“Don’t come any closer. I’m armed.” I held my hand toward the dark trees, the metal cylinder pointed toward the general area of the noise.
Not a bear, but a man.A gun would be super useful here, Gerri. Why don’t you have one?
I’d never gathered the courage to own a gun. My stepfather had tormented me with his silver pistol when I was ten.‘I could pull this trigger, blast your fucking brains all over the wall, and your mother would never know.’Cold metal had kissed my temple as he’d threatened me, and I’d always squeezed my eyes shut, never knowing ifthatwould be the day I’d die. The mere thought of touching a gun drenched me in cold sweat.
Get it together. Now’s not the time to relive the past.
“Hello.” A tall person stepped from between two tree trunks, their shoulders wide.
Definitely a guy.
“Get back,” I shouted, my thumb ready to unleash pepper hell on anyone and anything.
Though I could only see his silhouette, it was enough to show him holding up his hands. “I do not wish to be harmed.” Shining eyes peeked from the dark.
“Stay there or I’ll shoot.”
“I will not hurt you.” He had an odd way of speaking, putting inflections on letters that weren’t normally emphasized.
“What’re you doing over there, creeping up on me like that?” I wanted to run to the cab of my truck and lock myself inside, but that would mean turning my back.
He took a step forward, clearing the trees, then stopped. “Your creation.” He pointed to my painting. “It is beautiful.”
I narrowed my gaze. “How in the hell can you see it all the way over there?”How long has he been spying on me?A chill crept across my skin.
“I see it with my eyes, just like you.” He nodded once. “May I come closer?”
“No.”True panic began fluttering its wings inside my chest. “Go back to your own camp and leave me alone.” I wasn't sure if he was a psycho or just overly friendly, but I had no desire to find out. I’d been alone since Roger, my stepdad, kicked me out nineteen years ago and I liked it that way. No one to answer to, no one to love, no one to hurt.
He frowned. With those two steps he’d made, I could see his face a little better. He sported a buzz cut. Could he be in the military?
No, there’s something strange about the way he moves, like water dancing over rocks.
“I apologize. It is not my intention to scare you. I am not familiar with your ways.” He held out his hands. “I will leave.” Nodding, he swiveled around and walked back to the clump of trees separating each camp.
There’d been a flash of something in his eyes. Disappointment? Shame? Sadness? My intuition told me he was lost—or disoriented, at least.
Don’t do it. You don’t know him from Adam. You’re an unarmed woman who doesn’t even own a cell phone. The chances of someone hearing your screams are fifty-fifty.
But my intuition had never failed me, not since that night all those years ago. It had kept me alive in my teen years as I’d survived on the streets, under the underpasses, and the wooded lots outside the city. There had been times where others had shown me how to keep warm, what dumpsters held the best food scraps, how to protect myself when I slept. What if this stranger needed help? Could I refuse?
I cleared my throat. “What campsite you staying at?” I lowered the mace and stepped closer to the light. Unfortunately, due to it being night and my clumsy ass, I tripped over a rotten pieceof wood I’d collected for the firepit. Reflexes made my hands stretch outward as I fell toward the yellow and orange blaze with its merry glow.
I didn’t even have time to yell. A flash of my soon-to-be melted face and clawed hands raced through my brain.I don’t want to burn.The heat intensified as I fell in slow motion. I squeezed my eyelids shut, dreading the ensuing agony.
Instead of being scoured in burning flames, though, strong arms wrapped around my torso and yanked me to my feet. “Are you okay?” His breath smelled of iron and mint—a strange combination, but not unpleasant.
I clawed at his shirt; my eyes bouncing from his muscled chest to the burning logs, not quite believing I hadn’t been seared.
He grabbed my wrists and gently pushed me away, his gaze scouring me from head to toe. “Did I hurt you?”
“What? No. No, not at all.” I jerked my hands from his grip. “Thank you. If you hadn’t—”
“Stop.” He waved a hand in dismissal. “I could argue the fact that had I not stumbled into your home, you would not have been startled and therefore would not have tripped.”
I laughed. Not because what he said was funny, but because I felt such relief at being saved. Normally, people—especially those I’d never seen before—made me extremely wary. But this guy? He’d kept me from burning, or at least from smashing my brains on a rock or breaking my wrist.
“I’m Gerri. Gerri Johnson.” I offered my hand.
