Chapter Two
Avery opened her eyes but shut them immediately as bright light seared through her brain like a hot poker. She opened them again, only a slit this time and shuttered them against the reflecting sun. She throbbed everywhere as she became fully conscious, but had no idea why. Her face was tight, swollen, and painful—then again, that’s how her whole body felt.
She moved cautiously but felt restrained, and the pain was so intense, she howled. When the cry trailed off, it dragged memories from the depths of her mind, but knowing where they were leading, Avery halted them. She tried to look at her surroundings, but her vision was both doubled and blurry. Where was she? Had she been caught? She moved her arms slowly to feel around her, but when she met resistance, her heart began to hammer. Did they have her tied down? Urgency welled in her. She struggled and then gasped at the pain that arced through her entire body until she slumped back into the dark.
When Avery opened her eyes again, there was no difference between the black of her mind and the black of reality. Crickets, though, there were crickets, and it was bitterly cold. Her brow tightened. Wasn’t it just morning a few minutes ago? How could it be night already? Again she wondered where she was. She breathed in deeply, although it hurt fiercely, and she wanted nothing more than to give in to the hushing sound in her ears. Pine, she smelled pine, earth, and blood. She gripped her thoughts to stay conscious, to fight for her life, but once again she slipped away.
* * *
“Rocky! Where you goin’?” Mike watched fondly as the bear’s backside jiggled as it ran around the side of the cabin down into the forest. He chuckled, shook his head, and slammed the ax into another log. It split, and Mike tossed the pieces onto the pile, the dense clunk as satisfying as the cracking split of wood. He could smell the smoke from his woodstove, and it, too, gave him a sense of well-being. He loved it here, hidden in the side of the mountain, far from people and the cruelty of a life left behind.
He unbuttoned his thick lined flannel lumber jacket to let the heat escape, and pushed his shoulder-length dirty blond hair back behind his ears. The task of chopping wood made the chill in the air welcome. The temperature had dropped suddenly again a few days ago so he doubted the snow that lined the mountain would be the last. The cold wasn’t enough to freeze everything solid again, but it wasn’t the eastern Ontario spring weather he’d grown up with either. He slammed the ax hard into his chopping block, and took a moment to cool off. His breath came out in a wispy cloud before disappearing.
The key to spring weather in the mountains was layering. The crisp air felt nice against Mike’s hot chest. He scanned the peak above the cabin before loading his arms with the logs. The sun was lowering and would soon fall behind the mountain. He took his time carrying the wood to the shed. There was no rush in his life now—no traffic, no noise, and the best part, no people. He grinned. He definitely didn’t miss people.
He dropped his log pile down on the shed floor and began loading the wood on top of the other neatly stacked logs. It was still two lines deep from floor to ceiling, but he needed more. He’d run out of wood earlier than planned, so whenever the temperature allowed it, he’d chop. The shed was plenty big enough for more, but it served as a workshop as well. He didn’t like it crowded—probably a quirk from years of living shoulder to shoulder in the big city, but crowded or not, he needed to fill it. It was only early April, and winter in the mountains persevered.
As Mike picked up his ax to start another pile, he glanced at the old checkered dog bed that Rocky’d had since he was a cub. It was too small, and Rocky’s body always hung off of it, but when Mike had bought a bigger version, Rocky refused to use it. The bed was empty then, as was the doghouse Mike had built for him.
Rocky had been hibernating in the doghouse up until a few weeks ago, although hibernating wasn’t quite the right word. He slept for days, sometimes weeks through winter, but he woke on warmer days and poked his head out to explore a little, or maybe it was to check on Mike. He chuckled at the thought. The bear was probably just making sure he hadn’t left him.
Rocky didn’t need Mike for food. He found his own sustenance. The only thing he got from Mike was companionship. Mike shook his head. Some scientist somewhere would have a heyday trying to figure them out if they knew. When he had chopped enough for ten more armloads, he took another break and looked down the mountain, attempting to spot Rocky. Something glinted from the valley. Mike grabbed the small pair of binoculars he always kept in his jacket pocket to keep an eye on his mountain.
