leapt across her before she could get out of the truck, landing on the ground and heading straight for the trailer’s side door. He didn’t bark, didn’t whine, but instead began scratching at the door.
“What’s wrong with you, baby?” she said, climbing down and slamming the truck door. “Something spook you? That border patrol shithead won’t bother you anymore. We’re here to stay—nothing for you to worry about.”
Merlin didn’t look particularly worried—just determined, scratching at the door and whining softly, then looking back at her.
Evangeline shook her head. The sun was setting, but she’d manage to park in a position where it shone directly in her eyes. “Gimme a minute,” she grumbled, and unfurled the canopy. It was always the first thing she did when she settled for the night, for the week, for the month. It made things feel more home-like.
“Are you hungry? Is that what the fuss is about?” she demanded. “All right, I’ll get your dinner. Just wait.” She put her foot on the metal step and turned the handle of her beloved Airstream, pulling it open. Given the state of the campground, it was a good bet there wasn’t even any power, and her batteries would only last so long. She should have bought that generator. She climbed up into the trailer, then stopped, turning back to look at Merlin.
To her astonishment he seemed to have lost interest. The moment she opened the door, he took off on his customary patrol of the area. “You crazy dog,” she said with fond exasperation, standing in the open door. “What’s gotten into you?”
But he’d abandoned her, and she turned around, about to head into the back of the trailer, when everything froze: her heart, her blood, her very being.
She wasn’t alone.
Chapter Six
The interior of the camper was shrouded in shadows. There was a table at the far end, one that turned into a bed, with the kitchen and bathroom in between, and her own bed was directly behind her.
A man was sitting at her table, the early-evening sun coming in behind him, turning him into a silhouette. She could see his general outline. She could also see the gun that lay on the table in front of him.
She’d already closed the door, or she would have simply thrown herself out of it and run. As it was, she started to edge toward it, very slowly.
“Don’t do that.” The voice that came out of the darkness was laid-back, casual, making the order even more chilling. “Why don’t you take a seat on the bed and we’ll talk.”
She stopped moving. “I don’t want to talk,” she said. She should have been terrified, but she’d given up being afraid five years ago—she’d given up letting anything or anyone intimidate her after that debacle. “Whoever you are, I want you to leave. How did you even get in here?”
He leaned back against the banquette, his hand playing with the gun, and she got a better look at him. His blond hair was cut short, and he had several days of stubble that was either due to necessity or a fashion statement. For some reason she thought it was the former. He wore rough clothes—a denim shirt and jeans—and there was a certain implacability to his face that made Evangeline’s stomach twist. She wasn’t going to let him scare her, she thought firmly.
“How do you think I got in?” The man’s voice held no particular inflection or accent, making it even more unnerving. “When you were being harassed at the border. I needed a safe way to get out of Canada and your camper was the perfect vehicle.”
“Good. Now leave.”
He laughed, and the sound made her stomach twist more. Was it fear this time? Or something else?
“Afraid I can’t do that. I have things I have to do, and you’re the only game in town.”
She kept her back straight, her hands at her sides but curled into fists. “Are you an escaped prisoner?” she demanded flatly. With his clothes and his cool, expressionless face he could have walked off a work farm
“What’s wrong with you, baby?” she said, climbing down and slamming the truck door. “Something spook you? That border patrol shithead won’t bother you anymore. We’re here to stay—nothing for you to worry about.”
Merlin didn’t look particularly worried—just determined, scratching at the door and whining softly, then looking back at her.
Evangeline shook her head. The sun was setting, but she’d manage to park in a position where it shone directly in her eyes. “Gimme a minute,” she grumbled, and unfurled the canopy. It was always the first thing she did when she settled for the night, for the week, for the month. It made things feel more home-like.
“Are you hungry? Is that what the fuss is about?” she demanded. “All right, I’ll get your dinner. Just wait.” She put her foot on the metal step and turned the handle of her beloved Airstream, pulling it open. Given the state of the campground, it was a good bet there wasn’t even any power, and her batteries would only last so long. She should have bought that generator. She climbed up into the trailer, then stopped, turning back to look at Merlin.
To her astonishment he seemed to have lost interest. The moment she opened the door, he took off on his customary patrol of the area. “You crazy dog,” she said with fond exasperation, standing in the open door. “What’s gotten into you?”
But he’d abandoned her, and she turned around, about to head into the back of the trailer, when everything froze: her heart, her blood, her very being.
She wasn’t alone.
Chapter Six
The interior of the camper was shrouded in shadows. There was a table at the far end, one that turned into a bed, with the kitchen and bathroom in between, and her own bed was directly behind her.
A man was sitting at her table, the early-evening sun coming in behind him, turning him into a silhouette. She could see his general outline. She could also see the gun that lay on the table in front of him.
She’d already closed the door, or she would have simply thrown herself out of it and run. As it was, she started to edge toward it, very slowly.
“Don’t do that.” The voice that came out of the darkness was laid-back, casual, making the order even more chilling. “Why don’t you take a seat on the bed and we’ll talk.”
She stopped moving. “I don’t want to talk,” she said. She should have been terrified, but she’d given up being afraid five years ago—she’d given up letting anything or anyone intimidate her after that debacle. “Whoever you are, I want you to leave. How did you even get in here?”
He leaned back against the banquette, his hand playing with the gun, and she got a better look at him. His blond hair was cut short, and he had several days of stubble that was either due to necessity or a fashion statement. For some reason she thought it was the former. He wore rough clothes—a denim shirt and jeans—and there was a certain implacability to his face that made Evangeline’s stomach twist. She wasn’t going to let him scare her, she thought firmly.
“How do you think I got in?” The man’s voice held no particular inflection or accent, making it even more unnerving. “When you were being harassed at the border. I needed a safe way to get out of Canada and your camper was the perfect vehicle.”
“Good. Now leave.”
He laughed, and the sound made her stomach twist more. Was it fear this time? Or something else?
“Afraid I can’t do that. I have things I have to do, and you’re the only game in town.”
She kept her back straight, her hands at her sides but curled into fists. “Are you an escaped prisoner?” she demanded flatly. With his clothes and his cool, expressionless face he could have walked off a work farm
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