Near Saddle Mountain, North Carolina:

“Move it, Rum. Damn it! Why is it every time I go to the grocery store you think helping me unload the car means getting under my feet? Moonshine, get your nose out of that bag, it isn’t for you,” Delilah growled in annoyance.

She placed the heaviest bags on the floor in the kitchen before turning to head back out to the truck. She was running behind thanks to the two black and tan clowns who thought playing in the snow was more fun than stockpiling supplies to weather the storm of the century. If she had been smart, she would have stayed at the house in town. The problem was that the old furnace there had decided to die in the middle of the night. The repair man had told her that it was beyond help and needed to be replaced, and that wouldn’t happen until at least a week after the storm passed because he was backed up.

Left with nothing but a small pellet stove in the living room, she wasn’t about to try to weather the storm there. She had two options: she could either go to the local school, which was open as an emergency shelter and wouldn’t let her bring the dogs, or come up to a perfectly good house and have the entire mountain to herself.

She had plenty of propane for the gas fireplaces, emergency lights, a new roof, and insulated windows. She could spend the time working on some of the last-minute projects that she hadn’t had time to finish.

The dogs pushed past her, out the back door of the kitchen, and tripped over each other as they both tried to fit through the mudroom door at the same time. How two huge dogs could be so clumsy was beyond her. She suspected the reason their previous owner had given her the last two pups was because he had dropped them on their heads, not because he was moving.

She reached up and pulled her cap down over her ears. The temperature was beginning to rapidly drop, and the wind was picking up. She pulled the doors shut behind her so the house could heat up. Her thick boots crunched against the newly fallen snow. She tried to walk in the footsteps she had made coming into the house.

Pulling open the driver’s side door of the truck, she slid in. Turning the key, she started the ignition, thankful the engine hadn’t cooled down completely and there was still some heat coming out of the vents. She looked around to make sure the two dogs weren’t standing near the truck before she shifted into reverse and backed the truck into the renovated Model-T shed.

Shifting back into park, she turned off the ignition and climbed out of the truck. Snow was beginning to fall in thick flakes outside the door. Delilah started forward before she remembered the snow shovel.

Grabbing it off the hook, she heard the dogs frantically barking. She hoped they hadn’t found some poor rabbit searching for a last-minute meal before the storm. She jumped when the wind suddenly caught one of the shed’s doors and slammed it shut. In the space of a few minutes, the scene outside had changed from beautiful fat flakes to a full-blown blizzard. She was barely able to see the house from a hundred feet away.

She grabbed the rope hanging from another hook and stepped outside. She quickly closed the doors to the shed and slid the board across to secure them against blowing open. Tying one end of the rope to the eye-hook screwed into the corner of the shed, she turned and began wading through the snow back toward the house. She held the rope in one hand, slowly releasing it while she used the shovel to keep herself from falling.

“Moonshine! Rum! Come on, boys. Time to go inside,” she yelled above the wind. “I hope to hell you two did your business while you were out,” she muttered, nearly breathless by the time she reached the house.

She propped the shovel up against the wall of the mudroom and tied the other end of the rope to the eye hook near the door. Testing it, she grunted in satisfaction. This way if she needed anything in the shed or needed to take the dogs out on their leashes during the storm, she could hold onto the rope. She’d heard one too many horror stories about people losing their way in a blizzard only to be found just feet from their door after the thaw.

She scanned the yard for the dogs. She couldn’t see anything but white. With a grimace, she pulled off her glove and raised her quickly freezing fingers to her mouth. She released a loud, piercing whistle that was lost in the howl of the wind. Still, she could hear the muted sounds of the dogs barking.

Delilah rolled her eyes when she realized that the sound was coming from inside the house. The dogs must have finally figured out how to use the doggie door that she had installed. She didn’t remember unlocking it, but with everything else going on, that wasn’t surprising.

She slid her glove back on and picked up the shovel. Pushing open the door, she looked down as she stepped inside. Her boots were covered with snow. She knocked off as much as she could before pulling them off and placing them on the shoe rack.

