Mountain Man Next Door

by Ava Grace

The maniacal look on his face told me he’d do it.

  As I planned my next movie, Duke pounded in through the open back door and attacked.

  The man yelped as Duke’s teeth embedded in his leg. He tried to shake him off, but couldn’t so he took the knife from Libby’s throat and slashed it at Duke. Duke yelped, Libby screamed and punched the man in the face. I heard the satisfying crunch of his nose breaking, but when blood started to pour out of it, he turned enraged eyes on her again and brought the knife back high above his head.

  He was going to stab her.

  I didn’t hesitate.

  I lifted the shotgun, took aim then fired off a shot. The force of it sent him flying backwards and as the knife clattered to the floor, he fell back against the dining table before his legs gave out and he too hit the floor with a heavy thud. I dropped the shotgun on the couch then ran to Libby and cradled her to my chest.

  “Are you okay?” I asked, frantic. I could hardly breathe through my terror.

  “I am now,” she replied quietly.

  I held her at arms’ length and inspected the damage. There was a bruise forming on her cheek, a slash down one of her arms and a cut on her throat that was the cause of all the blood on her chest. It didn’t look too deep.

  Thank God.

  I breathed a sigh of relief as I inspected the rest of her body.

  When I followed her gaze to the man lying prone on the floor, his wide unblinking eyes stared back at me.

  I ran to Duke who was lying on the floor on his side. He lifted his head slightly and as I approached, he whimpered.

  “Are you okay, boy?”

  As he laid his head down again and closed his eyes, my gut clenched when I took in the wet, matted patch on his side which looked almost black against his sandy-colored fur.

  I hadn’t wanted to believe it before, and everything had happened so fast that I hadn’t had a chance to process what had happened, but as I looked down at his still, bloody body there could be no denying that he’d been stabbed.

  Chapter Sixteen

  I sat on the couch in a daze.

  He was dead.

  I’d spent years living in fear of what Brandon was going to do next and from now on I never had to be afraid again. I couldn’t comprehend a life free from all that worry and dread.

  Had all that really happened?

  I felt fuzzy around the edges when I tried to remember it like it had all happened in a dream in which I couldn’t recall every moment.

  But it had happened.

  And now, it was finally over.

  The past couple of hours had been a blur of people coming and going. The sheriff, his deputy, paramedics, even the vet had called by to stitch up the wound on Duke’s side. Mason had gone to retrieve Duke’s bed so that the dog could rest and heal, but other than that, Mason hadn’t left my side all night.

  And I was grateful for it.

  I don’t know what I would have done without him.

  He was there when the paramedic had tended to my cuts, with me when I’d given my statement to the sheriff, and I’d when I’d reached out to hold his hand when the vet had taken care of Duke, he’d let me. Then, Mason had held my hand when they’d finally taken Brandon’s body away. Now, the only person who remained was the sheriff, Ethan, who as it turned out, had been in high school with Mason and Coop.

  The sheriff had contacted the police department in Denver who sent an officer around to Dotty’s condo to check on her. Her decaying body had still been tied to a chair in her little kitchen. Her head had been bashed in and she had multiple stab wounds in her chest. The news had been too much for me. I’d bolted for the bathroom and promptly threw up.

  Any residual doubt in my mind about the fact that Brandon was a cold-hearted monster had long since abated.

  When the sheriff took a call on his cell phone, Mason came and sat down beside me.

  “How are you feeling?” he asked—probably for the tenth time that night, but I didn’t mind.

  I knew he was just trying to reassure himself that I was okay. I can’t imagine what it would have felt like for him to witness what he did earlier, especially after what had happened to his wife.

  I shrugged. “I’m okay. Tired, I guess. How are you feeling?”

  When his eyes met mine, there was a stark honesty in their depths. “Relieved. I thought I was too late. I thought…”

  I took his hand in mine, reveling in the warmth of his touch. “You weren’t too late. I’d be dead if it wasn’t for you, Mason. I have no doubt about that.”

