Page 9 of Shadow of Misty Mountain

She lifts her chin another inch. “Protection doesn’t mean silence.”

“No, but survival does.”

That hits. She blinks, faltering for just a second.

I take the opportunity and back off a few steps, because if I stay this close, I’m going to forget every reason why keeping her at arm’s length is necessary. Her scent, her voice, the heat rolling off her body in waves—all of it is messing with my head.

She shouldn’t be here. She definitely shouldn’t be under my roof, and yet, I let her in.

Her eyes narrow. “You’re hiding something.”

“I’m hiding everything,” I snap. “For good reason.”

She folds her arms tighter. “So that’s it? You’re going to hide here, pretend this never happened, and then what—let me die in a ditch because knowing what happened and/or who Jack Stratton really is put me on a list?”

“You’re not going to die,” I say. “Not on my watch. Not if you do what I tell you.”

“Then give me something.”

I drag a hand over my beard. My mind races through the options. I could tell her a version of the truth. I could soften it. Feed her something she’d accept. But lies are just gasoline on an already smoldering fire.

And the truth? The real truth? That’s a bullet with her name on it.

“I can’t,” I finally say. “Not yet.”

Her face goes still. She steps back, a little of the fire fading from her eyes. “You think I can’t handle it.”

“I think people who get too close to the truth end up dead.”

She stares at me. For a second, neither of us speaks.

Then she turns away. “Coward.”

I stalk forward, grab her arm, and spin her back around. “Say that again.”

Her eyes blaze up at me, her voice steady. “You heard me.”

We’re toe-to-toe again, and this time, I don’t move. I don’t let go of her arm. She doesn’t pull away.

“You think this is about fear?” I ask. “You have no idea what I’ve done to stay off the radar. What I’ve sacrificed to make sure no one else dies.”

“I don’t care about your past,” she fires back. “I care about the people who are still breathing. Me, Travis. I’m still breathing. And I want to stay that way.”

That gets through. Not all the way, but enough to crack the armor I’ve spent years reinforcing.

I release her and take a long step back. She doesn’t look away.

“You’re just like him… stubborn as hell,” I mutter.

“You say that like it’s an insult.”

I allow myself the smallest curve of my mouth. It’s not a smile. Not quite.

“You can stay tonight,” I say. “But you follow my rules. You touch nothing. You don’t leave this cabin without telling me—not even the porch. And you don’t go digging through things that don’t belong to you.”

“I’m not some reckless idiot.”

I cock my eyebrow at her. “Really? You come halfway across the country, drive up a mountain in a snowstorm to confront a man you know nothing about? I don’t care what you think you are,” I say, locking eyes with her. “You’re in my house now, and you follow my rules.”

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