Morgan’s flip-flop sank into a sludge and she cringed, once again pulling the cell phone out of her pocket to check for reception. Nothing. Not a single bar to be had. Usually rebelling against her mother was fun—not this time apparently.

She turned in a circle as silently as possible. Surrounded by swampland with no cell phone reception was not exactly the kind of post-graduation summer break she’d been hoping for. When her mother suggested Florida, Morgan had been on board, thrilled for a chance to work on her tan. And…fine. She hadn’t been torn up over the chance to have Mom all to herself for once. Ever since the promotion, she’d been fending for herself, throwing dinners together in between homework and applying for internships. Imagine Morgan’s surprise when they’d landed in Key Largo only to be greeted by her mother’s secret boyfriend.

All this time. Morgan’s mother hadn’t been taking work trips.

She’d been getting action on the sly.

Could anyone blame Morgan for bouncing? She wasn’t about to sit around the hotel watching her mother make eyes at a divorced real estate investor. Her intention was to hitch a ride to Miami and use her fake identification to sneak into a couple clubs. To take her mind off how fast her mother moved on from her father. Unfortunately, she’d taken a wrong turn—or seven—and promptly blown the right front tire of her mother’s rental Chrysler.

Right at the edge of the Everglades.

Morgan trudged forward, telling herself for the tenth time that she would run into the advertised gas station sooner or later. The farther she walked, however, the more she began to suspect the sign was either ancient or the gas station had sunk right into the mud, just like her poor flip-flop. The hotel pool, leering businessmen and a virgin piña colada didn’t sound quite so bad right about now.

In her halter top and shorts, bikini top tied underneath, she couldn’t be dressed any more inappropriately to get lost in a freaking jungle. Morgan turned around and scanned the green, sloping trees, trying to remember which way she’d come. Oh, this was bad. Her sense of direction sucked major ass and now daylight was beginning to fade.

Gathering her courage, she cupped both hands around her mouth. “Um…hello? Out there?”

She yelped as a flock of birds broke from behind a mossy rock and scattered into the densely humid atmosphere. That’s when she started to notice other sounds. Creepy ones. Sounds she never heard while tucked away in her Chicago high-rise home. Not even at her dad’s ranch in California…back when she used to visit him. Divorces were the worst. Especially when your parents use you as a bargaining chip. Or leverage.

Shaking off her dark thoughts, Morgan swiped open the flashlight app on her cell and shined it toward the ground. She only had an hour of daylight left. Best not to disappear farther into the swamp. Instead, she would use the flashlight to follow her footprints in the mud back to her car—and call for roadside assistance. The way she should have done in the first place.

Plan in place, Morgan started at a purposeful clip, refusing to speculate on what kind of decomposed plants and nine-million-year-old mud was making its home between her toes. As soon as she got back to the hotel, she wasn’t coming out of the shower for an hour.

A snap to Morgan’s right brought her to a startled halt. What was that? Unlike the hoots, birdcalls and lapping water she’d been hearing, this sounded closer. It shifted the air. And all the other sounds ceased, like someone had hushed them.

Her blood started to thrum in her wrists and neck, the urge to run strong. So strong. Yet at the same time, her body refused to move. Fear tumbled in her belly.

“Hello?” Morgan croaked.

Another snap. This time, it was followed by the dragging of brush on earth. Low. Low to the ground. Dozens of colorful tourist brochures danced in her head. Alligator farms. Tour the everglades. All of those pamphlets had one thing in common. Slithery, green, prehistoric-looking monsters on the front. Even a city girl knew an alligator was approaching now. Where though? Which way did she need to run to escape it? Beginning to shake, she turned in a slow revolution, the fingers of terror sinking into her muscles, locking them up tight.

Morgan’s cell phone flashlight illuminated something so horrifying, she could barely process it. She expected a regular-sized alligator, but twenty yards away was the most enormous, ugliest beast she’d ever seen in her life. Five times her size, its teeth caught the light and she could already feel them sinking into her throat.

“Oh, no. This is bad.” Morgan backed up a few steps and her heel caught on a rock, plunging her to the damp, spongey ground. Her cell phone dropped, stealing the light along with it—and she screamed, scrambling onto her hands and knees. Two seconds. That was all it took for the alligator to reach her. Pain blasted up her right ankle as sharp teeth grazed her.

Run. Run. Get up and run.

Doing as her brain commanded, there was a large part of Morgan that expected the teeth to sink in again, deeper this time. Expected to be eaten alive. And a sob rose from her throat, knowing her mother would probably never find a body to bury. Oh God. She was going to get dragged into the nasty-ass swamp and chewed up, wasn’t she? She should have stayed at the hotel and endured the suck-face between her mom and Too-Tan Dan. Instead she’d been impulsive, just like always. Now she’d die as punishment.

