by Sharon Sala
“Hello, Luce…don’t see much of you outside the diner.”
Luce grinned. “By the time I get through at Harold’s, I don’t do much of anything when I get home except get off my feet.”
Mark nodded. “I can empathize. The last thing I want to do after I finish the route is go for a drive.”
Luce laughed out loud.
Mark thought how pretty she was when she smiled, then remembered what he’d been doing. “I’d better keep moving,” he said, and patted the box beside him in the seat. “Got to deliver Mrs. Tuesday’s order. Looks like she’s been catalogue shopping again.”
Luce saw a JCPenney mailing label on the large package. She knew Bridie was fond of mail-order catalogues.
“So here’s your mail,” Mark said, as he handed Luce a couple of magazines.
“Thanks,” she said, and then stood back as he spun out a little before the tires caught traction.
He drove away as Luce went back to the cabin. Once inside, she laid her mail aside and put up the groceries they’d purchased, then went to her room. The first thing she liked to do after coming home from work was to get out of her work clothes and take a shower. By the end of her shift, she always smelled like cooking grease and cigarette smoke.
It was just after four-thirty when she got to the kitchen to begin making supper. As she began prepping the food, she remembered what evening meals had been like when she was a child—before her parents were killed, before she realized there was no such thing as happily ever after.
She and her sister would be underfoot in the kitchen, listening to their parents talk about their respective workdays, and sneaking bites of food. A favorite had been the handmade tortillas. It wasn’t until she was older that she realized her mother knew all along they were snitching, but at the time, they’d thought it a great sport to outwit her.
She remembered the way her father’s dark eyes would twinkle as she and her sister escaped with the warm, soft tortillas. Even after they were outside on the front stoop, wolfing down their prize, they could still hear the sound of his laughter.
She drew a slow, shaky breath, her throat aching with unshed tears.
God. She missed them so much.
She shook off the sadness as she took an onion from the vegetable bin. It wasn’t the first time she’d wondered why she had been spared when the rest of her family had died in the wreck. It wouldn’t be the last.
She peeled the onion and some potatoes, then cut them into bite-size chunks before opening a can of tomatoes, and dicing some celery and carrots to go in her stew. As she worked, she let herself fantasize about what it would be like to have someone special in her life. Someone who would always be there for her the way her father had been there for her mother—for all the family.
Immediately, her thoughts jumped to Jonah, although she felt foolish, daydreaming about someone she’d met only yesterday. She reached for the package of stew meat, poured some oil into the old cast-iron pot heating on the stove, then dumped in the meat to let it brown. She added some salt and pepper, then, as an afterthought, a big dash of hot sauce in honor of her Latino roots. As soon as the meat had browned, she added the prepped vegetables, the can of tomatoes and a couple of cans of beef broth, and covered the pot.
Soon the small cabin was filled with the scent of stew bubbling on the back of the stove. With an eye on the clock, she decided to mix up cornbread batter, then put it in the oven to bake. Thanks to Bridie, there would be custard pie for dessert. To Luce, this was as close to a feast as she could muster.
Hobo whined in his sleep, his legs kicking slightly as he lay beside the fire. Luce grinned and wondered if he was dreaming about trying to catch that squirrel that lived in the big oak down by the creek. She’d seen him chase it from time to time, but so far without any success.
Without thinking, her gaze automatically went to Hobo’s leg; then she quickly shifted her focus to something else. Rational thinking had no place in what she’d seen since Jonah Gray Wolf had walked into their lives.
She had no idea how much time had passed when she crossed the room to lay another log on the fire, but it seemed much darker outside than it should have been. Curious, she moved toward the windows at the front of the house. Gathering clouds were bringing on an early night. With a quick glance back at the stove to make sure nothing was burning, she stepped outside for a better look at the sky and was met with a chilling blast of air. It felt as if the temperature had dropped a good ten degrees since she’d come home. Jonah had predicted snow, and if this kept up, it could certainly happen.
Shivering, she started to go back in the house when she caught a flash of movement from the corner of her eye. Curious, she moved toward the edge of the porch, squinting slightly as she stared into the darkening shadows of the forest. Often at this time of evening she would see deer on their way to the creek, and once in a while a raccoon, although when Hobo was outside, they always steered clear.
She stared into the shadows until her eyes began to smart from the chill wind, but nothing else moved. She finally decided she’d been imagining things and turned to go back inside. Just as she opened the door, Hobo charged out of the house, nearly knocking her down as he bounded from the porch. Barking ferociously, he headed toward the trees.
Luce frowned as she watched him go. He was running right toward the place where she’d been looking. Maybe she’d seen something there, after all. Still, it was too late in the evening for him to go hunting. He would be out all night if he took off after some animal.
“Hobo! Hobo! Come back here!”
But her calls were futile. The dog was gone.
He’d been asleep inside the cabin. She couldn’t imagine what had alerted him from in there, but she could hear him baying at his prey. She listened for a few moments longer before she realized what she was hearing. That wasn’t the sound he made when he was hunting. He was on the attack.
