Fight for Her by Kelly Favor Page B

on, and she was driving slowly, so as not to run into a tree trunk.
    Finally, after rounding one last treacherous turn where she thought seriously about giving up—she came to the end of her journey.
    There, not a dozen yards away from her vehicle, was a small wooden cabin. A battered blue pickup truck was even parked out front.
    Could that be his truck? Krista thought, and her heart began hammering at twice the speed that it had been beating previously.
    Near to the truck was a monstrous stack of wood that had been newly chopped and stacked. She assumed as much, because a hatchet was buried in one final block of wood on the ground.
    Still, there was no sign of any life. She drove forward a few more feet, tentatively. Now that she was really here, the excitement was replaced by dread and foreboding. The whole thing felt all too real and she suddenly couldn’t remember why she’d been so quick to say yes to this assignment.
    Gunner King is dangerous, violent, and some say he’s gone completely insane. Is this really where you want to be right now, Krista?
    Her gaze went back to the hatchet stuck in the wooden block and she swallowed, her mouth dry, the bright metallic taste of panic in her mouth.
    Somehow, though, she convinced herself to get out of the car. As she did so, she was struck by how quiet it was out here.
    Of course, there was noise; some birds chirping, the wind stirring the leaves, a squirrel running from one branch to the next.
    But it wasn’t the kind of noise Krista was used to. She’d come from a city that was literally bells and whistles, twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. It was culture shock, to say the least.
    “Hello?” she called out, her voice sounding thin and shaky in the still air.
    Nobody replied.
    She glanced at the windows of the cabin, but they were dark and impenetrable.
    Perhaps, she thought, he’d gone out somewhere. Maybe he liked to walk in the woods, go fishing.
    Maybe he’s inside the cabin, drunk, passed out with a bottle of whiskey nearby.
    Or maybe he’s dead, she thought, and gooseflesh popped out along her arms and legs.
    I might be the one to save him.
    She pictured herself breaking down the door and running over to Gunner’s still body, beginning CPR on him as he lay on the floor, perilously close to death. Then her fantasy jumped to a ceremony where she was given an award for her heroic act that led to saving Gunner’s life, and the interview with Katie Couric—
    A dog’s low warning growl pierced the silence. Krista cried out in surprise, spinning around to see a rather frighteningly large dog growling and showing its teeth at her. The dog’s ears were flattened against its skull and it was only a few feet from her.
    “Hey, calm down, puppy,” she tried to sooth.
    She couldn’t tell what kind of breed it was—she only knew it looked mean. Its reddish brown fur was matted and dirty, and it wore no collar. The growl deepened and intensified.
    Krista started to back away from it.
    She could see that at any moment, this thing was going to attack her.
    “Please, please, don’t—“ she whispered, still backing away. She knew that dogs sensed fear and it was the worst thing to do, but she couldn’t help it. She was terrified.
    Just as the dog seemed ready to spring into attack mode, a voice from nearby shouted, startling it.
    “Hey! Doogie!”
    The mutt spun, saw the person and lowered its head.
    Coming around the corner of the house, a large man—wearing baggy jeans and a white t-shirt—shooed at the dog. “What are you growling at, Doogie?” the man said, and then he turned and spotted Krista.
    She swallowed hard.
    It was none other than Gunner King, looking like a movie star on vacation, beard stubble on his strong, handsome jaw.
    The dog barked and ran off into the woods with a crash.
    “Who are you?” Gunner asked. He put his hands on his hips.
    Krista opened her mouth, ready to let the speech flow. She’d certainly rehearsed it enough over