Page 4 of Mountain Protector

Nope. Instead, this new release is a runaway train speeding toward a heart-pounding conclusion, and theidea of putting my Kindle away is unthinkable. Not until I know if Marco, the wrongly-accused narcotics officer, will discover who framed him. Is it the partner who has a thing for his wife? The drug-addicted brother? Or are both of those red herrings and the real culprit is a total surprise?

I’ve tried going to sleep at least half-a-dozen times, telling myself the story will still be there in the morning.

But I need toknow. I probably won’t be able to sleep well if I don’t. I’ll toss and turn and I’ll end up getting as much sleep as I would if I just finish the book now.

So here I am, laying in bed in my darkened bedroom, reading by the glow of my Kindle and trying to ignore the clock silently reminding me that I’m up two hours past my bedtime.

But at least I have a little extra time to sleep in tomorrow morning.

Orthismorning, actually, since it’s half past midnight.

Rather than getting up at five-thirty so I can be on the road by seven, I can snooze my alarm a few times. I can wake up at six-thirty, take a quick shower, and still have time to spare before Knox gets here at seven.

Although. That doesn’t give me much time to get ready. And while I know we’re just friends, new ones at that, I’d still like to look somewhat presentable when Knox gets here.

So I’ll get up at six-fifteen. That still gives me almost?—

Yikes. Less than six hours. I should really put away this addictive story and go to sleep.

Decision made—for now, at least—I reluctantly snooze my Kindle and set it on the nightstand. The lock screen taunts me as I lie back down, and I have a fleeting thought of getting up to put it in the living room so I won’t be tempted. But it’s so cozy in my bedroom, all snuggled under my down comforter, with the nearly full moon casting a soft glow outside. Large flakes of snow drift down beyond the window, glinting in the moonlight, adding a magical feel to the night.

Thisis why I moved here. To have these quiet moments, unspoiled by traffic and light pollution and neighbors leaving their TV on all night. Out here, I can’t even see Knox’s house. All I can hear is the soft hum of the furnace kicking on and the faint clink of ice cubes dropping in the freezer.

It’s almost too quiet, now that I’m thinking about it.

Maybe I should get a cat. So he or she can sleep next to me, their soft purr lulling me to sleep. That would be nice. I could put a cat condo in the living room, right by the front window so the cat could look outside. For Christmas, I could get a little stocking and fill it with catnip treats and toys. And?—

Wait.

Did I just hear something else?

A creak?

My stomach lurches into my throat.

No. Calm down.

This is a log cabin. It’s literally all wood. Ofcourseit creaks.

And I have a security system. A good one, with video doorbells and sensors on the windows and motion-activated lights that turn on as soon as anyone comes to the door.

It’s just the house settling, whatever that means. Something about the change in temperature, and maybe with the snow collecting on the roof?—

I hear it again.

Just a whisper of a sound.

For a second, I think,just ignore it. This is just one of those sounds houses make. I haven’t lived here that long, so I’m not used to it yet.

Except I’ll never be able to sleep until I know for sure. I’ll just lie here, my ears pricked for the slightest sound, losing more sleep than I have already.

Okay. Decision made.

Quietly—I’m not sure why, but I do it anyway—I slip out from under the covers and put my feet on the floor. Then I stand, still listening carefully, shivering a little as the cool air hits me.

After several seconds of silence, I almost change my mind. Almost dive back under the blanket and give in to the call of the Kindle, this time as a way to distract me.

Then I hear another creak.

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