Known by Kendra Elliot Page A

Always look directly in the eyes of the person you’re talking to. It shows respect. It doesn’t matter if they’re an adult or a child.
    She waited for him to look at her, recalling the facts her mother had mentioned about this man. Owns a consulting business. Never married. No kids.
    After a moment of silence, Owen jerked his gaze away from her mother and met Violet’s patient stare, his eyes widening the smallest bit. Did he realize she’d caught him being rude? He shook her hand again. “I’m very sorry for your loss,” he said rapidly. “Maybe we’ll meet again.” He nodded at her and left.
    A small chill vibrated through her chest as her gaze followed his dark suit as he walked across the room to her mother.
    I don’t like him. Nana wouldn’t have liked him either.
    He stopped beside her mother and possessively placed a hand on the back of her arm, just above her elbow. Gianna gave him a grateful smile and introduced him to the woman she’d been speaking with.
    Owen immediately made eye contact with the woman.
    Violet grew light-headed, as if the room had lost its oxygen, and she no longer heard the low murmurs of the mourners. She was alone. Standing in a room full of strangers and her mother’s friends, she was invisible, yet everyone’s gazes rested on her as one. She wanted to retreat behind thick doors and rip off the smile that’d frozen in place. Then she wanted to cry—and have Nana stroke her hair like she’d done when the boy she liked had asked her best friend to the holiday dance.
    Her recollection vanished as the truck’s right front wheel abruptly dipped downward and Violet pitched forward, the seat belt digging into her chest. Oro’s bulk slammed into the back of Violet’s seat and he yelped.
    “Fuck,” Chris muttered under his breath.
    The truck stopped. Chris threw it into reverse. The truck vibrated and groaned. He twisted the steering wheel and tried again.
    It didn’t budge. Oro softly whined.
    Violet watched the snowflakes gently land on the windshield as Chris wrestled with the truck’s gears. A few moments later he paused.
    “We can try to dig out, but I suspect it’s snowmobile time for all of us.”

    Chris yanked on the ropes, confident they’d hold.
    He glanced over at Gianna, who was having a quiet conversation with Violet. The teen was pale and holding her hands on her stomach. Her seat belt had wrenched her in the gut when the truck stopped. He’d felt both front wheels catch and rise within a split second of each other. Then the right front wheel had suddenly plunged down and brought the truck to a crooked halt.
    The culprit was a downed tree across the road. It’d been completely hidden by the depth of the snow, but the snow on the far side of the tree hid an air pocket. His right front wheel had sunk through the false peak, bottoming out the truck and effectively trapping it. He’d need a tow truck to get it out. And probably a chain saw.
    The wind blew small flakes down his neck, sneaking them past his high collar as he surveyed their backup plan. The snow had been steady, but it was the wind that was the worst. It’d grown stronger over the last hour, turning the flakes into flesh-biting ice, and the constant sway of the fir trees gave him the impression that the forest was moving. Gianna’s snowmobile tracks had already been obliterated. The road before them was a smooth white swath weaving between the tall firs. With the light snowmobile, it shouldn’t be too hard to get to the highway.
    He’d tied the two plastic toboggans together. They were cheap toys he’d picked up somewhere, but one of the best purchases he’d ever made. He, Brian, and Oro had spent joy-filled hours sledding with them near the cabin. Now they would possibly save their lives. He set a duffel on each one and figured Gianna and Violet could hold them. He wasn’t going anywhere without the supplies. He packed as much of the food as possible onto the toboggans and the back of