Frostbite (BearPaw Resort Book 3)

by Cambria Hebert

  Yes, that was my brain forming some ideas and dreams. But I would let them percolate for a while before I ever brought them up. For now, my focus was on my son and my husband.

  Since I was a little early getting home and my creative juices were flowing—funny how they didn’t start to flow again until after I left my “creative” job—I decided to make some of Liam’s favorite pumpkin bread and then some dinner. Perhaps Liam’s other favorite, chicken and beef tacos with homemade salsa and guacamole.

  “How was your last day?” Mom asked, perched on a barstool at the island as I pulled out ingredients.

  “Uneventful,” I replied. “I’m glad to be done. Now I can focus on this little guy.” I went on, rubbing my stomach. The baby moved beneath my touch, and I smiled.

  “You’ve been through a lot, more than anyone should. I think you deserve some time off to relax and enjoy life.”

  “I’m lucky to have that ability,” I said, slicing an avocado in half. I decided to make the guacamole first so Mom and I could snack on it while I baked. “Not everyone has a husband that can support that.”

  “That’s true,” Mom allowed. “I hope you don’t feel guilty about it, though.”

  “I’m working on it,” I said, honestly.

  Once the guac was done, I popped a taste in my mouth and then added a little more seasoning. Afterward, I dunked in a tortilla chip and tried it again.

  “Good,” I said and pushed the large bowl toward Mom.

  We munched on the dip for a while, talking and laughing, before I pulled back and started on the pumpkin bread.

  “I’ve been thinking,” Mom said, and I glanced up. “It’s time for me to get my own place.”

  “So soon!”

  She smiled. “It’s been quite a while, honey. And you’ll be moving out, too.”

  “Not for a while yet. We’re going to stay on here until our house is built.” That would be a while yet. Liam still had someone drawing up some preliminary plans.

  “Well, I’m not saying I’m moving out tomorrow, but soon. Holly has been so generous with her home, but I’m not her son and daughter-in-law. I’m just a woman she didn’t know.”

  I glanced up from the stand mixer. “Maybe when you first got here, but not now. Now you’re friends.”

  “Yes, we are. Which is why I don’t want to take advantage.”

  “I understand,” I said, a little sad.

  “Don’t worry,” she said, hearing it in my tone. “I’m not going far. I plan to be around as much as possible to see my grandson.”

  “I’m so glad you’re here,” I said, adding one more to the million times I’d told her that over the past couple months.

  “Me, too, honey.” She crunched another chip. “I just accepted a job in the accounting department of the hotel, so I’ll be starting there next week.”

  “Mom!” I gasped, abandoning the bread and going over to her. “You didn’t tell us you had an interview.”

  “I know.”

  “Why not!”

  “Because I wanted to get it on my own, not because Liam or you put in a word.”

  “I completely understand that.” I nodded. “Did you tell them who you are?” It worried me that my mom could be subjected to the same treatment I had been at The Inn.

  “Oh, yes, they know. They’re also aware I interviewed and applied without Liam knowing. They liked my qualifications and hired me.”

  I hugged her. “I’m so happy for you.”

  “Thank you. It will be nice to build a life here and have family around.”

  “Yes,” I said. “It will.”

  Once I get a couple paychecks, I might rent one of the cabins around here. They seem cozy.

  Liam would never let her pay rent, but I kept that little bit to myself. Today it was just nice to know things were coming together for everyone.

  My phone rang, and Liam’s name flashed across the screen. An instant smile formed as I picked it up. “Hi,” I answered.

  “Hey, sweetheart. How’s my wife today?”

  I spun away from the counter, putting my back to Mom because I didn’t want her to see the way I madly blushed at just the sound of his voice.

  “Good. How’s my husband?”

  “I’d be better if I was home with you.”

  “Are you almost done?” I asked, going over to where I was making his bread.

  “Yeah. I’m finishing up now. You home?”

  I made a sound of agreement. “I’m making us dinner.”

  “Didn’t you work all day? You need to sit down.”

  “I left early.”

  “Someone giving you trouble?” he demanded.

  “No. I finished, so I left. Last day perks.”

  He made a sound, beyond happy I was done there. “How was it? Any regrets?”

  “None.”

  “There’s something I need to talk to you about tonight.”

  “Oh?” I asked, pausing in the middle of what I was doing. “Is something wrong?”

  “Everything’s okay. I don’t want you stressing out. There’s just something I want to tell you.”

  “You can’t tell me now?”

  “I’d rather wait ‘til I’m home.”

  “But you’re okay?” I pressed.

  “I’m fine.” He assured me.

  “I’m making pumpkin bread,” I said, letting it go. If something was terribly wrong, he would have said so.

  He moaned. “You know a way to a man’s heart. I’m fucking starving.”

  “And tacos,” I teased.

  “I love it when you talk dirty to me.”

  I laughed.

  “Mom there?” he asked, gruff. I could tell by that deep rasp it wasn’t food he was thinking about. And the reason he was asking about our roommates was because he was starving for something he didn’t want to share.

  “My mom is. Your mom is still at the office.”

  “We need our own place.”

  I giggled.

