Danger Becomes You
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Annette Broadrick
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16.6K
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16
One
A slight sound outside the cabin brought Jason Crenshaw awake and on full alert. He must have fallen asleep while reading. Someone was outside despite the ferocity of the winter snowstorm that would keep any sensible person inside.
Could it be someone looking for him? He couldn’t imagine who it could be. Only his commanding officer knew that he was using a friend’s hunting cabin in Michigan to recuperate from his wounds.
Jase eased his way out of the chair and picked up his cane. He palmed his military-issue pistol out of habit and silently moved to the window.
He couldn’t see the small porch and its overhang from this angle but he had a clear view of the driveway that led to the road. There were no tracks. Although the snow was blowing heavily, there was no way it could have covered tracks that quickly.
His years in Delta Force made him wary and alert to everything around him and he instinctively knew that what he’d heard, despite the loud fury of the storm, was someone stepping onto the single wooden step to the porch. Who was it and how did they get here?
He didn’t like surprises and he especially didn’t like unexpected guests.
A firm knock sounded and he edged to the locked door.
“Who’s there?” he demanded. His voice sounded rusty from disuse.
“I’m sorry to bother you,” a woman’s shaking voice replied. “My car slid off the road and I’m stuck in a ditch. May I use your phone to call for help?”
He didn’t like her story. The road that passed his house wasn’t one of the main highways in the state. In fact, it ended at the lake about fifteen miles from here. What was she doing on this secondary road in the first place?
When he didn’t answer, she spoke again. “Hello? I know I’m a bother, I just—”
He unlocked the door and opened it just enough to see the snow-encrusted figure in front of him. She wore a lightweight coat with a hood. The coat stopped at her thighs, revealing jeans and winter boots. Her eyes were the golden color of aged whiskey and her face looked pale as death.
The word he muttered was unprintable. Just what he needed: a damsel in distress when he wasn’t in any shape or mood to play a blasted gallant knight.
He swung the door wide, the pistol at his side. “Get in so I can close the door.”
She hurriedly stepped inside. After he slammed the door shut and locked it, he turned and caught the woman looking at him in abject terror, her gaze frozen on the pistol in his hand. What did she think he was going to do, shoot anyone who showed up at his door?
Without commenting on her obvious fear, he moved to the table and laid the pistol down.
He turned and stared at her still huddled by the door.
She looked frozen.
Not his problem.
She was shaking.
Not his problem.
The snow she’d brought in was melting off her clothes and dripping onto the floor.
Now that was his problem.
“Look, lady. I have no intention of shooting you, so get that coat off before I have to wipe water off the floor.”
“Oh!” She looked down and saw the puddle around her feet. She quickly slipped off her coat and looked around for a place to put it.
The electricity had gone off a couple of hours ago and the large rectangular room was in shadows except for the kerosene lantern on the table by the chair in which he’d been reading.
“There’s a coatrack by the door,” he said gruffly.
He watched her remove her gloves and hang up her coat before she wiped down her jeans with her hands. When she turned to look around the cabin, her face telegraphed her trepidation.
Jase knew what she saw. The cabin was one room that ended in an L-shaped alcove where the kitchen was located. Besides the table and chairs, there was a couch that had seen better days, a recliner that once had been over-stuffed but now looked weary and two sets of bunk beds at the other end of the room, placed in opposite corners.
A potbellied stove vented through the roof sat in the middle of the room, radiating the only heat he had. The only other amenity was a small bathroom off the kitchen. He kept the door closed to conserve heat.
When she removed her hat he saw that she had short, feathery blond curls sticking up in tufts around her face. She was tall, slender and looked like a teenager.
Her eyes bespoke an innocence that he found unusual since she had a soft, full mouth that begged to be kissed.
Not that her looks meant anything to him, regardless of the fact he’d not seen a woman since he left the hospital. He knew he was no fit companion for anyone, most especially an innocent teenage girl.
He watched her pick up an old towel hanging near the door and hastily clean up the puddle of water. He refused to do more than glance at the way her jeans cupped her butt and clung to her long, shapely legs when she bent over.
Jase looked away, irritated by his awareness of her. He set his cane aside, wincing at the protesting places where bullets had been removed from his shoulder, side and thigh, and sat in the captain’s chair he’d been occupying before she arrived.
The pain brought him back to the present, reminding him why he had chosen to be alone through his recuperation. He’d retreated as far from his life as he could get. Not even his family knew where he was, which was exactly what he wanted.
When she straightened, he scowled at her. He didn’t want her here, but even he wasn’t cold-blooded enough to deny her some warmth and safety.
She attempted a smile that disappeared when he didn’t respond. “If I could use your phone and call for road assistance, I’ll be on my way.” She twisted her fingers as though attempting to braid them.