He found the road first, and his eyes followed it, thinking maybe it was a stopped car, but instead he found the mangled guard rail. Shit.
He scanned the area in a grid pattern until the glint caught his eye again. A vehicle—even more twisted and misshapen than the guardrail. He also noted Rocky was there, pacing like a guardian, and that told him two things. The vehicle wasn’t empty, and the wildcat was near.
* * *
“What’ve you got, Rocky?”
A gruff voice pulled her from the darkness this time, but her eyes remained closed as she hovered on the edge of wakefulness. It could go either way, she thought and then gave one huff-like laugh. The moisture from her breath seemed to freeze on her lips.
Rocky? Honestly, she felt like she’d had one too many rounds with the Italian Stallion. Another humorless grunt followed as she thought of the moose.
“Rocky and Bullwinkle,” she murmured but before she could focus on which was the moose and which the squirrel, she slipped away again.
“If you’ve got time for old rerun television shows, you’ve got time for more chores.”
“But it’s funny, Grandmother. I like the way the moose talks.” The TV clicked off, and the rail-thin woman handed Avery a heavy bucket with water and a soapy sponge. She didn’t dare sigh or huff like she wanted to, but stood instead and asked where she was meant to scrub. This was why she kept her library books hidden beneath a loose floorboard in her closet. If she had time to read, she had time for more chores.
“Basement,” she said tersely and left Avery to carry the bucket down the steep staircase. Tonight, she’d read Anne of Green Gables again, if her hands weren’t too sore from scouring the cement floors.
The wet, hot stench of decay blasted her face, and the snuffling groan of something monstrous woke her.
Had the men that killed Alex caught up with her? Had they caged her with an animal?
Avery gulped in frigid air as something wet touched her face and she turned away with a croak. It snuffled hotly then, and she tried to twist further away. Her mind cleared a bit further, and she became aware of the heady smell of earth and damp animal fur. What the hell was that?
“Pull it together, Avery,” she mumbled to herself and opened her eyes. The crushed Jeep dash wrenched her back to reality.
Living on the run.
The mountain trail.
The climbing speed.
The moose.
It all hit her at once, again.
No! She struggled against the mangled Jeep and her seatbelt, tears leaking from her eyes at the anguish it caused. She knew she had to escape. Although she’d been in and out of consciousness, she knew she’d been trapped in the Jeep at least one night and time was the only advantage she had. They wouldn’t be far behind, not when one of the men looking for her was a cop. She roared like an animal and wrenched her leg out from where it was jammed between the console and dash. She felt the tearing of jeans and flesh but ignored it. She could never stop running.
“Stay still.” A gruff voice spoke, flaring panic within her and she struggled more. “Dammit, you could have a spinal injury!” The voice sounded impatient and bad-tempered.
Avery turned her face swiftly toward the voice and a stab of pain shot through her head so severe she gagged.
“Jesus! Easy now. You’ve been in an accident.”
Huge paws hit the side of the car, rocking both it and her gut. Her eyes widened and she screamed just as the black bear, with a tan-colored muzzle, chuffed hot rancid breath on her face. A big arm came around the bear’s neck and knocked him off.
“Back off, Rocky,” the man said in a half-growl, half-speak sort of language. A bearded face came into her sightline just as the blackness started creeping back—handsome, rugged, and cantankerous. “Where does it hurt?”
“B-bear?” Her voice was fear-filled, but she wasn’t sure about which she felt more fearful, the bear or the craggy, wild man who seemed unfazed by it.
She blinked at the bright blue eyes fanned by creases, and the black winter toque pulled low on his lightly lined forehead. His blond hair fell over his shoulders as he leaned in, but before she could fully assess him, he faded into the shrinking hole of inky black.
* * *
Mike felt a rush of panic at the blood and twisted metal before him. The woman inside was battered, but his biggest concern wasn’t the scabbing gash on her forehead, it was the surreal amount of fresh blood all over her lap that still pumped by the second. He couldn’t see the rest of her, but the thigh wound was life or death. Beneath the crushed dash, she could be even more gravely injured.
“Hey, girl, wake up!” He didn’t risk shaking her, but knew it was best to keep her conscious. “Girl!” He took the scarf from around his neck and pushed it hard against her thigh where a little bubble of blood formed every few seconds.
