Chapter 4
CHAPTER 4
K atrina
It occurred to me very quickly that this was ten thousand bad decisions rolled up into one. Apart from marrying Pete Dobbs, this may even be Bad Decision Number One.
Getting into a stranger’s car? Check.
Sobbing uncontrollably so I forgot to protect myself? Check.
Still crying with face in hands because I couldn’t bear to look up and see if this guy was really some sort of serial killer, prowling the parking lots of chic, remote lakeside resorts? Check, check, triple check.
I peeked between my fingers at my errant rescuer. Despite the possibility of him being a serial killer, he was incredibly handsome. He had a rough and tumble good looks about him. Dark brown skin, thick muscles, gruff. Definitely sexy, though that was not an attribute I was prepared to consider at the moment.
I sniffled. He raised his hand, like he was considering touching my shoulder or something, but then seemed to rethink the whole thing and patted the arm rest. “You’ll be alright,” he said. His voice was a little softer than I would have imagined. “I’ll get you where you need to go.”
The unexpected softness was what made me raise my head at long last. “I’m so sorry to inconvenience you.”
His knuckles rolled over the steering wheel before returning exactly to ten and two. “Do you know who’s chasing you?” He had an East Coast accent, New Jersey maybe, or Philadelphia.
I sighed. Parking Lot Guy probably wasn’t the only one chasing me. “I don’t know. He was bigger than you. Lots of tattoos crawling up his face. Not to stereotype, but he looked like he could be in a motorcycle gang or something.” Or a bounty hunter, which had been my first instinct, but that would open up a line of questioning with this stranger I wasn’t prepared for. I glanced over at him, but he studied the road with grim determination. “If we keep going this way, we’re going to hit water. Unless you have a hovercraft extension. I wouldn’t mind heading for Michigan.”
He paused, his hands sturdy on the wheel. There was a scar running up the side of his neck from below the collar of his winter coat. “No hovercraft.” He pulled over to the side of the road, looked every which way, and made an illegal U-turn.
“I’m Katrina.” My heart pounded in my chest. “And you are?”
“Harbor.” He still didn’t look at me. “Nice to meet you, Katrina.”
We neared the resort exit again. “I messed up your vacation,” I said. I knew nothing about this man, and I should have done everything in my power to leave him out of my mess. “You can drop me off here. I’m sure that guy is gone. I can get to my car, and you can enjoy the resort. It’s lovely.”
He shook his head brusquely. “Not a good idea, Ms. Katrina. If someone was chasing you, they’re probably tracking your car.”
“Oh.” I colored. I hadn’t thought of that, and I should have. I should have done lots of things before I skipped out on my court appearance, but it was too late for all of those things now.
“You didn’t mess up my vacation.” Now he turned his gaze toward me, and I heated from the inside out at the warmth in his dark brown eyes. “I like to help people. I might not look like it, but I do.”
“I appreciate it.” I gestured down the road. “I have a place to stay. No one else knows about it, so it should be safe.” Safe. Hah. I’d jumped into a stranger’s car because a bounty hunter was chasing me. I was heading to a cabin I had no connection with, no idea what waited there. There was nothing safe here.
He turned his gaze back to the road, leaving me cold again. “Happy to drop you there.”
I shifted in my seat. He hadn’t turned on the radio, but the heater blew warm air across my face, so I loosened my winter coat. No use in boiling myself to death. There was no way in hell I’d make Pete’s day like that. “Where are you from, Harbor?”
“Philadelphia.”
Not a chatty guy, then. That was better. Definitely. Too much chatting and I’d give myself away.
Unfortunately for my resolve, the restless adrenaline from before still pulsed through my veins. I couldn’t run it off or drown myself in sculpture. So instead it all fell out of my mouth like a torrent of nonsense. “I’ve never been to Philadelphia. I’m a Midwest girl, myself. Born and raised. Furthest away I’ve been is Iowa. Have you ever been to Iowa, near the Mississippi River? It’s really pretty. Hilly and green with that massive river churning through the state.” I stared out the window at the ice-covered landscape. Now he was going to think he’d picked up someone who had escaped from a state institution.
