Reaper's Justice by Sarah McCarty

a second joined the first. She could feel more trembling on her lashes. Soon she’d dissolve into full-out bawling.
    She sniffed and wiped at her cheeks. “Don’t look at me.”
    “There’s nothing else to look at.”
    She hated logical men.
    “Find a bird.” She didn’t want him to see her cry. No one had seen her cry since she was eleven years old. She fumbled in her pocket again. Her worry stone had to be there. There was no way it had fallen out. She’d taken a few tumbles looking for more wood, but her pocket was deep. She sighed as she found nothing but a few loose threads. It was possible, if the skirt bunched at the right angle, it could have fallen out. Tired, she’d tripped over a fair amount on logs and stones and her own two feet. It was possible.
    She sat before she crumpled. “It’s all your fault.”
    “No doubt.”
    It irritated her that he didn’t even argue with her.
    “Mind telling me what it is I’m guilty of?”
    She hated that she liked that gravelly edge to his voice.
    “I lost something.”
    “What?”
    “My rock, all right? I lost my rock.”
    Isaiah reached into his pocket and pulled something out. She swore to God if he handed her the worry stone, she would scream. It was just the ultimate unfairness that the cause of her misery could so easily provide the solution to her problem.
    He opened his hand.
    She grabbed the stone and screamed as loud and as hard as she could. It felt good, so good. She had a lungful of air and she planned on expending it all on a screech loud enough to wake the dead, but all she got were a couple seconds before he tackled her, knocking her to the ground, taking her weight on his chest as he rolled, tucking her against the shelter of a log, before leaping to his feet so fast she wasn’t sure he actually moved. But there he was in front of her, legs splayed in a half crouch, hands open at his sides, ready to attack, facing the direction she’d been looking. Protecting her.
    “What is it?”
    She closed her fingers around her worry stone and quickly tucked it in her bodice. Isaiah was going to be ticked when he realized she’d screamed out of pure frustration. He looked the type who might take the stone back. She licked her lips and glanced around. The answer to her dilemma shone with the morning dew. A spider web.
    “I saw a spider.”
    He didn’t move for two seconds. Then he slowly turned back to her and just . . . stared.
    “A spider?”
    She nodded. “Horrible things, spiders. I hate them.”
    “You screamed.”
    “Yes. It surprised me.”
    Good grief, she hoped he didn’t keep asking questions. She didn’t have a lot of lies stocked up. The worry stone was a heavy weight between her breasts. An inappropriate place to rub, but she wanted it safe with her because she was pretty sure a man that big, who carried that much aggression in his shoulders, wouldn’t be fun to see angry. She feigned innocence.
    “Don’t tell me you like spiders?”
    He didn’t even blink. “I don’t like bugs at all.”
    “Then you understand.”
    He leaned down. She scrambled back.
    Hooking his arm around her waist, he lifted her. He didn’t put her down until there were ten feet between her and the spider. It was actually kind of sweet. For a kidnapper, he had some chivalrous impulses.
    “Worried about seeing another one?” she asked as he looked around.
    His mouth tightened. It felt perversely good to irritate him. “Yes.” He motioned to the ground. “Sit.”
    “I’m not a dog.”
    “It’d be easier if you were.”
    His right hand clenched into a fist. She reminded herself she didn’t know him that well. He might have brought her worry stone, he might have saved her from the bad guys, but she really didn’t know him that well nor what he’d do when his patience snapped. She sat.
    “That’s good to know.”
    “What’s good to know?” she asked.
    “That you can take an order.”
    “I don’t take orders.”
    That irritating smile sat on