Since the outside door handle had been sheared off, he pulled the lever on the inside. He’d had some critical roadside care training in his early years as a cop, but with an arterial wound, his skills wouldn’t be enough. He had neither a cell nor a home phone. He didn’t even have a vehicle with him. He had a motorcycle, an ATV, and a snowmobile, but they were all at the cabin.
He pressed his lips together and surveyed the situation inside the Jeep. The airbag had deployed, and the front column and steering wheel had been pushed in toward her chest, but he saw no further open wounds. She moaned when he reached across her and clicked her seatbelt. Thank God, she’d been wearing one. She fell forward a little and gave a long pathetic moan. His heart ached for her.
“Head lacerations bleed a lot, but it’s not too deep, and it’s scabbing,” he mumbled to himself in a barely audible voice. “Relax.” His voice sounded curt and uncivilized. It was the most he’d spoken in a long time. He didn’t talk much anymore, except to Rocky, and that was more in grunts than anything, but bears didn’t understand words, even tame bears that had grown up among humans. Occasionally he spoke to Annie, but that was often in grunts, too.
“Honey, I’m going to help you. You’re going to be okay,” he added, hoping to soften his earlier, gruffer words.
The girl’s head lolled toward him, and her eyes blinked open. They were hazel, a unique combo of green and light brown. He’d never seen eyes quite this color before, but the pain and expectation they held were familiar. They cut right through him, stopping the air from entering his lungs. He shook off the cold chill that slithered inside his gut and he sucked in air with determination. Mike brushed her hair carefully off her face.
“What’s your name, sweetheart?” he questioned, cupping her small, battered face in his large hand. He looked at her pupils for signs of brain injury, but once again he didn’t know what he was looking for.
“Let me die,” she croaked in response. Mike growled, feeling a blip of annoyance at her for giving up and shook his head.
“Not happening, young lady.” She clutched his hand suddenly as it left her face. Fear practically pulsed off her like heat from a blast furnace. He had no choice. He had to move her. Pulling her out would likely cause more bleeding, but leaving her meant she’d die for sure. There wasn’t help nearby. Hell, there was nothing nearby. Then there was the wildcat he’d been tracking for the last week. It was a miracle the girl hadn’t been found, especially with the amount of blood she’d lost and the fact that the cat had cubs.
“No, please. I’m as good as dead anyway. Leave me.”
“Hush up. No one’s dying.” His voice held an edge of impatience. He didn’t care what he had to do to make that happen, but she would listen, and she would survive.
He dug his right arm behind her back and his left under her knees and pulled. The scream that tore from her was like a knife to his heart. Jesus, she has some lungs on her, he thought, brushing away the horrific memories they yanked to the surface of his mind. He’d seen too much when he was an RCMP officer, particularly once he’d become a staff sergeant and started hunting killers.
“I’m getting you help.” He pulled her against his abdomen, noticing the gash pumping again. “Put your arm around my neck,” he ordered. Her face fell against his chest, and she weakly clutched the collar of his shirt.
“Dammit, little girl, do as you’re told!” She blinked at his demanding tone but made an effort to put her arm weakly around his neck.
“Good. Now you stay awake, you hear? No more sleeping.” He had to keep her conscious. He paused, propping his foot on the tire and sat her on his knee while leaning her against the Jeep so he could release her. He reached between their bodies and pulled his belt loose. The scarf was soaked, so he took his winter toque off his head and placed it over the wound on her thigh. Then he looped the belt around her leg and slid it up over the toque. He pulled the belt snug, causing her to call out.
“Hold this with your other arm.” He released the belt long enough to grab her hand and place it where he wanted it. “Pull this tight.” She didn’t seem to move at all, so he swore. If she didn’t do it, she’d die.
“Little girl, you will pull this belt tight right now.” There was a firm authority to his voice, and her eyes swung to his. Whatever she was looking for in his stare, she found it, because she finally yanked the belt. He let out a breath of relief as he used his hunting knife to poke a new hole in the leather and secure the belt tightly in place. The bleeding at least slowed enough to give them some more time.
