Last Man Standing (His to Protect #3)

Chapter One

Vanessa Nava hadn’t planned to return to Texas as a broke divorcee.

Although the circumstances weren’t ideal, she was glad to be in her home state.

The last year in Denver had nearly broken her and she’d been desperate for a change of scenery.

Between her failed marriage, her stressful job, and the demands of raising a four-year-old daughter, she was dead tired.

She needed a vacation. She needed to breathe the country air and lift her face toward the sun.

It was time to pick up the pieces of her life and start over.

So here she was, back in her old stomping grounds of Lost Lake.

Vanessa had imagined her arrival as this incredible, Disney-like catharsis.

She pictured herself twirling in a field of flowers with Emily while birds burst into song.

Instead it was a still, moonless night, she’d been stuck in a traffic jam for hours, and the only thing about to burst was her bladder.

Despite her discomfort, she was pleased by the sight of the lakeside cabin she’d rented, with its rustic wooden shutters and wraparound porch, flanked by gnarled oak trees.

Even at night the place looked cozy and inviting.

Gravel crunched beneath her tires as she pulled into the parking space.

She’d booked the summer retreat on an abysmal Christmas Day, after a blizzard had left Denver buried in snow.

It had been a frigid winter in more ways than one.

She’d been homesick for the bone-melting heat of south Texas.

The rental unit was in a perfect location at the end of a row of similar properties, with a clear view of Lost Lake. It was part of a duplex with a shared porch and separate entryways. Judging by the lights in the windows, her neighbors were still awake.

She turned off the engine and glanced over her shoulder.

Her daughter, Emily, had fallen asleep in her car seat an hour ago.

Vanessa hoped to transfer her inside without waking her.

For now, she stayed motionless, listening to frogs croak and crickets chirp.

She’d grown up in Hill County, not far from this lake, so the sounds were comforting and familiar to her.

The warm evening air enveloped her like a mother’s embrace.

She closed her eyes and inhaled the faint aroma of desert sage.

With a happy sigh, she grabbed her phone.

Service was spotty in this remote area, but that was fine.

The cabin would have Wi-Fi. She decided to take a quick look around and use the restroom before she carried Emily inside.

The little girl had been spoiling for a temper tantrum all day.

Vanessa wanted to enjoy the silence while it lasted.

Climbing out of the vehicle, she stretched her arms overhead and rotated her sore neck.

The only other parking space was occupied by a battered work truck. The twangy chords of a Bob Marley song filtered through the open windows of the adjoining cabin. Vanessa hoped her neighbors weren’t rowdy college kids. She longed for peace and quiet.

Not that she had much choice in the matter.

She’d paid a hefty deposit and it was non-refundable.

A single-bedroom cabin within a stone’s throw of the lake was prime real estate in this area at the beginning of the summer season.

She was staying here with Emily for the next six weeks, regardless of the property’s other occupants.

If the music got too loud, she’d close the windows and stick in her earbuds.

As a last resort, she could call Jackson.

Having a cop for a brother had its perks.

It also had some drawbacks. Like most brothers, he was overprotective. She wasn’t sure what to tell him about the trouble she’d left behind in Denver. He wouldn’t judge her, but he’d ask questions and he wouldn’t be satisfied with half-answers. He always knew when she was withholding information.

Pushing those thoughts aside, she ascended the steps to the porch.

Her reservation was for Cabin 8. She veered toward the door on the right, away from the brightly lit windows and catchy reggae beat.

According to her instructions, the key was under the doormat.

This arrangement struck her as unsafe, but quaint.

Vanessa approached the dark space in front of the door.

There was no mat. No key.

She frowned and tried the doorknob. It turned easily.

Warning bells clanged in her mind, but she didn’t hesitate.

She stepped over the threshold and flipped a switch.

The porchlight turned on behind her. Although the interior remained gloomy, she could see well enough to realize something wasn’t right.

The living room had no furniture. No kitchen table, no living room couch, no décor whatsoever.

She’d booked a fully furnished single-bedroom cabin.

It was supposed to include all the amenities.

Photographs on the website had displayed a tidy space with basic appliances. This wasn’t basic; it was bare bones.

As she shuffled forward, hazy shapes on the living room floor came into focus. Rolls of torn-up carpet gave the macabre impression of stacked bodies and broken glass glittered among piles of debris. The place had been gutted. It looked more like a haunted house than a cheerful summer rental.

She gaped at the jumbled wreckage, her pulse racing with trepidation.

Had she been duped, or had she entered the wrong cabin?

Vanessa retreated carefully, as if she might disturb a ghost, or trip over a corpse, on her way out.

She returned to the threshold to search for clues.

There was a number embossed by the door, faded by age and covered with dust.

Seven.

She flattened her palm against her forehead. She had walked into the wrong place. But that meant …

Inhaling a sharp breath, she contemplated the cabin next door. The one that was currently occupied.

What the hell?

She walked that direction, passing an open window with the fluttering curtains.

Lights glowed from the interior and the radio continued to play.

This was Cabin 8, according to the signage.

There was a welcome mat with a sunflower on it.

She crossed her arms over her chest and peered through the screen.

“Hello?” she said into the void.

