face , my father
used to say, quoting an old Spanish proverb. I might be out of my comfort zone,
but I hadn’t given up on my pride just yet. I straightened my coat and,
balancing carefully on one knee, planted one foot first, then the other. I rose
slowly from the iffy crouch.
“Oops!” My heels
skidded in opposite directions. I fell, bounced on my butt, and ended up
sprawled on the ground all over again, rear smarting from the impact. I cursed
under my breath.
“Dammit.” The man
hooked his hands under my arms, lifted me up, and set me upright. “There. Do
you think you can stand on your own?”
“Maybe,” I mumbled,
rubbing my ass. My legs buckled, but I steadied myself on the truck and willed
my feet to stick to the ground.
“You’re shivering.”
He opened the car door. “Get in.”
“No, thank you.” Even
if I was freezing, there were rules about cars and strangers. “Can you please
call for Roadside Assistance?”
The man actually
scoffed. “No reception, remember?” He eyed me impatiently. “Lady, you do know
that there’s a storm barreling down on south central Alaska, right?”
“The clerk at the airport
did mention that.”
“But did he mention
that anytime now, a Bering Sea superstorm is expected to bring blizzard
conditions with winds in excess of sixty miles an hour?”
“Yeah, no.” I
swallowed a dry gulp. “He didn’t put it quite as bad as that.”
“It’s going to get a
hell of a lot colder,” the man said. “Emergency services went on lockdown about
fifteen minutes ago.”
Fabulous, just
fabulous.
“What I’m trying to
tell you,” he explained in a strained tone obviously intended for the dimwits
among us, “is that—assuming you’re not a trap—I’m your only option at the
moment. So get in the damn truck, before you freeze your ass off.”
Dressed in his black
jacket and blue jeans, glinting with all that gold in his eyes and hair, he
looked perfectly normal. Minus the scowl, he might have even been good looking.
But his bad temper and my flash-frozen brain made for a bad combination. Plus,
there was a good chance he was more than paranoid and grouchy. Maybe he was off
the grid in more ways than one.
“Look,” he said.
“I’ve had a long day and I’m in a shitty mood.”
I rolled my eyes. “No
kidding.”
“I wasn’t expecting
this. You. Whatever.”
I perched my fist on
my hip. “Do you think I was expecting you?”
“Just get in, okay?”
He gestured to the cab. “I want to get indoors before the storm hits.”
“Oh, I don’t know.” I
considered both, the brawny guy and his burly truck. “Where I come from,
hitchhiking is dangerous.”
“Too bad,” he said.
“In Alaska hitchhiking is a common form of transportation.”
“As far as I know,
you could be a serial killer.”
“So could you.” He
held the door open for me. “And my risk is higher than yours since, according
to the Discovery Channel, female serial killers have been proven to be more
dangerous than male serial killers.”
I’d either met my
match or found the only other person in the world who watched as much Discovery
Channel as I did.
“Get the hell in,” he
said impatiently. “We’re running out of time.”
The weather was
getting colder. The wind had picked up and the snow fell in bigger, wetter
chunks. I was shivering violently, but still, I hesitated.
“Can you please take
me to the nearest gas station or hotel?” I said, trying to keep my voice from
quavering.
“The nearest gas
station is sixty-five miles that way.” He stuck out his thumb and pointed
behind him. “The nearest motel is seventy-eight miles in the opposite
direction. There’s no time to get there. My cabin is close by and I have the
full intention of being there by the time the storm hits in...” he paused to
look at his watch, “...anytime now.”
The mention of the
word “cabin” did nothing to appease my fears. I’d seen plenty of “cabins” in my
reality show marathon. I didn’t want to spend a moment—let alone hours—chewing
on squirrel parts in a rustic shelter without heat, electricity, or plumbing,
especially in the company of a pissed-off guy whose actions so far put the
strange in stranger.
“What is it going to
be?” he said. “I’m willing to play the female killer odds if you decide you
don’t want to turn into an icicle. It’s your choice, but I’m hauling ass right
now.”
What’s the use of
choices when one has none?