  He shuddered, closing his eyes on a muttered curse.

  When the sheriff came and stood in front of us, he took in our clasped hands before speaking.

  “I think we have everything we need for now. If we need anything else,” he said, looking at me specifically, “Will we be able to get hold of you here?”

  “Yeah, either here or in work at The Shack.”

  “Or at my place,” Mason added.

  I was surprised by the comment, but I didn’t question it. I was too tired.

  Ethan nodded then turned to leave. Before he reached the door, I blurted out the question that had been playing on my mind all night.

  “Is Mason going to be in any trouble, for you know, what happened earlier?”

  The sheriff looked between us then shook his head. “No trouble. As far as I can tell, it was kill or be killed—self defense.

  “Mason simply shot an intruder in his girlfriend’s house before the man, a known murderer was able to take another victim. At least, that’s how I’ll be writing it up.”

  He turned to leave. “You two get some rest.”

  “Thanks, Ethan,” Mason said. “For everything.”

  The sheriff tipped his hat then walked out of the house, leaving Mason and I alone for the first time since everything had happened. Out of all the things that the sheriff had just said, two words stood out above all the others. Mason’s girlfriend.

  I suppose, to anyone looking at us sitting together, holding hands, that’s exactly how it must have looked. However, Mason had made no move to correct him and the phrase wasn’t entirely unwelcome to me, either.

  Because everything had happened so fast, we hadn’t had a chance to talk about it all. Mason had sat with me while I’d told the story to Ethan so he knew that Brandon was my ex. He also knew that tonight had been the second time that Brandon had tried to kill me. His jaw got really tight when I’d imparted that part of the story to the sheriff, but he’d remained quiet and let me get the rest of the story out.

  “You must be wondering how I could have ever got mixed up with a man like that,” I said, unable to meet Mason’s gaze.

  I picked at a piece of loose cotton on my jeans while I waited for his reply.

  “It had crossed my mind,” he said.

  I nodded. “When I first met him, Brandon had been charming. Everyone loved him. He was attentive and sweet. He showered me in compliments and often brought me flowers and gifts. To all intents and purposes, he was the perfect boyfriend.”

  “What happened?” Mason asked. “How did he change?”

  “I don’t think it was that he changed,” I explained. “I think it was more the fact that he’d been hiding his true self in an effort to get me to fall in love with him.”

  “And did you?”

  “Yes,” I said. “I suppose I did.”

  Mason gently squeezed my hand and the gesture was comforting.

  “When did he show you his true colors?”

  “About three months after we got together. We’d been out for dinner and drinks with a friend of mine from work and her husband. That was the first time that I’d seen Brandon drunk.

  “It was almost like he became a different person when he’d been drinking. But, I think it was because when he was drunk, he wasn’t able to hide his true nature anymore.

  “He was rude, insulting, aggressive—he didn’t hit me that time, but he got very pushy and handsy. In the morning he
apologized and we agreed to draw a line under it.

  “But the longer we were together and the more times he got drunk, the worse he became. Six whole months had passed by the time he hit me the first time and by then, I guess I’d fallen for him.”

  Mason frowned with cold fury. “The first time,” he repeated darkly.

  I let out a long sigh. “Yeah. After that, it was like a floodgate had opened—like he couldn’t stop himself any longer. I tried to leave him, but he would follow me home from work and force his way into my condo.”

  Mason’s face took on a glowering mask of rage.

  “Did he…?”

  I was fairly sure I knew what he wanted to ask, but couldn’t voice.

  “Yes,” I whispered. “A couple of times he wouldn’t take no for an answer. In the end, I got a restraining order taken out against him, but to Brandon, it was nothing but a piece of paper.

  “He had no respect for the law and didn’t care that he was breaking it.”

  “How did you finally get away from him?”

