Closing the door behind her, Aria continued toward the third bedroom she’d converted into an office. Three years ago, she’d left her entire life behind in Durban, South Africa, and moved to Shadow Valley. The small town lay hidden between lakes and forest-covered mountains just outside Dubois, Wyoming. With the help of her uncle, Deven, and her cousin, Samantha, Aria built a new life for herself and Prisha. So much for the princess life, she’d dreamed of with her prince charming.
The salary from an administrative job at the lumber mill met their daily needs. Not exactly the future she’d envisioned, but given the small-town community, the lifestyle was comfortable. Most importantly, she and Prisha were safe. Escaping an abusive husband wasn’t an easy feat, yet she’d finally succeeded. In Shadow Valley, she no longer looked over her shoulder with hidden apprehension.
Leaning back in her swivel chair, Aria eyed the design diagrams on the table. Working for a wealthy man like Uncle Buck held its pros and cons. Barely an hour in his office, and she’d spilled her secrets. He subsequently gave her a job, and the cabin she currently resided in, rent-free. The man was a gem. When he came across some of her drawings, he suggested she explore the opportunities of interior decorating. Not really needed in the wilds of Shadow Valley, but the referrals she received by word of mouth kept her creative juices flowing. One day she hoped to move back to South Africa and open her own interior decorating company.
Heaving a sigh, Aria swept weary hands through her hair and glanced at her watch. Just after nine. Still early but exhausted, she needed the sleep. She usually took her daughter out on Sunday. Switching off the desk lamp, she rose and loped lazily to Prisha’s door. She peeked in and discovered the little imp lying face down on the thick pile carpet. Aria scooped the child in her arms. “Prisha?”
The little girl opened her eyes, yawned, and mumbled groggily, “I’m sleeping, you big dummy.”
“Yes, but you dozed off on the carpet, silly.” She glanced around the spotless room, stood, and settled Prisha under the downy coverlet.
“I wanted to color before bed.” Prisha yawned.
“Okay. Pancakes for breakfast?” She grinned at her daughter's expression. No matter how often Aria battled the intricacies of pancake making, she failed miserably at the simple task. Every attempt left her pancakes either stiff, too thin, or plain awful. Her daughter officially labeled Aria’s efforts a magnanimous ‘yuck.’ “We’ll try something different then.” She placed an affectionate kiss on the child’s brow. “Goodnight, Sweetpea.”
“Night, night, Mommy.”
She dropped another kiss on Prisha’s cheek, picked up the coloring book and pencils off the floor, and set it on the desk. At the door, she glanced back at Prisha, exited, and walked to her room at the end of the passage. Aria brushed her teeth, slid under the covers, and welcomed its warmth with a soft sigh. The cold this year appeared a lot milder. A year of dramatic changes, Uncle Buck called it. He swore even Mother Nature showed the world she dictated the weather. Snuggling further down, she uttered a loud yawn and closed her eyes.
****
ARIA BOLTED UPRIGHT, breathless and shaky. Shoving a hand through her hair, she inhaled deeply. What had startled her awake? She glanced at the bedside clock. Ten thirty. God, she’d just drifted off to sleep. Irritated, she held her breath and cocked an ear. Her heart hammered against her ribcage. Loud and uneven. A sudden dull thump vibrated through the cabin walls. She flinched. Instinctively, she reached for the bedside drawer. Her heart rate spiked. Breathing quickened. She slid it open and plunged her hand inside. Searching fingers met emptiness. She leaned over quickly, peeped inside, and muttered an inaudible moan. The gun she kept for safety wasn’t there.Oh shit.
She’d left it inside the drawer in her office on the opposite side of the cabin. To get there, she’d have to pass the front door. Hesitant, she slipped out of bed, ignoring the abrupt coldness that numbed her toes. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and listened again. Silence and a distant howl of a wolf greeted her alert ears. Aria swallowed. She concentrated harder. Another dull thump pumped adrenaline through her veins. She jumped. Quickly, she tiptoed down the passage and opened Prisha’s door. The soft snore told her the child slept. Back against the wall and vigilant, Aria slid quietly along the hall toward the living room. She tried to peer out the window. The shutters she’d secured in place before bed, blocked her view. A single light from the open plan kitchen illuminated the room. She gave it a quick scan. Satisfied, she double-checked all shadows with a second glance. Nothing. She heaved a deep breath and turned toward the bedroom.
