His lips part. His pupils dilate. He stares at me, motionless.
Then he looks away and swallows, hard. He exhales and says gruffly, “If you don’t go back with him, he dies. I’ll kill him.”
“You’re not going to hurt him.”
“Yes, I will.”
“No, you won’t.”
He looks at me again, and his eyes burn with anger. “Goddammit! You’re not listening to me!”
“Yes, I am, but you’re lying. Because you know that if you hurt Spider, I’ll never forgive you. And no matter how much you try to tell yourself that shouldn’t make a difference, it does.”
Infuriated, he stares at me in crackling silence.
Feeling daring, I add softly, “And we both know why.”
He jolts to his feet, flattens his hands on the table, and leans over it, glaring at me. “If you think I care about you, you’re wrong.”
“Okay.”
“I mean it. You’re only here because I’m punishing Declan.”
“Okay.”
His voice rises. “You’re nothing but a means to an end. You’re part of my plan. This”—he waves a hand between us—“isn’t anything. It’s nothing. You mean zero to me.”
I look down at my hands then back up at him. I say quietly, “Okay.”
His temper snaps. He shouts, “Why do you keep agreeing with me?”
“Because we both know you’re full of shit, so arguing would be pointless.”
He stares at me. A vein throbs in his temple. Then he straightens abruptly and stalks out of the kitchen.
I sit in my chair, listening to him storm around the cabin, stomping from room to room. After several minutes, the front door slams.
Now I’m alone, wondering if I’ve just signed Spider’s death warrant.
You never know what a trained assassin will do when he loses his temper.
I jump up and run out to the front porch. Mal is nowhere in sight in the meadow, so I run around the side of the cabin, stumbling in my haste. I’ve never seen where he parks his car—there’s no barn or detached garage within sight—but it must be nearby, hidden somewhere in the trees.
When I regain my footing and look up, ready to sprint into the woods, my heart drops. I suck in a terrified breath and freeze.
A bear stands motionless ten feet way, its attention focused on me.
It’s an adult. I can tell by the sheer size of the thing. It must weigh eight hundred pounds.
Its head is a massive wedge shape. Its fur is a glossy dark brown. If it stood up on its hind legs, it would tower several feet over me.
It makes a terrifying chuffing sound, a low grunt of aggression. It lowers its head, clacks its teeth, and pounds a huge paw against the ground.
Shaking in fear and badly hyperventilating, I take one careful step backward.
The bear watches with hostile black eyes as I take another step.
Then it lunges.
32
Riley
It happens so fast, I don’t even have time to scream.
I whirl around and run. I haven’t gone five steps when I’m knocked off my feet by a powerful blow to my back. I land flat on my face in the snow, the wind knocked out of me. I scramble to my knees, heart thudding, but get knocked down again, this time from the side.
I roll over several times. The sky and earth fly by like I’m on a merry-go-round. When I stop, I’m lying on my back, panting and disoriented. My glasses have fallen off, so I can’t see much.
I struggle to rise, not knowing where the bear is or even if it’s still tracking me, but then I hear a terrifying snarl and smell wet fur and realize the thing is almost right on top of me.
With a slight turn of my head, it comes into view.
Black nose and beady eyes, sharp canines dripping with saliva. It’s so close, all I can see is the head.
The bear snaps its jaws at my face.
Then it’s on me.
At the same time I scream, crushing weight descends on my chest. The sun is blocked out. There’s fur in my mouth and the overpowering smell of animal in my nose, suffocating me.
I endure a split second of remorse that I’ll never see Mal’s face again. I’m going to die without ever again seeing those beautiful eyes, and the knowledge is agony.
But then there’s a deafening roar. Something warm and wet splatters over my face.
And I’m dragged out from under the motionless bear by my arm.
Mal drops his shotgun, falls to his knees on the ground beside me, and starts ripping at my clothing.
“Where are you hurt?” he shouts, clawing at my shirt with shaking hands. “Riley! Talk to me! Where are you hurt, baby?”