Chased by the Mountain Man

2

Trent

I can hear the buzz of traffic nearby as I wend my way through the trees, keeping my eyes peeled. I don’t usually walk this far down the mountain, but now that the weather is clearing up, I can cover more ground. Spring is a great time for foraging around Snowfall Ridge. Hunting for mushrooms might not sound like everybody’s idea of a good time, but it helps me keep my mind off shit that I’d rather not think about. That’s civilian life in a nutshell: I spend all my time in the forest trying to outpace my demons.

Sometimes it works. Mostly it doesn’t.

I absentmindedly run a thumb down the scar on my face, brushing the rough, uneven skin as I follow the slope of the forest downward. Touching the scar is a bad habit that I just can’t kick. I hate the damn thing. Not because of how it looks; I’m not a vain guy, and I don’t give a shit if my scar is ugly. I hate it because it’s a reminder of the worst day of my life. A permanent mark that will never let me escape the things I saw in Syria.

“Fuck,” I mutter, stopping in my tracks and running a hand over my face. It still haunts me. I’m in the middle of a forest in Colorado, thousands of miles away from Syria, but when I close my eyes it’s like I’m still there, lying in the rubble, my ears ringing from the explosion.

I stand there for a while, lost in dark memories, before a noise yanks me back to the present. Something is streaking through the forest behind me. I whip around and catch a glimpse of a dark figure disappearing into the trees. A second later, two more people burst into the woods, their shouts echoing over the hum of traffic.

“STOP RUNNING!” one of them cries. “POLICE! STAY WHERE YOU ARE!”

Instinctively, I jump into action. I barrel through the trees toward the running figures. As I approach, I finally make out their cop uniforms. One of them slows down when he hears me coming behind them, and I recognize him instantly as David Goodman. We served together years ago before he joined the police force.

“Trent!” he shouts when he sees me, beckoning me forward. “Get over here! We’ve got a suspect on the run!”

The other cop turns to look at me, but I don’t recognize him. He’s panting hard, red in the face as he says, “Dave, this guy’s not a cop.”

“He knows these woods like the back of his damn hand!” Dave snaps. “And he’s the fastest son-of-a-bitch I ever met.” He looks at me urgently. “Go on!”

I nod and take off through the trees. I’m a big guy, built like a grizzly bear, but Dave’s right: I’m faster than I look. The trees are dense around here and it can be hard to see even a few feet in front of you, but I know how to track, so I follow the signs—the cracked branches, the subtle sounds of somebody moving around up ahead. Dave and the other cop are still running, but I’m already way in front of them, and I soon catch sight of a dark figure crouching down in a bush off to my left.

“Playtime’s over, buddy,” I grunt as I circle the bush, springing out before the suspect can escape.

Holy shit.

I was expecting a guy. Maybe even a hardened criminal. I sure as hell wasn’t expecting…her.

The most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen is crouching in the bush. Her pretty green eyes are wide with terror as she looks up at me, tears streaming down her pale face. She’s trembling all over. Angry red cuts streak her arms from where she’s been caught by brambles and branches, and my heart sinks as I take her in. She looks so damn vulnerable. So scared.

I don’t care what she’s done or why she’s running from the cops; all I know is I need to protect her. I need to keep her safe. Dave is a good friend, but I can’t let him take this girl away from me. No fucking way.

I don’t have long. I can hear Dave and the other cop approaching fast.

“Stay low,” I mutter urgently. “If they see you, get ready to run. Otherwise don’t move and don’t make a sound.”

The girl blinks at me like a deer caught in headlights, but she nods and crouches lower in the bush. Immediately, I dart away from it, and when I catch sight of Dave I hurry toward him, cutting him off.

“Where is she?” Dave pants.

“Sorry, buddy,” I say. “Lost her. She must have taken a different path. Maybe she even doubled back to the road.”

Dave and his colleague groan.

“Goddammit. Alright, well this is a waste of time,” Dave says firmly. “Let’s go back and secure the vehicle, then take the cocaine back to the station for processing. Ms. Phillips can’t hide in the woods forever.”

