The wind threw pine needles against the windows with an angry ting. Mia settled more comfortably into Seth’s warmth as dawn arrived. He’d insisted that she stay the night, and after several hours of mind-altering sex, she’d been too worn out to refuse. She’d never slept all night in a man’s arms.
Too much intimacy.
Too much risk.
His heat surrounded her as he slept quietly, his arm banded around her waist as if afraid she’d disappear. The hard muscles in his chest supported her back. Every self-protective instinct she owned whispered for her to slide from the bed. But if she moved, he’d awaken.
She wasn’t ready to face him yet.
Plus, for one quiet moment in time, she felt safe. Physically, anyway.
So she lazily scanned the bedroom. His room held a huge bed with a dark gray bedspread and two dressers. A couple of pictures sat in frames on top of one—snapshots of Seth’s family. Black and white photographs of old-time miners lined the wall. The room was nice but sparsely decorated.
Serenity and a sense of peace overcame her. Her eyelids finally fluttered closed.
Drifting between reality and illusion, her mind relaxed enough to throw her into the dream she usually managed to avoid.
Suddenly, she was fourteen again, bouncing in a rusted truck over a trail too rough to be called a road. The wool blanket covering the ripped seat scratched her bare legs. Her threadbare jean shorts failed to provide much protection.
Her new foster father gripped the wide steering wheel with a hairy hand. His other hand held a beer can half-full of tobacco spit. He dripped more brown into the can.
She coughed. “I don’t understand where we’re going.”
Harold shrugged, his big belly bouncing with the truck. “I need to check on something.”
Trees rose on each side of the trail, and branches scraped the truck’s underbelly. Mia had only lived at the new house for a week, and something was off. Another girl named Betty lived there, and when Harold had announced that Mia was going with him on his job, Betty had started crying.
Something was definitely wrong. Mia swallowed. Confusion had her staring at the forest while her stomach cramped.
Harold finally stopped the truck. Silence surrounded them. Setting his can on the dash, he smiled with stained teeth. “Now, you earn your keep.”
That’s what she’d figured. He reached for her, and she kicked him hard, grabbing the door handle. Panic had her scrambling from the truck and running into the forest. His bellow followed her as he crashed after her.
She ran along a faint trail, rocks ripping into her thin sandals.
Reaching a huge hole, she almost fell in. Her arms windmilled as she tried to keep her balance.
Harold grabbed her arm and yanked back.
Her shoulder popped, and she screamed. Pain cascaded down her arm to tingle into suddenly numb fingers. She turned to face him.
He bent at the waist, his large hands on his stained pants, trying to gasp a breath. Red filled his face while sweat poured down his pocked skin. “You’re going to regret running,” he gasped.
Fear made her ears ring. She angled to the side and away from the gaping hole.
He nodded. “Old well from some homestead. Take off your clothes.” He stopped to cough. “Or I’ll throw you in.”
She slowly closed her eyes. Her arm hurt, and her heart beat so fast it was hard to breathe. Flipping her lids open, she set her stance. “No.”
Delight flashed across his ugly face. “I love a fighter.”
“Is Betty a fighter?” Mia slid farther away from the hole.
He shrugged. “She was. Not so much anymore.”
Anger flushed through Mia until her mind centered. “I am.”
“Good.” He grabbed for her, and she shot to the side.
