Chapter 7
7
T essa was startled from her sleep, her heart hammering in her chest. Something was wrong.
What?
She held her breath and listened.
The rain had stopped. But then the distant echo of tires on the gravel lane stilled her heart.
Had Marty found her? Worse, had Damien?
The thought sent a fresh wave of terror through her.
She jumped out of bed. Her hand trembled as she grabbed her car keys and purse and slung the strap across her body. She had one chance to get out of here and escape.
Since early Sunday morning, she’d holed up in the cabin trying to relax. It didn’t appear anyone used it much, considering how much dust had accumulated. Now as Monday night closed in, she hoped to spend one more night here and move on.
The feeling that she might be safe for a short time until she decided where to go and what to do gave her a little peace.
But now that illusion was shattered.
She listened as the tires crunched in front of the cabin, getting closer. Then the engine turned off.
Silence.
Had Damien’s men found her? She was sure Marty hadn’t followed her. If not them, then who? Her pulse quickened.
Tessa didn’t dare look out the window.
The porch creaked.
Her heart was thumping so fast, she had a hard time catching her breath.
Tessa stood rigid by the door, out of sight from the window. She wanted to run, but the cabin only had that one door in or out. She looked around the living room for a weapon to defend herself.
The book on the sofa wouldn’t help. Maybe a lamp? Too bulky. Then she remembered the frying pans in the kitchen. She darted to the kitchen and grabbed one, crab-walked back and positioned herself behind the door, the pan clutched tightly in her hands.
She wished she’d kept the chair blocking the door there.
Whoever was here was just standing by the door, barely breathing.
Bile slithered up her gut, and she swallowed hard.
No time to be sick. She had to save herself.
The door creaked open, slow and deliberate. Then silence.
Tessa gripped the pan so tightly her knuckles ached. She held her breath, praying whoever it was couldn’t hear her wild heartbeat.
The person took another step in.
Summoning every last bit of courage, Tessa swung the frying pan with all her strength, hitting something solid.
“Fuck!” a man’s voice. Not Marty’s but unfamiliar.
The man grunted and stumbled forward. Tessa swung again. He crashed to the floor with a heavy thud, groaning in pain.
Without hesitation, she leapt over his prone body, not caring if he was dead or alive. Well, hopefully not dead. Killing people wasn’t in her DNA.
She ran out of the cabin and rushed around to the back. With trembling hands, she unlocked her car door and shoved the key in the ignition.
Ford stirred with the biggest headache ever. What the fuck happened?
All he remembered was driving up to his cabin, which was about an hour’s drive from Haywood Lake off the main thoroughfare, along a winding road and then onto an unpaved lane. He’d stopped at the Grab & Go. The little market always smelled musty and of fried foods, but it carried everything from food to fish bait to shotgun shells and condoms. He picked up some beer, burgers, bread, eggs, butter, and a couple of pre-made sandwiches. Easy peasy.
The gravel crunched under his tires as he arrived at the cabin. He’d stepped out of his truck and breathed in the cool air, which smelled of fresh dirt and pine needles, and reached for the food he’d purchased. The woods surrounding his cabin were dark, and other than some scritches in the underbrush and hooting, it was quiet. Peaceful. He felt the tension in his body disappear.
But something wasn’t right.
The hair on the back of his neck prickled—an instinct honed by years of military training. His gut tightened. Someone was here.
Ford stared at the cabin. The porch light was on as usual. The rest of the cabin was dark. But…
Placing the food back in the truck, he silently made his way to the front door. At first glance, things appeared fine, but something seemed odd. Ford bent over and realized the lock was broken.
Reaching for his gun, he cursed. Then remembered he’d packed it in his go-bag. Great.
No matter. He didn’t need a gun. Whoever or whatever was in the cabin he could take out with his bare hands. Unless it was a bear. Then he’d run for the safety of his truck. His mama didn’t raise a fool.
Taking a deep breath, he slowly opened the door, the hinges creaking. Darkness. He stood there for a moment, listening. Silence.
Taking one more step inside, he stared into the cabin.
And that’s when it hit him—a swish of wind followed by a sharp pain. He stumbled forward. Then the pain struck again. And then he felt the hard floor and then brief darkness.
Fuck this. Ford stood, groaned as he rubbed his head and listened. Whoever did this was going to wish they hadn’t.
Click. Click.
The car wouldn’t start. Panic gripped Tessa as she banged on the steering wheel in frustration. Tried the ignition again. Nothing. The battery was dead. Tears fell from her face.
She swallowed a sob. She had to get out of the car. And do what? Make a run into the woods? And expect to get out of here alive?
Before she could finish that thought, a shadow loomed beside the car. The door was yanked open.