I said a little
prayer, shuffled on the ice and, balancing carefully on my unwieldy heels,
climbed into the front seat. He helped me up, shut the door, and walked around
the truck. My head began to hurt, pangs of pain stabbing behind my eyes. Not
good.
The man climbed in
next to me in the cab. “Strap in.”
He switched on the
ignition, pressed on the pedal and accelerated down the icy track as if truck
skating was an X Games signature event and he was going for the gold. My
knuckles tightened around the door handle. I bit down on my lips, but the
backseat driver in me was out of control. Whether he was a serial killer or not
was irrelevant. We were both going to die today.
He glanced in my
direction. “You got a name?”
“Yes.” I pressed my
frozen fingertips against the heating vent, reveling in the blessed heat.
“Well?” he said in
that demanding tone of his.
I stared at him,
mystified by his persistent state of grouchiness. “Well what?”
“Are you going to
tell me what your name is or what?”
“Oh.” I was close to
frozen stupid. “My name is Summer, Summer Silva.”
“Summer in Alaska?”
He stared at me for an instant, then burst out into quiet laughter. “You’re a
little late. Summer arrived in Alaska just in time to meet winter.”
Maybe it had
something to do with the fact that I hadn’t slept in a while, but yeah, no. He
wasn’t going to laugh at my expense. I narrowed my eyes on him.
“That’s quite the
glare.” He suppressed another round of laughter. “I didn’t mean to be rude.”
“Well, you are rude,
a lot rude in fact, accusing me of God knows what and acting like a total
jerk.”
“Sorry,” he said.
“It’s just that... Summer in Alaska.” His lips twitched. “You’ve got to admit. It’s
pretty damn good.”
“Are you drunk?” I
said. “Because if you are, maybe I should be doing the driving. I imagine
they’ve got laws in Alaska, including some about drinking and driving?”
“You’re turning out
to be a piece of work,” he said, smirking. “Bossy too, for someone riding in my
goddamn truck. Here I am, doing you a favor, not letting you freeze off your
pretty little stuck-up ass and yet you’re being a smartass and giving me
attitude.”
“Are you for real?”
He had a lot of nerve calling me a smartass. “You’re not exactly attitude free
yourself.”
“And yes,” he added,
ignoring my comment, “we do have some laws here in Alaska, although not nearly
as many as they’ve got in the lower forty-eight. As to your question, nope, I’m
not drunk, haven’t had a drop all day. Should’ve, but didn’t.”
“What’s that supposed
to mean?”
“I mean that if there
was ever a good day for drinking, today was it.” He stomped on the clutch and
shifted gears. “But no, unfortunately, I’m not drunk. That and the shitty day
probably explain why you’re getting a double dose of sarcasm.”
“Sorry about your
shitty day,” I said. “But you need to mellow out. Do you always go around
trying to bully people into doing whatever you want?”
“Pretty much.” He
flashed what could’ve been a semi-contrite glance in my direction. “Look, I
apologize for my lack of manners.” He offered his hand. “My name is Seth, Seth
Erickson.”
I shook his hand,
mostly because, sarcasm aside, he was making an effort to be civil. Plus, he
was a fellow Discovery Channel watcher. His hold was firm, hot, and supremely
comforting to my fingers. My entire body wanted to shrink into his grip if only
to bask in his radiant heat. My fingertips tripped against the unusual texture
at the bottom of his hand. I spotted a patch of mangled skin scarring his palm,
crawling up his wrist and disappearing into his sleeve. He caught me looking
and covered most of the scar with a self-conscious tug of his sleeve.
“You’ve got some icy
fingers there.” He tapped on the console’s screen and punched up the
temperature of my heated seat. “Tuck them under your thigh. Trust me. It’s the
quickest way to warm up those puppies.”
He was right. Trapped
between the heat of my body and the seat, my fingers began to thaw.
“Where the hell are
you from?” he asked. “Miami.”
“Ah.” He smirked.
“That explains it.”
“Explains what?”
“Your inability to
cope with ice. And the outfit.”
I looked down at
myself. “What’s wrong with my outfit?”
“No gloves, hat,
boots, or a proper coat,” he said. “When I first saw you I thought you were
either crazy or—well—you know.”