He stared at her in silence. She had a soft drawl that spoke of the South, which might explain her clothing, which was unsuitable for a northern winter, and her clueless attitude about traveling during a storm.
“You may not have noticed that we’re in the midst of a winter snowstorm. You aren’t going to find anyone willing to risk life and limb to pull your car out of a snowbank until the storm passes.”
She did her best to hide her panic, but he could see it in her eyes.
She turned away and reached for her coat.
“What are you doing now?” he demanded.
She looked over her shoulder. “I’ll go back to my car until the storm passes.”
He shook his head in disbelief. “Good thinking, Ms. Alabama,” he drawled. “By all means, return to your car where you can freeze to death while waiting for the storm to blow over. It could last for days.”
She turned slowly around to face him, her chin lifted. “My name is Leslie O’Brien and I’m from Tennessee, not Alabama. As for freezing, I’ll do what I can to stay warm since that seems to be my only option at the moment.”
Fine. Let her go. You don’t want her here, so let her freeze.
Instead of voicing his thoughts Jase said, “Don’t compound your foolishness with idiocy. You’ll stay here until someone can get out here to help you.” He nodded to his cane. “I’m afraid I can’t help. I’m still learning to walk without falling.”
Leslie folded her arms, her gaze glacial. “What, exactly, do you see as my foolishness?” she asked, ignoring his last remark.
“Being out in this kind of weather in the first place. Have you ever driven in snow before?”
Her mouth tightened. “As a matter of fact, I haven’t. When I left the motel at dawn I didn’t expect to run into a snowstorm. By the time the snowflakes began to fall, I was only thirty miles from my destination. I didn’t expect the flakes to turn into a storm so quickly or that the road would be so slippery.”
He shook his head wearily. “The fact remains that you’re here for the duration. You might as well accept it.”
His last comment was aimed at both of them.
He nodded to the coffeepot sitting on the woodstove. “As you can see, the electricity is out, which isn’t unusual during a storm. There’s coffee if you want some.”
She nodded her head jerkily and walked over to the stove, holding her hands out for warmth. He grabbed his cane and went over to the galley-like kitchen to fetch another cup. As he returned to his captain’s chair, he handed it to her.
She poured herself some coffee and, with something less than enthusiasm, approached the table, placing her cup at the opposite end from where he sat.
Instead of taking a seat she glanced around the room. “May I use your restroom?”
He nodded toward the door. “In there.”
She hurried through the kitchen, opened the bathroom door and went inside, closing the door quietly behind her.
What in hell was he going to do with this woman? He couldn’t send her back out into the storm to freeze to death. But he didn’t want her here. The cabin hadn’t been built for privacy. It served its purpose for the hunters who stayed for a few days at a time.
He was alone because that’s the way he wanted it. He wanted to get back to normal before he faced the outside world. He needed a private place to wrestle with his demons.
Leslie leaned against the bathroom door and shivered. There was no heat in here. She wondered if the water was frozen. She hurriedly used the facilities and washed her hands with icy cold water. At least she was out of the wind.
What was she going to do?
She’d been running for three days, paying cash for gas, motels and food so she wouldn’t be traced, but she felt far from safe. She’d counted on reaching the place her cousin owned, knowing she’d be safe because no one would think to look for her there. She needed a place to stay while she tried to figure out what to do next.
Her cousin Larry owned a two-story log cabin that his family used as a vacation spot. It was somewhere along this road, near the edge of one of the lakes in the region. She and her mother had visited with them for two weeks over several summers in years past, but everything had looked so different now, especially with the snow obscuring her vision.
She had no idea how close she was to his place. Before she’d slid into the ditch Leslie had begun to worry that she might miss the entrance to the long, private driveway that ended at the cabin.
The skies had been gray and a strong, cold wind had been blowing when she’d left the motel this morning. She’d had no idea that it was expected to snow.
The man in the other room was right: she hadn’t understood what the signs meant or she might not have left the motel. However, once the snow began to fall she was only about thirty miles from Larry’s place so she’d decided to keep going.
She’d panicked when the snowflakes quickly turned into thick sheets of white. She hadn’t been able to see the road and had slowed to a crawl, peering through the windshield that the wiper blades couldn’t clear fast enough.
Of course she wouldn’t have deliberately driven out into a storm if she’d known one was coming. Regardless of what her curmudgeon host thought, she wasn’t a complete fool.
Not that any of that mattered now. There was no way she could rewind her day to make a more informed decision, which placed her in an extremely awkward situation. She was faced with the very real possibility of freezing if she went back to her car. If she stayed, she would have to deal with the crabby stranger in the other room, which put her between a rock and a hard place.