She screamed, scrambling to get over to the passenger side, but strong hands grabbed her arm and not too gently pulled her out.
She kicked and thrashed at him, but he was too strong. When he avoided her kicks, she tried to bite his arm, hit him. But he wrapped his arms around her, trapping them to her side.
“Let me go, you beast.” Tessa struggled as hard as she could, but she couldn’t break the iron grip he had.
“Calm down,” he murmured against her ear. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
That’s what they all say.
Tessa wanted to believe that—honestly, she did—and would have in another life, but not now. Especially not after Damien. Besides, how could she know Damien hadn’t sent him?
“I’m not going back,” she pleaded. “I promise not to say a word.”
The man sighed, his grip loosening enough to just hold her arm. His brows furrowed. “Okaaay.”
“Please don’t hurt me.”
Now his eyes flashed in anger. “Lady, do you think I would strike a woman? What do you take me for?”
He sounded insulted. Tessa shook her head. “I don’t know you or what you’re capable of.”
The man sighed. “Look, I’m tired. It’s late. Why don’t you come back into the cabin and tell me what’s going on?”
She glared at him. “How do I know that you’re not a serial killer or that you’re not going to hurt me?”
The man smirked. “If I were, you’d be dead already, especially with your mouth.” Stepping back, he raised his hands. “I don’t hurt women.”
“Humph.” Tessa didn’t know what to make of this new situation. First, she had to somehow find out if this man worked for Damien and then figure out how to get away from the cabin.
He kept his hand on her arm as they slowly walked back to the cabin. The door was still flung open. He tsked as he led her back into the cabin and closed the door.
“Sit.”
It wasn’t an invitation as much as an order. Tessa perched stiffly on the edge of the chair and watched as the man took a moment to get himself under control and then sit on the sofa.
“Talk to me.”
He was a man of few words. Tessa would have laughed in any other situation.
She took a good look at him.
Tall, well, a lot taller than her five feet four. Dark hair cut short, chocolate-brown eyes that radiated anger. He had on a black T-shirt over powerful muscles with, oh my God, colorful tattoos going up each arm. Her mouth went dry.
Was he part of Damien’s gang? Now that she thought about it, maybe not. Those men were slick and wore expensive suits.
He looked like someone who built things. Someone who protected. Still, she had to be careful about what she said.
“Well, since you’re not saying much, let’s start with why you’re in my cabin.”
“Ummm.” Shit. What to say? “My car broke down, and I needed a place to stay.”
The man shook his head. “Let’s try that again.”
Damn.
His jaw tightened. “First of all, my cabin is in the middle of nowhere. You must have thought your car would start, otherwise you would have run off into the woods instead of trying to start it. Then you struck me. If you weren’t afraid, you would have just told me what happened. Then you promised not to say something.”
He frowned and gestured with his hands. “So?”
Tessa took a deep breath but couldn’t stop her hands from trembling. Think!
The man sighed. “Okay. Let’s start with something simple. My name is Ford. What’s yours?”
For a moment, Tessa wondered if she should give him a made-up name, then decided not to. Deception was not her middle name, and she’d probably forget what name she gave him anyhow. Especially if it was Deception.
“Tessa.”
“So, Tessa, what’s going on here?”
She bit her lip. No way was she mentioning Damien and the mob. Hopefully, Ford wouldn’t kick her out of the cabin until her car was fixed and she had a plan. She hesitated. Should she tell him or lie? “I’m running away from my abusive boyfriend.”
Ford looked shocked, then angry. “Is he from here?”
Tessa shook her head. “No, he’s in Georgia.”
“Did he follow you?”
“Part of the way. I lost him coming to the cabin.”
Ford nodded to himself. “That’s good.”
Tessa went on a little more about this abusive boyfriend. No way in hell was she telling him more about Damien or Marty. First off, it was enough that she was on their radar, and second, she didn’t want to involve anyone else. Damien would have no problem killing Ford as well as her.
He leaned back on the sofa and steepled his hands. Sighed. “Okay, here’s the deal. How about you stay here for a day or so? We’ll check your car tomorrow.” He yawned and rubbed his face. “I’m beat.”
Tessa felt a flicker of hope. He wasn’t part of Damien’s gang, so she had a day or so to get her shit together.
Ford stood. “I’m going to grab something from the truck. Can I trust you not to do something stupid like run away or attack me again?”
Tessa stared at the frying pan still on the floor. “Yes. I’m sorry about that.”
Shaking his head, he picked up the frying pan and brought it back to the kitchen.
She sat there watching Ford step outside.
She had no choice but to stay, uncertain whether she was safer or in even more danger.