Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
Bennett
T his couldn’t have gone more perfectly if I’d planned it. Not only am I going to steal her kill, but I get to terrify her in the process. My only regret is that I won’t see the fear on her face when she wheels around and sees this masked figure with a chainsaw in his hands, then raises that pitiful screwdriver with a scream.
I step toward her, and she takes off into the woods. She doesn’t even look back to see if I’m chasing her, which means she’s in a blind panic.
Shit. Even if I’d had a plan, this wouldn’t have been part of it.
“Sorry we don’t have time to play,” I tell the man on the ground. “I need to go save the wildlife from Sleeping Booty over there. I’m sure you understand.”
The man starts wildly shaking his head, but then the shake turns to a spin as the growling treads melt through his neck. The head flies off behind his body, landing with a dull thud. His legs make a few weak movements that get weaker by the second, and then he stills.
I drop the chainsaw beside his body. While I’d love to leave Cat to freeze to death in the woods, Kindra wouldn’t like it if I let anything happen to her little pet. That’s why she kept me locked inside all morning. I’m not stupid.
And if Kindra isn’t happy, no one will be happy.
Cat’s footsteps are easy to follow. Even when the clouds begin to drop fat snowflakes on my head and the light begins to wane, I’m able to track her. She needs a few lessons in evasion if she ever wants to make something of herself.
The distance between each divot in the snow begins to shrink after a half hour, which means she’s getting winded. She’s slowing to a walk now. But then she surprises me. As the sun continues to dip, her path is harder to trace, and the increasing cold isn’t helping matters. Eventually, the footprints disappear altogether.
As I wrestle a small flashlight from my pocket, I realize just how frozen my toes and fingertips are. They’ve gone from cold to painful to numb, which means frostnip isn’t far off. If I’m in this shape, there’s no telling how bad off Cat is. I’ve been tracking her at a steady speed walk, but the girl has alternated between a full run and a jog, which means she’s likely doused herself in sweat.
That’s bad. That’s really bad.
“Hey!” I yell into the shadows. “If you can hear me, we need to head back!”
I stand still and hold my breath, listening for movement or any sort of reply. I hear nothing.
If the sun is going down, that means it’s past two o’clock, and that means I’ve been chasing this bitch for nearly two hours. That’s about an hour and forty-five minutes longer than I thought I’d have to chase her.
It’s time to face facts. She’s outsmarted me, but she’s doomed herself.
She won’t survive out here all night, especially if she’s collapsed somewhere. If I can’t find her, all that sweat will ensure she’s a blonde icicle by morning. I can’t stand the little twerp, but I don’t want her to die.
Who will I torment if she’s gone?
I stop walking and pull down the half-mask that covers the lower half of my face. “I’m not a killer, so you can come out now!” I shout. “Well, I am a killer, but I’m not going to kill you . This cold won’t be so kind, though, kitten!”
“Bennett?”
Her small voice comes from behind me, and I turn and find her a mere five feet away. All this time, I thought I’d lost her trail, but that was only because she’s been trailing me .
“How long have you been following me?” I ask.
Instead of a snappy comeback, she stumbles a step and catches herself on a tree trunk. With her face. Down she goes in a heap of pink and white.
“Fuck,” I grumble as I rush forward and drop to my knees beside her. I didn’t want to kill her, but I didn’t want to take care of her, either. I should have just stayed at the mansion.
A long scrape runs through the goggles covering her eyes, so I can only hope they took the brunt of the impact. If the girl loses any more brain cells, she’ll be in a real mess.
I smack her cheek a lot softer than I want to. “Hey, get up. If you can make it back to the snowmobile, I’ll drive us out of here.”
Her eyelashes flutter behind the scuffed plastic, but she doesn’t speak. I only hear her breathing, and it’s a little too quick and shallow for my liking.
Snow begins to fall again. Rebellious white flakes squeeze through the canopy and land on her pink jacket. Staying here isn’t an option anymore. Since she can’t walk under her own power, I guess I’ll have to carry her.
I get to my feet and bend down to scoop her up. If I only had to carry the girl, I’d be fine, but her snow gear makes doing everything more difficult. Typical Cat. She can’t even make her rescue simple.
Stumbling forward with an unwanted package in my arms, I do my best to retrace my steps through the snow. That would be a lot easier if I didn’t have so many factors working against me, such as fresh snowfall and another set of footprints to untangle from mine. Inevitably, we end up back where we started, and I don’t mean the ski lift.
Cat’s breathing hasn’t improved, and other than asking about her cat when I nearly tripped over a hidden log, she’s been silent. She’s likely suffering from hypothermia coupled with dehydration. She needs to get warm, first and foremost, and then I can melt snow to give her something to drink.
