BUFF

  “Need anything, doll?"

  She’s surprised she doesn’t jump from the sudden disturbance. “No… No, thank you, Jenson.”

  For the last two days, Jenson has been an absolute gentlemen. When she first laid eyes on him she thought him a brainless violent ogre, albeit a fairly handsome one. And when Colt left her alone with this heavily-built man with tattoos as a second skin, she’d been petrified. But he’s been nothing but a sweetheart. He’s even a pretty fantastic cook with a great sense of humor, trying to make her laugh, easing her anxieties. Becky’s only known him for a short while, but she’s already warmed up to him.

  “Well,” Jenson shrugs, "I'll be in Colt's room if you do."

  “Oh... Colt won’t be back tonight?"

  “Uh, not sure, doll.”

  She shouldn’t care if Colt never returns, but she does. “Oh..."

  “Don't worry.” Jenson catches her eye, smiling gently at her as if he’s waiting for her to fall to pieces in front of him. “He'll be back soon. Don’t you worry now.”

  She shakes him off, her attention back on the dark world outside. “It doesn't matter."

  “Okay… well…"

  "I'm going for a run.”

  He steps a bit toward her, stumbling on the small step between the two rooms. “Not a good idea, Miss Appleton."

  Her brow lifts up, but the rest of her remains in place. “Miss?"

  Jenson's throat clears, resonating like a cranky bear being pulled out of hibernation. “Colt told me to be respectful.” He hesitates for a few seconds before saying with a grin, “Ma'am?"

  She smiles despite herself. “Please, Jenson, I’ve already told you to call me Becky like a million times."

  “Either way, still not a good idea.” The hard edge of his tone is unavoidably clear.

  “I’ll be fine—and less cranky if I go for a run. That way we both win. Honestly, I won’t be long. I just like to… run at night."

  As she walks past the large brick fireplace in the middle of the room she notices something on the table.

  “What's this?" she asks, picking up a paintbrush from a pile of brushes, oil paints and art books.

  Jenson comes to stand by her. “They were in a box in the van.” He sounds as clueless as she is. When she looks up to him for an answer he offers her a shrug. "He forgot to give it to you before he left, I guess.”

  Her mouth opens for several seconds before she actually says anything. "Colt brought these for me?”

  “Dunno," he replies. "You like to paint or something?"

  “Yeah…” She shakes her head, brushing her hand across her cheek. "Yeah... sometimes."

  She settles the paintbrush back to where it had been, laying it on top of the rest and backing away from the stack like they're about to eat her alive. She hurries even faster toward the door.

  She definitely needs to run.

  Becky is out of the house before Jenson can stop her.

  * * *

  JENSON IS REALLY BAD at hiding.

  She guesses he's been following her for at least a good hour. She doesn’t turn though.

  The run tonight has hit the spot. All Becky can do to not make herself crazy is run. There is no place to escape like at home in her attic. Her room here in Aston is too sterile, too abnormal. There is no comfort in a place that reminds her minute-after-minute of her very real predicament.

  She is trapped.

  It’s always been her greatest fear. To be buried so far deep into something that there is no way out, no sign of a new beginning. She never does anything, never goes anywhere, never risks anything. Not after everything she’s been through…

  Colt had told her once that she played life—her life—safe. He was right. And the nagging sensation in her heart won’t subside. It’s relentless, tugging at her. The one person who she’s wanted, who’s dared her to stop hiding from life, had lied to her.

  How is she supposed to trust Colt when she can’t trust herself around him? Why does he get to her?

  God, the truth, the lies, they are all so mixed together, her head is spinning. If she really wants to come clean and brush away the clutter, the truth is: She wants to trust Colt. Even after all the bad done to her she wants him so badly it scares her. The pull to trust him is so strong. It's like a physical force drawing all her strengths, her weaknesses, her wants, desires, toward him like a tornado scooping her up as if she’s made of tissue paper.

  How on earth can she feel any sort of connection to the man responsible for tearing her family apart?

