No Place To Hide - Chapter Eight

             

She’d taken a deep breath, her decision balanced on the tip of her tongue, but for the second time Ace interrupted, butting his head between them, forcing Mitch to release her.  When he laughed and bent to fuss over Ace, she used the disruption for what it was: a chance to step away, clear her head, try to think past his overwhelming pull.  Of course she wanted him, what woman in her right mind wouldn’t?  But being involved with a man like Mitch meant exposing her secrets, relinquishing the control she needed to keep herself safe. She would snap like a cheap rubber band if she let go.

Mitch glanced up at her with a smile, then abruptly frowned and stood, reaching out for her.  His frown deepened when she staggered a few feet back.  “What’s wrong?” he asked, moving closer, running his eyes down her body, searching her pale face for clues.  “Why are you upset?”

When he was near enough she could feel his heat, she threw her hands up to ward him off.  “Stop.  Don’t touch me.”  His glare was fierce as he ignored her, stepping into her space until his body was just a hair’s breadth from contact.  “Talk to me,” he growled.

She stared up at him.  “You’re like that frog, the one in South America,” sounding puzzled, as if she’d just learned something startling and was trying to understand what it meant.  “It has venom on its skin,” she murmured, “that causes confusion and hallucinations.”

“So, you think I’m a frog that isn’t real?”  Just his luck, he finds the woman of his dreams and she’s a nut bar.

“No,” she snapped, impatiently, “you’re real, too real.  That’s the problem.”  She took another step back.  “Every time you touch me, my brain disconnects, I forget what I’m doing, my judgment just…fails.”  Her words were whisper-soft when she said, “Lust venom.”

Mitch made an odd sound, half choke, half stifled laughter.  “Lust venom,” he repeated.  And then he smiled, so open and true, her heart stuttered.  His blue eyes sparked with amusement, his dimple flashed, and for a moment she saw the boy behind the man, mischievous and playful.

Her eyelids slammed shut as she fought not to sway into that smile. “And no more smiling at me.”  Under her breath, she muttered, “Definitely no smiling.”

“Sweetheart,” he said, biting back his laughter, “look at me.”  When she shook her head, he leaned close.  “Eyes open or closed, you can’t hide from me, honey.  You need to get that.”  She felt him move away, heard his quiet, “lust venom,” followed by a low rumbling laugh.

Risking a quick peek, she watched him cross the room and crouch to rummage in his pack.  Glancing over his shoulder, he caught her looking and said easily, “How about we take Ace for a walk?  It’s too late in the day to head out now, so we might as well kick back for tonight.” 

She nodded, then seeing her gun and knife on the small table where Mitch must have left them, she grabbed her weapons and crossed the room to sit on the edge of the bed.  “There’s a small pool not far from here,” she murmured, shoving her boots on, “filled by run-off from higher up the mountain.  It’s where I usually refill my water bottles.”  Boots laced, she stood, slid the Ruger into the back of her waistband and fastened the knife in its sheath. Briskly now, keeping it all business, she said, “Since we’re here for the night, we’ll need the water.”

Mitch watched her round up the empty bottles and stuff them into a mesh bag she took from her backpack.  He smiled that she was always prepared for anything, then his brow furrowed, wondering at the secrets driving her and how long before she’d trust him enough to share them.  Eyes on her, he shrugged into his jacket and adjusted the canteen strap over his shoulder.  When the time was right, she would talk.  And he’d be there to listen.

The trail was narrow and uneven, forcing them to walk single file for the first twenty minutes of the hike, an exuberant Ace leading the way up the ridge behind the cabin, but deeper into the forest there was more room so Mitch moved in and took her hand.  She resisted, tried to pull away, but he held fast.  When she scowled at him, he grinned, made frog noises and kept walking.  She should have tried harder to untangle their hands, but there was no resisting the way his fingers wrapped around hers like a glove, covering her whole hand in warmth.

  

Needing something to take her mind off him, she casually said, “I’ve washed, brushed, scratched and wrestled with Ace too many times to count over the past couple years.”  She paused, watching Mitch out of the corner of her eye.  “So, where’s the tracking device?”

His hand tightened around hers for a second, then he sighed. There went his advantage, but no use denying it.  “How’d you figure it out?”

“You might be really good at your job, Mitch, but nobody can follow a trail that isn’t there.”  She shrugged.  “It had to be Ace, though I don’t understand why.”  When he tensed, she looked up at him, just in time to see something flash across his face.  Pain?  Regret?  “What is it?”  When he didn’t answer, she let the silence go on, giving him time to decide if he wanted to talk or not. 

“After the military,” he finally said, “I couldn’t settle, didn’t know what to do with myself.  Mike was doing some work for a private detective out of LA and he came to see me in Montana, convinced me that together we could do it better.”  He steered her around a fallen log. “Mike set up the survival school, we both worked investigations, and I started my kennels.

“About six years ago, I had a Rottweiler puppy.  Leda was my star, beautiful, strong, smart as a whip.  When she was old enough, I found her an equally solid male.  They were going to be the foundation of Cartwright Kennels.  Her first pregnancy, she had one big ass puppy, healthy and solid.” 

She could almost hear his back teeth grinding when he paused. “One day this guy came to the ranch, representing some eastern European asshole who’d heard about my dogs.  The guy was too slick, pushy rude, thought his boss’s money could buy anything or anyone.  He saw my girl, offered me more than I could make in a year.  I said no.  Several times. Then we had a slight…disagreement and I threw him off the property.”

This wasn't going to end well, she knew it, the tension pouring off him was too strong, but she’d asked for an explanation and all she could do now was hang on and hear him out.  “What happened?” she asked gently.

“The bastard waited until the time was right, broke into the kennel and took her.”  His words fell heavy in the quiet. “I made it my mission to get her back, no matter who stood in my way or what I had to do.”  Bitter words hissed between clenched teeth. “She was used as a fucking fight dog at one of the boss man’s clubs, then he lost her to a Bulgarian warlord, who gave her up to pay off a debt to the owner of an exclusive underground fighting ring in Germany.”  He took a deep breath, let it out long and slow.  Regret burned in his throat when Mitch said quietly, “By the time I found her, it was too late.”

“Oh, Mitch.”  Her stomach churned as tears clogged her throat. “Did you find that man, the one who took her?  And the others?”

“I worked with a few government agencies in Europe, and some animal rights groups. We managed to rescue some animals, shut down the fight rings, though it was just the tip of a very large, very powerful iceberg.”  He glanced at her, eyes shadowed. “I’m still after that slimy bastard and his boss and I’ll get them, one way or another.”

They walked together in silence for a while, then Mitch said, “Back to your original question.  After what happened to Leda, I had to find a way to always track my dogs, so I developed a way to do that, starting with her big ass puppy.”  Nodding toward Ace as he came bounding out of the woods with a large branch between his teeth, he smiled. “Meet big ass puppy.”    

“Ace?  Ace was her baby?  Oh no,” she whispered, “I’m so sorry, Mitch.”  Then her anger flared. “But why did Mike let me have him?  Knowing how you would feel?  Why would he do that?”