“Good girl.” Her lips turned up slightly before she drooped, all her strength gone. He scooped her back up before she could slump off his knee.
Despite his strength, carrying her was no easy feat, because the distance was great, the walk steep and the wind bitingly cold. Though he loved his shack on the side of the mountain, with its fantastic views and privacy, today he wished it was closer to town. He puffed out a breath, looking up at the cabin still a distance away. He also wished it was closer to the bottom as well.
He looked down at the bloodstained woman in his arms. Her lips were pretty and full, and she had a cute rounded chin. He wondered what she looked like healthy. Her soft corkscrew curls were white blonde. She was on the short side, with a small upper body but rounded hips. She probably had a family that adored her, a boyfriend ready to propose, a life she was torn from—a life she deserved to live fully.
Her eyes slid closed.
“Dammit!” He sped up. “Come on, beautiful, open those eyes for me.”
His back ached by the time he set her down on his sofa, but he ignored it.
“I’m getting you to someone who can help. Stay awake.” He kept her warm by throwing another log on the fire and covering her in a thick blanket before he left to hook the small trailer up to his ATV. Mike lined it with blankets and cushions to keep her as still and buffered from the rough terrain as possible.
The bear eyed him, looking concerned as Mike jogged up the porch to get the girl. He told himself the bear was just a wild animal, and the looks he saw were in his head, but he didn’t completely believe it. He’d saved Rocky from a slow death of starvation and blood loss when he came upon him as a small injured cub with his mortally wounded mother. Rocky had been following him ever since Mike had nursed him back to health. And no matter how hard he tried to release him into the wild after that, he came back. After a while, Mike not only accepted the bear but enjoyed the companionship Rocky provided.
“Don’t worry. I’ll be back,” Mike said to the bear. Rocky snorted and lumbered off.
The girl cried out briefly when Mike transferred her to the cart but didn’t seem to have the energy to hold her eyes on his for longer than a few seconds. He tucked more blankets around her to keep her warm.
“You hang on, honey. I’ll get you medical help as fast as I can.” Her eyes burst open, looking owlish, and fear flooded them, but she couldn’t speak. His gut lurched. He shook his head when she tried to sit up. “Lie back.” She blinked at his stern command, but didn’t stop struggling.
“No hospital!” Her words came out clear but distressed, making him pause. He knew real fear and this girl had it. “Please, they’ll find me.”
Mike refrained from asking who since it would only steal time they didn’t have.
“I’ve got you, and I’m taking you someplace safe. Now do as you’re told, sweetheart.” She relaxed, and slumped back against the pillows. He threw his long leg over the seat of the four-wheeler and started the engine. There was no way she was going to die. No fucking way. The path to Annie’s was a three-mile trek through a wooded trail that he tried to take with both speed and caution. He pulled into the drive of a blue clapboard-sided farmhouse.
He started hollering for Annie, as he scooped the girl into his arms. He tucked her against his chest and jogged toward the porch. The girl was completely dead weight now, and he hoped he wasn’t too late. “Annie!”
“Christ almighty, Yukon. What’s the damn ruckus about?” His only human friend came out of the house in pajamas, her long gray hair swinging loosely past her trim waist. She swore as soon as she saw he carried a girl, and quickly spun back through the door.
“Take her to the back.”
The clinic exam room at the back of Annie’s was still fully equipped, even though her backwoods-doctor husband had been dead for several years. The exam table still even had a sheet over it.
“Put her on the table,” Annie ordered as she clicked on the exam lamp. She washed her hands in the little sink and pulled on rubber gloves as Mike situated the woman on the table.
“The biggest concern is the wound on her right thigh. Looks like it nicked an artery and she’s lost quite a bit of blood.”
Annie shoved him back and started working.
“Get back, Yukon. I got it from here.”
He didn’t get back though, but merely moved to her other side, out of Annie’s way. The girl was pale and breathing shallowly now. He thought she was completely unconscious until she grabbed his arm fiercely, probably using every ounce of remaining strength she had. Her eyes pierced right through him as they pleaded and her mouth opened to form inaudible words. He read her pretty, but cracked, blood-crusted lips.