He cleared his throat. “I grew up on the East Coast. Haven’t traveled a lot in the Midwest.” His voice sounded gravel-filled, like he didn’t use it often. “But I’ve been overseas. I was in the military.”
“What branch?”
“Army.”
He paused, and I supposed that did say mostly everything that needed to be said.
I pointed to a right hand turn up ahead that led into the Elk View neighborhood. “Turn up there.” I removed my phone from the pocket of my coat and checked the address Clara Dryden had sent me. “It’s not far. Maybe three or four houses down. I’m sure it’s easy to see.”
It wasn’t. We passed it twice before we realized the divot between two trees was the driveway. To Harbor’s credit, he didn’t say anything. He merely turned down the snow-packed drive and we bumped and jostled along.
I sat in the passenger seat, silent but restless. What was I going to do? It was sheer luck I hadn’t been caught by Parking Lot Guy and then had been picked up by this man who did not seem to be a serial killer. Wasn’t that what people always said?
Luck, especially mine, was a finite resource.
The cabin was small, but I wasn’t complaining. It looked old but serviceable. The roof sagged a little in places, but the wooden walls of the cabin appeared sturdy.
Harbor parked in front of the small wooden porch, snow piled on the steps and in the shape of an Adirondack chair, which must be buried beneath the powder. He kept the car running and frowned at the house. “You live here?”
“Renting. I’m passing through town.” I pulled out the key Clara had given me. All my politeness reared its head, but I squashed it all down. I didn’t have any idea what waited for me in that cabin. I doubted there was food or firewood. Hell, there might not even be running water. I would—no, I had to — face it on my own. “Thank you again. I don’t know how to repay you. Maybe you could give me your number? I can send you something. A gift, maybe.”
He turned toward me. “I think I should come in with you.”
“No!” I recoiled, and a flash of pain crossed his face that he quickly squelched. It drew me to him, that recognition that he had suffered rejection, too. “I mean, you don’t have to. You’ve already done so much, and you don’t even know me.”
He stared out the front windshield. “My mom would never forgive me if I picked up a girl in trouble, then didn’t make sure there wasn’t more trouble waiting for her in her house.” Then he turned that warm, dark brown gaze on me again, and it did all sorts of interesting things to my body. Things that I should have chocked up to adrenaline, but made me feel warm and wanted.
I liked this man. I knew nothing about him except his hometown and his name, but I liked him anyway. That was dangerous, for both of us.
“I’ll be fine.” I stepped out of the car into the frigid February air, my boots sinking into the snow. “Really.”
As I made my way up the snow-covered steps of the porch, Harbor got out of the car and stood beside the driver side door. Damn it, I wanted him to stay. He had taken care of me when I had no other option, and I hadn’t realized how badly I craved that.
I had nothing inside this cabin. No family, likely no food. Who knew if there was even a bed?
Then again, I didn’t have anything outside this cabin, either. I couldn’t open a bank account. I couldn’t stay with my parents. Pete Dobbs had taken everything from me.
No, not everything. I had breath in my lungs. I had the cold air of home blowing ice crystals across my face. I had this key in my hand. I was going to figure it out.
I placed the key in the lock and turned. Or, tried to turn. It stuck on the rusted hinges, grinding and churning when I tried to rotate it. If I kept going, it would break off in the lock and then I would definitely be stranded.
Tears welled up in my eyes, but I swallowed them. Pete didn’t deserve it.
“Fuuuuuuuuck!” I screamed, kicking the base of the door hard enough to bruise my toes, even through my heavy winter boots. “Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck!”
My breath heaving in my chest, I rested my face in my hands and sank into the snow. This was all so stupid. So fucking stupid. I had a litany of “if onlys” running through my brain and none of them were helpful.
Not for the first time and not for the last, I wished I had never met Pete Dobbs.
Footsteps crunched in the snow beside me. I glanced up through my tears and saw Harbor with a can of de-icer in his hand. He sprayed the lock a few times before re-inserting the key I’d dropped.
With a thunk, the door unlocked and swung open.
Harbor glanced down at me and extended a hand. “You’re all wet. Let me at least make you a fire. Then I’ll go.”