  “I’ll be home in a few,” he told me, smile in his voice. “I love you.”

  “I love you, too. Hurry.”

  I held the phone against my ear a few moments after he hung up because I wanted to hang on to that warm, fuzzy feeling he always elicited.

  “Young love,” Mom said once I did put my phone aside.

  I poured the pumpkin batter into a loaf pan and carried it to the oven. “I’m making tacos tonight. That sound okay?”

  “It sounds wonderful, but I won’t be staying.”

  “Why not?” I frowned.

  “Because you need alone time with your new husband.”

  “No!” I insisted. “You are always welcome. We love you.”

  “And I love you. Which is why I’m going to give you newlyweds a chance to have dinner as a couple.”

  “Mom.”

  “Don’t mom me,” she said, stern. “You better take every chance you have to be alone with him, because once that baby arrives, it will be a party of three.”

  I relented because she was right and because I wanted some time with Liam.

  “Except, of course, when he’s with his nona. Then you can have some alone time.”

  I smiled at the image of my mom and my son together. “Thanks, Mom.”

  “Of course. I’m going to head to the resort and do a little celebratory shopping. I think I need a few new pieces of clothes to wear to work.”

  “Ooh! Good idea.” I told her the name of a few of my favorite boutiques, and she said she would check them out.

  “I’ll be back later on tonight, and if I don’t see you then, I’ll see you in the morning.”

  “Breakfast?” I asked.

  She nodded once. “It’s a date.” She paused on her way out of the room. “Do you want me to stay until Liam gets here?”

  “No,” I said, waving her off. “He’s on his way. I’ll be fine.”

  She hesitated. I set aside the spoon in my hand. “I’m safe now, Mom. We both are. Crone is still lock
ed up, at least for now. And even still, he said I was free, and we haven’t heard anything from him for months. We can’t live in fear forever.”

  “I suppose not.” She agreed. “Some habits are hard to break.”

  I nodded emphatically. “I know. But we have to try.”

  When she was gone, I started working on dinner. The scent of baking pumpkin bread filled the kitchen and brought Charlie, in all his drooling glory, to my feet.

  I gave him a chew bone, and he carried it to the other side of the kitchen and flopped down to slobber all over it.

  I made the salsa while the chicken and beef marinated in my own special blend and added it to a bowl beside the guac. After I chopped up some fresh herbs and crisp lettuce, I grabbed some tortillas so I could warm them in the oven.

  A thudding sound from somewhere in the house made me glance up. Immediately, I looked at Charlie to note he had perked up, too.

  I listened, straining to hear any other sounds, but when none came, I tried to calm my racing heart and get back to dinner. Charlie seemed to have an easier time than me, having turned back to his bone ravenously.

  The tortillas were wrapped when I heard the sound again.

  This time, Charlie jumped up with a rumble and glanced around. Fear and panic assaulted me, reminding me of all the times I’d been in danger.

  Charlie’s nails tapped against the floor when he left the kitchen and started down the hall, as if patrolling for the source of the sound.

  Another faint sound made me pause, this one sounding more like scraping than anything else.

  Odd, it seemed it was coming from outside the house and not in.

  Charlie barked, the hair on his back rising in an intimidating line. Flashbacks of the night I was attacked and he nearly got shot tortured me and made my fingers shake.

  “Stay,” I told him and started to back out of the bedroom without moving too fast.

  Charlie came forward, as if he knew what I was about to do, but I was faster. I leapt out and shut the door quickly, trapping him in the room.

  He barked and scratched at the door when I turned away. I felt bad, but I couldn’t let him out, not until I was sure he wouldn’t be hurt.

  Backtracking, I went to the top of the stairs and glanced over the railing. I couldn’t see all the way down, but I called out, “Holly? Is that you?”

  She could have just gotten home from work and the sounds I heard was her coming in from the garage.

  Holly didn’t answer.

  A very familiar, uncomfortable warning feeling made all the hairs on the back of my neck stand up, and I was unable to hold the panic at bay anymore.

  Rushing back to the kitchen, I picked up my cell on the island so I could call for help.

  Movement over by the giant sliding doors that led out onto the amazing deck caught my eye. I spun, telling myself it was just a shadow, while the other part of me retorted I couldn’t see shadows when it was already dark.

  God. It’s already dark outside.

  I froze when I realized that shadow I saw was actually not a shadow at all. It was a man, a large, looming figure standing just on the other side of the glass. I watched in horror as he lifted his gloved hands, cupping them around his eyes and leaning so he could peer directly in.

  His eyes, which were visible through the wide holes cut out in the black ski mask he wore, looked like freakish, floating balls of white with dark dots in the center.

  I screamed and lurched backward, nearly dropping my phone.

  The phone! I was practically wheezing with fear when I unlocked the screen. Liam’s contact info was still pulled up from when he’d called before. I hit the call button instantly.

  As it rang, I glanced back up at the figure.

  He was no longer peeping inside.

  Instead, he was hunched over at the handle, picking the lock. Horrified, I watched the bolt on this side of the door begin to turn.

  I yelled and lunged forward, forcing it back the way it had been.