“No, I don’t know.”
“I thought maybe you
were a plant, someone looking for attention, or more specifically, my
attention.”
I stared at him for a
full thirty seconds, unable to figure out what he meant. “What are you talking
about?”
“Nobody in their
right mind out here wears skirts and high heels on the roads, except the
occasional call girl, playing a pre-ordered role or meeting a very specific
customer...”
“Oh no you didn’t.”
What was wrong with this man? “You thought I was a whore?”
“I couldn’t see
beneath the coat...”
“Are you
like...freaking insane?”
He cleared his
throat. “It was probably the heels that gave me the wrong impression...”
“You’re out of your
mind, you know that?” I snapped. “First you think your family is out to get
you. Then you think I’m...what? A prostitute? Which implies that you think
someone in your family was going to set you up with a...Jesus!” I rubbed my
temples, wishing that I’d never come to Alaska and also that I’d ditched those
damn shoes. “I really want to go home.”
“Don’t get upset.”
His eyes betrayed a hint of concern. “I would’ve bought the look if I’d seen
you down in, say, Ketchikan getting down from one of them fancy cruises. For
future reference, Alaska 101: dress warm, keep dry, stay warm. That coat might
look fine for a fall afternoon on Fifth Avenue, but in Alaska? It’ll kill you
faster than a dip in the Bering Sea.”
Great. Advice from
Mr. Sunshine himself. His condescending tone annoyed the hell out of me. “Okay,
fine, maybe I’m not properly dressed for the weather, but that’s only because I
had no time to plan for this trip. I’m not as stupid as you’re making me out to
be.”
“No offense,” he
said, “but all the tourists are gone. What the hell is someone like you doing
all the way out here at the end of September?”
“It’s kind of a long
story.”
“I don’t know why,”
he muttered, “but I’m itching to hear it.”
“If you must know,” I
said, “my sister ran away with a guy she met on the internet. He’s from Alaska
and I came to find her.”
He flashed me a
skeptical look. “Is your sister stupid?”
“No,” I said, but at
times like these, I wondered. “Tammy is just...impulsive.”
“Has she done stuff
like this before?”
“Well, yeah, but it’s
not really her fault.”
“What do you mean
it’s not her fault?”
“She struggles with
bipolar disorder.”
“Hey, lady,
Summer—right?” he said. “There’s no excuse for stupidity. I’ve met people with
all kinds of injuries and disorders who know better than to run away with a
stranger they met on the internet.”
“I know, but Tammy
is...”
My cell rang to the
tune of chirping birds. Reception. I had reception! I groped through my purse
until I found the phone.
“You might get a
minute or two if you’re lucky,” Seth cautioned. “After that, nothing for a
while.”
My tepid fingers
fumbled over the keypad, accidentally hitting the speaker in the process.
“Hello?”
“Did you find Tammy?”
Louise’s voice blared in her best Brooklyn accent, shrill, loud, and capable of
busting an eardrum or two. “Where is she? Is she okay?”
“Calm down.” I tried
to turn off the speaker but my stiff fingers succeeded only at increasing the
volume. “I’m on my way to find her now. There might be an itsy-bitsy delay. The
weather is not cooperating, but don’t worry, I’ll find her.”
“Are you locked in a
fancy hotel room?” Louise demanded. “You won’t find Tammy from behind a bolted
door.”
“Of course not.”
Louise could be such a witch when she was anxious. “I promised you I’d find
Tammy and I will.”
“I sure hope you’re
not enjoying room service while your sister is gone and I’m here, suffering,
imagining all the terrible things she could be going through...”
“Please, don’t be a
drama queen,” I said. “We don’t have any evidence to suggest that Tammy is in
immediate danger.”
“Find your sister!”
Louise’s voice flickered in and out of range. “Find her! I don’t care what you
have to do, just do it...”
The phone lost all
its bars again and the call dropped. The narrow reception zone had ended. Part
of me was grateful for the reprieve. The other part knew I was cut off again.
The headache throbbing behind my eye intensified. The sights blurred before me.
“Hey,” Seth said.
“You okay?”
