Page 47 of Stuck with My Bossy Protector

“Hey, relax. I’ll go outside and greet them. They don’t need to come in. We’ll get to town, and we’ll call the authorities. Who slept with who doesn’t matter.”

“I know.”

I move the couch, take down the string of cans, and step outside onto the porch. In the distance, three snowmobilers appear, their machines kicking up snow as they race toward us. Relief and suspicion war within me. This has to be a rescue. But as they draw nearer, a bad feeling gnaws at my gut.

Mia steps out to stand beside me. Our excitement quickly fades as the roar of the engines draws nearer. A cold dread settles in my chest, expanding with each passing second. No one is wearing an orange vest. They’re not wearing any kind of badge or coats that identify them as a search team. I know this is wrong. Then I see sunlight flash off the butt of a gun at one of the men’s sides. Again, it’s not completely abnormal out here, but this feels wrong.

“Go inside,” I tell Mia, my voice low and urgent.

She scoffs, shaking her head. “I’m not hiding.”

“Mia, please,” I insist, but it’s too late.

The snowmobilers stop a few feet away. One of them jumps off, pointing a gun at us. I shove Mia behind me, my mind racing. These men came with one goal.

“That’s not Carter,” she says with surprise.

“No,” I shook my head. “I don’t think it is.”

“Why do they have guns?”

“Mia, I need you to get inside. Lock the door. Do not come out here.”

“Like hell,” she growls.

I’m going to guess it’s Vincent’s men. I’m dead. All I can do is try to keep them from hurting her. But deep down, I know that’s unlikely. She is on the run from her murderous ex, and I just put her into the worst kind of danger. I have to do something to protect her.

“She’s innocent,” I say, my voice steady despite the fear coursing through me. “She just happened to be here. She has nothing to do with any of this.”

I see the grin on the gunman’s face, a predatory smile that promises nothing good. He strides toward us, his boots crunching on the icy snow. The other two men remain on their snowmobiles, their engines idling and their faces obscured by helmets and balaclavas. I keep my eyes on the one approaching, committed to giving Mia as much time as possible.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper.

“For what?”

“They are here for me,” I tell her. She has been so stressed out and terrified that her ex stalked her all the way to Alaska and killed her friend. She was worried she endangered me, but it was the opposite.

“What?”

“Good morning,” he calls out, his voice surprisingly jovial considering the circumstances. He stops a few feet away, seemingly relaxed but with a gun pointed in our direction.

“What do you want?” My voice is steely, more so than I feel inside.

“They always ask that,” he muses to his comrades. They laugh, a coarse sound that reverberates off the quiet wilderness around us. “What else would we want? Vincent is not happy. He has been looking for you.”

Mia grips my arm, her eyes wide but determined. “What’s going on?” she whispers.

The man with the gun smirks. “Listen to your boyfriend. We’re all going inside. Now.”

Mia is clinging to my arm. The other two men cut their engines and jumped off their snowmobiles. “Let’s go inside,” I tell Mia.

She pushes open the door, and we’re herded into the cabin, the gunman keeping a close watch. He keeps the gun trained on us as he looks around. “Where’s the other guy?” he asks.

“I don’t know who you are talking about,” I reply.

“The biologist that owns the cabin,” the man snaps.

I find it odd that he doesn’t know Eric is dead.

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