Lonely Alpha (3 page)

“You can use my phone once we get there.” He
started forward, striding out of the woods and back onto the road
again.

A chill raced down Mandy’s spine as gunshot
echoed in her memory. She followed him, not stopping until he
reached the edge of the forest on the other side of the road.

“I know a shortcut. I can have us at my cabin
in fifteen…” He cast a discerning glance at Mandy’s hiking boots.
“Twenty minutes.”

She trampled after him, trying unsuccessfully
to walk silently like he did. How did he do it? She glanced down at
his feet. They were bare. She was following a bare-footed stranger
through the dark woods to his isolated cabin. Had she lost her
mind? She gripped her gun tight, breaking into a light sweat as she
thought of the hunter scouring the woods on the other side of the
road. Could he be hunting people? Could he be hunting her? Every
late-night TV special on serial killers she’d ever seen flashed
through her mind. Before she knew it, she was coming up with
nicknames for the unknown criminal. Maybe the police would call him
the Smoky Mountain Killer. Or the Mountain Man. Wait – no, she’d
already assigned that little moniker to the guy in front of her. “I
hope you know I’m not giving up my gun – inside your cabin or
out.”

“Fine.” His answer was barely audible.

Mandy’s spine prickled as she tried once
again to assume the stealth mode he’d slipped into so easily. He
moved silently and effortlessly, like a ghost slipping through the
trees. A well-muscled ghost that smelled of pine and raw
masculinity. Maybe he really was a crazy mountain man. He seemed
more at home among the trees and their shadows than she could
possibly imagine him being indoors. “What’s your name, anyway?”

“Jack Bryant.” He answered in a clipped tone
that stunted his usual southern drawl. Clearly, he thought
conversation time was over.

She followed him as quietly as she could
manage in her clunky hiking boots, musing over the scrap of
information he’d granted her. Of course his name was Jack. It was
simple, rugged and manly. What else would a possibly crazy mountain
man be named? She restrained a snort, remembering their unseen
enemy. “I’m Mandy Foster,” she offered, whispering.

He grunted his acknowledgement, the sound so
low it was almost a growl. Mandy cut him a little slack, since
there
was
the harrowing possibility that they were being
hunted by a cold-blooded killer. She’d ask questions when they
reached his cabin. How he’d found her by the side of the road would
be question number one. She gripped her gun a little tighter. What
had drawn him out of his cabin and to where she’d parked for the
night?

Jack stopped in his tracks.

Lost in suspicious thoughts, Mandy tripped
and collided with his back.

“What the—” He whirled, growling, to face
her.

She gasped as he caught her windmilling arms,
preventing her from bouncing off of him and falling into the
underbrush below. Instead, she was caught against his bare chest.
His surprising heat warmed her instantly, as if her t-shirt were
nothing. A strange look passed through his eyes as he stared down
his nose at her, and for a moment, she could have sworn his irises
were pure, liquid gold. “Sorry,” she huffed, struggling against his
grip.

Seemingly oblivious to her efforts, he
continued to hold her wrists, binding them tightly with one large
hand. “Are you wearin’ some kinda perfume?”

“No…” His unexpected question threw her
senses off kilter, and for half a moment, she nearly lost herself
in the heady pleasantness of his smell. As for her own scent, she’d
foregone her usual make-up and spritz of perfume that morning, as
she hadn’t been counting on meeting anyone that day.

The dazed look vanished from his eyes, and he
focused at once, looking…strange. Stranger than usual. Scarily
strange. “Let me go!” She jerked her wrists, and this time they
slid from his grasp easily. Stumbling backward a few steps, she
took deep, cleansing breaths, trying to rid her lungs of his rich
scent. It was having a strange effect on her; that natural, woodsy
perfume he’d acquired from his time alone in the mountains. He
smelled like a man completely at home in the wild. It was a raw
smell; primal and slightly intoxicating in its simplicity… “I’m an
idiot,” she mumbled under her breath, shaking her head and
squeezing her eyes shut, trying to forget the way his hot body had
felt against hers.

“You dropped your gun.”