“I won’t lie, I was so pissed at Mike I came real close to forgetting he was my brother.  I wanted his head on a pole until Lisa stepped in.  They tried to convince me this woman they'd befriended needed Ace, and not just for protection, that I had to trust that Mike had made the right call.”  Mitch snorted.  “I called bullshit.  I wanted my dog and was ready to head out the next morning to track him down, but funny thing.”  He reached into his jacket, pulled out a small electronic gadget and thumbed it on before turning the display toward her so she could see a red dot moving across a green background.  “The GPS had gone missing and I had no way to trace him.”  He smiled, eyes hot, as he said sarcastically, “Imagine my surprise when Mike told me a few weeks back that their friend Jane might be in trouble, and oh, by the way, look what turned up.”

He tipped his head, met her anxious gaze.  “But you,” he murmured, “you have nothing to be sorry about.  This isn’t on you in any way.”  He kissed her with just a bare touch of lips.  “You’re now one of a handful of people who know about the tracker.  I’m trusting you with that secret and the welfare of my dogs.”  He held her gaze for a long moment, hoping his point was being made.  When she didn’t react or say anything, he tapped a finger on the end of her nose and said, “But right now, we’re going to take it easy, let things ride until tomorrow.”

His smile dimmed when she said, “I don’t have the option to let anything ride, Mitch. And even less time to take it easy.”

“You have all the time in the world because you have me and we’ll get it figured, whatever it is.”  Pulling her into his arms, he rested his chin on the top of her head and gave her a little shake before he whispered, “You can count on me.”

She pushed out of his arms.  “I can only count on myself and Ace.  Don’t take this personally—if this were another time and place things might be different—but I don’t have the luxury of trust, so this, between us?  It can’t happen because Ace and I are gone in the morning.”

Annoyingly, he laughed. Cupping her face in his large hands, he kissed her again, not with heat, but with tenderness and care.  Then he lifted his head, eyes drifting over her features for a long moment before he grinned and tucked a long strand of hair behind her ear.  “Christ, you are so adorable.”  Taking her hand again, he tugged her along.  “But honey,” he said, “just so you know?  You aren’t going anywhere without me.”  He caught the look on her face.  “And stop frowning.  What if your face freezes like that?”  When her frown deepened, his laugh echoed around the forest and damned if the lunatic didn’t start cheerfully swinging their clasped hands like they were two lovers on a stroll in the park.

Before she could disabuse him of a multitude of wrong-thinking ideas, Ace came charging out of the trees, bounded in a circle around them, and ran off again.  A rush of insight washed through her.  Ace was exactly who he was because of the man walking beside her.  “Mitch?”  When he looked down, brow raised in question at the tremble in her voice, she said softly, “Thank you for raising Ace like you have, for making him strong.  He’s the best dog ever.”

He stared at her, throat working as he tried to swallow the strange lump lodged halfway down.  Or up.  He didn’t know which, had never felt such a thing in his life.  It was so girly, he almost flushed with embarrassment, which would have killed him on the spot.  “You’re welcome,” he managed, his voice rough, even to his own ears.  “He loves you, and that has nothing to do with training and everything to do with you.”

Her sweet smile went straight to his dick and he ached to have her, to take her right now in this forest, just lay her down under the trees and be inside her in a heartbeat.  He buried the low moan that threatened, searching frantically for something to distract his thoughts before he fucked things up.  And that brought him up short.  He’d imagined them wrapped around each other tonight, sated and content, but was he being a total ass here?  Should he wait until they were off the mountain and in a hotel?  Or until he got her back to his place in Montana?  She didn’t know it yet, but that’s where they were going.  He needed access to his contacts, network, even his brother and there was no way he was letting her out of his sight.  But damn, Montana was a long wait away.

Trying to clear his head, he concentrated on the two questions he wanted to ask, two things he needed to know.  He started to ask her the first, when she dropped his hand and pointed.  “Look.  Isn’t this just the most beautiful place?  I love the moss and the waterfall and the light glittering on the water as it tumbles over the rocks.”  She went to the edge and bent to stick her fingers in the icy pool.  Gasping, she looked over her shoulder at him with a big smile that dropped the blood from his head to his groin so fast his head spun.  “Beautiful, yeah,” he muttered, transfixed. Fuck. He was so screwed. She owned him with that smile.

“I take it the water’s going to be torture?”  Was that his voice, growling like a man who drank whiskey in dark, seedy bars and smoked three packs a day?

“Well, I for one won’t be stripping down and jumping in, that’s for sure.”

“So sorry to hear that,” he muttered, clearing his throat.  “Though I should get in, cool down.”

Straightening, she walked toward him, concern in her eyes. “That's not a good idea, it's far too cold.  What are you thinking?”

He knew he shouldn’t do it, knew it was crude, uncalled for, wrong in a dozen ways, but he couldn’t stop himself, he wanted to feel her hands on him, needed her to understand what she did to him.  Reaching for her, he splayed her hand over his erection and pressed her palm against the hard length.  He closed his eyes, absorbing her warmth as the moan he’d shut down earlier rolled up his throat, long and low.  When her hand trembled under his, he said softly, “That’s what I’m thinking.”

Raising her head with a knuckle under her chin, he smiled at the dazed look on her face.  “What you do to me, woman.  Not legal in some parts of the world, I’m pretty sure.”  As her hand eased away, she laughed softly, the sound resonating in his belly, filling his head with possibilities.

Ace appeared at the top of the waterfall, his tongue lolling.  Mitch chuckled up at the silly mutt, then bent to kiss her, just a quick one because his dick was still too eager and night was coming.  “Time to hustle,” he murmured against her mouth before reluctantly letting her go.

They knelt at the edge of the pool and filled the canteen and the bottles. “Can’t wait to have hot water from the wood stove later,” he said when they were done, “be nice to clean up.”  He swung the canteen and the mesh bag over one shoulder before taking her hand, pleased she didn’t try to remove it from his grasp.  He whistled for Ace, who vaulted out of the trees with another large limb in his mouth, leading the way home as the gloaming painted the sky in shades of orange, purple and red.

They walked in companionable silence, hands clasped tight until his questions resurfaced. Taking a deep breath, hoping he wasn’t making a mistake, pushing too fast, too soon, he said quietly, “Would you tell me your name?  Your real name, not one of your fakes.”  He felt her withdraw immediately.  She went still and he could actually feel her fingers go icy before she tried to pull away from him.

“No, I’m not letting go.  You don’t trust me, I get that, but know this.” He put a large hand on her back and tugged her close.  Lowering his head, he whispered, breath warm against her cheek, “I intend to have you, in every sense, on every level. That includes dealing with your nightmares and who gave them to you.”  He touched his forehead to hers.  “I’m not asking for much, just give me something. A nickname, the name of your childhood doll, make up a name, I don’t care.”  But then he straightened, looked down into her face and slowly shook his head.  “No, that’s not what I want.”  He paused, choosing his words. “I want real.”  Her head dropped, thunked into his chest, and he waited long moments for her to speak until disappointment edged out hope.  Sighing, he took her hand again and they moved down the trail.