The sudden sound of keys in the lock bolted Aria into action. She sprinted to the kitchen. Grabbing the only available weapon in sight, she snuck behind the front door as it swung open. A tall, bulky figure stepped inside. She fought to stifle a horrified gasp. Without thinking, she lifted the heavy weapon over her head and brought it down with as much force as she could muster on the stranger’s head.
“Fuck.” The quick lift of the man’s hand to the back of his head followed by the disgruntled groan, emphasized she’d connected with the desired impact.
For good measure, Aria swung the skillet once more. She crashed it down on his head with another sickening crunch. Five days sweating with weights and a two-mile-long run certainly paid dividends toward firm pecs. Her eyes rounded in awe as he fell forward and hit the floor with a resounding thud. Prodding him with her toe, Aria grinned when he didn’t move.Never mess with a woman and her skillet. Weapon held up defensively; she dropped to her haunches and leaned in closer. His soft breathing confirmed she wouldn’t go to jail for murder. Grabbing his gloved hands, she dragged him further inside the room. God, the man weighed a ton.
Aria plucked the keys still hanging in the lock. Dumfounded, she stared at the proper set of keys, complete with a tag identifying the cabin number. She glanced back at the unconscious man. Eyes narrow slits, she willed an explanation then chewed the insides of her cheek. The man was no burglar. Thieves never used keys. Assassins yes, not housebreakers. Aria closed the door, locked it, and eyed the intruder suspiciously. Dropping to her knees, she searched his pockets for identity. Nothing.
Grunting with the effort, she rolled him over, stood, and surveyed the man. Thank goodness he wasn’t wearing a ski mask. Although a beard hid most of his features, the pronounced brow, sharp nose, and full pink lips hinted the man probably looked much better beneath the cluster of hair thick enough to house a squirrel. A lock of chestnut hair peeked out from beneath a black beanie indicated he wore his hair long. The thick military-style jacket, however, hinted otherwise. Perhaps a soldier returning home and got lost in the dark. She glanced down at the keys in her hand again. The label clearly stated her cabin number, so he wasn’t a lost soul. While the idea of calling the Sheriff persisted, curiosity got the better of her. She’d wait until the man regained consciousness.
Not taking any chances, Aria raced to the kitchen. She located some rope in one of the drawers and a knife. Back in the living room, she cut the cord in two, secured both his hands and his legs. Satisfied, she stepped back and eyed her handiwork. Uncle Buck’s rope teaching techniques proved worthwhile, after all.
“Who’s that?” Prisha’s soft voice startled her. Aria jumped. Her daughter giggled.
With a sharp intake of breath, Aria turned. She eyed the child with a grin. “What are you doing up, Sweetpea?”
The little girl shrugged and stepped closer. “Why did you tie him up. Who is he? What’s he doing here?”
Aria groaned. Even in her sleep-addled state, Prisha remained a bundle of energetic questions. “I’ve no idea.”
“Is he going to kill us? Is that why you tied him up?” Her eyes suddenly rounded in fear as she lifted a questioning gaze to Aria.
“No, Sweetpea, No one is going to hurt us, ever. Okay?” Aria dropped down in front of her daughter. She hugged her tight. “Now, go back to bed. I’ll tuck you in, in a minute.”
Prisha shook her head; her curls bounced about her face in childish innocence. “Nope.”
“Sweetpea, don’t be stubborn.”
“But I can’t leave you alone, Mommy. What if he gets up? I have to help you. I’ll stand guard, and I can use this.” The little girl bent and reached for the skillet lying next to their intruder. Barely able to pick up the weapon, she groaned. “Ooh, it’s too heavy.”
The unexpected act made Aria laugh so hard; she sat down. “C’ mon.” A minute later, she stood, scooped Prisha up in her arms, and hurried down to her study. Gun in her hand, Aria checked the safety then rushed back to the living room. She set the weapon on the mantelpiece. Next, she tucked Prisha under a blanket on the couch. A quick stoke of the fire finished with her adding more wood before she slipped down next to her daughter.
“Are we going to sleep here?