When Mandy looked up, Jack held her .22 in
his hand, pointed directly at her.

“You!” She jumped backward another yard or
so, breathlessly mumbling obscenities.

He simply stood still, arm outstretched, the
weapon gleaming in the moonlight that filtered through the forest
canopy.

Then she noticed that he held it by the
barrel, pointing it at himself as he offered her the handle. Her
cheeks burning, she hastily took the gun.

He turned his back to her. “We’re here,” he
said gruffly, then stepped through a veil of pine branches,
disappearing.

After a moment’s hesitation, Mandy followed
him, emerging in the small clearing that housed his cabin. He
marched across the modest yard and she followed, not stopping until
they climbed the porch steps and reached the front entrance. Jack
pulled the screen door open and shot an expectant look at her over
his shoulder, as if sensing her reluctance to enter. “I don’t
reckon you came all this way to spend the night on my porch.”

Sighing something unintelligible, she
followed him inside, trying not to shudder at the soft sound of him
easing the door shut behind her.

It was dark inside the cabin. Curtains must
have been drawn over the windows, because little moonlight had made
its way in. “Is there a light in here?” She began feeling along the
nearest wall for a switch.

“Don’t.” He captured her wrist, wrapping his
fingers around her slender bones. “The light would be like a beacon
to whoever’s out there.”

It was true. A sinking feeling settled into
the pit of her stomach, but she was buoyed by the thought of
calling the police. “Where’s your phone?”

He relinquished his hold on her wrist, and
her skin felt hot where he’d touched her. His footsteps were soft
against the floorboards as he crossed the room. “I’ve got it right
here.” He began to dial.

Finally, he was doing something reasonable.
“You’re calling the police, right?”

“That’s what you want, isn’t it? I reckon
they’ll send someone to fetch you if I explain about the
trees.”

“Yes,” she said emphatically, her hope
surging at the idea of being off the mountain and safely ensconced
in a motel room for the night.

Beep.
Beep
. And then
silence.

“Is something wrong?” It was quiet enough for
her to hear, even from a few yards away, that the phone wasn’t
ringing.

“Phone’s not working.” Mandy’s stomach sunk,
and then Jack said the one thing that could have made her feel even
worse. “Maybe the line’s been cut.”

“Do you really think…” She clutched her gun
tightly.

“I don’t know,” he said. “I’ll go outside and
investigate after you’re safe in bed.”

A strangled sort of sound escaped her throat.
“So I’m just supposed to spend the night in here with you in the
dark?”

“You can have my room – there’s a lock on the
door. I’ll stay out here.” He put down the phone and walked to her
side, touching her wrist again, as if he meant to guide her through
the darkness.

After a few moments she sighed and nodded her
consent, eager to put a door and lock between herself and Jack,
whose heat was suffusing her, making her feel as if she’d suddenly
caught a fever. Her head spun a little as he guided her through the
dark interior of the cabin, maintaining his steady grip on her
wrist. Hinges squeaked faintly as he pushed a door open. “Here we
are. The bed’s right in front of you.”

She found the bed when she tripped over it,
banging her shin on the footboard as she pitched forward, bracing
herself against the mattress with her free hand and losing her gun
in the process. Jack caught her around the waist, looping one arm
below her breasts, saving her from face-planting into the mattress.
A strong shiver raced down her spine, causing her to spend a few
moments trembling in his hold before she regained her senses.
“Thanks. I’m fine.” She struggled out of his grip before he could
speak and quickly snatched up her gun. “I’ll be fine.
Goodnight.”

“’Night then.”

She listened to the sound of his footsteps,
counting them until she figured he was at the door.

He paused. “And Mandy?”

“Yes?”

“Keep your gun handy, just in case.” He
exited, pulling the door shut behind himself.

Mandy hurried blindly across the room,
feeling her way around the door until she found the lock. After
securing it, she climbed into his bed, where she was assaulted by
his concentrated scent. Visions of pine boughs, freshly crushed
needles and golden eyes whirled through her mind as her cheek
touched his pillow. This was not going to work.