When they came out of the trees at the back of the cabin, she hesitated, then stepped in front of him, searching his eyes, taking his measure.  She opened her mouth, snapped it shut, looked at the ground, took a deep shaky breath. And reached up to grab the lapels of his jacket, drawing him close, fear and apprehension making her voice waver. “Kate,” she murmured into his ear, “my real name is Kate.”

He pulled back to look into her face.  She was terrified that she’d just made a fatal error, her eyes huge and filled with dread at what she’d done.  He understood with a piercing clarity that she had just taken a giant leap of faith.  In him.  Suddenly he felt too many things at once burning hot in his chest.  Running his fingers down the velvety contours of her cheek, he traced the shape of her bottom lip with his thumb before meeting her eyes.

“Hey, Kate,” he murmured softly, bending to kiss her, sealing a vow she didn’t know he’d just made.  It might only be a scrap of trust, but she’d given it to him and he was more than ready to earn the rest.

Slight Glitch

My goal has been to post a chapter of No Place To Hide every Friday and I was doing really well on that schedule until this week.  Even with the chaos of having a new kitchen floor installed, I was making headway on the story and still thought I would get the chapter finished yesterday.  But I didn't factor in a quick eye appointment for new glasses in the afternoon that turned my world into a hazy blur after the eye drop stuff...blurry vision that lasted late into the evening.

Stay tuned.  I'll be posting next Friday, for sure.

Just for fun:  Here's what the main characters look like to me, except Mitch has longer hair. And Ace, of course, handsome scene-stealing boy that he is...

No Place To Hide - Chapter Seven

Waking to the sharp crackle of a fire and the heavenly aroma of coffee, she yawned and rolled to her back, stretching muscles stiff from sleeping on the hard wooden platform.  Covering her eyes with a forearm against a beam of sunlight slanting through the window next to the bed, she dropped a hand over the side and murmured for Ace.  “Hey, buddy, how did—”  Her eyes flew open, panic slamming through her. Fire?  Coffee?  Frantically groping under the pillow for her pistol, not finding it, she leaped off the bed, slapping a hand to her hip. The sheath was empty.

“Looking for this?”  Her nemesis was sitting cross-legged on the floor by the fireplace using a small whetstone to sharpen her knife, her gun lying beside him.  And on his other side, happy as could be, sprawled her dog, chewing on the sturdy tree limb she’d used to wedge the door closed.

She opened her mouth to call Ace, eyes darting around the cabin, her mind racing with avenues of escape, places to hide, seizing her pistol, but before she could form the words or get her body in motion, Mitch gave her a look, then quietly said, “Don’t.”  That was it.  One word.  His eyes were dark, his tone implacable as he held her captive with just his raptor gaze.  Here was the bounty hunter, ruthless, cold.  There wasn’t a hint of the teasing man who joked about weapons and hard-ons.  They stared at each other for several long moments, then he nodded his head once—like she’d agreed to his arrogant command—and calmly went back to honing her blade.

Anger erupted like lava, racing through her veins, burning away her initial shock that he was here, had her weapons.  She stomped toward him.  “Do I have to kill you to stop this?  Why can’t you just fuck off?  I’m sure there are dozens of criminals out there that you could be chasing besides me—”

“You admit you’re a criminal?” he asked softly, not bothering to raise his head as she loomed over him.

“Of course not,” she snapped.  “Why are you always twisting my words?”

“I can’t help but wonder.  You seem pretty violent, always threating me and—”

“It’s you!  You bring out the worst in me.  It’s not my fault that I want to shoot you, or stab you, or jump on you and punch your brains out!”

He finally looked up, a wicked gleam in his eye and a seductive smile that would make a nun want to dance with the devil.  “You want to jump me?”

“Seriously?”  Her hands fisted at her sides. “Do you only function in one gear? Everything I said and all you heard was ‘jump on you?’”

Chuckling, he said, “Sit down, honey.  I’m just giving you a hard time.  Have a cup of coffee and something to eat. You’re sure not a morning person, so let’s call a truce, then we’ll talk.”

Without a word she walked past him and out the door, barely registering that it was not morning at all, but already late afternoon.  Her mind was in turmoil at the thought he had somehow gotten into the cabin, taken her gun out from under the pillow and removed the knife from her sheath...while she slept.

When had she lost her edge?  Always vigilant, prepared for the slightest danger, and she hadn’t even heard him, let alone felt him strip her of weapons.  Horrified at her vulnerability, she staggered behind the building and dropped onto an old log, mossy and slightly damp, the rich scent of the pines wafting in the cool mountain air.  Tears began to clog the back of her throat as frustration and anxiety swept over her.  She clenched her teeth and fought against the burn in her eyes, the sharp pinch in her nose.  

But between one shaky breath and the next, she lost the fight.  Hunching over, she propped elbows on knees and covered her face with trembling hands as the tears began to fall in silent rivulets down her cheeks.  Her stomach felt hollow and her head too full.  Memories, choices, decisions, swirled in a maelstrom through her mind, circling around the biggest mistake she’d ever made.

A moment in time.  That’s all it took.  One tiny little cluster of seconds.  If she’d spent one minute longer in the shower that day.  Got stuck in traffic.  Stopped to buy coffee at the Starbucks around the corner from work.  Any number of things could have prevented her from walking into that room at precisely the wrong moment, destroying her life forever.

God, she was so tired, of the running, hiding, being alone, never able to just be herself, even if she didn’t know who that was anymore.  Maybe she should just give up, accept that it was over, let Mitch earn his money.  A sob broke through her clenched teeth.  She bit the inside of her cheek, hoped the pain would help her get control.

“Baby, come back inside.”  She jerked at the sound of his soft voice.  How did such a big man move like a wraith?  He gently ran his hand over her bowed head.  “It’ll be all right.  Whatever it is, I’ll make it right.”  He came around behind her and sat on the log, positioning her body between his long legs, wrapping his arms around her.  The sudden warmth of his chest heating her back, the solid strength in his legs, the intimacy of his body surrounding hers was more than she could stand.

“Perfect,” she whispered through her fingers, “a witness to my humiliation.”  Wiping her cheeks, she muttered, “Can’t you just forget about me and go away?”

He softly pressed a kiss behind her ear, then returned the whisper, “No. I can’t forget about you.”  Nuzzling his face into her neck, he murmured, “I’m not going away and neither are you.  I’ll help you, I swear it.”

Dropping her hands, she straightened and tried to move away, but he just tightened his grip. “Let it go, Mitch.  I can figure things out for myself.”  Her voice hitched on the last word, he heard the resignation, could feel the defeat as her body slumped. Without responding, he surged up, swinging her into his arms and striding to the house in one smooth, effortless motion.

She didn’t object or struggle as he carried her which he was thankful for, although her passivity bothered him.  She never gave up, was always ready to do battle, accepting help absolutely not in her playbook.  This sudden acquiescence bothered him more than finding her a few minutes ago, dejected and alone, silently crying her eyes out.