But the jaws never clamped down. Morgan ran a few steps before a yell ripped through the air, sending unseen animals scurrying in every direction and abusing her eardrums. Even with her instincts demanding she flee, she couldn’t help looking back over her shoulder. The scene that greeted her eyes skidded her to a stop.

A…man?

Yeah, a man. A huge one. His size rivaled the alligator—and that insane bulk was being used to wrestle the animal. Successfully. It was hard to tell in the dark, but Morgan actually thought the gator looked scared of the giant. The animal’s little arms flailed as the man flipped it over onto its back, one oversized hand clamping its jaw together so it couldn’t bite.

“No way,” Morgan whispered. “This is better than the Discovery Channel.”

And her ass needed to keep running. Because an alligator was terrifying, but a man that could wrestle one? Even scarier. Not to mention, the man-beast was utterly ripped with muscle—and was shirtless in overalls. Any city girl knew damn well that a shirtless man wearing overalls in a swamp was the beginning to a horror flick. She wasn’t about to be dragged to some shack where skulls of lost travelers lined the rafters and sharp implements dangled over a torture table. Nope. Fuck that noise.

Morgan spun on a heel and booked it, inwardly mourning the loss of her cell phone. She could very well be getting more and most lost, but at least she’d live to fight another day. The pain in her ankle throbbed, but knowing how much worse it could have been, she didn’t dwell.

The sound of footsteps behind Morgan brought the hammer of fear back down with a vengeance. It was the man. Alligators didn’t run—at least she didn’t think so. The footfalls were way too heavy, anyway. Oh God. He was gaining on her. She was fast, but not with a bum ankle. Best to face the threat with cool logic. Maybe she would be the Jamie Lee Curtis of this horror flick and make it out alive.

Morgan stopped and turned, holding her hands out. The man stopped, too, his face buried in the shadows, his acre-wide chest heaving with exertion. Holy shit. Up close, she saw the man was easily six foot seven, covered in chest hair and mud. Maybe even a little of his own blood. Big fists huge at his sides, the veins in his forearms stark in the creeping twilight. Repressed aggression hung on his body, the way heat emanates from a furnace.

If this man wanted, he could force himself on her. With ease.

A cold finger of apprehension trailed down her spine. Crazier things had happened than a weird, no-fatalities encounter in a swamp, though, right? Her only option was to pretend he was a decent human being who had only chased her down to inquire if she’d gotten lost.

Sure.

“L-look. Thank you for saving me back there. Much appreciated, man. Like. Wow.” Morgan paused to swallow the nerves gathering in her throat. “You didn’t happen to grab my cell phone…” Nothing from the man. Just more shuddering of that massive chest. “Okay, no worries. Could you just point me toward the road?”

His right hand rose, one thick finger pointing at her ankle. He grunted.

Oh God. How far had she walked that the locals didn’t even speak English?

“Um. Yeah, it’s fine. Just a scratch. I’ve done worse shaving my legs.”

She trailed off at that final word, berating herself for drawing attention to her legs. Morgan wasn’t stupid. The odds that a man could come across a helpless female in the swamp—no witnesses for miles—wouldn’t take advantage? Very slim. Her pulse started to dive and skip as a result. No, please. He’s too large. He’ll kill me.

Personalize yourself. Hadn’t she learned a single lesson from all those true crime shows? Talk to him. Make him view you as a human.

“My name is Morgan,” she started to ramble. “I’m eighteen. I’m, like, really into photography and making my own soap and…uh. I’ve been taking voice lessons as long as I can remember because my mother is an ex-opera singer and wanted me to follow in her footsteps, but I’m awful. Really all I want to do is listen to biographies on audiobook and play dumb games on my phone. But I’m going to school in the fall and I’ll be studying under one of the best photography professors in the country and…do you understand anything I’m saying?”

He pointed to her ankle again.

“It’s fine, dude.” Frustration at the whole situation crept into her tone. And if she was going to be murdered by a monosyllabic overall-wearing swamp thing, she wasn’t surrendering her pride. “You know you shouldn’t just ignore all the other stuff I said. It was kind of personal.”

The man shifted in his mud-caked boots. “I have a camera,” he rasped in a voice that sounded like burnt cigar ashes. “You can use it.”

Morgan stared. “What?”

Impatience seemed to ripple through him. Impatience at himself? “I’m Rixen.” He stepped into the dull light…and presented the most incredibly intimidating face she’d ever seen. Chiseled angles, a boxed jaw covered in a beard, and drooping eyelids. Damp black hair hung down and clung to his cheeks and forehead. “You’re the angel I asked for.” One hand dropped to the lap of his overalls, where he massaged a ridge of swelling flesh. “Come with me now so I can give thanks.”