“Fine.” I dropped my
cell in my purse and straightened my back, fighting the exhaustion.
“Who was that very
loud woman?”
“My stepmother.”
“Is she right in the
head?”
“She’s just worried
about Tammy.”
“Something’s not
adding up here.” He rubbed his wide back against the seat like a great big
bison scratching against a tree. “Your sister’s an idiot. Your stepmother
demands that you drop everything and go chase her. Your family? Sounds like a
major clusterfuck.”
“Look who’s talking.”
I sniffed. “My family may be a little different, but we love each other. We
don’t hire people to try to set each other up. Sure, we can be loud and a tad
dramatic on occasion, but honestly? Your family sounds a million times more
screwed up than mine.”
His mouth twisted
into the sarcastic smirk he favored. “You might have a point there.”
“Yeah, you bet I do.”
I leaned back on the headrest. After a two-day journey, a three-hour drive, and
a car wreck, I felt as if someone had taken a bat to me.
“You’re looking very
sleepy there,” he said. “Talk to me. Are you all right?”
“I’ll live,” I
mumbled, rubbing the knot behind my ear.
“Are you hurt?” He
turned on the cabin lights and leaned over to inspect my head as he continued
to drive. “Is that a bruise behind your ear? Hell, I didn’t notice before.” The
truck swerved in the road. “Did you hit your head when your car went off the
road? Are you sure you’re all right?”
“Just concentrate on
driving straight, please.” I inched away from his touch and switched the cabin
lights off. “I’m a little tired, that’s all. I haven’t slept for a few days.”
“A few days? That’s
not good.” He groped behind the seat, opened the top of a small cooler and,
after grabbing a bottle, handed it over to me. “Here you go.”
“No, thanks.” I
wasn’t about add alcohol to my troubles.
“It’s not for
drinking.” He pressed the cold bottle to the side of my head. “It’s to keep the
swelling down.”
“Oh.” I took the
bottle from him and held it against the lump.
“Hang on tight,” he
said. “That’s a real nice handcrafted lager. I wouldn’t want it to go to
waste.”
“Got it,” I said.
“Hanging on to the brew over here.”
He smiled, a genuine,
eye-lightening grin that eased the angles on his face and radiated charm and
warmth. Could a guy who smiled like that really be a jerk or a serial killer?
The world around us
turned into a white maelstrom. The wind wrestled with the truck. The road
became invisible under a new layer of snow. Seth geared down and kept his eyes
on the road as we negotiated some hairy turns and the road’s deteriorating
conditions. In all my twenty-nine years of life, I’d never seen weather like this.
“We’re not beating
the storm, are we?”
“This is just the
beginning.” He tilted his head and surveyed the sky. “It’s going to get bad
soon, thirteen hours of very nasty wind, snow, and ice.”
My timing sucked.
“And I thought this was bad.”
“This is nothing.” He
slowed down to maneuver over a bridge. “I don’t suppose you get blizzards in
Miami. But don’t worry, we’re almost there.”
“Goody,” I mumbled.
I knew my chances of
getting to a hotel tonight were nil, but I needed to keep it together, at least
until we got to the cabin. With a little luck, it might be a two-room cabin,
with a door and a lock between me and the rest of the place. A door chain would
be nice, but I could always improvise.
I eyed the man riding
next to me. Maybe under all that hubris, he’d turn out to be a decent human
being. After all, he had stopped to help me. I toyed with the idea of giving
him a quick rundown of my condition, but my hackles went up. No way. He was a
stranger and a guy and maybe even a little off, with all that paranoia. I knew
from experience what would happen if I warned him. No need to add premeditation
to humiliation.
All of a sudden, my
vision narrowed. My thoughts slowed down to a crawl. My body slacked and my
eyelids slammed over my eyes like hurricane shutters. I ran out of time and
energy at the same moment. Oh, crap. I knew exactly what was happening to me.
“Hey, Summer.” Seth’s
voice came from far away. “We’re almost there.” He shook me softly. “Wake up.
Stick with me, girl.”
I had no time to
explain. “Make sure you lock the door,” I mumbled, before I conked out.
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