  When they’re alone it’s the worst. The gravitational energy between them is so fierce it scares and excites her. She just wants to be done with this insaneness going on inside her.

  Colt Lawson is a killer; she is his captive. He sees her as nothing else but a means-to-an-end. She sees him as a... as…

  A blush scorches across her face despite the approaching autumn weather. She kicks at the leaves underneath her sneakers. Using the tip she makes circles in the muddy dirt as she sits on the flat rock outside the opening of the little woods.

  She hears the crunch of leaves. Leaning forward Becky decides the time for silence is over. She then hears more rustling and a crack. The small bark sounds off over her left shoulder.

  “Jenson?” She peers over her left shoulder as she presses her chin onto the edge of the bone. “You can come out of hiding now.”

  * * *

  ROMAN TAKES A DEEP BREATH; filling his lungs with the crisp, cool evening air. No matter how many times he does this his stomach still ties itself in knots, his heart hammers in his chest and he can’t seem to stop himself from chewing at his bottom lip.

  He'd landed the chopper a few miles away following orders from Kulich to cut through the woods and sneak up through the back entrance to Colt's cabin. He’d been trekking for about an hour when he came across something.

  A girl running through the woods.

  He’d followed her, making sure not to be seen and then hid behind a huge tree when she’d stopped in a clearing.

  Watching her now he draws a deep breath through his nose. He can smell her. She is so pretty and innocent looking, unlike the whores he often fucks back home. Her body is petite, tight and curvaceous in all the right places, and he knows it's the innocent ones who are usually the most dirty in bed.

  She calls out, “I caught you! Come out, come out.”

  Shit! The pretty young thing’s found him. The last guy who fucked-up an assignment was shot in the head by Kulich. Roman can't let her get away. There’s only one thing he can do.

  Kill her.

  Maybe he’ll get to play with that tight body, after all.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  THROWING HIS LEATHER JACKET on the couch he shakes his head as he scans the living-room then the dark hall to his left. He's been riding all night. He's tired, irritated his plan went south and Luis's nerves have only just added to his problems. He just wants one good night’s sleep and then a good cup of real coffee.

  “Wow, you must've flew. You're here early."

  “Where is she?"

  “Dude, you must be hungry. Made your favorite. Honey turkey sandwich." Colt just stands, eyes stagnant. Jenson shrugs. “Okay turkeys out. How 'bout a drink? You must be thirsty after the long trip."

  Colt doesn’t budge. “Where is she? Don’t make me ask you twice."

  “She?"

  “Jenson!"

  “Oh she… you mean Becky—Miss Appleton, I mean… She... Right, well, um, you see… it's all very complicated. Actually it's not complicated, more like she's complicated. Okay complicated is not the word I'd use more like complex. Becky... Miss Appleton, she's ah… she's quite a girl, ya know?" Colt's face, if possible, darkens. “I mean I don't know... personally that is… Me and her were like on opposite ends of the room the whole time. Never even paid attention to her—no, I mean I paid attention, obviously. Duh. I just didn't pay close attention like you would."

  Disregarding the two steps
between the room Colt makes a short jump minimizing the distance between him and his former Sergeant-at-Arms by half.

  “Not that you would pay close attention. I mean… uh… What's the question?"

  “Becky, Jenson, Becky," he growls.

  “Oh, she's uh… just taking a little jog outside the house. Getting a breather before—”

  “The fuck, Jenson? It's night."

  “Yeah it is. I see that... She likes to run at night..."

  “You let her go for a run this time of night? Are you fucking crazy?!” he yells, turning to grab his jacket and head out the door.

  “Colt, wait!” Jenson shouts to stop him. “She's been right near the house. Look.” He shakes something in his hand. “Got binoculars. Can see her at the edge of the woods—she's fine. I've been watching her from in here."

  Not relieved Colt barks back, “You're not watching her now. Are you?"

  “That is true,” Jenson says, looking back out the garden through the binoculars.

