Chill by Stephanie Rowe

his connection to her a secret, especially in the face of the leverage he knew Marcus could exert on them.
    And he’d apparently made the right call.
    Luke vaulted up the steps, careful not to trip on the dogs bounding around him. One of them leapt up to lick his face, and Luke grinned as the pink tongue slathered across his cheek. Reminded him of the puppy he’d had growing up…
    Then his smile faded as he recalled the fate of that dog and why he’d never gotten another one.
    No animal should be used as leverage to get a seven-year-old boy to cough up where his daddy was on a Sunday morning.
    “Put her on my table.”
    It took Luke’s eyes a minute to adjust to the dim light inside the cabin, which was lit only by the sun. Dark wood, unfinished, a one-bedroom cabin. A bed, a kitchenette, an easy chair, a fireplace and a large wooden table that Luke suspected doubled as food prep and stitching up hunting accidents.
    Doc tossed a thick black blanket over the table. He whipped it under Isabella a split second before Luke set her down, in a synchronized move Luke was sure had been practiced many times. “Bullet wound in her left shoulder,” Luke said. “I think it’s infected—”
    Doc pulled out a knife and began cutting through the sweater. “Have you gotten naked with this girl?”
    Luke pulled himself up. Had he been that transparent in his desire of her? “No, I—”
    “Then get out. I’ll call you when I’m done.” Doc pointed his knife at door. “Out.”
    Luke hesitated, not wanting to leave Isabella unattended. It was a nonsensical instinct, given that they were isolated in the woods, untraceable by the men stalking her, and his trust of Doc was so complete he’d tell the old man about his past if there was ever a reason to.
    “Go.”
    Isabella looked so fragile, sprawled across the table. She was pale, shivering, and he knew his hesitation could cost her dearly. He brushed his fingertips across her ashen cheek, then turned and forced himself to leave.
    He stepped onto the porch and looked at the woods surrounding him. For the first time in years, he didn’t see the beauty, the freedom. He didn’t hear the sounds of the forest. He didn’t appreciate the squirrel racing across the clearing and the joy of the dogs as they tore after it. He didn’t feel the lightness in his heart as he basked in the honor, ingenuity and humanity of the life he’d chosen.
    Instead, he saw shadows. He saw places for the threats to hide. He surveyed treetops for the glint of a gun barrel. He listened for sounds that didn’t resonate with nature. Darkness and tension invaded his body, making his muscles tense and his skin itch.
    Just as he’d done when he first moved here.
    When he’d still been Adam Fie in his heart.

C HAPTER T EN
    Isabella woke up to a dull ache in her shoulder, the itch of a scratchy wool blanket against her skin and the feel of a hard bed beneath her. No pillow. Mama? She bolted upright, her heart leaping with joy, then blinked in surprise.
    She wasn’t back in the one-room apartment they called home.
    No mom.
    No ratty clothes hanging on a rope to dry.
    She wasn’t sleeping on the floor, curled under the blanket that was almost too short for her nowadays.
    No, the past was still gone. Her mother still dead.
    The present…she was in a one-room home again. A cabin this time. Windows on all sides gave her a view of a setting sun turning trees a beautiful shade of orange. She was surrounded by forest. There were no sounds of traffic or voices. Just the wind rustling leaves.
    She wasn’t in the city.
    She was deep in the Alaskan woods.
    But where? And how did she get here? Had she been found?
    Frantically, she scanned the room, searching for any sign of Nate. Rough wood furniture was sparsely placed in the rustic room. An old stained carpet. A smallishwooden bed with a few faded blankets and several misshapen pillows. But on one wall was a gleaming white cabinet with a glass front. Inside were