Chapter 9
T he wind howled, rattling the windows and tossing Ghost from one fitful dream into the next. After being woken for the fifth time in a matter of hours, he finally got up to take a piss.
As he stood in the bathroom, his feet turned to ice on the cool tile beneath him.
In a flash, Anna came into his mind. Christ, he’d left her with the fans running and the door open. He’d intended to make her uncomfortable, but he didn’t want her to die, for god’s sake.
Not like that.
Maybe not at all.
He yanked on his sweats and the long-sleeved henley from earlier and hurried downstairs. Throwing on his flannel, he scooped up his flashlight and then went outside. The wind rushed into his lungs and attacked his exposed skin.
Shutting off the fans and closing the door didn’t mean he’d given in. Hell, not doing so was counterproductive. He couldn’t interrogate a corpse.
He strode across the snow-covered path he’d cleared earlier and entered the shop. His gaze went to the plastic sheeting. Empty.
His stomach dropped and he blinked. What the—
The pipe on the wall was pulled apart. The woman and the blanket were missing. “Fuck!” he bellowed. Breaking into a run, he shone the flashlight over the snow. Sure enough, footprints punctured the driveway.
He studied the depth of her prints. They were barely filled in. He’d guess they were fresh. He could take his truck, but if she’d gone off the road he wouldn’t find her. He’d have to go on foot.
Muttering a stream of words he’d never called a woman in his life, he carved up the snow. His stride ate up her steps, washing them out. Anger pulsed behind his eyes. When he found her, he’d wring her goddamn neck.
If he found her.
That realization struck him in his core. She wouldn’t survive out here long. They were a good thirty-minute drive to town, and there were no neighbors for miles.
She was half naked and barefoot—and clearly out of her fucking mind.
The cold air stung his nostrils and whipped against his face and exposed hands. The beam of his flashlight bobbed as he slowed at the bottom of the driveway.
Her footsteps went directly across the road and then disappeared into the woods.
Fucking hell, woman.
He stifled a grunt and followed her path, skidding down the small hill and through the trees. The snow in the brush wasn’t as deep, but her steps had disturbed enough for him to track her. He hadn’t hiked this way in a while, but a wide river wasn’t far away.
This early in the season the water wouldn’t be frozen yet. Unless she knew how to fucking fly, he’d reach her soon.
He broke into another run, training his ears for any sounds. He had to be close. Forcing his attention for signs of her path, he sucked in one breath after another, swiping the light over the large pines and fallen trunks.
He caught something in its beam. A flutter of burgundy material—the quilt! The figure disappeared behind some trees.
Pushing through the prickly branches, he stalked. His throat ached with the need to call out to her, but that wouldn’t do any good. He caught another flash of burgundy.
She was moving slowly. Laboriously. For fuck’s sake, if he had to carry her ass back to the cabin, he’d tan it when they got there.
The mosaic of trees thinned and his light illuminated her full body. Standing at the edge of the river. The creek was deep and at least twenty feet wide. He’d fished in it before.
“Anna, stop!” he called, knowing full well he wasn’t using her real name and feeling stupid as a bag of hammers because of it.
She spun to face him, her eyes wide and stony. Turning back to the river, she stepped onto the ice.
Shit!
“Anna, don’t! The ice is too thin. You won’t make it across!” And neither would he, but he didn’t say that.
Irritation made his blood fizzle as he watched her continue. She was ignoring him—big surprise. He reached the edge of the river and halted.
Anna limped over the crystal-clear surface. The blanket billowed around her, revealing her nearly unclothed body. If she made it across, he’d have to run back and get his truck.
Craaack
She went rigid. Her shoulders hunched.
“Anna, listen to me,” he shouted over the wind. “You need to spread out your steps. Don’t stand there—”
Craaack
Her sharp gasp pierced the night. He inched over the surface, not daring to get too close and make it crack more but needing to reach her. “Turn around and take a few steps back. Give me your hand!” The wind gobbled up his voice.
She shuffled in a slow half circle. Her eyes were wide and glazed with terror, her expression full of indecision.
“Come on,” he urged, stretching out his arm. “I won’t let you fall through. Move closer, but slowly.”
Her lips trembled, and the plump flesh was damn near blue. He clung to the flashlight as if it were a lifeline that’d carry her back to safety.
The ice cracked and popped again. She stopped midstep. “I can’t,” she wheezed.