I stand still and look around. Yes, we’re definitely back at the tree where Cat popped out behind me. The piece of bark her goggles chipped from a towering pine is evidence of that.
The wood here is too wet for a fire. Even if I had time to craft a feather stick and some kindling, the humidity is just too high. Without a Ferro Rod, a friction fire is my only option, and that ain’t happening in these conditions.
Cat stirs in my arms and tilts her head to the side with a groan. “The cabin,” she whispers, and I almost don’t hear her.
“Yeah, there’s one out here, but I don’t know where it is. If I’m honest, I don’t even know where we are anymore.”
“That way.” Her hand drifts to the side, and she points to the spot where she came out of the woods behind me earlier.
Without another question, I pick up my aching legs and head in that direction. I’m glad my arms are numb, though. If I could feel them, they’d be screaming at me.
It’s not that she’s heavy, but the awkward shape of her bundled body makes her difficult to carry. She does her best to hang on, now that some of her strength has returned, but I don’t know how much longer I can keep this up.
I’ve gone about twenty yards and am about ready to give in when the woods break open and a small cabin comes into view. Compared to the mansion, it’s an outhouse, but compared to the cold, frozen wasteland we’re in right now, it’s a mansion.
The narrow wooden porch groans as I step up and disturb the snow. I place Cat on her feet beside the door, and she crumples in a shivering heap. As I reach up to try the doorknob, I find it locked.
“Who the fuck are they keeping out? Is there a goddamn squirrel cartel out in this hellscape?” I step over Cat and try the window, but it’s also locked. Can nothing in my life come easily?
I grab Cat’s arms and drag her away from the door. Judging by the absolute deadweight, she’s either passed out again or has finally succumbed. I’m running out of time.
As I run off the porch, turn around, and barrel toward that wooden rectangle, I’m not thinking about the fact that Jim spares no expense. I’m not considering that this is probably a solid door made from some genetically engineered tree that’s so dense that it must be cut with a special laser. It doesn’t even cross my mind that the latches and hinges are made of Kevlar and titanium.
No, I don’t think of any of those things until my shoulder collides with the door and I bounce back like a rubber ball.
“The window,” Cat whispers.
I rub my shoulder and roll my eyes. “I already tried it. It’s locked.”
She struggles to stand, then goes down in a heap again. When she tries to speak, I can’t understand her. I move closer and bend down so that my ear is right beside her mouth.
“The glass, you moron,” she whispers. “Break it.”
“I was just about to do that before you interrupted me, O wise one.”
In my panic, I actually hadn’t thought of that, but I won’t say so out loud.
I stand and send my elbow through the window, though I’m shocked Jim didn’t outfit the cabin with bulletproof glass. The thin pane shatters and falls in clear shards on the floor inside.
I reach in through the hole and unlock the door, then rush to Cat and pick her up with a grunt. “You need to lay off the potatoes,” I say. “If you expect men to carry you through the forest, you might want to watch your waistline.”
“At least I eat them instead of fucking them,” she whispers, and that’s when I know she’ll be okay. When she wasn’t being mean, I was really concerned.
“So you discovered my little trick and didn’t eat them?” I ask as I hurry into the cabin and kick the door shut behind us. “You’re breaking my heart, kitten.”
“Stop . . . calling . . .”
“Stop calling you kitten?” I drop her onto the couch in front of the empty fireplace. “I’ll consider it if you promise you won’t die on me.”
I wait for the snappy retort, but it doesn’t come. She’s out again. It’s for the best. Saving her is a lot harder to do when she’s reminding me of all the reasons why I should let her freeze to death.
Now that we’re out of the elements, we still aren’t out of danger. The wooden walls block the wind, but it’s still below zero in here. A few split logs have been stacked by the fireplace. It’s a good start, but I don’t know how long we’ll be here. If we’re stuck here overnight, that stash won’t last.
Regardless, it’s what I have for now, so I set to work.
Seeing nothing with which to start the fire, I pull out my pitiful keychain flashlight and take another look around. A couch and coffee table stand in front of the fireplace, but that’s all the furniture to be seen. On the other side of the room, a wood-burning stove crouches amid towering cabinets, counters, and more cabinets. It appears there’s no power, nor running water.
I head for the cabinets and begin rifling through everything. Non-perishables and MREs line the shelves of one cabinet, but I see nothing combustible. In the next, I find only medical supplies and cans of purified water that are surely frozen solid.
Then, in the last cabinet, I strike gold.
Inside, I find several boxes of starter logs and stacks upon stacks of newspaper. Now all I need to do is build the fire.
After setting the starter log in the fireplace, I pile some of the logs around it, then cram newspaper into the gaps. I leave a hole in the center so that I can push the fire onto the starter log. I crumple and twist some newspaper into a long wick, then stand there like a dumbass.