Mr. Reggae didn’t answer.

She glanced toward her SUV. She’d left the windows halfway down so she could see Emily in the back seat.

Her daughter was sleeping peacefully, her little head slumped to one side.

Vanessa turned back to the cabin. There must be a reasonable explanation.

Maybe the person inside was the owner, who’d stopped by to bring fresh towels, or some other amenity.

She placed her palm on the screen door, which gave under the slight pressure.

“Hello?” she said again, peering inside.

The cabin was neat as a pin, and looked just like the picture online.

She ventured forward to investigate. There was a bone-colored cowboy hat on the countertop.

Next to the hat she spotted a heavy-duty radio that appeared to have been designed for use at a construction site.

The kitchen boasted a simple round table and chairs.

She glanced into the living room, which was cozily furnished, but empty of people.

After taking three steps, she became aware of a faint noise, almost indiscernible because of the radio playing.

It was the steady hum of running water.

Someone was showering.

The sound triggered mild outrage, along with a strong urge to pee. She crossed her arms over her chest and tried to ignore her full bladder. She couldn’t use the restroom when there was a naked cowboy in it, hosing himself down.

Unbelievable.

With a huff of indignation, she turned and walked back onto the porch. She wasn’t going to confront a nude stranger in a private space. She could wait until he got dressed before she demanded answers. Pulling her phone from her pocket, she checked for service.

No bars. Great.

There was an interloper in her cabin, and she had no way of communicating the news to anyone.

Vanessa studied the sunflower-adorned doormat by the threshold. She toed it aside and crouched down for a closer look. There was a smear of rust, and a jagged outline, like the ghost of a metal key.

She straightened abruptly and felt a wave of fatigue so strong she swayed on her feet.

She needed to sit down before she fell down.

She descended the porch steps, sank into a sitting position and buried her face in her hands.

Although she felt like crying, the tears wouldn’t come.

It was as if she’d used all of the sadness allotted for one year, and had to wait for the well of sorrow to replenish.

After a few moments, she lifted her head.

The lake wasn’t visible from the front of the cabin, but she could imagine its calm, silvery surface.

Wind rustled through the leaves in the nearby tree and the SUV’s cooling system ticked in a steady rhythm.

The engine had been running hot since they crossed the border into Texas. She prayed it would restart.

“Mommy?”

Vanessa startled at the sound of her daughter’s voice. The little girl was awake in her car seat, rubbing her eyes with tiny fists. “What, baby?”

“I have to go potty.”

Vanessa sighed heavily. Of course she did. They both did. Their last pit stop had been in San Antonio.

“I have to go potty,” Emily repeated.

Vanessa rose from the step, dusted off her butt and returned to her vehicle.

She hoped they didn’t have to find alternative lodgings because she couldn’t afford it.

Her scheming ex-husband had drained her bank account.

The divorce lawyer took the rest. Also, there might not be vacancies anywhere.

Pickings were slim around here in early summer.

This was a popular recreation area for families and fishermen.

Emily unbuckled her seat belt. “I have to go now,” she said. “It’s a ’mergency.”

Vanessa studied the trees that lined the lakeshore.

They would have to squat behind a bush in the dark, where creepy-crawlies lurked.

She wondered if the person inside the cabin was finished showering.

Fresh indignation filled her at the thought of a strange man using her towels.

She opened the car door and searched for Emily’s shoes on the floor. Emily kicked her feet with impatience.

“Mommy!”

“What?”

“I saw a monster!”

Vanessa wrestled a miniature shoe onto a swinging foot. Her daughter had a wild imagination. “Where?”

“Behind you,” Emily said.

Vanessa glanced over her shoulder warily.

The truck she’d noticed before was parked less than twenty feet away, beneath an oak tree with branches that stretched out like phantom arms. The glow from the porchlights didn’t reach the space.

While Emily kicked her feet, ambient night sounds swirled around them. Then something moved.

Something big.

Vanessa captured Emily’s foot and held it still, as if staying motionless might prevent an attack from whatever was out there.

Mountain lions prowled the hills and valleys all over Texas.

They often struck from behind, dispatching prey with a vicious bite to the neck.

Coyotes were also common, but small and usually harmless.

The most dangerous beast was, of course, the two-legged variety.

Vanessa felt the sudden urge to grab her baby and run, but where would she go? Into the dark trees by the lake? To the next cabin over?

She couldn’t leave the safety of her vehicle.

The best option was to get inside the SUV, lock the doors, and drive away.

But she didn’t move, because she was afraid to draw attention to herself.

She was afraid of peeing her pants, too.

Swallowing hard, she gripped her daughter’s little shoe like a lifeline.

“Mommy?” Emily said.

“Shh.”

Vanessa released Emily’s foot and turned to face the threat.

Her pulse pounded in her ears as she made a shield with her body, arms out to her sides.

Nothing was getting between her and Emily.

Whatever it was, she wasn’t letting it near her daughter.

While she stood there like a goalkeeper, an outline emerged from the shadows.

A tall figure with broad shoulders, no longer concerned with stealth, strode toward her.

“Is it a monster?” Emily asked.

“No,” Vanessa said, her voice steady. “It’s a man.”