  The man straightened, shook his finger at me like he was scolding a child, then tried again.

  I blocked the attempt. I would play this silly game all night.

  Liam’s voice came over the line, and I pressed the phone against my ear. “Liam!”

  “…out on the slopes right now. But leave your info and I’ll call you back.”

  A frustrated cry broke free when I realized the call had gone to voicemail.

  In my distraction, the man unlocked the back door and started to slide it open. I fell on the handle, shoving it closed, and forced the lock back into place.

  The man stiffened, clearly angry with this game, and reached around behind him.

  I watched in horror as he withdrew a long-barreled gun and pointed it directly at me.

  Liam

  I felt my phone vibrating against my chest just after I started up the snowmobile. I hesitated, not going to answer because I was anxious to get home.

  But then I realized it could be Bells.

  Sitting back, I pulled the phone out of my coat and glanced down just as the screen switched to a missed call.

  It was Bellamy.

  A prickle of fear slid up my neck, and it had nothing to do with the fact I was outside on a winter’s night.

  I cut the engine and yanked off one of my gloves with my teeth. The bell on my phone sounded, indicating a voicemail.

  I called it up and listened.

  … No! … He has a gun! … No!

  I nearly dropped my phone when the explosive sound of a gunshot ripped through my ear.

  Sounds of commotion I couldn’t even comprehend erupted, and then the line went dead.

  I didn’t bother with my glove or anything else for that matter. I restarted the sled, still gripping my phone, and tore down the mountain.

  Bellamy

  I had a warped sense of déjà vu.

  I’d been here before, in this moment. It sucked then, and it sucked now. Villains kept finding small windows of time when I was alone and using them to their advantage.

  It was really starting to piss me off.

  What was it about me that sang, I’m an easy target, and, I can’t defend myself?

  My size? My gender? Something on my forehead I couldn’t see when I looked in the mirror? Whatever it was, I was tired of it. I was tired of this.

  And…

  They were scaring my son.

  I froze for a spilt second, which felt like a year-long trip to hell and back, when that man pointed the gun through the glass right at me. But then adrenaline kicked in and so did my will to fight.

  “No!” I screamed. “Put the gun down!”

  He didn’t listen. Shocker.

  But he did angle the nozzle slightly away and pull the trigger. The bullet slammed into the glass, sounding like a Mack truck going through a wall. The window cracked and shattered, then exploded in with the force of the shot.

  I screamed again, throwing my arms around my stomach and hunching in on myself around my baby.

  The deafening silence that followed was probably due to the ringing in my ears from such earsplitting sounds. I came back to the man kicking in some of the glass that remained and entering the house.

  I ran into the kitchen, looking around for anything I could use as a weapon. Realizing I still had the phone in my hand, I rushed around the island, putting it between us, and scrambled to dial 9-1-1.

  He stalked toward me, wearing the standard killer uniform of all black. He had a rope tied off around his torso and a clip of some kind dangling from it.

  Dear Lord, had he repelled down the side of the house to get onto the balcony?

  He lifted the gun and pointed it at me. I picked up a large block of cheese and chucked it at him. He batted it away, so I picked up the steel bowl that went on the mixer and threw that instead. It hit the gun and made a ringing sound, which muffled the man’s curse. The gun fell out of his hand and skittered across the floor.

  In the back bedroom, Charli
e was going crazy, and in the back of my mind, I prayed to God he didn’t come right through the door.

  The attacker and I glanced at the gun at the same moment. I saw the flash of challenge in his eyes. I lunged like I was going for it, and at the very same time, he did, too.

  Except I wasn’t going for the gun.

  Instead, I closed my fingers around a large chef’s knife I’d been using. I got to it before he did the gun, and I used the two seconds of extra time to leap close and bring the knife down into his shoulder.

  He howled and stumbled into the counter, the knife sticking out of his back like this was a horror movie and I was an ass-kicking heroine.

  He gripped onto the edge of the sink, trying to keep his balance as sounds of pain vibrated his throat.

  I kicked the gun away, and it slid under the refrigerator, out of sight. I went back for the phone I’d dropped on the island, not putting my back to the man at all.

  The operator was calling out, so I yelled the address of the house and that there was an intruder.

  Angry, the man straightened and reached out to yank the knife right out of his back. He gave a hoarse shout of pain, and the black shirt he was wearing seemed to grow even blacker in the area I’d stabbed him.

  He glanced between me and the knife, whose blade was coated in blood, and threw it on the ground with a roar.

  I screamed and took off toward the stairs, hoping to make it out the front door. I made it to the second step when meaty, sweat-slicked hands grabbed me and lifted.

  “Get off of me!” I screamed. “Let go!”

  He yanked the knife I was still clutching out of my hand, slicing my palm as he did. Sharp, stinging pain cut into me, but I refused to let it distract me.

  I scraped at his arms and kicked him wildly as he towed me back into the kitchen. Thinking fast, I reached up, going for the gaping wound on his shoulder.

  “I wouldn’t if I were you,” he intoned, and the sharp prick of a blade pushed against my stomach.

  I nearly swooned with panic. “No!” I shrieked, going slack instantly. “Don’t you hurt him!”