APOLLO RISING (The Apollo Saga, Book 1) (4 page)

She let her gaze fall back upon his rugged features, wondering who he was, and the story of how he had come to be in the woods that night. She was sure it had been something of an adventure. Comparing the extent of his injuries, that gunshot wound looked to have been far worse than being hit by her car.

“Running you over probably saved your life,” she whispered, smiling. She looked him over once more, making sure that she had cared for him properly. Her eyes fell upon what appeared to be another wound on his inner right thigh. How had she missed that? Closer examination revealed it wasn’t a wound at all, but a scar - a mark, deep in color and unnatural in shape. Allie’s fingers grazed his skin as she inspected it further; taking note that this handsome stranger may be affiliated with something more—something she didn’t want to get involved with after all.

Allie sighed. “It’s always the good –looking ones,” she said with a hint of cynicism.

The wind picked up, howling against the windows and walls of the cabin, snow stinging at the panes. She patted the keys in her pocket, feeling little reassurance by the jeep outside the front door. Miles of treacherous mountain roads separated her and civilization, and only a blanket separated her and the strange man. She picked up her duffel bag and the two bags by the door, and took them all into the bedroom.

She set two bags on the bed and unzipped the third softly. She lifted the shotgun from its padded liner, dropped two shells into the magazine tube and placed a couple extra shells into the pocket of her flannel.

Resting the shotgun across the crook of her arm, she walked back into the main room, her eyes not leaving the man for more than a moment at a time. With a last, curious look at him, she came to rest in a rocking chair in the far corner of the room. She kicked off her boots and held the shotgun in her lap. She fought it as best she could, for as long as she could, but alas, her eyes grew heavy with sleep.

The sun rose only moments before Tyler; his body stiff and heavy with sleep. He opened his eyes one at a time and found himself, once again, in an unfamiliar place. Disorientation was quickly becoming a staple in his awakening process.

He was spread out in the center of someone’s living room, the remnants of a fire still smoldering just beyond his toes. He wriggled them briefly, to reassure his consciousness. The routine stretch of his muscles followed, instantly interrupted by the startling realization that he couldn’t move his right arm.

“What the--?”

There was a woman nestled close to him on the right, one of her arms and a leg draped heavily over his body. He could feel her soft skin pressed gently against the length of his side and, although her face was hidden underneath a pile of long brown hair, he could feel her breath against his chest. His thoughts immediately turned to the bar, calling into action the faded memories of a late-night bender with the other members of his band to commemorate their arrival to town.

He glanced again at the woman wrapped around him, careful not to wake her. Who was she? His mind rapidly searched for the answer, replaying the evening’s events over and over again. A deep sigh escaped his lips, nothing seemed worse than forgetting her name.
Shit, what was her name?
He hated when this happened.

Suddenly, visions of a beautiful brunette—long legs and striking eyes, talking, laughing, a celebratory toast—they all came crashing back. The corners of his mouth hitched momentarily as he concluded he’d made out good. Still, he had a decision to make; stay and play it cool, maybe even try and squeeze in a morning session with this beautiful stranger before he took off or, the more indiscreet, but customary, sneak-out.

Choosing the latter, Tyler slowly pulled his arm from underneath her body, wary not to disturb her. He eased his shoulder to the left, gently shifting beneath her weight, but the soft murmur of her voice announced her return from slumber sooner than he would like.

“Mmmm,” she moaned, brushing her hair aside to reveal her face.

He tried not to move, hoping she would fall back asleep long enough for him to slip away. A moment later, her eyes opened; at first slowly, followed by a smile. He had no choice but to greet her.

“Good morning,”

Her brown eyes grew wide with fear. They shared a brief moment of blank stares. “Oh my god!” She screamed, kneeing him in the thigh as she rose to her feet in a flash, taking the blanket with her. “Omigod,
omigod!
”

“Ouch, fuck!” Tyler groaned, gritting his teeth and grabbing his leg. “You didn’t have to kick me!”

“I’m sorry,” she told him. “Oh god, this isn’t what it looks like. Shit!” She fumbled with one of the blankets, trying to wrap herself in it hurriedly. It was too late; he had already seen her bra and panties. “Omigod, I’m so sorry, it’s just that--”

“Wow, was it that bad?” he moaned under his breath, wincing at the aching pain in his thigh. She got him good.

“I didn’t kick you,” she continued. “I hit you. Well, I mean—Oh god, I’m sorry!”

The word
hit
triggered something inside him; memories of a horrific beating flooded his mind – a warehouse, two goons, a woman.

Tyler blinked hard, shaking it off like he would a terrible dream.

“This is bad,” she kept on. “I know this looks really horrible, but it’s not what it seems. I promise.”

Her nervousness was starting to make him feel nervous. “He’d had his fair share of awkward morning-afters, but he had never seen a woman act like this. “Relax,” he told her, struggling to push past his agony to try and calm her. “Look, I get it. I’ll go. But you don’t have to freak out. People do this all the time, ya know.”

“Do
what?!
” she snapped, and waited for him to answer. A beat later, she realized his reference. “Oh no, no, no, no! Oh
gawd
no! I wouldn’t. I mean, we didn’t—”

Tyler laughed off her denial, but he had heard enough. He knew when he wasn’t welcome to stick around for breakfast. He tried to get up, but the sting cut through his leg like fire, forcing him to double over; and, it brought back with it, one last memory—he had been shot.

What? When?
The warehouse crossed his mind. He reached up and touched his face to confirm the damage from the brawl. It was real. Suddenly, he had visions of someone shooting at him. He remembered running. He recalled the woods. But how did he get
here
? And who was the half-naked woman standing in front of him? A better look at her now confirmed she wasn’t the woman from the bar. He blinked again.
What the fuck happened last night?