Her eyes widened as she stared into the tree line.
The stalker? Was it him? Was that who Hobo was chasing?
Panic filled her as she ran into the cabin, quickly locking the door behind her. As she did, the timer on the stove went off, startling her anew. With shaky hands, she took the cornbread out of the oven and took the stew off the burner, then grabbed a knife. If she was going to be attacked, she wasn’t going down without a fight.
She ran through the cabin, turning off lights as she went, then, as an afterthought, she flipped on the porch light. Within a few minutes it would be completely dark outside, but if this was the night her stalker finally made his move, at least she would see him coming.
She gripped the knife a little tighter and was about to pull up a chair to the window when she saw headlights coming down the mountain.
Thank God.
It had to be Jonah.
Jonah was tired, but it was a good tired. He’d made sure Bridie had plenty of wood inside, and reassured her that, no matter the weather in the morning, he would be up to deal with her livestock, so she should keep herself indoors.
She’d readily agreed, then waved him off before retreating to her nice warm home to enjoy her purchases. The mail-order package contained her new winter coat, a couple of dresses and a pair of new rubber boots for outside work, although when she’d ordered the boots, she hadn’t known she was going to hire someone to take over those chores. Still, a person could always use boots, especially in a mountain winter, and she dug through the package with delight as Jonah made his way down the mountain.
He’d been thinking of Lucia, fantasizing about how it would be to have a permanent home and have her to go home to. His heart already knew what she could mean to him. The longer he stayed with her, the more difficult it was going to be to leave. But he didn’t see any way around it. As long as Major Bourdain lived, anyone Jonah cared for would be in danger.
It was with that thought in mind that he pulled in to the yard. It didn’t occur to him that something could be wrong until he realized that, while the por
ch light was on, there were no lights on inside the cabin.
His nerves were on edge as he opened the truck door and got out. Within seconds, he felt the negative energy of fear and knew something was wrong.
“Lucia! Lucia!”
His heart was pounding as he cleared the steps. Then she opened the door, and all he could think was thank God. He took one look at her face, saw the knife in her hand and knew he’d been right.
“What?” he asked, as he touched her face, then her arm, assuring himself she was still in one piece.
“I think someone was watching the cabin.”
Jonah felt the shock and the fear in her body as vividly as if they were within himself.
“Did you see him?”
“I saw something, but it was getting so dark…then, when I started back inside, Hobo came flying out, barking and growling like crazy. I tried to call him back, but he disappeared. I locked myself inside, then you came.”
“Get back inside, and lock the door. Don’t open it to anyone but me.”
Luce grabbed his arm. “It’s getting dark. You could get lost out—”
“I don’t get lost—ever,” he said.
Her fingers curled into his wrist. “I’m scared.”
“I’ll be back,” Jonah said, then impulsively bent down and kissed her.
Hard. Fast.
There was a sudden burst of air all around them, like the wings of a thousand birds, then that heart-stopping, mind-shattering force of energy beginning to center between her legs. On the brink of another climax, Jonah turned her loose, pushed her inside the cabin and shut the door in her face.
“Lock it!” he yelled.
She turned the lock, then sank to the floor. The knife fell from her fingers as she sat in the darkness, remembering the feel of Jonah’s lips on her mouth. In that brief moment when they’d been connected, he’d shown her something within herself that she’d never known was there.
Passion. So much passion.
She was shaking now, but not from fear.
Please God, bring him back to me. I don’t want to leave this earth without spending at least one night in Jonah Gray Wolf’s arms.
Jonah ran without looking back, knowing that what he’d done had crossed a line he’d sworn not to cross. But he hadn’t been able to leave her afraid and alone. The only thing he could think of to do was give her something else to think about besides fear.
And he had. Maybe more than he’d meant to. But it was done, and he would never regret letting his true feelings for her show.
Within moments of entering the trees, he stopped to get his bearings, and as he did, he felt the presence of evil. The skin crawled on the back of his neck as he heard Lucia’s dog let out a howl.
Hobo had run something—or someone—to ground.
He turned in the direction of the dog’s persistent baying and started to run, dodging branches and leaping over roots, using every preternatural sense he had to navigate the darkening land.
Luce’s stalker was, literally, up a tree and cursing himself for his carelessness. In the long run, he’d been unable to outrun the dog and was still a good half mile from his vehicle. Once up the tree, he’d pulled his handgun, intent on getting rid of the dog before someone followed it to him.
But when he’d gone up the tree, he hadn’t counted on darkness. It caught him before he could see where to aim. All he had to go by was the sound of the dog’s movements below. Scared and cursing Luce, her dog and his own sick desire for the woman, he began firing in desperation.
The first two shots went wild, but he could tell that they had frightened the dog. He shot again and heard the dog yelp.
“Good,” he muttered, believing that he’d either hit it or scared it away.
As a stray, Hobo had been shot at before, and he was deathly afraid of the sound of gunfire. When the third shot came, it ripped a burning path across his shoulder. With a sharp yelp of fear and pain, he turned tail and ran.