Mitch walked into the house and set her down by the fireplace.  “Stay,” he murmured, walking to the bed and gathering up blankets and the sleeping bag.  Worried when she just stood there shivering, he quickly folded a couple of blankets into a long rectangle and settled her on the floor before tucking the sleeping bag around her.  After stoking the fire, he filled a mug with hot coffee, added two packets of sugar and handed it to her. Her quiet thank you was almost lost beneath the roar of the fire, but he heard, grateful that she seemed more composed now.

Sitting on one side of her, he gestured for Ace to take the other side so between them and the fire, she would warm up faster.  Then he gave her a small plate of cheese, a protein bar and one chocolate chip cookie.  She set the coffee down in front of her and rested the plate on her lap, taking a small bite of cheese as she glanced at his dish.

“Why do you get four cookies?” she asked, staring at the thick wedge of cheese, two protein bars and the cookies piled on his plate.

“Because I’m a growing boy and need the extra nourishment.”  He took a huge bite of cookie.  “Plus, pretty sure I’m addicted and need the fix.”

“If you grew any bigger, villagers would chase you with pitchforks.”  She hid a smile behind her piece of cheese when he laughed, the sound warm and easy, touching deep.

“You don’t realize this yet,” he murmured casually, “but now that I need your cookies to make my life worth living, that means we’re bound together for all time.”  He gave her a pathetic look, then sighed deeply.  “I can’t survive without them.”

“I’ll give you the recipe,” she retorted.

“No, that won’t do at all.  They must be made by you.”  He lightly gripped her chin, raised her face to meet his eyes.  “And just for me.”  He held her gaze, conveying something with his look that she didn’t want to decipher.  To avoid it, she lowered her eyes to his mouth, which was a mistake.  His lips were full and soft and, well, mouth-watering.  Her tongue ran back and forth across her bottom lip as if she could still taste him from yesterday’s kiss in her kitchen.  His slight groan brought her eyes up.

He was focused on her mouth, but then he raised his head and when their eyes locked, she drew in a shuddering breath at his intense look.  “Mitch,” she whispered, as a rush of heat swept through her.  “Why are you doing this?”  His smile was slow, rife with promise as he carefully reached for her plate, setting it next to his on the floor.

“Sweet Jesus, woman.”  Leaning closer, he nuzzled her hair out of the way, the scruff of his whiskers giving her goose bumps as he kissed his way up the curve of her neck.  “I want you, that's why.”  His voice was a low, deep rumble in her ear.  “About two seconds after you walked out on your porch and faced me down, I’ve wanted you.”  He ran his tongue along her bottom lip, tracing the contour, relishing her taste.  “And that was before the cookies.”  He groaned when she opened her mouth, didn’t hesitate to slide his tongue between her lips, delving and exploring, learning and savoring.  She clung to the sleeping bag for dear life, her fingers tight in the fabric as he kissed her breathless.  With another groan, he pulled away, but only far enough to meet her eyes.  “Please say yes,” he said, lightly kissing the corners of her mouth, her nose, her temples, as he waited for her answer.

“Does anyone ever say no to you?” she asked softly.

“Your answer is the only one that’s ever mattered.”

Solemnly, she stared at him.  Was she really thinking of doing this?  Okay, she had to admit there was some kind of weird connection between them, and yes, it had been so long since she’d been with anyone her judgment had to be impaired.  And damn, he was hot and he wanted her.  No one had wanted her like this, ever.  But none of that made it the right thing to do.  He was here now because he’d hunted her down, threatened her, chased her and had used Ace against her.  Her eyes roamed over his face, taking him in, seeing him clearly, without the distortion of anger or fear to cloud things.  Mitch was also funny, strong, and confident; kind and sweet and loyal. 

He shifted slightly when her eyes settled on his mouth, then she met his gaze and saw the need, could feel how still he held himself under her scrutiny.  She could also see that behind the hope of yes, was also the man who would accept no.  He was truly leaving the decision to her. 

She took a deep breath, a different kind of fear making butterflies dance wildly in her stomach as she tried to weigh the consequences between those two small words, yes or no. He gave her a crooked little smile, his dimple flashing and she was lost.  Even if this was the biggest mistake of her life—or the second biggest—even if it was just for tonight, she didn’t care.  At least she’d have some memories that weren’t filled with blood and terror. 

But as she opened her mouth to tell him, the sound of a metal plate rattling across the wooden floor startled them both.  Ace had eaten all the cheese and was just carefully picking up a cookie with his enormous teeth when they both shouted, “No!”  Surprised at being yelled at, the cookie dropped out of his mouth and fell to the floor.  

Mitch rose, gathered the remaining food, mugs and plates, setting everything in the kitchen sink out of reach.  He walked back, held out a hand to help her rise, then wrapped his arms around her, his arousal pressing full and hard into her belly, making her almost dizzy with nervous tension.

“You feel how much I want you?” he said roughly into her ear.  She nodded, too breathless to answer.

When she dropped her head to his chest, he gently stroked a large hand up and down her back, soothing her as he whispered, “I’m thinking maybe the better question here might be...do you want me?”

No Place To Hide - Chapter Six

Stumbling in the dark, she bumped into Ace and would have fallen if not for his solid bulk. “Thanks, buddy,” she muttered, voice rough with exhaustion.  God, what a freaking long day and night it had been, bouncing from one adrenaline-spiked moment to the next.  Scrubbing her face with cold hands, she leaned into the nearest tree and took her bearings.

They stood at the edge of an alpine meadow, one last climb to the old forest service cabin and she’d be warm and safe.  With a yawn that almost cracked her jaw, she surveyed the meadow in the waning moonlight.  Hungry, beyond tired, she needed food and a long, dead-to-the-damn-world sleep to recharge.

“’Member last time we were here, Ace?”  She smiled when he looked up at her.  “The meadow was full of flowers.”  Scratching behind one of his ears, she chuckled.  “And butterflies.  You ran like a goofy puppy, jumping and pouncing, chasing them all over the field.”  They leaned into each other in companionable silence, his heat warming her thigh.  When she lifted her hand, he nudged her for more and she obliged for a moment, then said softly, “Time to go, boy.  We both need a time out.”

Instead of taking the shorter route—straight across the meadow—she skirted the large, circular clearing, staying beneath the shelter of towering Ponderosa pines.  She didn’t expect Mitch to be following her now, but he’d surprised her twice already. Besides, crossing the meadow would leave traces of their passing and she was all about staying under the radar.

As they made their way around the perimeter, she wondered about that radar. Unless Mitch had super powers or talents beyond mortal man, how had he unearthed the information on her false identities, tracked her to this wilderness?  Her gaze settled on Ace, walking at a steady pace slightly in front of her.  Frowning, her eyes skimmed over his large body as a thought began to niggle. Two thoughts actually, and both were troubling.

First, how had he located her cabin?  It’s not like it was right next to the road, or in the middle of some mountain hamlet with nosy neighbors and busy-bodies.  She purposely lived in seclusion, shopped in different towns miles removed from the one closest to home, never talked to people unless it was absolutely necessary, paid cash for everything.  She'd made cautious an art form.