  I pulled my bottom lip between my teeth and studied the floor, debating on whether or not to show him what happened. I decided that I didn’t have anything to lose. I pulled in a calming breath then looked up and met his gaze again.

  “It was right after he did this.”

  I pulled the neck of my t-shirt down, away from the bandage over the cut I’d received earlier. I showed him the jagged, angry-looking scar that covered my chest.

  Mason sucked in a breath, his eyes wide with rage and indignation. His nostrils flared with fury. He lifted his hand and slowly moved his fingers towards my chest. My first instinct was to recoil, but I forced myself to keep still and when his fingertips made contact with my chest, I squeezed my eyes shut and held my breath.

  The barely there touch was as soft as a whisper was quiet, but I felt it in every part of my being. No one had touched me with such tenderness in years and its effect on me was devastating.

  It felt so good I nearly wept.

  When I opened my eyes and looked into his, the raw emotion that shone back at me was nearly my undoing.

  “I’m glad he’s dead,” Mason said bitterly. “If I had to replay the moment all over again, knowing the outcome, I wouldn’t change a thing.”

  “I’m glad he’s dead, too. I hate that I feel that way about a human being, but I do. Maybe now I’ll finally be free from the nightmares.”

  “He was no human being,” Mason said. “Even calling him a savage animal is too good for him.”

  I sighed heavily. “Yeah.”

  “It’s late,” Mason said. “Why don’t you try and get some rest? I’m staying here tonight. I want to clean up that mess then I’ll crash out here on the couch.”

  I shook my head. “You don’t have to do that, Mason, I can clean it up myself.” Though I didn’t relish the task, it wasn’t his responsibility. “And you don’t have to stay here. I’ll be fine on my own.”

  “It isn’t up for discussion.” His firm tone brooked no argument. “I’m staying and I’m cleaning that up.”

  I was tired to argue with him. Besides, I was actually grateful on both accounts. “Okay. Thank you.”

  The words didn’t feel like enough to encompass how very thankful I was to him for everything he’d done for me. “I appreciate it. So much.”

  He flashed a weary smile. “You’re welcome. Now get yourself off to bed so that I can get this place cleaned up, okay?”

  After I brought Mason a pillow and a blanket, I left him on the couch contemplating the task ahead. In my bedroom, Duke was sleeping soundly on his bed in the corner of the room. I’d been told not to get the bandages on my neck and arm wet, but I was covered in dried blood and I wouldn’t have been able to rest until I got it off.

  The cuts weren’t actually that bad.

  The knife hadn’t cut into my skin too deeply so while the wounds certainly weren’t superficial, they weren’t as bad as they could have been. I hadn’t needed any stitches so that was something.

  The hot water of the shower felt incredible as it rained down on my tired and sore body. I scrubbed off the dry blood, doing the best I could to not get the bandages wet, then toweled down before slipping into bed. I’d thought that the events of the night would play over and over in my mind, preventing me from falling asleep, but I hadn’t realized just how exhausted I was until the moment my head hit the pillow.

  My eyes fluttered shut and I fell into a deep, much-needed sleep.

  Chapter Seventeen

  I awoke with a start, sweating profusely and overly panicked and jumpy. I sat bolt upright and looked around the dark room, expecting to find someone there with me. When the sound of Duke’s soft snores coming from his bed in the corner of the room reached my ears, I pulled in a few deep breaths and tried to calm down.

  I was safe.

  It was nothing but a nightmare—nothing but a silly bad dream.

  I tried to remind myself to breathe.

  In and out.

  Slowly.

  Then rinse and repeat.

  I was safe.

  When my breathing was finally under control, I slid out of bed then went into the bathroom to splash some cold water on my face. My cheek was on fire. It felt swollen and tender under my fingertips. I’d bet there was going to be one hell of a bruise there in the morning.

  After I’d finished in the bathroom, I didn’t want to go right back to sleep for fear that I would fall foul of the same dream again so instead, I went to get myself a glass of water from the kitchen.