  Colt pounds to his side, his breathing heavy. “Well?"

  Jenson gulps. "Oh shit."

  “What?” Colt rips the instrument from his hands.

  Jenson is making a leap for the back door as he shouts, “She ain’t there, man!”

  * * *

  “JENSON? COME OUT. YOU’VE BEEN CAUGHT.” She takes a few steps toward a group of trees, unsure of exactly where he is hiding. “Jenson?"

  Why isn’t he coming out…?

  Something doesn't feel right... Wait...

  The wind is blowing something fierce now. The woods seem to grow denser.

  Run.

  Her instinct tells her to run.

  Her footsteps halt, the crunch of leaves silencing around her, the house a mere speck over her shoulder now. Her breathing increases, her heart is pumping out of her chest threatening to burst from the cold and strangling feelings. She turns, starts to walk away, slowly, quietly, quickening her steps.

  But when she thinks she hears the crunching of heavy footsteps and still no reply she starts to sprint.

  What if Kulich saw right through Colt’s lies…?

  Oh God… They've found me.

  The thought is enough to set her to a full-throttle run, her feet hitting dirt and hidden lumpy hills that spring from nowhere. She's too scared to look back. There’s the occasional jagged stone scattered among the trail and just when a large looming shadow of a stranger starts to break apart from the crowding darkness, Becky's foot catches between two large protruding stones, jolting her body off balance and pitching her off to the side. The fall comes so hard and fast she has no time to shield her face or body.

  One second she is running and the next she is face forward, stumbling out of control. Her body feels like it’s being thrown about by some invisible force. There is nothing she can do except wait until something forces the tumbling momentum to a stop. Her arms, her legs, every part of her is hitting a million different pieces of rock, woods and ground. She is somersaulting downhill, the speed increasing with every strike of her body into the ground.

  Then, out of nowhere, a large rock cuts off the snowballing motion. Her body jerks forward, her shins bashing the rock first. The collision is so strong it propels her upper body forward and her forehead smacks into the center of the large obstruction.

  The strike is so powerful Becky watches the world around her fall to darkness. Almost in slow motion a pair of gigantic black boots stomp across the ground, shaking the very earth beneath her.

  And she’s right in the center of their path.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  “BECKY!” Colt shouts from the top of his lungs.

  His head whips around the immediate vicinity as his legs carry him with the speed of a race-track horse on steroids. Not bothering to think he just keeps moving, dodging around trees and bushes like a flash of lightning. He knows the area like the back of his hand. There’s no time to waste. Becky would have answered by now. Something’s wrong. The woods aren't that dense that she can’t hear his calls.

  Where are you?!

  Adrenaline shoots through him like a drug, sending him forward like an out-of-control missile. He’s sprinting so fast his heart is beating somewhere between his throat and his stomach. His legs burn from the pressure of his rapid pace, but those are minor nothings compared to finding Becky.

  Did Kulich see right through him? Did someone betray them? Does Kulich have Becky?

  “Fuck... Jenson!” He doesn’t waste time turning around or slowing down. The later it gets, the colder she will be, and the greater chance of her falling ill or… something worse. "Go back around the other way,” he orders Jenson, “toward the house. Now!"

  Jenson's “Okay,” is a tiny vibration of sound next to the wind in his ears and the fear in his head.

  “Becky!”

  Fuck! Where the hell are you?

  “Answer me!"

  He sees something a few feet ahead. A shadow—movement… something had definitely shifted against the solid blackness of the trees. He sees it. He slows down a bit close to where he saw the supposed sighting.

  “Becky?” he heaves into the air. No-one returns his answer.

  His head spins around but everything looks the same, blurring together like a mesh of nature. Colt can’t decipher tree from tree. Every area looks the same as the other no matter which way his head turns. He feels like he’s in some sort of twisted funhouse in search of a way out that doesn’t exist.

  Scurrying forward Colt licks his cracked lips, beating down the panic that awakes and stretches inside him like a demon rising from Hell.