But most worrying was the relationship between Mitch and Ace.  He's trained Ace and clearly they had a bond, a history. When Ace had become hers, she’d had him micro-chipped and always made sure his immunizations were up to date. There wasn’t a way to track a dog through that little chip, was there?  No, it required the dog’s presence and a gadget for scanning the chip.  It wasn’t a homing beacon or tracking device.  Damn it.  Maybe she should have questioned Mitch before leaving in such a hurry.

Or not. Getting as far away from him as possible was the only way to stay safe.  Not only was he a threat, but he messed with her head, something she really didn’t need.  So what if he could kiss like nobody’s business, and really, what did that mean except he was a man very adept at manipulation. Her cheeks flushed just thinking how easily she’d been taken in, barely putting up a token resistance to his charms. Still, was it her fault his lips were as soft as velvet, or that his scent was a narcotic blend of leather and spice and hot male?

Making their way around the clearing, she tried to forget his mouth, ignore the way his blue eyes had darkened when he pressed himself into her belly, erase how he sounded moaning over her cookies.  She shook her head, hard, angry at herself for letting even the memory of him seduce her.  Breathing deep to clear her head, she stopped for a minute, tired eyes narrowing to quickly scan the trees before heading up to the cabin.  It was more difficult to see now, the moon edging slowly behind one of the mountain peaks, bringing the eerie shadows that grew between dark and dawn.

Nudging Ace, they moved deeper into the forest, coming to an intersection where a network of trails converged, the wildlife leaving dusty furrows in crushed pine needles like the worn tread on an old carpet. Unerringly, Ace took the third left and began to climb.  On their many hikes, they’d taken each trail at one time or another to see where they led and if Mitch managed to get this far, it would take him too long to find the right route; by the time he figured it out, she and Ace would be long gone. 

     Except...there was his uncanny ability to find her.  Had he slipped a device into one of the packs at her house?  She liked that idea until she remembered he'd found her cabin before ever coming inside.  Her stomach churned with the need to know if Ace was the source, which meant she had to get to Maggie, the local veterinarian, as quickly as possible.  Because as much as she understood Mitch had the skills and experience needed for a bounty hunter, there was no way he was that good.  Unless he had an Ace up his sleeve.  She didn’t appreciate the irony.

And deep down it hurt that he'd used her dog as a means to an end.  Didn't he understand what being found would mean for her?  But maybe that worked for him.  He delivers on the contract and not only gets paid, but has his dog back too.  Win-win for him.  Dead for her.

With a low woof, Ace dashed through a small opening in a jungle of undergrowth and tangled shrubbery that covered the majority of a little dwelling. When she’d first set eyes on the place, she’d been fairly certain that vegetation was the only thing saving the house from collapse. Two massive rhododendrons nearly enveloped the entire structure.  Someone long ago must have planted them beside the house, but over the years they’d grown into trees with broad, tough branches that hugged the sides and snaked over the roof.  A climbing rose at the back had gone feral, crawling up and over the walls, razor-sharp thorns merging with the rhododendrons, burying the cabin like a well-kept secret.

After another glance down the trail and around the perimeter, she sidled between two branches that had grown together into a thick, twisted arch, guarding the front door like wooden sentinels, and followed Ace onto the dilapidated porch.  Months ago when she’d found the cabin and managed to push the door open, screeching over the warped threshold, she’d been surprised and charmed by the place.

Just one room, cozy and dry, with a narrow window beside the door, another next to the platform bed built into the wall on the right, both with glass so thick it was impossible to see anything outside except distorted shapes.  A rough stone fireplace was directly opposite the door, and an ancient pot-bellied stove, three makeshift shelves and a stained, cast iron sink set into a handmade wooden frame made up the kitchen area to the left.  A small, scarred table was pushed against the wall near the stove where she'd found a handful of faded forest service maps and an old calendar that went back nearly 70 years.

After several visits, she had also discovered the remnants of an outhouse, a dilapidated shed and the jagged, rocky outline of what might have once been a garden enclosure.  She thought perhaps a trapper had originally built the house before the forest service had claimed it, but even their presence was long gone, the cabin forgotten.  And she was very grateful for that, because right now she desperately needed a place to stop and catch her breath where no one could find her.

Dropping her pack, she knelt to dig out the small LED lantern and set it on the table, then rolled her shoulders and heaved a deep sigh of relief to be rid of the weight and the worry.  She hung her jacket on a nail beside the door and bent to unfasten Ace’s saddlebags, laughing when he immediately threw himself on the floor, rolled to his back and with legs flailing in the air, wiggled back and forth like he had a serious itch between his shoulder blades.  “I know just how you feel, big guy.”  Flopping to his belly, tongue lolling, he beamed a big toothy grin at her.

She filled bowls with bottled water and food for him and as Ace dug in, she pulled the small camp stove and more water from her pack.  Several times, when they'd hiked up here to stay overnight or for a long weekend, she’d cooked on the old wood stove, enjoying the primitive feel of being alone in the true wilderness.  Over time the place began to feel like a haven, a safe place away from home, so whenever she and Ace made trips to the cabin, she’d brought a few extra things to leave behind. Now there was a spare sleeping bag, some ready-to-eat meals, cans of soup, old towels and blankets, a few dishes, a dented second-hand tea kettle and a large plastic container filled with a variety of tea bags and sugar packets.  She would be okay here, at least long enough to eat and sleep.

 Firing up the camp stove, she poured water into the kettle and had tea made in no time.  Folding one of the blankets into a thick pad, she sat on the floor and leaned against the wall, Ace tucked next to her munching on a dog biscuit. Taking a sip of the hot brew, she sighed with a mixture of relief and utter exhaustion.  She was hungry, but for the moment all she wanted was to sit with her dog and not move again until sometime next week. Then her stomach rumbled, loud enough to make Ace cock his head at the noise.

Smiling at his curious look, she scratched under his chin, set her mug on the floor and with a groan got to her feet to snag his saddlebags. Settled back on the blanket, she opened one side, pushing Ace’s inquisitive nose out of the way as she burrowed for the bag of cookies.

She ate two, sharing chocolate-free pieces with Ace while the night began edging toward dawn.  Dusting off the crumbs, she was taking a last swallow of tea, her body finally starting to unwind, when an overwhelming lassitude washed over her.  Suddenly weak and trembling, she knew this was a reaction to adrenalin overload; to a fear and panic she hadn't felt since her early days on the run; to belated sorrow at losing her cabin, and the conflict in her mind from those blasted kisses. Her body was letting her know in no uncertain terms that she was on borrowed time and ready to drop.  If her eyes closed right now, she’d be dead asleep on the floor in an instant, and far too vulnerable.

Fighting the urge to just give in to the enervating weakness, she forced herself to stand, grabbed the lantern and went outside with Ace.  As he made a circuit of the cabin, she searched the back near the trees until she found a thick, sturdy branch lying on the ground.  Back inside, she jammed it between the rusty door handle and the floor, wedging it tight. She knew this wouldn’t actually keep anyone out—certainly not someone like Mitch—but another layer of security never hurt. 