“What--uh, where--?” He sighed, trying to focus his thoughts. It was all so confusing. He had more questions than answers, but the pain fogged his concentration. He took a deep breath and tried again. “
Who
are you?”

“Who? Me? I’m the one who saved your life,” she barked matter-of-factly. “Well, actually, I almost killed you first. But then I saved your life,” pointing to his leg. “Go ahead, see for yourself.” 

Tyler looked down. He was beaten pretty badly. His body looked as if he’d swallowed one giant bruise. His eyes moved down to his thigh where he found the wound on his leg, cleaned and sewn.

“Wait, so we didn’t—” he started to ask, but cut himself short. His eyes dropped meaningfully along the blanket she was hiding behind.

“No,” she growled. “You were freezing to death, I was trying to keep you warm, you idiot!” The look on her face told him she wasn’t remotely interested in him that way, though he didn’t quite believe her, even when she angrily motioned for him to cover up. “Um, do you mind?”

“Oh, sorry,” he appeased her, grabbing the blanket beneath him and pulling the corners up and over his manly bits. “Then, how’d I get here?”

The woman sighed, pulling her blanket tight around her shoulders as she plopped down on an old sofa behind her. He watched as a plume of dust rose from the cushions and a deeper sigh blew it away. “I hit you,” she admitted. The weight of her confession physically lifted from her chest as she spoke. “With my jeep.” She pulled her feet up off the floor and tucked them under her blanket. “You really don’t remember, do you?”

Tyler shook his head.

The woman caught her breath and continued. “I was heading up the pass and it started coming down pretty bad. Worse than I expected. The roads were all iced up and I was sliding all over the place. I just wanted to get here, ya know? I looked down for a split-second and then—”

She paused. It looked like she was replaying the whole incident in her head.

“And then I put you in my jeep and brought you here,” she finally concluded.

Tyler was pretty sure she was leaving out some key details to spare him—like the moment of impact, for one, and where they were, exactly.

“So where’s here?” he asked reluctantly, choosing not to press the details of his injuries as he looked around the room. His eyes instantly fixed on a shotgun propped against the arm of the couch, resting only a few inches away from where she sat. He got an uneasy feeling.

“My grandma’s.”

Tyler arched his brow. He was certain he didn’t know where her grandma lived.

“The Adirondacks?” she added.

He knew of them, but it didn’t tell him much. His eyes took in the room again. There was no sign of Grandma. In fact, the place appeared to be somewhat abandoned. Still, he grabbed the corners of the blanket and, suddenly feeling a bit more vulnerable, covered himself. “Your Grandma’s not here, is she?”

“No.”

“Then what are you doing up here?” Tyler felt fit to ask. The whole situation was starting to feel more and more suspicious.

“I should be asking you that question,” she snapped. “I’m not the one who was running around naked on the mountain last night. I’d ask if that’s normal for you, but I already got the impression it is.”

“Ouch,” he retorted. “That’s harsh.”

“Well—” she began, but he cut her off. He had no desire to tell her what little truth he knew.

“Okay, okay,” he waved his hand, hoping to stop the conversation. “I suppose that was fair. But it’s not what you think. We’ll just leave it at that. If you can loan me some clothes, I’ll get out of your hair and leave you to whatever it is you’ve got going on here at Grandma’s.”

“Good luck,” she teased. “You
can’t
leave.”

That uneasy feeling returned to his stomach. He immediately glanced at his feet. Though he hadn’t noticed they were tender before, part him just needed to make sure she hadn’t gone all Kathy Bates on him.

“Snow,” she nodded toward the window; her words alleviating some of his worry. “Looks like two feet already.”

Tyler’s attention turned toward the window. The sky was overcast; dark enough to be dusk already, and the snow was piling on top of itself. He noticed a vehicle parked outside, the antenna and some fog lights peeked above the snow.

“Oh shit, that’s not good,” Tyler mumbled aloud. A slow panic crept up his throat as he realized the countdown to the full moon had already begun.

“Tell me about it,” she mocked, standing. “Looks like you’re going to be here awhile Mister—what’d you say your name is?”

“Tyler.”

“Tyler, huh?” She looked like she wanted to smile, but did a good job of holding it in. “Alright Mr.
Tyler
, since it looks like you’ll be staying a little longer than we both anticipated, I’m gonna to need you to put some clothes on.” She looked him over in a way that made him feel cheap and underdressed, “I’ll get you something to wear and then I’ll make us both something to eat. I’m sure you’re probably hungry.”

“Starved,” now that he thought about it.

It wasn’t until she left the room
that he realized he hadn’t asked for her name. He glanced around the room for clues, but was immediately drawn to the fireplace instead. He struggled to rise to his feet, careful not to place any added pressure on his right leg, and secured the blanket around his waist. He hobbled a few paces, determined for warmth, and moved a piece of firewood into the hearth.

A small fire soon crackled and smoked as he rested his arm on the mantle and admired the glow.
He surrendered a deep and guttural sigh, realizing that it had been days since he could enjoy even a moment of relief.

Tyler’s eyes wandered again, looking for clues to the woman and her story. His fleeting comfort was cut short by curiosity as he noticed a set of dusty, old frames leaning upright against the mantle. He wiped away the veil of soot from one of the images, revealing what appeared to be a family photo. A young girl stood center, holding a beaver upside down by its hind legs. A man and a woman stood beside her, smiling like prideful parents.

“Hunters,” he mumbled under his breath. A smirk grew across his lips as he glanced back at the shotgun. “That explains it.”

Feeling somewhat relieved, he moved on to the next photograph. It bore an image of an older woman with a gentle smile, arms around a young girl—perhaps a teenager already—as she, too, smiled for the camera. Both women’s hair and facial features faintly resembled the woman he had just met.