I flexed my arms and stepped closer to the counter, throwing back my shoulders and glaring down at the woman. It was a move I didn’t like to make, but it came in handy during times like this, when I needed to show someone exactly who they were dealing with. And it worked every goddamn time. She cowered and fell silent, her eyes wide.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” I repeated. “But I can’t risk you calling the cops before I get out of here.”

“I swear I won’t do it,” she said, her eyes flicking to the phone on the wall and betraying her intentions. “You have to believe me.”

“If I were in your shoes, I would do the same,” I said, though I was careful to keep my voice hard and firm. “Now, turn around.”

Shivering, the girl obeyed, turning her back toward me. I yanked her arms behind her back and pressed her wrists together before taking a long chord I’d snatched from a package on the wall and tying it tight around them. She continued to shake as I secured her to a pole behind the counter, but she didn’t make a sound.

There. I stood back and observed my handy work. These cables wouldn’t hold long if she struggled—or if an unsuspecting Good Samaritan came through the door—but it would keep her from calling the cops long enough for me and Rosie to get the hell out of this place.

I grabbed a rifle and some ammo before I turned and strode out the door, pausing only when the woman’s voice came out in a weak whisper. “You aren’t a very good man.”

And didn’t I fucking know it.

* * *

After sloshing back through the rain, I threw all the supplies into the passenger side of the truck. I had no idea where Rosie and I would go now, but at least we’d have some protection in case we ran into trouble. I didn’t have a tent or sleeping bags or anything to keep us dry and warm if we had to camp out in the wild, but a night spent out in the mud was better than one spent in a windowless cell.

An hour later, I pulled up in front of the cabin and frowned when I saw the screen door swinging in the heavy wind. A new wave of paranoia rocked through my body. There was no way the FBI or Scooter could have found Rosie that fast. Even if the girl in the shop had made the call, it could take hours for anyone to find this cabin, if they even did.

But why the fuck was the door open?

Something was wrong. I eased quietly out of the truck, careful not to slam the door behind me. My fingers itched by my side as I stalked toward the cabin, my eyes darting around me for any sign of an intrusion while I’d been gone. There were several small footprints in the mud around the porch, leading around to the side of the house.

I crouched down and ran my fingers along the edges of the prints. It was just one set, stamped all around me as if whoever had left them had been running in circles. Someone small. Someone the size of Rosie. I frowned and continued to scan the ground. Hers were the only prints.

“What were you doing out here, sweetheart?” I murmured softly to myself.

Slowly, I stood and walked quietly up the stairs to the front porch, the wood creaking underneath my heavy boots. I caught the swinging door in my hand and peered inside. All the lights were out, save for the flickering glow cast by the large television mounted on the wall. It was set to the same news station that the woman in the store had been watching.

Fuck.

I stormed into the cabin, no longer caring about the volume of my steps. My shoes slipped along the sleek wood, but I didn’t slow down. She’d been watching the goddamn news, and she’d seen my fucking face plastered across the screen. It was even still there, the word murderer highlighted underneath it in a big red font.

“Rosie?” I bellowed out as I spun in my steps and began throwing open door after door of the cabin. Maybe she was hiding somewhere, I tried to tell myself. Though I knew it wasn’t true. Rosie Smith was nowhere in this house. She’d run outside in the rain and disappeared.

She wouldn’t be safe out there all alone in the woods.

I went to the bedroom in the back and yanked open the chest of drawers, digging through the sheets and blankets I found carefully piled inside. At the bottom, my hands slid across something slick and smooth, and I pulled out a parka in a dark mint green. On my way back to the front of the house, I stopped in the kitchen to grab the flashlight stowed away underneath the sink.

I took a deep breath and stepped back out in the rain. Rosie’s footprints led away from the porch, up a steep hill, and into the woods. My feet sinking in the mud, I followed after them. I didn’t know what the hell she’d been thinking to run off in a storm like this. No, that wasn’t true. I knew exactly what she’d been thinking.

Get the hell away from the murderer as fast as possible.

Anger and pain stormed inside my gut as I trudged up the hill, the rain splatting hard on the top of my head. This was all the goddamn agency’s fault and whoever had been behind getting me burned in the first place. For a long time, they’d been ruining my life, but now they were ruining more than just mine.

If Rosie got lost—or worse—in the woods, someone would have to fucking pay.

At the top of the hill, the trees closed in tight around me, blotting out any remaining light from the charcoal sky. I flicked on the flashlight and crouched to scan the forest floor. Rosie’s footsteps continued through the trees, a clear path in the thick mud.

I began to follow them, my heart hammering hard in my chest. Her footsteps were beginning to fade as the rain kept pounding down from the sky, and I had to move fast if I didn’t want to lose her trail. Every few steps, I broke off a limb so we could find our way back to the cabin, though I had a sinking feeling that she’d never go with me even if I found her in this storm.

She thought I was a murderer.

Images of her wide and innocent eyes flashed through my mind. The way she’d looked when she’d opened herself to me, begging me to take her into my arms. My heart squeezed and pain flashed through my gut. She’d never look at me like that again.

I continued to trudge on, the mud caking to my boots. Rain splashed all around me, freezing my skin along with my heart. This was hopeless. Rosie was long gone. Maybe she’d moved to the road just beyond the trees and had caught a ride with someone driving by.

Through the downpour, a soft whimper met my ears. I froze in place, cocking my head to listen. The whimper came again, the unmistakable sound of a woman in pain.

Heart trapped in my throat, I rushed ahead, shoving aside limbs and thorns and leaves. Through the trees, I finally spotted her. Rosie was sprawled on the forest floor, soaking wet and covered in dirt. Her legs were twisted underneath her at an odd angle, and her face was contorted in pain.

“Rosie!” I yelled out as I rushed toward her, my shout caught up in the wind.

She twisted toward me when she heard my voice. And then she screamed.