Picking the blanket up off the floor where she’d been sitting, she refolded it for Ace and laid it by the front door.  She spent a few quiet minutes with him, murmuring nonsense words as he settled, until her eyelids began to droop.  Weaving toward the bed, she spread a blanket on the wooden platform, folded another for a pillow and sat to take off her boots. Falling back onto the makeshift mattress, she covered herself with a sleeping bag, but just as exhaustion began to drag her down, the Ruger bit into her back.  With a soft sound, too close to a whimper to be comfortable, she shifted to one side, pulled the gun out of her waistband and slid it under her pillow.  She had a vague thought about removing her knife and sheath, but the maneuver just seemed far too complicated at the moment.

     Weary to her bones, she was asleep between one breath and the next, too deep to hear the soft scrape of a boot on the porch or the low growl rumbling from Ace's throat.

No Place To Hide - Chapter Five

She was on her feet, gun in hand, before the hiss of angry words had faded.  In the darkness she couldn’t see much more than a large shape backlit in moonlight looming in front of her, but there was no question Mitch had somehow found her.

“Why the hell did you run?”  His voice was rough, more than annoyed as he stepped toward her.  "You understand English?"

No way.  He didn't really just say that to her.  Rage boiled as her own words were thrown back in her face.  “Stop right there,” she ordered. “Don’t come one inch closer.  I’m just mad enough to do something I won't regret, you lying bastard.”

Ignoring her, he moved closer and lifted a hand toward her. “What are you talking about?”  Whatever he might have said next died in his throat when he heard the slight click of the safety on her pistol being thumbed off.  Hands up in surrender, he eased back a step.

“You can either hike back the way you came, or stay here until daylight, I don’t care either way.  I just want you to leave me alone.”

“Sweetheart,” he murmured, “you know I can’t do that.  I managed to throw Solares and his goons off your scent and they’ll spread the word that I’m involved which will eliminate half the idiots who think they’re trackers.  But there will be others, and they won't care that I've got this. They’ll come looking for that target on your back faster than you can run.”

“You managed to throw them off?”  She snorted. “That's not what I heard. I know I’m nothing more than a contract, a payment for services rendered.”

“Jesus, would you just hold on a sec and let me explain?”

“I’ve wasted enough time listening to you.  Drop whatever weapon I'm sure you’re carrying and move over by that tree,” she said, gesturing behind him.

Crossing his arms over his chest, she had no trouble reading his belligerent stance or the scowl he was broadcasting that gave new meaning to bad attitude. “Hear me out,” he said between clenched teeth.

“Not interested.”  Slowly backing up, she reached down for her pack and shrugged the strap over one shoulder.  When Ace stood next to her, she grabbed his collar.  “Stay away from us.”

She moved into the trees, hoping to lose him in the solid darkness off the main trail, but before she’d gone more than a few yards, a soft series of low whistles brought Ace to a sudden stop next to her.  He looked over his shoulder toward the dark silhouette that stood at the edge of the trees, then back at her, a low whine loud in the silence.  Mitch's voice slid like ice down her spine, ruthless and cold.  “You leave?  It will be alone.  The dog stays with me.”

There had never been a time, not through four years of running, when she thought she'd actually have to shoot someone.  She knew she could—and would—defend herself and protect Ace if it came down to a choice, but to actually feel it, relish it, savor the compelling urge?  Not until this man, in this moment, when she wanted him writhing at her feet more than she wanted her next breath.

She dug deep for control before saying in a cool, almost casual tone, “You really don’t listen well, do you Mitch?”  Shifting, she tightened her hold on Ace’s collar. “I’m struggling not to shoot you where you stand for that threat.”  She bent to whisper in Ace’s ear, then murmured, “But what you don’t know, smart guy?  I can stop anyone—including you—from taking control of my dog.”  Before he could digest that news, or the fact his brother was the only one who could have set up a fail-safe and given it to her, she unsnapped the strap on the saddlebags. Before they'd hit the ground, she was snarling, “Strike!”

In an odd, slow-motion flash of disbelief, Mitch watched as his favorite dog, all one hundred and thirty pounds of him, leaped into the air and hit him dead-center in the chest, knocking him backwards with the impact of a head-on collision.  He hit the ground hard enough to painfully jar his spine, followed by the air whooshing out of his lungs in a loud burst when the weight of an intensely focused predator landed on his upper body.

Wrapping his arms around the dog, Mitch rolled, straining to contain the brute, though really he only hoped to survive long enough for the annoyingly clever woman to call the dog off before he lost some vital piece of his anatomy.  She kept surprising him, throwing him off-balance.  His threat had been nothing more than bluster to stop her from leaving before he could explain himself, but she hadn’t hesitated to counter with her own, more effective move.  If he wasn’t in danger of having his throat ripped out, he’d be laughing at being bested by her.  Christ, she was amazing and there was no doubt in his mind that he was going to have her.

“Hold,” she said, voice clear and commanding.  Man and dog both stopped wrangling and without much effort, Ace again had him pinned on his back. The only thing keeping teeth from his neck was the sheer strength in his arms as Mitch pushed against the dog’s chest.  She was very tempted to let Ace have him, but it didn’t feel right.  Not that she didn’t want the bastard brought down a peg or twenty, but she didn’t want Ace to be the one to do it. Setting her pack on the ground, she walked over and plucked his gun off the ground where it had fallen in all the rolling and grappling.  Ace didn’t move, intent on holding Mitch down.

Arms shaking from the effort to keep the dog away from his face, Mitch wheezed, “Please, baby, let me explain.  It’s not what you think.  None of this is what you think.”

“What should I be thinking instead, Cartwright?  You clearly threatened to take my dog! I told you what he means to me and you didn't hesitate to use that against me.”  She threw his gun as hard as she could into the underbrush then tucked her own into the small of her back before retrieving the saddlebags.  Reaching into a pocket, she quickly pulled out a thick roll of duct tape.

“Come on, honey.  Let me up.”  He was having trouble breathing, his words gasped out in a staccato rush.  “I was desperate.  Just trying to stop you.  From leaving.  Already told you.  I’d never really.  Take him away—”

“Save your breath.  You don’t have anything to say that I want to hear.”  She crouched down at his feet and began to wrap the tape in tight bands around his ankles.

Mitch tried to shift Ace off to one side just far enough so he could take deeper breaths.  “Duct tape?”  He grunted when the dog moved, though breathing was easier now. “What are you thinking?  That won’t work, though I’m pretty impressed that you carry a roll in your gear.”  When she paid no attention, he went on.  “But I should point out.  Unless you plan on letting Ace eat me for dinner like a trussed turkey, I’ll be loose five minutes after you’re done taping me up.”

“Five minutes is more than enough time.”  He almost missed what she muttered under her breath, “I’ve had lots of practice being a ghost.”  A tiny nugget of information to mull over later, he thought, feeling the tape wind around his boots and partially up his legs.

