Chapter 1
So cold.
Welcome to Montana. Gorgeous scenery. Big, broad skies. And at the moment, brutally, bone-numbingly Cold.
Isabelle forced herself to keep lifting her feet, moving forward along the side of the road, counting down the miles to warmth and shelter. The pain in her feet had started several miles back, and now they hurt so badly she could barely stay upright, agony shooting up her legs as she trod determinedly down the side of the road towards warmth.
And freedom.
“How do I do this? How do I keep getting myself into these messed up situations?”
She glanced around, but the same vacant road stretched out before and behind, no sign of life anywhere near. Even the animals and birds were smart enough to cuddle up in their dens and nests to keep warm. But not Isabelle. She’d been hitchhiking for hours. Correction! She’d been walking for hours. None of the passing travelers even slowed down long enough to give her a second look. It was disheartening. She liked to believe that if she saw a lone female, all of five-foot nothing, walking along the side of a snow-covered road in arctic temperatures, she’d stop and give a gal a ride. She got it though. People were distrustful by nature. Perhaps if she’d been more like them, she wouldn’t be here now.
She lifted her bag higher on her shoulder and vowed to do better in the future. No more trusting men…or anyone for that matter. She’d rely on actions from here on out, not mere words and empty promises.
Decided, she quickened her pace for about two steps before slowing just as quickly. Her feet were screaming, and she still had so damn far to go. Worse, the sun was sitting low in the sky, already shading towards the upcoming paint box of a Montana sunset. Within the hour it’d be nestled behind the mountains to the west, and no matter how cold it was now, it would get worse. Much worse. There was no way she’d make it to Aunty Ruby’s before dark, not unless someone stopped to pick her up.
On cue, as if conjured up by her thoughts, a vehicle sounded behind her. Turning, she threw up her thumb, lifting her other hand to shield her face from a blast of snow as the wind chose that moment to pick up. Locks of chestnut colored hair whipped around her face, the curtain of her hair and the snow that had started falling harder in the last few minutes, obscuring how many people were in the truck that continued to slow as it approached. Her heart kicked up, because hitchhiking was a gamble, and plenty of women went missing every year, disappearing without a trace. She lowered her thumb and squinted through the snow as the white, jacked-up truck rolled to a stop beside her.
The window whirred down. “What in the hell are you doing, lady?”
Uhhh… O-kay. It was just one person. A guy. An attractive guy. A growly guy. Grumpy Gus was hot as hell! He had dark black hair, a dark black beard and moustache. Dark, nearly black eyes glared at her under equally dark brows in warmly-tanned skin that had seen its share of sunshine and weather. His shoulders pressed hard against his red flannel shirt, giving the impression his muscles would bulge out and rip the damn thing if he even sneezed. One strong, broad hand gripped the steering wheel. Isabelle wasn’t sure why, but hands were always one of the first things she noticed about a man. You could tell a lot about a guy by how soft, or how hard, his hands looked. Grumpy Gus’ hands looked like he wielded an axe for a living.
His rant drew her attention back to his angry eyes. “You’re gonna get creamed out there! I barely saw you through the snow!”
Was this guy really yelling at her? She figured he was about her age, but he seemed older as he ripped his eyes from hers to look at something on his dash before roaring, “It’s forty degrees!”
She felt like she was being admonished by her father.
“Get in,” he growled unhappily, but she simply stood there, frozen by the hard look in his eyes.
He seemed really angry, and she wasn’t sure she wanted a ride from someone who had yelled at her approximately three times in the first three seconds of meeting. She opened her mouth to decline, but stopped when he continued his tirade.
“Sunset is in forty minutes, and then the temperature’s gonna drop. You aren’t dressed for it.”
He was right, and she considered reaching for the door handle. The guy rolled his eyes with a muttered, “Fucking hell.”
“Look,” he continued, “if you don’t trust me, fine. I’ll call a hi-po and have them pick you up.”
He sat back until he was fully settled in his seat and the window began to raise, but his final words jerked her into action. As unsure as she was about this guy, she was sure she didn’t want the highway patrol called.
Isabelle pulled the door open and clambered inside as gracefully as she could, instantly feeling her body shudder as the warm heat licked her bare skin. Turning, she found Grumpy Gus staring at her like she’d just grown a second head.
“What? You said to get in.”
He snorted, then tore his eyes from hers to pull back out on the road. In the quiet of the cab she swore she heard him mutter something under his breath about terrible instincts. At his words she tensed, every muscle tightening. Pulling her bag off her shoulder, she settled it on her lap, her hand instinctively going to the front pocket of the bag where her pistol was hidden.
Grumpy Gus asked, “Where you headed?” His eyes stayed glued to the road.
“M-my Aunt’s house. It’s north.”
He snorted again, and she wanted to say something smartass, but she got it. This was the only road, and she was walking in one direction, north!
He glanced at her, then at the death grip she had on her bag, and rolled his eyes. “Not gonna rob you, lady. You can stop strangling your purse.”
“It’s not a purse. And I’m not a lady. I mean I am…obviously…a lady. I’m just… I meant…”
He turned to shoot her a weird look, curling his lip before slamming down his brows like he’d just smelled cooked cabbage or something.
“Never mind,” she whispered and turned her face to the window, hiding behind the fall of her hair lest sexy Grumpy Gus, who was clearly a Judgey McJudgerton saw the heat searing her cheeks. She wasn’t a people person. Hated them, actually. It was why she’d had to meet Zeke online. She didn’t do socializing, and this was why. She sucked at it.
***
Chance stifled a growl as he watched Crazy Lady cower into the passenger-side door. Oh! So, now her instincts kick in? He shook his head and concentrated on the road. They’d been bad earlier, but the snow hadn’t stopped all day. The plows couldn’t keep up, and he knew once he pulled off the highway it’d be worse. The town didn’t plow the roads too far out, and the county cared even less, too busy with the major highways to worry about the numerous back roads.
Glancing at Crazy Lady he wondered what her deal was. Obviously, she was a nut job to be out in this weather, this far from civilization this late in the evening. Flaring his nostrils, he took in her scent, expecting to find booze or drugs on her. He found none. Nope, the only thing he scented on her was wariness and… He sniffed again. Fucking great! Pain. Crazy Lady reeked of pain, and he didn’t want to get involved with however she’d fucked herself up. “Where am I dropping you?”
She glanced at him and then back at the road. “How far you going?”
“Why are you answering my question with a question?” he snarled impatiently. He wanted her out of his truck ASAP. Whatever fucked-up mission she was on that had her out in this weather and in pain wasn’t anything he wanted to get involved in.
“I’m going this way,” she answered, and jerked her chin toward the window.
He stifled a growl. Crazy Lady was really trying his patience.
“Mile marker three sixty five. You can leave me there.”
His eyes snagged on the next mile marker they passed. It was three fifty seven. That only pissed him off more. “You planned on walking eight more miles tonight?”
“Wasn’t the plan,” she huffed. “Just happened.”
In his head, Chance kept chanting, “Don’t wanna know, don’t wanna know, don’t wanna know.” The problem was, his inner animal was pawing at him, wanting him to ask questions and find out more, so Chance pushed a little harder on the accelerator. He needed this woman dropped off at her damn mile marker and the sooner, the better.