I make a mental note of his words: Ms. Phillips, cocaine, vehicle. It’s enough for me to get an idea of why the girl was being chased by the cops.

“Sorry I couldn’t be of more help,” I grunt, giving Dave a quick slap on the shoulder.

“Thanks for trying anyway, Trent. Sorry to disturb your afternoon.”

The two cops hurry back the way they came, heading for the road. I wait until I’m sure they’re gone, my heart pounding as I creep back toward the bush, throwing a few glances over my shoulder. When I reach it, I look down and see the girl waiting exactly where I left her. She looks bewildered and just as terrified as before, but she doesn’t try to run.

“They’re gone,” I tell her.

She’s breathing hard, her voice shaking as she says, “You’re…you’re not a cop?”

I raise an eyebrow, gesturing down to my flannel shirt and jeans. “Do I look like a cop?”

The girl relaxes slightly, her shoulders slumping. “I thought maybe you were off-duty or something, and just happened to be in the woods.”

“I’m not a cop,” I say firmly. “And I’m not going to hurt you. But we need to get out of here in case they come back.”

The girl is instantly alert again, and I reach down to help her out of the bush. She winces as she pulls away from the sharp branches, but eventually she’s free, and she straightens up.

It’s not the moment to be noticing how fucking pretty she is, but I can’t help it. She looks like an angel with her emerald-green eyes and that plump little mouth. Her chocolate-brown hair flows past her shoulders, tangled with leaves and branches, which somehow only makes her look even more adorable. And her curves…holy shit. She might be petite in height, but her body is thick and full and sexy as hell.

Goddammit, Trent, pull yourself together.

I never usually check out women this way, and the one time I do, it’s when I’m meant to be helping her escape from the cops.

“My cabin is a twenty-minute walk up the hill,” I say, gesturing into the trees which slope steeply upward. “You’ll be safe there.”

The girl looks wary, and my stomach drops. She must be fucking terrified. She just resisted arrest, and now there’s a six-foot-six stranger with a scarred face towering over her in the middle of the forest.

“You don’t have to come with me,” I tell her firmly. “If you want, I can give you directions for how to get out of here without ending up back on the road. Hell, I can lead you out of here myself if you want. But whatever you do, don’t wait around too long in these woods. It’s not safe.”

The girl presses her lips together like she’s thinking, but eventually, she says, “Thanks. Your cabin would be great.”

I nod, trying not to betray how relieved I am. I want this girl to know that she’s safe with me. I want her to trust me. Usually, I don’t give a shit what people think, but it’s important to me that she feels comfortable by my side.

“What’s your name?” I ask as we begin the walk up the wooded slope.

“Jasmine.” She shoots me a quick look. “You?”

Damn, even her name is pretty.

“Trent.”

“Well, Trent, thanks for everything,” she says with a sigh. “You really saved my neck back there.”

I grunt, thinking back to what Dave said about Jasmine. Something about cocaine and a vehicle. It’s hard to imagine the sweet angel beside me taking drugs, but she’s young. Early-twenties. It’s not exactly unheard of for college students to party a little too hard.

I’m about to ask her more about what happened when I hear a rustle somewhere nearby. The hairs on my neck stand on end and I instinctively freeze, holding out a hand to stop Jasmine in her tracks. It might be nothing. A bird or some other harmless critter. But I’m on edge as we keep walking. Jasmine is struggling to keep up with my strides, panting hard as we climb up the hill.

“You want me to carry you?”

She laughs a little between breaths but stops when she looks at my face. “You’re serious?”

“I’m always serious.”

There’s another rustle. This time Jasmine hears it too. I see her flinch, her brow furrowing anxiously.

“I…” she begins. “No, I’m way too heavy for you to carry all the w—”

I don’t let her finish. The noises have me spooked, and I’m not taking any risks. For all I know, Dave is back with a whole damn search team, and I can’t let them take Jasmine. I hoist her over my shoulder with ease, carrying her fireman-style, and she yelps with surprise as I start to run.