The moment the stalker heard the dog running, he jumped out of the tree, firing one more shot into the air just to make sure the dog kept going. A few minutes later, he came upon the car, jumped in, and took off in a flurry of flying gravel and dirt.
It wasn’t until he was driving into the outskirts of Little Top that he began to breathe easy. Once at his house, he hit the garage-door opener and drove straight inside. He slammed on the brakes just before he hit the wall, then pushed the button to lower the door.
Only after he was out of the car and walking into the kitchen did he begin to think of how close he’d come to getting caught. He pulled off his clothes and tossed them in the laundry bin, then walked naked into the bathroom. He turned on the light, braced himself on the sink and stared at himself in the mirror, then leaned over the toilet and threw up.
When Jonah heard the shots, then the frantic yelp of a dog in distress, he increased his speed, ignoring the slap of branches against his face and the brambles tearing at his clothes.
A buck, startled by all the unwarranted noise in the forest, jumped out of a thicket across Jonah’s path before dashing away. Jonah stumbled to keep from running headlong into the animal, then felt the deer’s panic and inhaled the musky scent of its body as it bounded out of sight. By the time he regained his footing, the sounds of gunshots had faded. Hobo was no longer baying. He didn’t want to think of the consequences and kept on running.
Just when he thought he’d taken a wrong turn, he ran up on the dog lying near the path and licking at his side.
Hugely relieved to find the dog still alive, Jonah stopped and dropped to his knees.
“Hey, boy. What have you gone and done to yourself this time?” he said, as he ran his fingers along the big dog’s body.
The dog whined, then licked Jonah’s fingers. Moments later, Jonah felt a sticky trail along the bone of Hobo’s shoulder and guessed that one of the shots had nicked him. Without hesitation, he laid both hands on the wound.
An eerie silence came over the forest as, once again, the healing light enveloped both man and dog. An owl watched from a nearby tree branch, while a fox on its way to the creek walked up beside Jonah, sniffed at his heels, then quietly slipped away into the darkness.
Moments later, Jonah rocked back, then stood up. Hobo stood, licked Jonah’s boots, then the tips of his fingers.
Jonah touched Hobo’s head. “Go home,” he said.
Hobo turned without hesitation and loped up the mountain to the cabin. But Jonah wasn’t through. As long as there was a trail to follow, he was going to take it.
He watched until the dog disappeared, then lifted his head. He closed his eyes, letting all his senses go free until, once again, he could smell the man’s fear. With that scent for a guide, he began to track the stalker with every animal instinct he possessed.
It wasn’t until he came upon a small clearing attached to a single-lane road that he realized he’d lost it. Even though darkness had completely enveloped the forest, he could still see everything, including the tire tracks where the man had driven away. Frustrated, he had no other option but to return to the cabin. He thought of Luce, waiting and afraid, and hastened his steps. As he did, he felt the first flakes of snow against his face.
By the time he reached the clearing in front of Luce’s cabin, the snow was falling heavily, masking all but the closest sounds. Jonah had seen glimpses of the porch light Luce had left burning, and now that he’d cleared the trees, it touched him to think she’d kept it on as a beacon for him to find his way home.
As he started across the yard, he was suddenly aware of the chill in the air and the dampness of his clothing, and lengthened his stride. Just before he reached the steps, the door swung inward. Luce paused, silhouetted in the doorway, then ran forward and threw herself into his arms.
He caught her in midstep and lifted her off her feet as he pulled her close against him.
“I was so scared for you,” she said, as she buried her face against the curve of his neck.
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br /> “I was afraid for you,” he said. “I wanted to catch him…but I was too late.”
“It doesn’t matter. Nothing matters but that you and Hobo are back. You’re back, and you’re safe,” Luce said, then wiggled out of his arms. “And you’re freezing. Come inside…hurry. You need to get out of those wet clothes before you get sick.”
He followed her inside, then locked the door after it was shut. Hobo was lying beside the fire, none the worse for wear. Luce was already at the fireplace, adding a couple of large logs to the fire.
Within a few moments the bark on the logs had caught fire, and the warmth of the blaze was welcome. As soon as the heat began to seep through his clothes, exhaustion hit.
“That fire feels so good,” he said, then began to undress, suddenly anxious to get out of his wet clothes. “These are coming off,” he warned.
“Oh. Sure,” Luce mumbled, and thought to move away to give him some privacy, but found herself mesmerized by the process.
Piece by piece, he stripped off the clothes, revealing a body toned to perfection. She watched with her lips slightly parted, remembering now and then that she needed to breathe. When he was standing before the fire wearing nothing but his briefs, she shuddered, then closed her eyes and turned away, only to look back when he began to move.
She watched as he scattered the clothes about on the floor in front of the fire to dry. When he turned around, he caught the hungry look in her eyes and groaned.
“Luce…I—”
“I kept some stew and cornbread warm for you,” she said.
He took a slow shaky breath, then nodded. “Give me a couple of minutes to get some dry clothes,” he said, and reluctantly left the warmth of the fire to go to his room.