The Naughty Box (9 books in 1 box set)

by Davis, SJ

  “You have a beautiful spot here,” he said, turning to survey her property.

  “Yes,” she said, recovering quickly. “My husband and I just bought it. We got lucky, I think.”

  He nodded. “Cabins with privacy and views like this are few and far between even so far north. Will you and your husband be spending the whole season?”

  She shook her head. “I will, but not Alex. At least not this year. It was a spur of the moment decision to buy the place, you see, and he has prior obligations. In fact, he has yet to see it now that I’ve gotten it cleaned up.”

  “Oh?” His brow furled as he frowned. “I thought he was here with you. You’ll probably think me rude for spying, but I must confess I can see your meadow perfectly from my kitchen window. I noticed you had a man helping you and assumed it was your husband.”

  Lena felt the heat of a blush in her cheeks. “That was my friend, Jake. I hired him to help me with the heavy work and carpentry.” She put a hand to her forehead, shading her eyes from the harsh afternoon sun as she stared across the pond. “You could see us from all the way over there?”

  He nodded. “You’ll forgive me for watching you, yes? I was merely curious.”

  “Of course,” she said. “I was curious about you, too.”

  In truth, Odin Andreassen’s admission was unsettling. Lena found it disconcerting that he’d been watching her and Jake work on the cabin while he drank his morning coffee. “He’s coming up for the weekend,” she said, to hide her discomfiture. “Not Jake. Alex. My husband.”

  “How nice for you,” he said. “I’m sure he’ll be quite impressed with your progress. I had the chance to look around before you bought the place and, I have to say, you’ve worked miracles.”

  She laughed. “Not miracles, just a lot of sweat and hard work. Are you the man who looked at the camp with Bernie Morris when it first listed?”

  He nodded. “I’d come up here to inspect my cabin. It’s a seasonal rental, you see. Mr. Morris was ahead of me at the gate and he offered to show it to me.” He shrugged. “I might have bought it but for the condition of the interior. I was rather put off by the smell coming from all the debris inside and opted to rent instead.”

  “Lucky for me,” Lena said.

  “It worked out best for the both of us I think. I have no need to own a place here, Mrs. Walker. I enjoy the freedom to travel whenever the urge strikes me. If I’d placed an offer on your camp it would have been an impulse which I probably would have regretted by the end of the summer.”

  Lena nodded. “Where are you from?”

  “Norway, originally,” he said, “but I’ve lived in the states for some years now.”

  She found herself staring again. With the sun’s reflection, the flecks of brown within the gray of his eyes were almost hypnotic; so much so that she missed his next words.

  “Excuse me?”

  “I was asking about your name. Lena. It’s unusual, is it not?”

  “It’s short for Selene,” she explained. “My mother was a mythology nut and my dad was an amateur astronomer. When I was born, she wanted to name me Venus and he was set on Halley or Luna. They compromised with Selene.”

  “Lucky for you,” he said. “It’s far better to be named for the Moon Goddess than a comet, and as for Luna…well, it lends itself to unflattering nicknames.”

  “Tell me about it. I don’t know what they were thinking.” She cocked her head and smiled. “I’m surprised you know Selene is the Goddess of the moon. That gets by most people.”

  “I, too, am named after a deity,” he told her. “Although Odin is a Norse god, not Greek or Roman. So you see, we have something in common.”

  He stood and stretched, taking her hand again, and Lena felt her body respond as the tips of his fingers caressed her palm. She gazed at it frowning as he released her and turned away.

  “Thank you for the beer,” he said. “Perhaps I’ll see you again soon?”

  “I’d like that,” she said. Her hand still tingling where they’d touched, she watched him walk the length of the dock. Paddling efficiently, he pushed the kayak away from the rocks returned to rest before her.

  “Tell me, Mrs. Walker…do you like to walk?”

  She tucked her traitorous hand into her pocket and nodded.

  “I could show you a few of the foot paths around the lake if you’re interested. I hike every day and know the area quite well.”

  “When?”

  “Tomorrow? About seven o’clock?”