“Yes, you can!” She wasn’t far. If she just took two more steps and reached for his hand, he could grab her.
The flashlight beam picked up something metallic around her ankle—the shackle. A long chain wound around her legs and disappeared into her hands, which were holding the blanket.
Guilt chewed away any pride he had left.
He never should’ve taken shit this far.
Never should’ve shackled her.
Craaack
“Anna, now!”
His sharp command made her flinch but broke her out of whatever fearful spell she was under. She took one step—
Then she plummeted through the ice.
***
Mila plunged into the cold water. Pieces of ice hammered her face and body. She gasped, and frigid liquid rushed into her nose. Thrusting her arms upward, dropping the blanket and chain, she grabbed onto the ice surrounding the hole she’d created.
A rough hand caught her wrist, hauling her up.
She choked and sputtered. Spreading both arms onto the cracked, frozen river, she struggled to breathe. Cold air rushed into her icy lungs.
The man lay on his stomach, his torso stretched onto the edge of the river, his lower body on the bank. The current swirled at her legs, pulling on the chain and shackle.
She locked eyes with her captor. Part of her wanted to pull away—from this madman she’d run from. But survival was a foreign beast. She couldn’t stop herself from clinging to his wrist.
“I’ve got you,” he called.
The wind stole another breath from her.
“You’ve gotta kick your feet. Think about making your body straight on top of the water, level with the ice. I’ll pull you across.”
Her teeth chattered violently. “I-I can’t. Too heavy.”
“Yes, you can. Kick your free leg.”
She didn’t want to disappear beneath the surface. Didn’t want the cold to take her. Listening to his instructions, she kicked her unchained leg. Slowly, her body rose. Her shackled foot hung low, preventing her from leveling out further. “Th-That’s all,” she gasped.
His mouth firmed. The flashlight rolled across the ice as he used his free hand to leverage himself, pulling her. His face clenched. His cheeks were dark with color. Inch by inch, he dragged her from the hole.
Her belly hit the ice and he heaved her in one fast movement. The frozen river cracked more, but he placed both his hands under her arms and hauled her to his chest. They tumbled onto the bank. Snow coated her skin and hair.
She shook violently, almost colder now than she’d been in the water.
He moved quickly, yanking off his jacket and bundling it around her. Heat touched her arms and she let out a moan. God, she’d never felt such a sharp contrast—bitter cold and toasty, manly warmth.
She watched as he sat in the snow and tore off his shirt and boots. A white muscle shirt highlighted every ripped contour of his shoulders and chest.
Her teeth chattered. Her bones were stiff and achy. Rubbing his henley over her legs, he dried her as best he could. Next, he tore off his socks and fitted one over her unchained foot. It reached her knee.
He dug his hand into his pocket, pulled out a key, undid the lock holding the shackle in place, and then tossed the metal aside. He worked so quickly and efficiently, she couldn’t do more than sit.
After yanking the other sock over her now-free leg, he pulled his boots back on and stood. He didn’t say a word as he bent down and tossed her over his shoulder.
She yelped as bone dug into her stomach.
“Sorry,” he said with a grunt. “We need to move fast and get you warm. This is the easiest way to carry you.”
Mila let her body go limp, surrendering. Every step jostled her, but she didn’t fight as he stomped through the woods.
Adrenaline hummed through her, keeping her from passing out when all she wanted to do was slip away into the unknown.
Snow crunched beneath his feet. His hand lay across the backs of her thighs, holding her tightly.
“Doing okay?” he called.
She tried to reply, but only a squeak escaped her lips. Her feet stung and tingled. Whatever warmth had been in those socks had long since disappeared.
The trees fell away as he crossed the road. He didn’t slow. His heavy steps fell with purpose and without faltering.
The shop came into view. She recoiled at the idea of returning there. He hadn’t said much, but there was no way he was happy about her escape. He’d punish her. Probably worse than the last time.
Apprehension intensified her shakes. She waited for him to turn down the path to the shop, but he didn’t.
Instead, his boots clomped over the wooden porch of the cabin.
Shock hit her as he bumped open the door and warm air touched her skin. He kicked off his boots then slowly pulled her down from his shoulder. He didn’t drop her to the ground but cradled her in his arms, just as he’d done earlier.
He trekked across the foyer and climbed the stairs.
Questions burned her tongue but she didn’t dare ask them. She was too cold to speak. Too scared to challenge him. Did he have another torture chamber in here?