Please don’t leave me.
“I’m staying,” he said, and he did it with such determination, Annie only nodded. He watched her work, placing an IV, oxygen mask, and some leads to monitor her. As Mike looked at the monitor beeping to life, fear gripped him. He didn’t know the girl, but he damn well wasn’t leaving her to die alone. He took her small hand in his, bent his head and prayed—something he hadn’t done in years.
* * *
“Why, Alex. Why?” Her voice cracked with emotion as the man she’d once loved more than anything stood in front of her holding the foreclosure papers she’d shoved at him. His face wasn’t cold or angry, just indifferent. He stood back and waved her into his apartment. How the hell could he afford an apartment? He’d bled her dry, so who was paying for it? She pushed the ridiculous jealousy down deep. Maybe he had a new woman to con.
“Because it’s who I am, mouse,” he said, using the nickname he had for her. He plowed a hand through the familiar dark swoop of his hair. After all the years of lies and betrayals, the swoop no longer appealed.
“Don’t call me that!” It came out angry but fizzled fast. “Who are you?” she mumbled in disbelief. “Who the hell are you?” She started to breathe too quickly, and her chest felt tight. “You’re a…” She couldn’t finish her sentence, and he sighed impatiently.
“A con artist. A hustler. I tricked you, Avery. You were a goddamned easy target, too.” He chuckled darkly. “Maybe this will be a lesson for you.” She thought there was regret in the sound, but she couldn’t be sure—she couldn’t trust herself anymore, could she? “Jesus, mouse, don’t fall for the smooth ones.” He shook his head and added, “We’re all bad news.”
“I was going to say asshole,” she stated dryly but hurt took over again. “The house? The cars? My t-trust!” She felt all-encompassing anguish at the smirk playing on his mouth.
“Trust or trust fund?” He huffed humorlessly. “Breaking your trust was a fucking gift.” His dark brown eyes hardened on hers, and he picked a glass filled with amber liquid off the coffee table and emptied it. “Maybe you won’t be so damned naive next time around. And as far as the trust fund, Av. It’s not like there isn’t more coming. In a fuckin’ year, you’ll be living high and mighty again. The bank knows that when you turn thirty, you’ll be getting over five million. You can save the house. But honestly, why would you want to?” He looked around, crossing his tanned arms over his chest. “Our house will only haunt you with memories.”
“You’re sick,” she spat. It was only ten in the morning, and Alex poured another two fingers of scotch into his glass. He never drank. She closed her eyes. But of course, she didn’t really know him—not the real him. When she opened them, her gaze fell on the gun tucked into the couch. Why did he have a gun?
“Perhaps, but I will say you’re the closest I’ve come to loving someone other than myself.” He touched her face a moment before she stumbled back a few steps. He shrugged indifferently. “You’ll be fine, mouse. Just keep your mouth shut about the money and have a good life.”
“I don’t get it,” she added, noting the dark circles under his eyes. Had he slept at all since she’d kicked him out a week ago?
“What don’t you get?”
“Why’d you ask me here? I kicked you out. It’s over. I’m done with your shit.”
He smiled, again without humor, shook his head and grabbed her hand. He took her into his bedroom and then his smile became genuine.
“One last time, mouse? For old time’s sake.” He had been her first—her only—the man she’d clung to after a loveless existence. But she’d be damned if he touched her again. It was over and the marriage had been nothing more than a fantasy.
She narrowed her eyes and he sighed in exasperation.
“I thought—”
A crash in the living room silenced them both. Alex grabbed her by the shoulders, startling her. His eyes were wild, and his chest heaved.
“Get in the closet and don’t make a sound,” he whispered frantically. The fear in his eyes made her gut twist, and her heart beat in a frenzy. He shoved her in amongst his clothes. “Please, mouse, no matter what happens, don’t come out.”
Hidden amongst his expensive clothes, some of which smelled like his cologne, curled with her knees to her chest, she looked up at him.
“I lied, mouse. I do love you. I did a bad thing. Shit, many bad things, but you were the one good thing. Remember that.” He shut the closet, and she saw him through the slats as he jumped onto his bed feigning sleep.