  She's okay… There’s nothing out here that can hurt her. She probably just…

  Branches crackle underneath him. His large puffs of breath the only noise in the countryside. His fingers claw at his hair, digging through the top of his head. He steps closer to the edge of the small hill that drifts from the trail. His dark glare soaks in the details of the setting laid out in front of him, certain he has missed something. The meadow is clear, clean. There’s no sign of life or a disturbance of any kind.

  “Becky!” he growls. His feet are moving forward but his head is darting in ten different directions, back and forth. He glances at the ground below the hill, his eyes skim the bushes below meeting only pitch darkness and then…

  Pale, white flesh.

  He sprints down the steep hill, tripping a few times, but it only helps to hasten his pace. He passes one of her sneakers on the side but doesn’t pick it up. His single-minded attention only on her.

  He stops at the bottom, his body jolting into a frozen position as his brain wraps around the frightening sight in front of him.

  Becky. Unconscious.

  Her body L-shaped.

  There’s a jagged cut that starts at the corner of her bottom lip and squiggles out. He takes in the lump on the side of her head, the purple bruise on her cheek, but even those healable marks aren't what paralyzes him in place.

  Blood.

  From her head.

  The red substance trickles down the side of her face like a tiny river that never subsides its flow. The blood isn’t dry... That means it’s still very much oozing from some place on her head he can’t see.

  Jesus Christ, has she been shot?

  But he hadn't heard any gunfire. This is bad. Real bad. He crouches down over her body scooping his arm under her fragile neck.

  “Jenson!” he shouts, lifting her in his arms. She’s light as a feather in his heavy-set arms. He holds her against his chest as he takes his first cramped breath, inhaling her hair. “It's okay,” he whispers, smelling her scent and kissing the top of her head. His heart pinches to life inside him. “You're gonna be okay, Becky. I promise."

  It’s the first promise he isn’t sure he can deliver.

  * * *

  LIKE A BODYGUARD at his post, Colt refuses to move from his spot.

  He stands near Becky but doesn’t crowd her, watching her and nothing else. Besides for the s
mall rise and fall of his chest he hasn’t budged from place.

  Colt had surrounded her body with as many cushions as possible, using one to lay her head on. By the time Jenson returned with the warmest comforter he could find, Colt had already started a fire that’s still roaring with life.

  Besides for the small incoherencies meant for Becky's ears only, Colt hasn’t spoken.

  This is all my fault...

  He is powerless in the situation and that’s not something he’s used to handling. With the blood drizzling down from her semi-deep head wound, Jenson tries to reassure him that head wounds bleed a lot, but it doesn’t cease Colt's worry.

  He washes the dirt and blood from her face, cupping her so gently like she’s a breakable antique he doesn’t want to spoil. He works slowly and silently, only asking Jenson once if he thinks a doctor is necessary because she hasn’t woken yet. Becky stirs in that precise moment, opening her eyes halfway and murmuring something unintelligible as her unfocused gaze shines on Colt.

  He smiles down at her, brushing his thumb over her smooth bruised cheek and whispers a shsshing noise against her forehead. The sound must have held some magic to it because by the time his soft command reaches her, Becky's eyes close and her breathing levels. Colt's features go back to stone again.

  “Colt,” Jenson calls softly to his stiff back.

  Turning his head a fraction of an inch, Colt replies, “She's sleeping. Lower your voice."

  “Can I…”

  Begrudgingly, Colt uproots himself from the place he’s been standing for the past half-hour straight. Nudging his chin in the direction of the hallway Jenson backs up as Colt glances once more to Becky in front of the fire. She’s so beautiful when she sleeps, it almost takes his breath away.

  Sleeping Beauty...

  Her bruises look worse next to the flames, darker, more pronounced like the fire is drawing out the worst of her fall. The cut on her forehead is too deep into her thick hair to see, but the one on her lip has crusted over already. The small scratch looks like a tiny bolt of lightning.