  I tiptoed out of my room with the intent of passing through the living room as quietly as possible in an effort not to wake Mason, but I found him sitting upright on the couch. The lamp on the table beside him was switched on and he was staring ahead of himself. Despite the fact that his eyes were open, he didn’t appear to be focused on any one thing.

  “Couldn’t sleep?” I asked, stirring him from whatever he’d been thinking about.

  He turned to me with a shrug. “Not really, no. You?”

  “For a while, yes, but then I had a bad dream and it woke me up.”

  He raised an enquiring eyebrow. “Do you get bad dreams a lot?”

  I hesitated before replying. Did I really want to admit all my weaknesses to this man that I barely knew? Did I want him to know how deeply my experiences had affected me?

  I let out a resigned sigh.

  What did it matter if he knew about my shortcomings?

  If he were to judge me, wouldn’t that say more about him than it did about me?

  “Yeah. Pretty much,” I admitted at last. “When I moved here, I thought they were getting better, and they were to a certain extent, but after tonight…”

  “It’s not surprising that you’d have nightmares after what you experienced. Don’t be too hard on yourself. After the things that you’ve lived through I’m amazed that you’ve got it together as well as you have.

  “You’re strong, Libby. And you’ll survive this. I know you will.”

  It was so nice to have someone believe in me and my ability to get past the things that had happened to me, even when I didn’t entirely believe in myself.

  “I hope so,” I told him. “Because I’m tired of feeling like a victim, you know? I’m tired of being afraid and always having to look over my shoulder. And I’m tired of running.

  “I just want a nice normal life. I want a job that I like and friends I can socialize with. I want a boyfriend who treats me well.

  I want to build a life for myself and maybe even have children one day, but I haven’t been able to make a start on any of that because I’ve been so afraid that Brandon would find me and it would all turn to crap.”

  “I can imagine,” Mason said. “But you don’t have to worry about him anymore. You can finally close that chapter of your life and start in on the next one. You don’t have to hide anymore and you don’t have to run.”

  I nodded. “Yes, and I have you to thank for th
at. I don’t know how I’ll ever repay you.”

  “You can repay me by living, by not letting that monster define your future. You can repay me by being happy.”

  His words caused a lump to rise in my throat. “Then that’s what I’ll do,” I said simply.” I cleared my throat. “Can I get you a glass of water?”

  “Sure, water would be good.”

  I poured out two glasses then took a long drink of my own before taking Mason his glass.

  “Thanks.”

  I sat beside him and we drank our water in silence. It felt so good to be in someone’s company but not feel the need to fill every space with meaningless conversation. The silence was more than comfortable, it was welcome.

  Mason finished his water and put the glass down on the coffee table in front of us. He lifted his head to meet my gaze.

  “When I burst through that door tonight and saw you with a knife to your throat, I was almost paralyzed with fear,” he confessed. “I didn’t think I was going to be able to save you.”

  It was unusual for such a big, strong man to admit to being afraid, but it was good that he felt so at ease with me that he could say it.

  “But you did save me.”

  He sighed then ran his fingers through his hair, causing it to stick out at odd angles. It looked adorable on him.

  “Sure. But what if I hadn’t?”

  I sighed. “You shouldn’t think like that, Mason. What’s the point in asking all these ‘what if?’ questions? They don’t do any good. You did save me. That’s all that matters.”

  On impulse, I reached out and took his face in my hands. “I’m okay,” I said firmly, willing him to believe me. “I’m here and I’m okay. Really okay, or at least, I will be.”

  Mason reached up and put his hands over mine. The intensity in his eyes was enough to make my heart beat out an erratic tune against my ribcage.

  “You’re gonna be okay,” he said, staring at my face as if trying to find the truth written in my expression.

  We stayed that way, looking into one another’s eyes for long moments. It was as if we were each hoping to find the answers to all of our questions there. The emotion in his expression was oddly seductive and the longer we regarded each other, the more his intensity drew me like a magnet.