“Get up, dickbag.” A man in black leather kicked the end of the bed. “Get the fuck up. We gave you enough time. Now we’re gonna have some fun.” He turned his head to look over his shoulder at his partner. Avery saw his coal black eyes and yellow teeth, and as his lips spread into a cruel smile, a scar rippled along the side of his cheek. It was knitted tight and puckered. Shivers erupted through her body. Hair as dark as his eyes stuck out from under his ball cap and when his leather jacket opened, the black metal from the butt of a gun tucked in his belt pulled her eyes. She peeked at the other man and saw someone equally terrifying. A muscled Mr. Clean type with a little patch of ginger hair under his bottom lip, and a tattoo of a snake slithering up his thick bulging neck.
“Grab the rope from the truck, Moe.” He zeroed in on Alex again. “And the knives.” He placed his hands on his hips. “Better bring something to muffle his screams, too.” The chuckle that followed made her stomach roll.
“I’ll go to the cops, Eddie.” Alex grabbed his cell off the nightstand, and the leather-clad man took the floor lamp at his side and smashed Alex’s hand. There was a sickening crunch before his scream.
“You know he is the cops, right, dickhead?” Eddie pointed over his shoulder at Moe. “Who do you think they’ll believe, you or an undercover badge? Like I told ya before, give us our money or die. Plain and simple. You didn’t give us our money, so now you die.” He took a tiny metal box out of his pocket. Avery didn’t dare move to get a better look, but he put it to his mouth and smoke clouded around him. The sickly sweet smell told her it was a vaping cigarette.
“Please, just another week. I’ll get it. Damn it, Eddie. I promise!”
“Too late, Alex. Too late.” He walked around in a slow circle drawing on his e-cigarette.
“But if you kill me you’ll never get the money.”
“Yeah?” He paused and spun to look directly at Alex. “I think we will.” He took another pull of sweet vapor and chuckled. “As soon as we’re done with you, we’re heading to see your little woman. We’ll show her we mean business and we’ll get our money. We’ve been watching her. She’s a sweet piece of ass, Alex. I think my cock wants a taste of her.” Avery covered her mouth and locked the scream in her throat. “In fact, it wants that taste so bad I’m tired of talking to you.” He pulled out his gun…
Avery woke with a pounding heart but remained still. She didn’t want to alert anyone that she was awake. It took a moment for her eyes to focus on the burly, bearded lumberjack sleeping in the chair beside her bed, but she’d known he’d be there. He was always there, every time Avery opened her eyes. She had no concept of where she was or how long she’d been there, but the one constant was his presence.
His black and red checkered coat was no longer soaked in her blood, and the black t-shirt that hugged his muscled chest, shoulders, and biceps was different, so she figured he’d left to change his clothes at some point. Her eyes roamed over his crossed arms and up to his bearded chin, which rested on his chest. His breathing was deep and steady, so she took the opportunity to examine him further.
His toque was off now, and he’d tucked his dark blond hair behind his ears, but several wavy pieces had slipped free and lay against his collarbone. Avery stared, noting his full lips, partially hidden by his unkempt reddish blond facial hair, were parted slightly. She remembered focusing on them and his stormy blue eyes when he spoke sternly to her during her rescue. Her eyes narrowed as she recalled his strict expression when he forced her to help him hold his belt over her leg wound.
She should feel grateful, but she didn’t. The lumberjack had only prolonged her agony. She’d overheard the nurse tell him she was out of medical danger. She’d needed eight stitches in her head and another twelve in her thigh, but once she got her strength back, she’d be fine. Except whenever she woke, they peppered her with questions, mainly focusing on her name. She’d pretend to fall asleep whenever they pestered, but she knew that wouldn’t work for long. She had to escape. If they found out her name and the authorities came asking questions, they’d all be in jeopardy.
Avery’s eyes darted around the room looking for an escape. She wasn’t where they’d originally worked on her. They’d moved her to another small room—one with a proper bed, nightstand, window, and a small bathroom off to the side. Her eyes swung back to the window. It held promise, she decided, but then she glanced back to the man at her side.