  She shook her head. “I’m afraid I won’t be here that early. My furniture hasn’t arrived, so I’m still staying in town.”

  “Would nine o’clock be better for you?” he asked.

  She nodded. “That would be perfect, if you don’t mind waiting for me. I’ll bring coffee.”

  “Sounds good.”

  He turned from her abruptly, his arms working in tandem as the paddle dipped and rose and the kayak sliced forward.

  Whistling for Zephyr, Lena watched him and waited. The dog emerged from the woods and galloped up the dock, sniffing the second chair with his usual zeal before backtracking along the dock, nose to the boards. When he reached the place where the kayak had been, he stopped and retraced his steps. Standing beside her, he looked across the water and growled softly.

  “That’s enough of that,” Lena said, bending to scratch his ears as Odin disappeared from her sight. “He’s a nice guy. You don’t have to be so protective.”

  Across Blackwater Pond, a long low wail rose from the pines. It continued for a few seconds before cutting off as the second act of Madam Butterfly began its opening aria.

  The fur on Zephyr’s neck rose. He growled once more, teeth barred, as he stared across the water.

  “Coyotes, probably,” Lena said, ruffling his fur. “I should have brought my bow.”

  Pulling down the camp road, she smiled. Whether there were coyotes in the area or not, it was comforting to know that her tall handsome neighbor was just across the pond, only a couple of minutes and a shout away, should she ever need his help.

  Chapter 15.

  The God placed each foot carefully as he moved beneath the forest’s canopy. Tracking the animal required patience, skill, and silence. The keys to the former were self-discipline and training; to the latter, stealth. He concentrated as he crept forward in a low crouch, cautiously stepping from tree to tree. Dressed in hunter’s camo, he knew she’d have trouble distinguishing him against the backdrop of leaf and wood. He was downwind of her; that was another plus.

  Dappled sunlight reached the moss on the forest floor turning it in patches to a lighter shade of green. The air was rich with the smell of pine and decay. Ahead of him came the sound of frantic flight as a small animal took to the trees. He searched the branches above him. It was only a red squirrel chittering a warning from its spot of safety in the crown of a Silver Birch. The God ignored it and focused instead on the larger beast ahead.

  A moment later, there was a crash as the animal fell, followed by the sound of ragged breathing. His heart raced. She was there, just ahead, in the next ravine. Her prints in the muddy ground gave her away as surely as the sounds of her weeping. Muscles tense and quivering, he held back. One foot down, another, and he was over the top of the rise. He smiled in triumph. She was there, just as he’d thought.

  A branch snapped; she looked up, eyes wide with terror. The God held the broken stick in his hands as he took another deliberate step toward her. “Hello, love,” he said. “Did you have yourself a nice run?”

  The woman was wet from crossing the stream and muddy from her fall. Her hair was a wild halo of color surrounding her pallid face. He reached for her and she shrank from his touch, scrambling backward across the rocky ground.

  “No,” she said, crying softly.

  “Come, love, you know it’s over. You gave it a good try though, didn’t you? Brilliant, really. I gave you twenty minutes, tops.” He checked his watch. “Twenty-six minutes, thirty
-two seconds. You should be pleased. It’s a new record.”

  She took another step back. His forehead creased as he studied her.

  “That’s enough of that, right-o?”

  Moving fast, he closed the gap between them. Grasping her by the hair, he struck her, hard, across the face. She cried out as he hit her again. “Don’t make me hurt you,” he said, twisting her cuffed arms. “Remember what happened to the other one.”

  The fight went out of her with his reminder. He could see it in her eyes and the collapse of her shoulders. Propelling her forward, he pushed her up the rocky side of the ravine and pointed her back toward the cabin. With no need for stealth, they covered the distance quickly. She hadn’t made it that far after all, he noted with satisfaction, less than half a mile.

  They emerged from the woods behind his cabin. A glance at his watch told him it was still early. Across the water, Lena Walker’s camp was silent, unoccupied.

  “Get in the lake,” he said, stripping off the woman’s shorts and tearing the shirt from her back.