Her luck was running out fast at a time when she desperately needed it. Of all the places where she might have gotten stuck, she’d managed to find one with a hermit who hated people. Or maybe he just hated women. Whatever it was, his total lack of enthusiasm in allowing her to stay had been obvious.
She couldn’t tell how old he was. Possibly in his late thirties. He was tall with a lean build. She had no idea what was wrong with his leg. All she knew was that he didn’t put much weight on it.
He appeared to have only a nodding acquaintance with a razor and a good haircut would go a long way to improve his appearance.
What she found most disconcerting about him were his eyes. They were almost a silvery blue that intensified his penetrating stare. They made clear that he’d sized her up and found her to be an inferior human being.
Leslie had been staring unseeing into the mirror until her reflection caught her eye. The dark circles under her eyes had circles. She looked like a raccoon. Outside of that, she was as pale as the snow outside.
She fished a comb out of her purse and ran it through her short hair. She’d cut it her first night on the run in an attempt to change her appearance. She’d never been the type of woman people noticed and she sincerely hoped she could pretend to be someone else if her situation grew dire.
Leslie shivered. She was going to get frostbite if she stayed in the bathroom for much longer. She stiffened her spine and opened the door, determined to be pleasant no matter how rude her reluctant host chose to be.
He hadn’t moved from the chair he’d been in and seemed to be enthralled with the thick book in front of him.
She sat down and quietly sipped her coffee. She was glad she’d allowed it to cool a little. It was almost too hot to drink, even now. She waited for him to look up, to speak, to do something other than ignore her presence.
She finally gave up on that. “It would be helpful if I knew your name,” she said, attempting to hide her irritation.
“Jason,” he said without glancing at her.
Great. Jason with no last name. The pistol lay on the table beside his chair. Was he a criminal? Or maybe paranoid. Or a paranoid criminal.
She jumped when he raised his head and said, “If you’re hungry, Miz Scarlett, there’s a pot of stew in the kitchen on the back burner of the stove. Help yourself.” He returned to his book, obviously feeling that his duties as a host were done.
As a matter of fact, she was starved; she hadn’t stopped for more than gasoline since leaving the motel. She’d been eating junk food all day, which could be partially to blame for her shakes.
The rest was stark fear.
She walked into the kitchen area and lifted the lid of a large pot. The aroma almost made her groan with yearning. After opening two cabinet doors, she found an earthenware bowl and filled it with the savory stew.
“Would you like some?” she asked.
After a moment he replied, “Yeah. Thanks.”
Now there was a grudging thanks if she’d ever heard one, but at least he’d put himself out to show a modicum of politeness. She filled another bowl and carried both of them to the table, placing his in front of him.
He closed the book and she handed him one of the spoons she’d stuck in her pocket. He immediately began to eat.
“When do you think the storm will be over?” she finally asked.
He took his time lifting his gaze to look at her. He shook his head and shrugged. “Sorry. No crystal ball.” He went back to eating.
“Does the snow melt once it stops?”
He sighed. “Eventually. Probably by March.”
“March! But that’s two months from now!”
He looked at her without expression. “Somebody should have told you that winter in Michigan isn’t the best place to vacation unless you enjoy winter sports.”
Suddenly her appetite was gone.
At this rate, the snow would be piled so high she wouldn’t be able to find the driveway to Larry’s place after she got her car on the road again.
She sat listening to the sounds around her. She heard the pop and sizzle of wood in the stove, a tree branch brushing against the side of the cabin, the wind howling like a ghost in a horror movie. The smell of stew and coffee gave the cabin a pleasant aroma and the lamp on the table gave out a golden glow.
She studied the walls, where some kind of heavy caulking sealed any gaps between the large logs, and looked up at the slanted roof supported by thick lumber. Too bad the place didn’t have a ceiling, as well, to trap the warm air that moved upward.
When Jason spoke, breaking the silence, she jumped in surprise.
“How did you find this place, anyway? I didn’t see any tracks.”
“I, uh, happened to see the smoke from your chimney while I was trying to figure a way to get the car out of the ditch. During a break in the wind I was looking to see a house or a light when I spotted the smoke. I began to walk in as straight a line as possible through the trees where there wasn’t as much snow. I’ll admit I was getting a little nervous until I finally spotted the cabin.”
“Ah.”
Leslie gathered their bowls after they’d finished eating and washed the dishes. She refilled their cups of coffee and, rather than sit at the table, wandered over to a nearby window to look out. Although her watch showed that the time was a little after three, light was fading fast.
If anything, the wind had picked up in intensity since she’d gotten here. She had no idea how far away her car was. She’d been darn lucky to find the cabin. She shivered, her arms hugging her waist.
Finally, Leslie turned away from the window. She glanced at Jason and discovered him watching her.
“I’m going to have to stay here overnight,” she finally said, more as a statement than a question.