She propped the snow shovel next to the back door and bent to lock the doggie door. She froze when she saw the latch was still in the locked position. Straightening, she swallowed and turned. She could hear the dogs still barking.

Fear changed to anger which turned to being downright pissed off. If DeWayne thought he could slink up here and find a way to get stuck in the storm with her, he was about to find out just how cold it was going to be. The bastard had probably locked the dogs in the front sitting room.

She wrapped her fingers around the shovel. She’d told DeWayne ‘no’ again two days ago. She had done her research on the owner of Mountain View Properties, and he was about as low as a rattlesnake’s belly. Olie Ray Lister had numerous lawsuits pending against him. These lawsuits ranged from not paying the agreed upon price for property, to not paying his contractors, to destroying the environment. She would try out her granddad’s old shotgun on the man before she let him anywhere near her grandparents’ property.

Silently pushing open the back door into the kitchen, she stepped inside. Her gloved hands slid along the yellow fiberglass handle of the broad shovel. She held it between both hands like a baseball bat. Her thick socks silently slid along the smooth, polished wood floor. In the back of her mind, she was trying to remember what the law said about killing someone in your house, and she was coming up blank. She wondered how much trouble she would get into if she did.

One more thing for me to research, she decided. If nothing else, I’ll have a shovel to help me bury the body! She didn’t plan on killing DeWayne, no matter how tempted she actually was to commit the deed, but she wasn’t above scaring the shit out of him. What really pissed her off was that she would undoubtedly be stuck with the jerk for a while. One thing she for sure, she would make it the most miserable time of the sneaky bastard’s life. By the time the snow melted enough for him to safely leave the mountain he would be begging to get away from her and the dogs.

Walking down the narrow hallway leading to the front door, she tightened her fingers on the handle. She could see a man standing with his back to her near the staircase. Either the shadows were playing tricks on her eyes, or DeWayne had packed on some weight and height over the last two days. She decided he must be wearing snow boots and his entire wardrobe. That might work in his favor when she smacked him in the ass with the shovel.

He was looking into the front sitting room where she could hear the dogs whining. Lifting the shovel, she released a growl and charged at him. Her intention was to scare him, but her plan drastically backfired when the man turned, and she saw that it was not DeWayne. It was a huge stranger with eyes that glowed with a golden flame.

“Oh, shit!” she choked.

She instinctively swung her hands outward when he took a step toward her. The shovel was aimed for his head. He reached up with one hand and caught it in midair, bringing her forward momentum to a sudden stop. Their gazes locked in stunned silence at the same time as her foot connected with his unprotected crotch in a powerful kick. All those years of playing on the community soccer team paid off in that one unforgettable moment.

His eyes widened in shock and he released the metal end of the shovel. She lifted the shovel to hit him in the head, but before she even began the downswing, the shovel connected with something – or someone – behind her. The clang resonated in the narrow space of the hallway and the impact resonated up her arm. She turned and thrust the handle of the shovel into the cheekbone of the man she had just kicked before driving the flat end of the shovel blade into the stomach of the man who had snuck up behind her. She swiveled around when the man she had kicked fell backwards over one of Moonshine’s toys. Not waiting to find out who the men were or why in the hell they were in her house, she skirted around the man on the ground. He was holding his bleeding nose with one hand and his crotch with the other.

Delilah gripped the banister of the staircase with her right hand and held her only weapon with her left. Her gaze went to the sitting room where the dogs were still whining pitifully. A gasp escaped her when she saw that they were locked in a large golden cage.

She screamed when a man’s face suddenly appeared on the other side of the railing, blocking her view. Swinging the shovel, she heard him utter what could only be a loud curse as he ducked. A rush of adrenaline filled her, and she raced up the stairs and down the long hallway to the master bedroom.

Grabbing the door handle as she entered, she slammed the door and twisted the old-fashioned key in the lock. Backing up, she realized that it wouldn’t take very much for the two men to bust through the flimsy door.

Delilah quickly placed the shovel within reach, and pushed on the heavy antique dresser. She almost fell when it rolled across the wooden floor. Looking at the feet on the dresser, she groaned when she saw they were on wheels.

“Oh, for crying out loud,” she hissed in vexation.