  She took a faltering step into the shallows. His hand on her back pushed her deeper.

  “Hold your breath,” he said as he dunked her beneath the waterline.

  He held her under for a few seconds and brought her up sputtering before leading her to the bank. “This might be the last time you’re outside for a while. Let’s make the most of it, shall we?”

  He took his time. There was no one to see him; no one to help her. They were alone, in the wilderness, he with the power and she with her misery.

  Overhead, the sunlight faded as clouds covered the sky. A rumble of thunder, still far-off, rolled across the ridge. The God rolled away and pulled her to her feet and led her back to the water’s edge. The grass beneath her face had left streaks of green on her cheeks. “You did well today,” he said. “Clean up, get dressed, and eat. You’re going to sleep for a while.”

  When she’d finished washing, he unlocked the bunkhouse and shoved her through the door. The lock on her handcuffs sprang open. She rubbed her wrists where they’d chafed and pulled on sweat pants and a shirt.

  “Now for the chains.”

  Attaching two large cuffs to her ankles, he clipped them closed and pocketed the key. The metal rings jangled from the rafters where they were secured as the storm broke and rain spattered onto the skylight above. “Eggs and rashers?”

  She nodded, shivering.

  He left the bunkhouse and locked it tight. Outside, he put his ear to the door. He could hear her crying inside her cell. It gave him pleasure. When the eggs and bacon were ready, he ate his share quickly and returned to her prison. Locking the door behind him he placed the plate on the dirty sheet. She picked at the food, eating little.

  “Come on, love,” he coaxed. “You can do better than that. You’re nothing but skin and bones.” He forced her mouth open and raised the spoon, pushing it between her lips. “There. That’s not so bad, is it? Another.”

  Slowly, the food disappeared. He nodded with approval at the empty plate. “How about a little nap now, eh?”

  The woman extended her arm and looked away as he injected the drug into her vein. When the needle withdrew, she crumpled. Within minutes, her eyes closed and her breathing slowed. Bending over her, he kissed her forehead, her neck, and her lips. There was no reaction. He stroked her tangled locks, smoothing her hair back from her forehead. Her cheeks were hollow, the bones of her shoulders sharp beneath translucent skin. He stripped off her shirt and pulled her sweatpants around her ankles, stroking her smooth stomach. It was only eight o’clock; he had time. Parting her legs, he whispered her name. She had been an excellent diversion - he had enjoyed her – but he could see that her will to live was fading.

  “Perhaps you’d like another goddess to keep you company, eh, love?” he said as he kissed her throat. “Would that help?”

  She didn’t answer, nor did he expect her to. Really, when it came down to it, she had no choice in the matter at all. Like her death, it was not her decision to make.

  It was his.

  He was God.

  Chapter 16.

  Lena woke at seven and gazed out the window. A light mist draped the back field. Clouds hung ominously overhead. She checked her email, disappointed that there was nothing from Alex or Annie. Shutting her laptop down, she turned, instead, to the television well aware that the luxury of instant news, like electricity, would soon be a thing of the past. On the Weather Channel, Al Roker called for sunny skies to cloud over early, deteriorating into a light drizzle with the chance of a thunderstorm or two as the day wore on.

  “Damn,” she said, shutting it off. It was a typical case of Murphy’s Law: the weather had been cooperative all month, but now, on moving day, it had decided to throw her a curve ball. Her plans for the morning included unloading the Suburban after her walk with Odin. With the cabin spit-shined and polished, it was time to reclaim her back seat. Of course, it was going to rain.

  By seven-thirty, she was dressed and ready to go. She locked the house and called Zephyr to the car, stopping on her way out of town to purchase a loaf of bread, peanut butter and jelly, a box of Orange Pekoe Tea, coffee, milk, sugar, dog kibble, and a case of beer. Armed with her sustenance for the day, she continued south toward Monson.

  As she made the turn in Blanchard, the projected drizzle turned to a downpour. Lena slowed, keeping a watchful eye out for moose. The rain continued to drum against the Suburban as the mist turned into thick fog the farther she climbed up Breakneck Ridge. Pulling through the puddles in the driveway, she parked and grabbed the bag of groceries.

