Rebecca Zanetti - Provoked

Her mind spun. “Cain?” Okay, wait a minute. The Bible story about brothers. “Like Abel and Cain? I mean, demons never took Abel.” Sympathy wafted through her. “Do you think you’re Cain?” Poor guy—and the one shrink in town was usually drunk.

He lifted an eyebrow and shook his head. “Ah, no. Kane with a K . And no, the demons didn’t have Abel from the Bible.” His look whispered he was doubting her intelligence. “I’d rather discuss this privately, if you don’t mind.”

“I mind.” Butch grabbed for Kane’s wrist.

The air moved. Somehow Kane reached his feet and trapped Butch against the table, arm pinned between his shoulder blades. “No touching . . . fella .”

Amber stepped back, her breath quickening, goosebumps springing to life along her arms. Who the heck moved that fast? “Let him go.”

Kane immediately released Butch and backed away from the red-faced brute.

“Get out,” Butch hissed through gritted teeth.

Kane nodded, his gaze on Amber. “We’re not finished.” Smooth strides and he was out the door.

Good Lord. Who was that fast, strong, crazy man? And he’d forgotten his change.

Butch rounded on her. “Who the hell was that guy?”

“I don’t know. At first I thought he was one of Hanson’s guys, but he denied it. Just some lunatic who likes beer.” She shrugged off the unease. They were finished—whether tall, dark, and smooth liked it or not. She had enough problems, including the two drunk morons at the bar.

Before she could give Butch a hint, the mammoth grabbed both guys by the necks and tossed them out the door.

Grinning, Amber finished busing her tables. Handing Butch his share of tips, made much larger than usual by Kane’s fifty, she dodged into the back room and grabbed her coat. Tugging her calculator from the pocket, she double-checked her math to make sure she’d been fair with Butch. Yep. It was after two in the morning, and her yawn cracked her jaw. The other two waitresses had already headed home; one with a sleek-looking cowboy, the other to pick up her kid at the sitter’s.

“Wait a sec, and I’ll walk you out.” Butch threw a towel into the sink and squinted past the small windows to the snowy world outside. The phone rang and he grabbed it, his wide face splitting in a smile.

Amber laughed. “Say hi to Sandy for me.” No way was she waiting until Butch got off the phone with his sweetheart, who was attending a real estate conference in Wyoming.

Tugging on threadbare gloves, she slid outside into snow and beauty. Soft, the moon glinted across sparkles of now-peaceful snow, more than a match for the myriad of stars now revealed since the storm had passed. But thick clouds were quietly moving in again.

Drawing her coat closer around her shoulders, she glanced around the quiet parking lot, ready to run back inside the safe bar in case the drunks hadn’t left.

The door opened and nearly smacked into her back. Butch stomped outside. “I said I’d walk you to the car.” He held out his arm like a prince at a ball.

Amber grinned, sliding her hand along his elbow. “I figured you’d be a while.”

He shrugged, the cold not seeming to bother him even in the thin T-shirt. “I’ll call Sandy later tonight.”

Ice and snow slowed their progress toward Amber’s ancient Volkswagen Bug, but they finally crossed the parking lot. The metal had faded to a barely-there green, but the car ran. Amber stomped snow off her feet, glancing at the blue tinge marring the powder. “You said you’d switch de-icers to an environmentally safe type. This stuff will poison any animal that tries to eat the snow.”

“I will. As soon as I use up the old stuff.” Butch scraped ice from the windows with a credit card.

“Fine.” The old stuff was going to magically disappear the next night Amber worked.

Butch shook snow off his hands. “How’s your granny, anyway?”

Amber slid inside the car and turned the engine over, leaving the door open. The Bug sputtered to life. “She’s better. I mean, I think she’s better. Her color is good.” Grandma Hilde had been kicked in the head by one of their horses the previous week and remained unconscious in the small county hospital. The fact that the horse was one that never riled up was yet another mystery to solve. “I’ll give her a kiss for you when I visit tomorrow.”

“She’ll be okay. That woman is a tough old bird.” Butch slammed the door shut.

Amber nodded. Grandma Hilde had to be okay. After waving at Butch, she meandered down the quiet street.

As Colorado towns went, Natureville was pretty sweet. Quiet, peaceful, and with roads easy to maneuver.

She’d driven about three miles outside of town when her engine clunked. Once and then twice. The vehicle lurched and rolled to a stop. What the heck? Pumping the gas, she twisted the key in the ignition. Nothing. Not even a sputter.

A deep breath centered her. Okay. She could handle this. Maybe she should take an automotive class when she signed up for community college. It’d been six years since she’d earned her GED, and it was definitely time to get an education.

Snow covered the pine trees on either side of the road. No nearby homes offered a way to call for a ride.

Quiet slammed all around her.

The bar was about five miles behind her, and home was even farther the other direction. Hadn’t she read that staying with the vehicle was the best move? But the temperature was falling rapidly. Her feet were already dead tired. The thought of walking home in the thick snow made them hurt more. Things were just not going her way.

Lights in the rearview mirror blinded her until she looked away. High lights, bright, obviously part of a truck. That truck rumbled to a stop behind her. Her breath speeding up, she tried to squint in the side mirror.

Nobody got out.

Every scary movie she’d ever seen flashed through her head. Slowly, she reached over and locked the door.

Her heart picked up its pace, and her harsh breathing was the only sound in the world besides the ominous growl of the truck. Puffs of clouds came from her mouth. Panic froze her in place as the windows began to fog.

Clouds wandered above and partially covered the moon. Oh God.

Butch drove a Suburban and lived above the bar. She didn’t know anyone who had a truck lifted at least two feet like the one behind her. Why the heck wasn’t the driver getting out?

Scrambling for her purse, she grabbed a ballpoint pen. Yeah, that’d help. A slightly hysterical giggle rippled from her chest.

Both doors opened on the truck, and two men jumped to the ground, snow billowing up. The drunks from the bar.

Amber licked her lips. Okay. That might be okay. Or a complete disaster. Either way, she clutched the pen so hard her fingers ached. As a teenager, hadn’t she snuck to watch a movie where the heroine jammed a pen in the bad guy’s neck? She turned her head to watch the guy on her side of the car stumble along until he finally knocked on her window.

A slightly blurry face bent down. “Hey, baby. Your car lasted longer than we thought it would.”

Heat filled her head until her ears rang. Although his voice was muffled, the quiet night allowed the words to penetrate past the filmy glass. She lowered her voice into an authoritative tone. Hopefully. “I have a gun and have no problem shooting you between the eyes, jackass. Get lost.”

He threw back his head and laughed, the sound obnoxious in the peaceful woods. “You’re one of them eco-nuts from the farm. No fucking way you got a gun.”

No, but she had a pen. “What do you want?” The question held risk, or rather the answer did. But sometimes a girl had to know in order to make a plan.

A smack to the passenger window had her jumping and biting back a shriek. The second guy leaned down and pressed his mouth against the window. “I’m Chuck.” Full, sloppy lips left a round mark.