Avalanche on the Mountain (Watchdog Mountain Division #6)

Chapter 1

ONE

Ben Massey was driving the backroads to Lyons from setting up his stall at the Renaissance Faire when he spotted the broken-down Honda Civic.

The little sedan sat canted on the shoulder, hazards blinking in the last light of a warm, late-summer Sunday evening.

He eased his truck to a stop behind it, keeping enough distance that he wouldn’t box the driver in and turned on his own hazards.

His military training kicked in automatically—scan the area, check for threats, assess the situation before committing.

The driver’s door opened and a woman stepped out and looked at him warily before giving him a nervous smile. She kept glancing past Ben down the road toward Sedalia like she expected someone to come roaring up behind her.

Ben killed the engine and took a breath.

This part never got easier—the approach.

He knew what he looked like climbing out of his truck.

Six-seven, two-forty of solid muscle, shoulders that barely fit through most doorframes.

He’d learned young that his size scared people, especially women who’d been hurt before.

And this woman’s body language screamed hurt.

He opened his door slowly, making sure she could see him coming. When his boots hit the pavement, he deliberately hunched his shoulders, making himself smaller. Old habit. Didn’t always work, but it was worth trying.

“Hey there,” he called, keeping his voice soft and his hands visible. “Looks like you could use some help.”

Ben’s chest tightened as he drew closer. Her face was a mess—mascara streaked down her cheeks, eyes red and swollen from crying. But it was the look in those eyes that got him. Not just worry. Terror.

“I’m fine, thanks,” she said too quickly. Her hands twisted together in front of her, knuckles white. “Triple-A is on the way.”

Ben stopped a good fifteen feet back, giving her space. “That’s good. How long did they say they’d be?”

“Um...” She glanced at her phone, then her gaze went back to Ben. “Twenty minutes.”

He glanced at his watch, then at the empty road stretching in both directions. “I can wait with you, in case they’re late. It’s getting dark.”

She hesitated, and Ben could see her weighing it—stranger danger versus the very real problem of being stranded on a lonely stretch of road. He knew she was contemplating which scenario was the bigger risk and he couldn’t blame her.

Some women would rather face a bear than a strange man my size. Or any size for that matter.

He slouched a little more. “I’m Ben Massey,” he added, hooking his thumbs in his belt loops so his hands were visible but not threatening. “I’m heading back up to Lyons. Coming back from the Ren Faire.”

That got a flicker of interest. Her gaze dropped to his shirt—a plain black tee—but his leather apron was visible through the truck’s windshield, draped over the back of the passenger seat.

He wished he’d kept his kilt on instead of changing back into his cargos.

It always seemed to be less threatening to women.

“The Renaissance Faire?” she asked, her voice a little steadier.

“Yeah.” He grinned as he nodded. “I’m a blacksmith.

” Then he gave her a full smile, going for as friendly and non-threatening as he could.

“I spend my summers making chainmail, forging swords, shoeing horses, and selling jewelry to tourists. Very normal guy stuff—well, if you’re a guy in the fifteenth century, I suppose. ”

The corner of her mouth twitched. Not quite a smile, but close.

“I’m good with more modern machines, too. I could take a quick look at your Civic, if you wanted me to. Might be something simple.”

The woman glanced at her car, then back to Ben, a contemplating expression on her face. “I’m Shelly,” she said finally. “And... okay. If you could just look, that would be great.”

Ben approached Shelly and the Honda like he was gentling a spooked horse—slow movements, lots of space, no sudden gestures. He rounded the car on the passenger side opposite of her and stooped when he got to the hood, making himself smaller again. She relaxed a fraction.

“Would you pop the hood for me, please?”

“Sure.” Shelly leaned inside and pulled the release. Ben lifted the hood and immediately spotted the problem. The serpentine belt was broken. He looked closer.

His jaw clenched.

Shelly came around and stood next to him, looking at the engine. Ben took in a deep breath and kept his expression neutral. Now was definitely not the time to scare her.

“Did your battery die while you were driving? Is that why you pulled over?” he asked.

She looked surprised. “No, that’s not why, but the car wouldn’t start after I pulled over, so I think it is dead. Would that make the car start vibrating?”

Ben tried to keep the alarm out of his eyes. “Vibrating as you drove?”

“Yeah. And it got really hard to steer. I had to really wrench the wheel. I thought maybe I was getting a flat, but the tires all look full. Is it just a dead battery?” She looked hopeful. It broke his heart.