Once he was secured, she stored what was left of the roll in the saddlebag, called Ace to her and fastened the pack around him.  Then she stood for a minute, her hand on the dog’s head as they both looked down at Mitch.  Taking in great lungfuls of air, he stayed flat on his back, rubbing the tremors out of his arms from pushing against the force that was Ace, beads of sweat glistening across his face in the moonlight.  Even dirty, disheveled, and on the losing end of a bad day, he was still handsome, strong.  She scowled, reined in thoughts that had no business being in her head. He was nothing more than a lying ass out for the money.

After struggling for a moment, he sat up though didn’t make any attempt to free himself, instead rolling his shoulders, then shaking out his arms.  “Damn, that dog is powerful,” he muttered as he reached down toward his boots.  Then he froze, staring at the complicated loops and twists that bound his legs.  He raised his head and locked eyes with her, frustration mixed with respect as he realized what she'd done.  He made a last attempt to convince her to wait, to listen.  “Come on, give me a minute.  I can help if you'll just—”

She laughed.  Even under the circumstances, he liked the sound, husky and warm.  “Let’s see, you’re on the ground, big ass dog just sat on you, and your legs are duct taped.”  Smiling, amusement in her voice, she said, “While I, on the other hand, am standing here, in control of said big ass dog, legs free to take me anywhere I care to go. Huh. Seems like you’re the one in need of help.”

Bending to reclaim her pack, she settled it over her shoulders, made a slight adjustment in the straps and stepped back under the dark canopy of trees.  “Ace, to me,” she said softly.  After a long look at Mitch, the dog trotted quickly to her side.  Resting a hand on the back of his thick, muscled neck, she watched Mitch begin to pick and pull at the layers of sticky tape. 

“Good luck getting that blade out of your boot," she said, her laughter like salt in a wound.  "And stay away from me, Cartwright.  I’m done with this crap.  Go home.”

He looked up, mouth open to snarl a reply, but she was gone.  Silently, both woman and dog had vanished into thin air.  Mitch wrenched at the bindings, but damn, as with her other skills, apparently she was also proficient at wrapping fucking tape.  It took several long, pissed off minutes before he finally managed to make a decent enough hole in the tape to pull his knife out of his boot, then he hacked savagely through the remaining bands, luckily without shredding his jeans or stabbing himself.  His admiration for her had morphed into deep irritation by the time he was able to get to his feet and brush off the dirt and debris.  Walking a short distance back down the trail, he retrieved his pack and her rifle, stashed behind a tree, glad now he’d had that foresight.  What she didn’t know made it easier on him, and obviously he needed every advantage he could get.

Opening a side pocket in the pack, he drew out a bottle of water and downed it in one long, continuous swallow.  Then he looked up at the moon and smiled.  She was going to be spitting mad when he showed up again, something he was anticipating with an eagerness that should have been embarrassing, though he didn’t give a fuck that it wasn’t.  His only real concern was the dog.  And damn, it would have been nice if his brother had given him a heads up on the fail-safe deal, at the very least shared the damn word with him.  Still, he'd get around Ace and he’d figure a way around her, too.

He’d marked the general direction where she’d tossed his gun and spent some time getting scratched and more irritated while he searched in the brush for it.  Finally, gun in place at the small of his back, he returned to his gear and sat down.  He’d give her a little more time, let her cool down, then maybe by the time he caught up she’d be ready to hear him out.

Rummaging in the pack until he found a trail mix bar, he ripped the paper off and sat munching contentedly as he stared up at the sky, his thoughts bouncing from her to the dog to his brother.  He wanted more of that mouth and her sweet sugar scent. All over him.  He wanted to hug Ace and praise him for protecting her, even from him.  He wanted to beat the shit out of his brother because…well, the list was growing longer by the hour.

     But he also had to get out of these mountains and connect with Mike, get an update and more details about the woman—for starters, her real name and who she was running from. And he wanted to check on things at the compound.  Mike was in charge when he was out working, but Mitch had two litters due within the next week or so and always tried to be there for the new arrivals.

Although his career was hardcore and sometimes sucked him dry, once he was back home with his dogs, he found solace and a refuge.  Proud of his kennels, his dogs were trained in security and as body guards; they excelled in law and drug enforcement.  People might not know his face from the next guy, but most of the criminal element knew a Cartwright dog just by looking…usually moments before the dog ripped them a new one.

Ready to go, he dug into his jacket, taking out a small GPS device and thumbed it on. A little red dot flickered against the green glow of the map on the screen.  He got to his feet, put an arm through one strap of the pack and carried it loosely over his left shoulder; in his right he hefted the rifle and walked into the dense forest, his steps soundless on the pine needles.  Less than a handful of people knew that he didn’t trust anyone with his precious dogs and that each one had a tiny, almost microscopic device—one he’d developed himself—implanted in the bottom edge of the left ear.  He could track the location of every dog he’d trained.

Mitch smiled. Oh yeah, she was definitely going to be bent when he turned up out of the blue again.  His chuckle, quiet and soft, followed him into the trees.

No Place To Hide - Chapter Four

In the moment between one heartbeat and the next, Mitch pushed her down behind the kitchen counter with a tight grip on her shoulder.  She struggled against the pressure, freeing herself for a moment only to have him crouch beside her and growl like a rabid dog, his eyes feral and dangerous.

“Get away from me,” she snarled, scooting across the floor on her butt.  “If you didn’t bring them here, then they followed you.”  She narrowed her eyes and snapped, “Some bounty hunter you are!”  Reaching out, Mitch grabbed her ankle before she made it around the counter and dragged her toward him.  Squirming on her back, she kicked out to loosen his grip, hitting him hard in the upper arm.  His eyes blazed and lightning quick, he twisted her leg in a move that spun her onto her stomach, then he threw himself on top of her, pinning her to the floor as he wrenched the gun out of her hand.

Breath rasping, his furious whisper scorched her ear.  “You want to die? For fuck’s sake, woman, calm down.  I’m trying to help you!”  His weight was crushing, forcing her to gasp for what little air she could pull into her lungs.  “Get off,” she panted, the words almost lost in the commotion coming from the front as the two men began to kick at the door.  Mitch rolled off her body, but kept her down with a large hand in the middle of her back.  They could hear the deep growls escalating in the hallway.  Ace could handle most situations, but he was just as vulnerable to a bullet as anyone else. She fought to break away from Mitch’s hold, hissing low and furious, “Ace.”

He rolled her over, one arm tightening around her waist before whistling a soft bird-like trill that brought Ace charging into the kitchen and skidding around the counter where he dropped to his belly and wedged himself beside her, his massive body vibrating with the need to protect her.  Flinging Mitch’s arm off, she rolled toward Ace and buried a hand in his ruff, grateful to have him close.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Mitch muttered as he popped the clip out of her gun, checked it was stacked, then slammed it home.  “This is my punishment for messing around, losing sight of the objective.”  He made to stand and move toward the door, but she grabbed the back of his jacket and yanked hard.  “You’re not leaving me without a weapon.”  He shook her loose, his words sharp with authority.  “You will stay here while I take care of this.”

If her house wasn’t currently being attacked by unknown assailants , she would have shrieked with frustration and made every effort to beat the crap out of the arrogant jerk to get her gun back.  Years—four long, bitter years—she’d taken care of herself, prepared, trained, expecting the worst while she stayed off the grid, flew under the radar.  She might not have a love life, friends or family, but by god she’d had her dog, her weapons, and the intelligence to keep the devil from her door.

