Chapter 7
McKenna’s scream split his eardrums. He clamped his hands on her arms and followed her gaze to the window, twisting on the table.
“What the hell?” he barked. The room was empty—no intruder. He swiveled back to face her. Her plump, pink lips quivered. Moisture had collected on her top lip from their kiss, and he ached to pull her back into his arms and pick up where they’d left off.
“A man was outside.”
His muscles sprang into action. Any calm energy that had lingered after the acupuncture session vanished. He rounded the table and went to the window. “Where? What did he look like?”
Her feet whispered up behind him and she crowded his side. “Right there,” she said, pointing to the backyard. “He was just standing there. Not far from the porch. He saw us . . . uh, kissing. He was watching.” Her voice trembled on the last word.
Anger mounted in Jaxon’s chest and pressure built between his eyes.
He’d kill the sonofabitch. Someone was tormenting her—good god, what would’ve happened had he not stumbled to her porch last night?
He pushed away from the window then grabbed his shirt from the armchair and yanked it down over his head.
“W-What are you doing?” McKenna trailed behind him as he stormed toward his coat and boots at the back door.
“I’m going to find the cocksucker, that’s what.”
She snatched his coat out of his hands before he could fit his arm into the sleeve. Worry made the delicate lines of her face rigid. “No. Please don’t. He could be armed.”
Jaxon pointed at the gun leaning against the wall. “So am I.” He reached for his coat but she molded it to her chest.
“Jaxon, it’s not worth getting killed—”
He dropped his head back to stare at the ceiling then returned his attention to her round eyes. “Someone’s trying to scare or hurt you . . . probably both. I’m sure as shit not going to sit here and watch.”
He picked up the gun and jammed his feet into his boots. If she wasn’t going to hand over his coat, he’d make do without. If he didn’t hurry, he wouldn’t be able to follow the voyeur’s tracks.
McKenna slid her body in front of the door.
He scowled.
She lifted her chin. Her eyes blazed indigo fire. “I refuse to let you outside, Jaxon.” Her face softened, and she pressed her hand to his chest. “I don’t want you to get hurt. Please stay.”
He caught her arm. The smooth skin that peeked out from her sleeve made his fingers twitch. Every male urge screamed at him to say forget the creep outside, pin her to the wall, and get back to what he wanted to do with her.
His gaze shifted to the fluttering snowflakes. Though they’d slowed, they were still coming down heavy. Nope. He had to go now. Placing the gun against the wall, he seized her beneath her arms. Her slim frame dangled in his hold. Moving her was laughably easy.
“Jaxon!” she yelped. She grabbed at his arms. “Put me down.”
He stood her on her feet far away from the door and out of his way. “Sorry, hon.” He grabbed the handle and ripped open the door. He snagged the gun before shutting the old wood behind him, closing off McKenna’s verbal assault.
The wind howled in the open space, its snowy breath biting through his skin. His long-sleeved shirt did very little to lock in his body heat. He leaped off the porch—trying to find the buried steps would surely cause a tumble—and landed cock-deep in the snow.
“Ah, Christ.” He dragged his legs through the drifts until he reached the creep’s tracks. The guy had snowshoes. Snow was quickly covering the marks across the powdered landscape.
If he’d used his head and hadn’t had to wrestle past McKenna to get to the door, he’d have thought to borrow her snowshoes.
As it stood, he had little chance of catching the guy.
The weight of the gun pulled at his forearm, reminding him that he didn’t need to catch the intruder.
All he needed was to spot him and get off a clean shot.
For a second, the thought of McKenna’s blazing eyes almost made him retract his plan.
But ensuring her safety was worth facing her wrath.
He ducked under the long arms of the pine trees that met him at the threshold of the woods.
Snow clung to his legs, growing heavier by the second.
Each step pulled on his quadriceps, making the muscles burn.
Sweat dampened his chest. His frozen shirt clung to his skin.
He stopped and scanned the mosaic of bark, pine needles, and white. “Where are you, you coward?” he bellowed. Cold air rushed into his lungs with the effort, and he coughed. The pain in his chest expanded, and his chest begged for the milder temperature of the cabin.
It was no use. There was too much snow. Too many places for a person to hide. With the snowshoe tracks almost covered—
His eye landed on something against a fallen tree.