  Nothing scurried away as she turned the key in the lock; the last of the rats had died in snap traps two weeks earlier and Jake had shot foam insulation into all of the chinks in the log siding to ensure that their relatives remained outside. The cabin smelled fresh and clean, like Murphy’s Oil Soap and Pledge. Pulling on a jacket, Lena went to the pump and drew a pot of water. Returning inside, she lit the lamps and the stove burner and set the coffee pot to boil. The gas mantles cast warm flickers across the log siding of room. She went to the car and returned with a folding camp chair. The only thing missing, besides her furniture, she thought, was a fire in the woodstove.

  A minute later Zephyr barked and flashed by the window, headed for the water. She looked toward the pond where Odin Andreassen was pulling up in his red kayak. Turning off the stove, she went to meet him as a long roll of thunder echoed through the mountains.

  “Hi,” she called. “You got here just in time. Come on in.”

  Her dog, it seemed, had forgotten his initial distaste for her neighbor; panting, he was crouched low beside the water, waiting for Odin to throw his ball.

  “Do it once and he’ll never let you off the hook,” she warned.

  Odin laughed and sent it soaring anyway. “That’s okay. I like dogs.”

  A flash of lightening followed by another low growl sent them both running for the porch. “Go on in,” Lena said, wrestling a second camp chair out of the back of the SUV. When she entered the cabin, her neighbor was inspecting her kitchen.

  “This is a nice refrigerator,” he said. “It is bigger than the one I have. Does it take much gas to operate?”

  Lena shrugged. “I have no idea. I just had it installed last week.”

  “How big is your propane tank? 60 pounds? One hundred?”

  “200. I decided I didn’t want to worry about running out. It’s buried out back, under the flower garden.”

  Odin nodded. “Good planning. I myself must take my tanks to Monson once a month to refill them. It’s not too much of a chore for me, but they are heavy and I think a small woman like yourself would have trouble lifting them.”

  Lena hid her smile. She was a lot stronger than she looked after the month of hard labor. She dismissed the urge to flex her biceps and opted, instead, to pour the coffee. “Hopefully the rain will stop soon,” she said, placing it before her visitor and offering a pint of milk and
sugar.

  Odin picked up his cup, leaving it black, and took a sip. “When the thunder passes, we will go. The mountain trails are as beautiful in the rain as they are in sunshine.”

  She turned back to the window and stared out at the deluge. It was raining harder than she’d seen all season. “If you say so.”

  “Trust me. Not only is it just as beautiful, there’s also more animal activity on mornings like this. We’re almost certain to see a moose today if this rain continues.”

  That sparked Lena’s interest. “Really? I’ve been here a month and I’ve yet to see one. There’ve been tracks in the driveway, but he’s long gone by the time I pull in.”

  “Your “he” is a she, Selene,” Odin said. “There’s a cow with one calf who likes to cross your meadow in the early morning. Perhaps you’ll see her when you finally stay the night.” He raised his brows resting his gray eyes upon her and she blushed, tipping her head toward her cup to hide the fact.

  “The furniture will be here tomorrow, weather permitting, so I’ll move in tomorrow night. I hope it clears up. Jake’s coming up from Greenville to help me, and Alex will be here Friday afternoon. I want the place to be perfect.” Lena stopped speaking, aware that she was babbling.

  “Ah yes. Alex.” Odin walked to the door and peered out. “Well, it looks like the worst of it has passed. Are you ready to go?”

  Lena took his empty cup and placed it next to hers in the sink. “Sure. Can Zephyr come?”

  He shook his head. “Let’s leave your dog here for our first time out. You’ll have a better chance of seeing your moose without him.”

  He was out the door before she had time to slip her feet into Tevas. Hurrying across the meadow, she fell in beside him and adjusted her pace to match his. Odin’s stride was long and his gait, fluid. Lena was breathing hard by the time they reached the end of the driveway.