“And the Watsons?Did you see them too?”The Watsons were closest to her property to the west.
Jaxon swung his attention to her.“Who’s that?”
She nodded in the direction of their property.“They’re about a mile that way.You’d know them around town.They have twin eighteen-year-old boys.”
“Andy and Clay are good kids,” Trevor piped up.“They’ve been helping all day with their four-wheeler.I think they just got home for the night.I volunteered to make the last few stops so they could get a break from the cold.”
McKenna nodded slowly.The burr of doubt turned into a tumbleweed.The man who’d stared through her window, messed with her generator, and leaked her fuel hadn’t been Trevor.And as Trevor had said, the Watson boys were good kids.They were the last ones she’d suspect, which was why she hadn’t mentioned them to Jaxon.
She should have been relieved.She should have been happy that Trevor, the man she’d pegged as a predator, was no longer obsessed with her—or at least not enough to continue stalking her.Instead, terror turned the fire of her fear into a river of ice.She shivered.
Someone wanted to hurt her, and not having a suspect was more terrifying than having one.
CHAPTER 10
Jaxon brought hisshoulders to his ears and bent his knees against the wind.McKenna huddled at his side.If it weren’t for her insistence, he’d have rushed them both back to her cabin.As it stood, they waited in the freezing cold while Trevor rummaged in the back of his truck.Jaxon’s knuckles ached to hit the moron in the face again.He burrowed his hand deep in his pocket, met McKenna’s frozen stare, and jerked his head toward the house.
She nodded and leaned toward Trevor’s hunched form.“Well, thanks anyway, but—”
“Ah, here it is.”He pulled out a small bag.“Your favorite vegan, gluten-free bread.I even had them get the all-natural peanut butter for you.”
McKenna’s weak, shaky smile didn’t reach her eyes.“Thanks, Trevor.That was...thoughtful.”
“You folks stay warm.”He nodded, shut the tailgate, and climbed into the driver’s seat.
Jaxon weaved his arm around her shoulders.The headlights sliced through the darkness, sending the gnarly shadows of tree branches across the snow.They looked like long, angry fingernails.He pulled McKenna closer to his side.Scanning the yard, he tightened his hold on the gun.McKenna walked easily in the snow next to him, while his legs sunk with every step.
His clothes would forever carry the scent of piney, wet snow.And his mind would forever carry the scent of roses and lavender.
“So, he got your favorite bread and peanut butter?”
McKenna nodded and climbed the steps.When she reached the door, she turned the handle and bumped the door open with her hip, a move that was becoming as familiar as her smile.“Yeah.That was a little odd.I mean, I bump into him often at the market, but...”
He followed her inside.He was grateful to be out of the wind, but the cabin wasn’t very warm.“So you never told him those were your favorites?”
She peeled off her coat.Strain tightened her lips.“No.”As she took off her snowshoes and boots, he made his way to the fireplace.
McKenna illuminated his way with the flashlight.“I’d better get some candles lit.Oh my god!”McKenna’s sharp screech made him wheel around.
“What?”
She charged across the cabin—to the open back door.She slammed the door shut then held her hands on the old wood, her shoulders heaving.
Unease prickled his skin.He crossed the room to the front door and picked up the gun again.The snapping of a deadbolt locking reached his ears.McKenna turned to face him as he approached.
He caught her chin in his grip.She clung to the flashlight in front of her chest.Its white light warmed his face and cast shadows over the ceiling.Her lips trembled and her gaze darted away from his to search the room.
Fuck he hated seeing fear twist her features.“Stay here.”His voice came out rough, menacing.If he caught the sonofabitch inside, he’d tear him to pieces.
The beam of light bouncing ahead of him told him McKenna hadn’t stayed put.But he needed the light.He had to catch the lowlife before he escaped out the window—if he was still around.He turned and strutted toward the bedroom, holding the weapon in front of him.McKenna’s bedroom door hung open a few inches.He booted it open the rest of the way.The wood bounced off the hinges.
The stream of light shone from beneath his elbow to cast the room in its glow.The bed with a pile of rumpled covers on top took up the left wall.The dresser stood adjacent to the bed, and a bookcase was next to the closet.The window ate up the center of the wall beyond the end of the bed.
Nothing else lingered in the shadows.He snagged the flashlight from her, kept the gun propped under his arm, and cleared every corner of the room.He went to the closet next.Empty.
He exited the bedroom and searched the laundry room, closet, and bathroom.McKenna waited in the hall.He caught her face in the light and lowered the flashlight’s beam to their feet so he didn’t blind her.“Bastard is long gone.”
Some of the tension ebbed from his body and doubt wormed through his mind.Hell, maybe they had cabin fever.After the mountain lion had attacked him, he’d taken paranoia to a new level.“Maybe the back door blew open.”