I’d planned to use the stove to light the wick, but it’s a wood-burning stove.
At least Cat isn’t awake to make fun of me.
Speaking of Cat, I’m not sure how she’s doing while I play Where’s Waldo with a fucking source of fire. Too scared to check on her, I head for the drawers beneath one of the wooden counters. Inside the first one, I find a lighter.
I rush back to the fireplace. After lighting the wick, I hold the growing flame to the starter log. The flame catches, and a pitiful burp of warmth puffs toward me.
“I will feed you so that you grow big and strong,” I say to the flames as I toss in a few more newspaper balls.
I still need to find more wood on the property, but now that we have heat, we need to get dry. That has to be the next priority. Our gear is great for keeping out the cold, but the sweat inside is what gets you.
By the time I’ve stripped down to my boxers, the temperature has already risen to a near-tolerable level. The stones that make up the fireplace absorb the warmth and distribute it further, helping evenly heat the small space.
I turn my attention to Cat. I don’t enjoy the idea of undressing her, but I don’t exactly have a choice, so I set to work.
Now that some feeling has returned to my fingers, I can tell just how damp her clothes are. I pull off her gloves first. Her fingers have become slender ice blocks. They’re freezing. And pale.
“Frostnip is setting in, kitten. We have to get you warmed up. I have to take off your clothes, but I’m enjoying this about as much as getting a lobotomy, so don’t worry.”
I don’t wait for her objection, which is fine because she doesn’t even budge. When I remove her goggles and the mask from her face, I see why. She’s knocked the fuck out.
Her feet didn’t fare much better than her hands, but at least she was smart enough to wear two pairs of thick wool socks. That might be the only thing that saves her red-tipped toes.
This next part is usually the moment I enjoy most. Pulling off a woman’s clothes is like unwrapping a present. You usually love the gift inside, but this time, I hope it came with a gift receipt.
But as I peel away the layers—which include not one, but two pairs of sweatpants, three sweaters, and a long-sleeved Henley—I discover that Cat isn’t a gift at all. She’s a box of Cracker Jack’s, complete with a surprise inside.
“Were these your dad’s long johns? Jesus Christ, they’re hideous.”
Cat stays silent, and that annoys me more than when she speaks. It’s frustrating to have all this content and no one to riff off of.
I can’t tell if the full-body underwear is cold or damp, so I err on the side of caution and decide to remove everything. Unfortunately, I learn the hard way that removing what is essentially a onesie from an unconscious adult is easier said than done.
I’ll have to cut it off.
When I was scrounging around for a lighter, I saw a pair of scissors in the drawer. I go back to the kitchen—which is only about twenty feet from the couch—and retrieve the shears.
Starting at the ankles, I cut the fabric away. This delicate act hums with an undertone of violence. I’ve used scissors in much different ways before. Maybe that’s why I’m getting hard from this. Or maybe it’s because, despite my reluctance to acknowledge it, the girl is gorgeous.
The fire’s glow kisses her pale skin, casting her in a light I’ve never viewed her in before. I don’t have much feeling in my fingertips, yet her softness reaches through. It’s like brushing my hand over warm velvet.
I run the scissors through the fabric covering her left thigh, but I place my free hand on her skin, providing a barrier to protect her from each snip of the blades. As I reach the top of her leg, my fingertips brush against a lacy warmth.
My fingertips recoil.
Well, they recoiled in my mind. In reality, I’m fighting off the urge to feel what’s under that lace.
I drop the scissors, and they clatter to the wooden floorboards. They’re the problem. That has to be it. It’s misplaced arousal from a past kill and nothing more. I am not horny for Caterina goddamn Novak .
“Down, killer,” I whisper to my dick as I grasp the scissors and get back to work.
I cut the material straight up the middle from the crotch, and I don’t make the mistake of putting my hand on her this time. If I slice her from slit to tit, oh fucking well.
Once I’ve wrestled off the scraps of hideous long johns and her skimpy undergarments, I snatch a thick quilt from the back of the couch and drape it over her naked body.
Out of sight, out of mind.
I’ve done all I can for her right now, so all that’s left is to hang our clothes to dry and hope that Kindra and Ezra show up before Cat wakes up. If we have to spend an entire night together, the cold won’t be the only concern. We’re likely to kill each other.
Once my clothes are dry enough, I’ll dress and chop some wood. Just in case. In the meantime, I’ll start looking around for something to do until help arrives. If no one shows up by morning—and if we survive the night—I’ll trek back to the snowmobile and get Cat some assistance at first light.
I look at my watch. It’s nearly dinner time now, so we just have to make it through the next twelve hours.
God help us.