A brown hump much richer in color than the dying log.
He picked up the pace. The snow thinned as he got further into the woods.
The foliage above stopped a lot of snow that would have covered the ground.
His breath was ragged, more from the cold than exertion.
The mound grew larger the closer he got.
Jaxon slapped a tree branch out of the way, and he stopped at the small clearing that surrounded the corpse.
A deer lay on its side, its belly ripped open.
Organs spilled onto the crisp white snow.
Large glassy eyes stared skyward, as if the animal had been praying in its last moments.
Jaxon’s throat thickened, and he covered his mouth with the crook of his arm.
Fresh.
The creature that had attacked the deer hadn’t finished—something or someone had startled it away from devouring its prey.
Heat seared up the back of his head in alarm.
He backed up and scanned the forest for the mountain lion.
It was too much of a coincidence that one had been lingering in the area.
It had to be the same animal that had tried to maul him.
Jaxon moved backward, unable to rip his gaze from the trees in front of him.
Snap
A warning ping-ponged through his skull.
It’s back.
* * *
McKenna paced in front of the door. What a jerk. He’d picked her up as if she weighed no more than a kitten, rendering her formidable scowl and request useless. If he wanted to get himself killed so be it. He just didn’t have to do it on her property.
She stopped pacing and rose on her tiptoes to look out the window at the top of the door. Nothing. Wedging the tip of her thumb between her teeth, she gnawed. She wouldn’t go out there.
Do not go out there.
He’d been gone just over ten minutes. Guilt pushed itself to the forefront of her mind.
Okay, so he wasn’t the brightest for rushing outside in the current weather conditions, maybe dimmer yet for doing so when some creep was traipsing around her property.
But he’d done it to protect her. If he got shot or injured—hell, what if he stumbled across the mountain lion again?
—she’d feel really, really fricking bad.
Which brought her full circle: back to being angry at him for leaving in the first place.
Her lips still tingled from his kiss, her body still hummed from the closeness of his, and dammit, even her lady parts still wanted back in the action.
She shoved her feet in her boots. If she didn’t bring him back, she’d never find out what pleasures that kiss might lead to.
Which was total crap. She was getting soft. Jaxon had wriggled around her body armor, softened the steel gate around her heart, and, in less than eighteen hours, filled her head with images of his sexy body.
This is what happens when you deprive your vagina of dick for so long.
The lecture came out in Josie’s voice. It was surely what she’d tell McKenna if she were here. McKenna fit her arms into her coat, zipped the material up to her chin, and opened the door. A large male form clomped up the steps.
She sucked back a scream. Slapping a hand to her chest, she glared at a brooding Jaxon. He stepped through the doorway, and she moved out of the way before getting trampled.
“What happened?” Before she could chew him a new asshole for storming out, she needed to know if he’d found the creep and if he’d left a body on her land.
Jaxon shucked off his boots. Red blotches covered his cheeks and nose. His hair stuck up in disheveled spikes. He held up a finger and took shaky breaths. She peeled off her coat then grabbed his arm and guided him into the living room. He sat on the edge of the table. A deep cough shook his chest.
She winced and pressed her hand to his back, feeling the rumble. “Relax,” she said soothingly, her training taking over. “Take a slow, deep breath.”
Splaying his hands on his knees, Jaxon did as she instructed.
“The guy wore snowshoes, so he was hard to follow. I lost his trail in the woods and almost gave up . . . then—” He coughed, and this time a fit took over.
He hacked into his sleeve. Gosh, she should have cupped his back—and done a better job at keeping him inside.
She fled to the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of water she kept stashed during the winter for power outages.
If the fire hadn’t just died, she could have warmed him some water for tea, but it would have to wait.
She needed to hear what had happened before she got the logs crackling again.
“I saw something,” he said, clearing his throat. “At first, I thought it was our guy. Maybe he’d gotten hurt or had been outside too long.”
A niggle of fear scratched her spine. “What was it?” The words came out raspy. Part of her hoped he wouldn’t tell her; the other part hung on his every word.
“A deer. Half-eaten.”
She forced down a swallow of air and stared outside. The mountain lion. It had to be. While there were thousands in the Rockies, it was unlikely there were many around her property. What in the hell was keeping the animal close to her place?