Page 31 of The Wrecked One

“Dad!” I hollered at the top of my lungs, snagging my khakis from the floor as I rushed from my bedroom. “Kill the power.” Trying to get on my pants, I tripped and crashed to my knees in the hallway. “Dad!” Where the hell are you? He had to have received the alert about our unexpected intruder.

Unexpected was an understatement. Mya. How?

As I got back to my feet, the front door flung open and Scrappy came flying in ahead of my father and over to me.

“I know, I got the alert on my phone.” Dad’s tone was far too casual given Mya was about to be electrocuted. “Power’s off. All cell signals are now jammed, too. That won’t save her from the other traps, though.” Dad tossed me the keys to the dirt bike. “Better get to her before she blows herself up. Why the hell is she coming onto my property anyway . . .”

He was still talking, but I’d already run past him and outside. Because, of course, Mya had ignored the warnings. Reckless. Headstrong. Stubborn. Some things never changed.

Not giving a damn that I was both shirtless and shoeless, I hopped onto the bike. The engine drowned out the sounds of Scrappy barking as I took off for the trail only my father and I knew about.

What in God’s name was she doing here?

How’d she track me down?

Why was she alone?

And why was I so damn eager to see the woman I’d spent four months avoiding? I shouldn’t want you here. Having you here, or anywhere near me, isn’t a good idea. That didn’t change the fact my heart was a traitorous organ, beating wildly with excitement at the simple idea of seeing her. First, save her. Second, yell at her for trespassing. Third . . .? Well, I wasn’t sure what would come after that. But the fourth step, no matter how much I may have missed her, would be turning her ass around and sending her home.

“Mya,” I called out as I rode the escape trail Dad had designed for quick exits. There wasn’t a road or sidewalk to get to his cabin. You had to take the bike just to get to his truck parked a mile away in another hidden location.

Dad’s paranoia had kept us safe, though. Well, so I’d thought until five minutes earlier, when the alarm had jolted me from bed and I saw Mya on approach.

I’d thought I was still dreaming for a minute. Then I remembered my dreams were always nightmares, and the remnants of sleep quickly disappeared as reality struck—her stubbornness and determination might get her killed.

“Mya!” I roared that time, still not seeing her but hoping she could hear me. “Don’t move. Stay wherever you are!”

Nothing.

Dammit.

Going as fast as the bike would allow, I raced along the trail, weaving around branches that’d fallen onto the narrow path during the storm a few days earlier. My head felt like there was a broken beatbox inside it, sputtering incoherent words, a bunch of jumbled, staticky sounds, as I processed the fact she was here. I’d soon be able to reach out and touch her. Just had to make it to her first.

The chaos in my mind abruptly stopped at the sight of her, and I slowed the bike to a more reasonable speed.

She was okay. Whacking a tree branch away from her face while cursing up a storm, but yeah, all limbs appeared to be intact. Dark hair cascaded over her shoulders. She should’ve had it pinned away from her face so she could better spot the traps and, apparently, the branches she was battling.

“Mya. Stop. Don’t move.” I hit the brakes and jumped off too soon, sending the thing barreling into a nearby tree and falling over, the tires still spinning. Not my smartest decision, but I was too focused on getting to Mya before one of Dad’s traps got to her first.

“Oliver?” She halted, holding her arms out as if needing to find her balance despite being on solid ground. “You’re really here. We were right.”

Her shocked expression had me shaking my head. It should’ve been me dealing with a heavy dose of what-the-fuck, not her. Questions later. Save her stubborn ass first.

I lifted my hands, patting the air as if dealing with a nervous wolf. One wrong step, and she’d be in trouble. “This place is rigged with IEDs and other traps,” I let her know. “Please listen to me.” For once. “And don’t move.”

She raised her hands to the air, narrowly missing another low-hanging branch, panic finally registering. It took me a moment to realize which two trees she was standing smack in between. Fuck. She had on a backpack, and depending on the weight on her back?—

“You’re on top of a trap,” I shouted, my mouth moving faster than my thoughts.

“What do you mean?” She looked down at her sneakers while I ate up more of the space between us.

She peered at me, and I saw both fear and relief in her eyes.

I understand that, because ditto, but first things first. “There’s a censor beneath you.” I stretched out my arm, calculating my next moves. “Anything over a buck fifty, and the ground will swallow you down about thirty feet.”

Eyes down again, she murmured, “Oh, God.”

This was better than her stepping on a landmine, at least.

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