Until today.  And this man.  This pushy, overbearing ass had not only brought the devil right to her, but left her weaponless and trapped in her own damned kitchen.  She unfastened the strap on her knife sheath and went after him.

It was quiet.  Too quiet, Mitch considered as he crouched at the edge of the kitchen doorway and risked a quick look down the hall just as the front door burst open, smashing roughly into the wall.  Fury rose as he watched the door swing wildly back and forth, the thought of her dealing with this on her own adding fuel to his rage.  What if he hadn’t gotten here first?  His head snapped around when she dropped down next to him, and he fumed that she hadn’t listened to him. Again.  Her face was a blank, emotionless mask of cold detachment, then they locked eyes and he saw the truth.  She burned, her anger red-hot and palpable.  He wasn’t at all sure at that moment, looking down at her fingers white-knuckled around the hilt of her knife, if she wanted to stick him first or the intruders.

“Give me my gun.”

“No.”

Her glower could have shattered concrete.  “Hand over the weapon.”  When he ignored her, she had her knife under his jacket and pressed against his body before he could draw another breath.

“Goddamn it, can you just hold on a fucking minute?”

“Not without a weapon.”  She pressed the blade.

Mitch snorted.  “You’ve got a weapon, it’s sticking into my ribs.”

“I have to be close to use it.  I don’t like close.”

Dipping low, he spoke in her ear, quiet and soft.  “Use your head, honey.  We can’t fight what we don’t know.  Judging by the shouting, breaking in the door, we’ve got at least two guys who don’t care about being polite and friendly.”

“I’m not feeling too polite myself right now.” 

He shook his head.  “I’m not putting you in the line of fire.”

Her turn for a head shake, anger flaring hotter as she whispered sharply, “I’m not your business, Cartwright.”  She gave the knife a slight twist.  “If you hadn’t come back, I would be long gone by now instead of trapped in my own fucking house,” she grated.  “Enough. I want my gun.”

Mitch edged back a step, relieved as she sheathed her blade, but it was relief short-lived when she held out a hand, her glare assuring him she wasn’t going to back off without a fight.  He had no idea what had happened to hone her into the woman facing him down, though he fully intended to find out.  Unfortunately, that would have to wait as the hushed murmur of voices refocused his attention on the front porch. 

Trying to resist the need to keep her safe, he slapped the Ruger into her waiting hand.  “Back to Ace.  Now.”  Mitch expected her to start shooting, but she spun away without an argument and disappeared behind the counter.  He shot a quick glance down the hall before following her to the kitchen.  Striding toward the door, he grabbed the rifle propped beside it, twisted the knob and quietly eased the door open.  Glancing over his shoulder, he watched as she checked her pistol before wrapping her free hand firmly in Ace’s collar.  Both woman and dog stared fixedly at him.  The moment was significant in ways he didn’t understand.

The sound of boots treading closer jerked him back to reality.  Pointing a finger at her, he mouthed, “wait here” and slid out the door.

The second it was shut, she was throwing on her jacket.  Pulling both packs off the counter, she quickly adjusted the saddlebags over Ace’s back, strapping them securely around his girth before moving to the back door with her own gear.  Slipping out, she signaled Ace to guard, dropped her pack beside him and followed Mitch.

Moving silently, her back against the side of the house, she clutched her gun and edged toward the front.  She could hear men talking, one voice agitated, one sounding furious, another laughing.  She froze when Mitch said in a cold, hard voice, “What the fuck, Solares. You know this is a Cartwright retrieval. What kind of bullshit move is this?”  At his next words, the rush of disbelief and anger that roiled in her belly convinced her she’d not only been an utter fool to think of trusting this man, but it was well past time to escape.  “You maybe thinking to fuck up my contract?”  Someone began a heated reply in a rapid-fire Hispanic accent.

She didn’t wait to hear more.  He’d played her like a banjo.  Pluck, pluck here and twang, twang there.  She’d fallen for every move, every sincere look and hot kiss.  Her cheeks flamed and if she hadn’t been outgunned, she would have shot him where he stood, talking to his cronies, no doubt fellow bounty hunters, or contract killers, or whoever the bloody damn hell they all were. Shit!  If not for her determination to get her Ruger back, she’d have been virtually weaponless. He even had her rifle now. The bastard had disarmed her on every level.

Moving back to Ace, she gave him the command gesture for stealth, slid both arms into her pack and they quickly walked down the back steps, circled the garden and entered the thick forest behind the house.  Her feet glided over the heavy bed of pine needles, leaving no trace of their passing, one of the main reasons she’d bought the cabin in the first place.  Falling for centuries, covering the ground nearly a foot deep with fragrant, durable needles, not even the best tracker would be able to follow their trail.

At first her outrage and fury kept her moving, then embarrassment and humiliation fueled her for another hour as she followed Ace through the dark wilderness, guided by the little beacon affixed to his pack, until the three-quarter moon rose over the mountains. 

Calmer now, anger and shame just a bitter taste in her mouth, she softly whispered to Ace.  He stopped immediately, turned and pressed into her thigh as if he knew she needed comfort.  Crouching, she wrapped her arms around him, burrowing her face into the soft fur at his neck.  Ace.  Her one and only, a true friend, her family.  Tears burned at the back of her throat but she wasn’t about to let them fall.  Screw that.  She’d learned a valuable, painful lesson today, one she wouldn’t forget any time soon.

Unzipping one of the pockets on Ace’s saddlebags, she dug out a bottle of water and filled his travel container.  He eagerly lapped it up, then crunched a large dog biscuit as she shrugged off her backpack and sat down, resting against the trunk of a tall pine.  The late September air was chilly in the mountains though the hike—and her mortification—had helped to keep her warm.  It was getting cold, but they were nearing the forest service cabin now and she wanted to stop for a break, make sure no one was following before the last push, just one more mile, then she could settle in for the night. After taking a long drink of water, she rubbed a hand over her face, fatigue washing over her. It had all happened so fast today.  One minute she was making cookies, the next her life was in tatters at her feet.  She should be used to the feeling, it certainly wasn’t new after four years on the run, but each time felt like she'd dropped one level deeper in her own personal hell.

Sighing, she finished off the water and tucked the empty bottle back into the saddlebag.  She was tired, like really tired.  And not just from the hike tonight, but from everything.  She needed time, to think, plan, figure out what to do next.  Tipping her head back, she caught the bright twinkle of stars between the long branches, the sight jamming her throat with a raw, aching pain.  Oh, if only wishing on a star could change things.  It hurt so much to remember that once she’d had a home, happiness, a life.

Ace stirred at her side, looking into the trees. She held her breath, closed her eyes to concentrate on the night sounds, but other than a soft, throaty rumble from Ace, nothing in the forest seemed alarming.  “Silly boy,” she murmured, scratching behind his ear.  “You’re hearing ghosts.”

“No ghosts.  Just a very pissed off guy who told you to wait,” the voice growled out of the darkness.