Escape was trickier with the lumberjack holding bedside vigil. He woke every time she stirred. She shifted in the bed, and the man’s eyes popped open just as she knew they would. She cocked her brow in annoyance.
“Morning,” she muttered grumpily. When his eyes speared hers, her belly dipped.
“What was that?” he asked. His dark blond brows knitted and a wrinkle creased the spot between his eyes before he scrubbed his hands over his face. She swallowed hard, but the dry patch in her throat made her choke.
“Here.” He sat forward, instantly alert and grabbed the water on her bedside table. His neck cracked as he brushed the straw against her lips. Sleeping in the chair had to be awful. He got the straw in her mouth, and she took a long pull. Why on earth wouldn’t he go home and stay there?
“That a girl,” he crooned. “Drink up.” His chair scraped the floor as he shifted closer, grabbing the bowl off the nightstand. As soon as he took the straw out of her mouth, she clenched her jaw, knowing what he was going to do.
He set the cup back and rolled his shoulders before grabbing the spoon next to it. Avery watched his arms and chest stretch the black t-shirt further. He was handsome but rugged, scruffy, and wild looking—a bit too dangerous to challenge too much.
“Why?” she croaked and then cleared her throat. “Why are you still here?”
His eyes narrowed as he scanned her face.
“Because you asked me not to leave you.”
She blinked. Had she?
“What’s your name?” He cocked his head slightly when she didn’t answer and grabbed her hip as she started rolling away. Her stomach dropped again. “Tell me your name.”
“Tired,” she said. “My name is tired.” And with that, she closed her eyes.
“Sit up and eat.” His impatient tone told her it wasn’t a request and when she opened her eyes, his mouth was a firm line, underscoring the idea. “You’re weak and need to build your strength.”
She sighed forcefully, and his jaw tightened, making her swallow any sass she’d been considering. His finger drummed the bowl, so she shifted up. He nodded his approval and used her pillows to prop her up farther. She noticed she wasn’t as achy as she’d been before.
Frowning, Avery scrunched her nose when he scooped up the pulpy oatmeal from the bowl and aimed the spoon at her mouth.
“I don’t need to be fed.”
“If that were true you’d have eaten on your own the last week.” His stern expression irritated her further.
“I’m more than capable. I’m. Just. Not. Hungry—” He shoved the spoon in her mouth before she could close it over her final word. Then he pointed a long straight finger at her.
“You even think about spitting that out, I swear to you, right here and now I will roll you over and paint your bratty backside red!”
Her brows slammed down hard and she swallowed before sucking in an exaggerated breath, ready to blast him, even though his words made her feel something very different than anger. But when she opened her mouth, he was ready with another spoonful. She caught on and clamped her lips tight.
Her reaction to his threat confused her. It was wrong to hit someone but when he threatened, it made her feel like he cared. She couldn’t remember the last time someone cared, but why the hell should he?
“Little girl, you have approximately three seconds to open that mouth.” A vein in his forehead thickened. He meant business and as ridiculous as his threat was, Avery didn’t think for a second he wouldn’t follow through, especially since the nurse had said she was doing so well.
She crossed her arms and stared hard at the ceiling, but dutifully opened her mouth. Anger over his bossiness, and the warm fluttering over his threat and referral to her as ‘little girl’ battled within her.
“If I have to feed you all day like I’m your daddy, I will.”
“You may as well be my daddy with the way you treat me.” Her words dripped venom, hiding the confusing twist of desire curling within her. He only smirked. Her cheeks heated and she knew he’d noticed.
“Only since I found out you’ve mended up quite nicely. Now finish this oatmeal, and you won’t discover what Daddy’s hand feels like punishing your pretty little bottom.”
Her eyes widened a second in alarm before the thought nuzzled in her like a purring cat. “You’d punish a poor injured girl?” she asked, furrowing her brow as his lifted.
“You’d disobey the man trying to get you healthy again?”
“Fine!” she said forcibly, her irritation more from her inability to process the feelings he was inducing.
“That’s ‘Yes, Daddy,’” he said seriously. Her eyes rounded. He wasn’t joking. Her heart flipped at the need surging deep in her middle and the taboo of it.