Tossing the pillow aside, she laid her head
on the sheet, which was a little less saturated with his earthy
smell. She’d sleep on top of the blankets tonight, too frightened
of what she’d dream about if she climbed between them. After making
sure the safety was on, she slipped her gun beneath the pillow
beside her. Then, curling so that her still-booted feet scraped
across the blankets, she closed her eyes. When she finally fell
asleep, Jack and his scent permeated her dreams despite her efforts
to avoid them both.

****

Mandy emerged slowly from the haze of sleep,
the scent of pine needles at the forefront of her mind. She was in
the woods, tucked deep into the seemingly endless Smoky Mountains.
With a possible killer. She sat up with a start, expecting to hit
her head on the roof of her car. But she didn’t. Instead, she found
herself staring wide-eyed around an unfamiliar room.

Jack’s bedroom. Of course. Memories from the
night before flooded back to her, and she stared in surprise at the
sunlight filtering through the rust-colored curtains that hung over
the room’s single window. The night had passed, and she’d slept
through it like a baby, lost in dream-land. A shiver zipped down
her spine as a scrap of a dream teased her memory, gone as soon as
she’d sensed it. The fantasy had evaporated, but she could still
smell fresh sap and newly-crushed pine needles. She needed to get
out of Jack’s bed.

Swinging her feet over the edge of the
mattress, she stood, stretching and pulling her .22 out from under
the spare pillow. Now that the new day had arrived, bathing the
mountains in light, the gun didn’t seem as necessary as it had mere
hours ago. Still, she held onto it. She’d keep it handy, just in
case, until she escaped the mountain and reached the safety of the
little town nestled in its foothills. The first thing she intended
to do was check to see if Jack’s phone was working. If it was,
she’d call the police. If not, she’d hike down the mountain, making
the long journey to town. Surely she’d be safe on the road in broad
daylight, even if there was a criminal on the loose – she had her
gun, after all. Maybe Jack would spare her a cup of coffee – or
better yet, tea – before she left. Easing the lock undone, she
opened the door.

“Good Lord!” she hissed under her breath,
more a plea for divine aid than a curse. She swung the door
almost-shut as quickly as she dared, afraid that the sound of it
latching closed would wake the sleeping monster curled on the
floorboards in the room beyond. After leaning against the wall and
breathing deeply until her heart slowed just a little, she dared to
peer through the crack she’d left.

The dormant beast was a mass of dark brown
fur, flecked here and there with streaks of black and white. It lay
on a pile of blankets against the back wall in what appeared to be
a combined living area and kitchenette. Even curled into a tight
ball, it was twice the size of any dog Mandy had ever known. The
tip of its muzzle was just visible, tucked into its chest, and its
eyes were squeezed shut. The thing looked like a wolf, or a coyote
on steroids. Leave it to a crazy mountain man to have a gigantic,
possibly feral and probably illegal canine like this in his living
room. Mandy breathed deeply as she stared at the creature, her
stomach plummeting. She was alone with the animal. A quick visual
sweep of the cabin’s main room confirmed it. Unless Jack was in the
bathroom – wherever that was. But no…several moments of hard
listening yielded no sound, save for the steady draw-and-release of
the huge canine’s breathing. Not so much as a single drop of water
dripped, and Mandy’s alarm increased with each passing second.

At least she had her gun. If the thing woke
up and tried to maul her…she tried not to think about how long it
might take the creature to claw its way through the bedroom door,
even if she did lock it. It would probably smell her as soon as it
woke up. Where the hell was Jack, and why had he abandoned her when
he’d thought there was a possible criminal on the loose? Maybe he
trusted his pet to protect her, but it was probably just as much of
a threat to her as any other stranger. Did he expect her to wait
calmly in his bedroom until he returned?

Unfortunately, it didn’t look like she had
much of a choice. After easing the bedroom door shut as quietly as
she could, she collapsed onto the bed with a sigh, caressing the
cold steel of her gun. What kind of mess, exactly, had she gotten
herself into? She contemplated that question for quite a while as
she laid there, her stomach rumbling lowly and her bladder growing
increasingly uncomfortable. “I have to get out of here.” She rolled
out of bed, heading for the door once again.