“It wouldn’t cause the car to vibrate.” Ben went around the Civic, checking each tire.

Like Shelly said, they were full with no signs of punctures or slow leaks.

Then he tested the lug nuts. All were loose, enough that the tires probably started wobbling as she drove.

Ben straightened slowly, his mind already cataloging the damage and what it meant.

Combine the loose lug nuts with what he found under the hood, he could come to only one conclusion.

This wasn’t mechanical failure. This was sabotage. And considering the damage done, someone wanted this woman dead.

“See? The tires are good,” Shelly said. “So…maybe the battery just needs a jump?”

Ben turned to face her, gentling his expression even though rage was building in his chest. He kept his voice level and calm.

“It’s a little more than a dead battery, Shelly.

The lug nuts on the tires are loose. I can tighten those easy.

” He walked back to the hood and pointed at the serpentine belt.

“But, the serpentine belt’s broken, too.

That’s why you can’t start the car. The belt charges the alternator so if it slips or breaks, the battery dies and it can affect the power steering. ”

Shelly’s eyes widened. “Oh, so that’s why the steering felt off. Would it cause the car to vibrate, and maybe that’s why the lug nuts are loose?”

Ben kept himself from flinching. She really had no idea how much danger she was in and that horrified him.

She went on. “I don’t suppose you have an extra serpentine belt? I’d love to be on my way sooner rather than later.” She glanced toward Sedalia again.

Ben shook his head. He didn’t dare tell her that if she hadn’t pulled over, her engine might have overheated and seized. Or worse, one of the tires could have sheered off. He took one more look at the belt. Yup—it had been partially cut and then tore the rest of the way.

Dear God. She’s lucky to be alive.

“Can I ask you something, Shelly?”

She tensed. “What?”

“Is someone after you?”

Fresh tears spilled down her cheeks and she pressed her hand over her mouth, trying to hold back a sob. She nodded.

“It’s okay,” Ben said softly. “You’re safe right now. But I need you to tell me what’s going on so I can help you properly.”

“I can’t—” Her breath hitched. “I can’t go back. I can’t.”

“You don’t have to.” He kept his voice steady, soothing, the same tone he used when shoeing a nervous horse.

“The belt didn’t just break by itself, Shelly. It was partially cut. And your car was vibrating because of the loose lug nuts. You’re lucky you didn’t lose a wheel. This wasn’t an accident. Someone sabotaged your car.”

She swallowed, hard. “Oh,” she whispered. “Oh, God.”

Shelly swayed, and Ben instinctively reached out to steady her, then stopped himself. Too fast. Too close. She needed space.

Instead he said, “Why don’t we sit in my truck? It’s cooler in there, and you can tell me what’s happening.”

She looked at his truck. He hoped she saw it the right way—big, safe, with tinted windows that would hide her from anyone driving past. Then she looked back at him. Ben watched her making the calculation again—trust the stranger or wait for whoever sabotaged her car to come looking.

“Okay,” she whispered as she wiped her eye.

She wrapped her arms around her torso as she walked to the truck.

Ben opened the passenger door and stepped back, giving her room to climb in.

She moved stiffly, like her whole body hurt, and when she settled into the seat she wrapped her arms back around herself.

He left the door open so she wouldn’t feel trapped.

Ben walked around to the driver’s side and climbed in, leaving his door open too. He set his keys on the dashboard where she could see them. The cab smelled like leather, metal, and the incense that permeated the Faire. Shelly took a shaky breath.

“His name is Dex,” she said finally. “Dexter Morrison. He’s... we’ve been living together for six months. It was great right up until it wasn’t.” She tucked a lock of long, brown hair behind her ear as she gave Ben a quick, sad smile and shrugged her shoulder.

“What did he do to you, Shelly?”

She flinched. “It started small. Yelling. Throwing things. Then he started grabbing my wrists when we argued. Last week he pushed me into a wall.” She touched her ribs carefully.

“He accused me of cheating on him. I told him I wasn’t, I would never do that, and then I caught him spying on me whenever I left the house.

We fought about it last night. I told him to stop it and this morning I told him I was moving out.

” She covered her mouth as she stared at her car.

“Now…now I get why he gave me this scary smile and said go ahead, see how far you get.”

Ben’s hands tightened on the steering wheel.