“Looks like it, yeah.”
She grasped her elbows tightly. “I don’t have any clothes here.”
“Not surprising. You wanted to use the phone, not move in.”
She almost smiled. He had a succinct way of pointing out the obvious. Maybe the tension she’d been under for the past three days was warping her mind, but she didn’t find him quite as intimidating as she had when she’d first met him. Just rude.
Of course, he could shoot her at any time, but somehow she didn’t believe he would. She had a hunch he used his pistol for protection, not aggression. Leslie wondered if he needed protection from anyone in particular.
The thought was far from reassuring.
She looked down at what she was wearing and sighed.
He stood and made his way to the other end of the cabin. Over his shoulder he said, “I’ll see what I have that you can sleep in.”
She trailed after him and watched as he opened a large chest, pulled out some sweats, some sheets, pillowcases and blankets. “There are pillows on the bed,” he said, nodding to the unmade bunks across from him.
“Thank you,” she said, taking the proffered items. She quickly made up the lower bunk before she shook out the sweatshirt and pants. Even though she was tall, these would swallow her, but it couldn’t be helped.
She turned and looked at him. “I hope you don’t mind, but I was wondering if there was something to hang between us for a little privacy.”
He looked at her as though she’d lost her mind. She didn’t care what he thought. She folded her arms and refused to drop her gaze.
“I doubt that a blanket would give you privacy, unless you want to drape one from the top bunk. If that’s what you want, be my guest.”
He turned away and carefully retraced his steps to the other end. Just the little exertion had his leg throbbing. He went into the bathroom, closed the door and turned on the shower. He generally used a heating pad to relax the muscles in his thigh but with no electricity, the hot water was his only option. He was grateful that both the hot water heater and the kitchen stove ran on propane. He’d lucked out, getting to use this place. It had all the comforts of home. Except for the electricity going out periodically, he’d done fine here. Even had a stacked, apartment-size washer and dryer, as well as fully functional refrigerator and stove, and a pantry that he had heavily stocked so he wouldn’t have to leave the place.
In addition, he had the room necessary for him to go through the excruciating physical therapy that would guarantee him the full use of his leg eventually.
By the time he finished his shower and redressed, Jase felt marginally better. He opened the door and stepped into the warm room, thankful to have enough wood chopped and stacked to keep the place heated until spring, with or without electricity. By then, he’d be rejoining his unit.
The thought was far from comforting. He still had nightmares from the attack, still felt tremendous guilt that he’d led his squad into an ambush, still fought the wish that he’d died along with the two that hadn’t made it.
Leslie had rigged up two blankets, one on the side facing his bed, the other at the end of the bed. Since the bed sat in the corner of the cabin, the other two sides were protected from his leering view.
“Feel safer now?”
She turned to look at him. “Yes, thank you,” she replied politely, her chin slightly raised. That chin of hers was a clear indication that she didn’t intend to back down from him.
Despite himself, he was impressed. Not too many women he’d known would be handling the present situation without resorting to tears. He thought of his mother and smiled. And his oldest brother Jake’s wife, Ashley. Now there were two women who stood up to whatever or whoever gave them grief, taking names and kicking butt.
He didn’t know his other two sisters-in-law well enough to put them in the same category, but he had a strong hunch that any woman who would take on Jared and Jude would have to know how to stand her ground.
He went over to his chair and sat down. He’d been reading a biography of General Patton for the past few days. He found the man and his life to be fascinating. The bio had kept his mind off of his present circumstances. For a while, at least.
He needed to come to terms with his military career. He could ask for a discharge, but if he did, what would he do after that? He’d considered himself career military until that last recon mission. Despite the fact he’d been told by his superior officers several times in the hospital that there was nothing he could have done to save the two men’s lives and that the rest of the squad, despite their wounds, survived because of his quick thinking, he had trouble accepting their reassurances. He shouldn’t have lost a single man and he knew it.
“If you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll turn in. I was up rather early this morning.” He looked up and saw that Leslie had changed into the sweats he’d given her. She had the pants doubled at the waist and they still puddled around her stockinged feet.
The sweatshirt was a little better. At least it should keep her warm.
Her determined politeness amused him for some reason. Gravely, he nodded his head. “I’ll do my best not to make too much noise so as not to disturb you,” he replied, equally politely. Since the only noise when they weren’t talking was the sound of the wind howling and the occasional pop and sizzle of the wood inside the stove, he expected to get a smile out of her.
Instead she nodded soberly and returned to the other end of the room. He watched as she lifted a flap of the blanket and got into the bed, the blanket falling back into place and effectively concealing her.
He shook his head. You’d think the fact that he could barely get around would have convinced her she had no worries where he was concerned.
He wasn’t certain whether to be flattered or insulted.
