Beverly Long - Hunted

Not having access would be a little more proof.

But then what would she do with it?

Confront her stepmother?

Tell her father?

Call the police?

She realized that Ethan was waiting for an answer. “Nothing important,” she said. “Well, good night.”

“We’ll have to put sheets on the bed in the spare bedroom.”

“Just a blanket is fine.”

He ignored her and proceeded to pull a shallow plastic container out of the closet. He took the lid off and then gathered up a bottom sheet, top sheet and a pillowcase. Then he pulled out a blanket.

She helped him put the bedding on the mattress—at least as much as her injured shoulder would allow—and she was struck by the easy familiarity between the two of them. It was as if they’d been making beds together for years.

“Thank you,” she said. She locked eyes with him and was pulled in by the intensity of his gaze. “I know how lucky I am that you were here tonight. I appreciate it, I really do.”

He stared at her and she felt her skin grow warm. The bedroom was small, dimly lit by just a bedside lamp.

“Ethan?” she said. Did he feel it, too?

He hesitated. “Just make sure you let Mack know that I was helpful,” he said, his tone light. He turned away. “Good night, Chandler.”

* * *

ETHAN NORMALLY ENJOYED a beer around five o’clock, especially if it had been a particularly warm afternoon. And maybe with dinner, in the right surroundings, he’d have a glass of wine. He rarely drank late at night, though. But, he rationalized as he stood in the small kitchen, popping the top of a pale ale, the prospect of sleeping ten feet away from Chandler McCann would be enough to make a teetotaler reach for the whiskey bottle.

Why the hell couldn’t Mack’s little sister have grown up ugly? Or at least plain.

No. She was gorgeous and had a nice personality to boot.

She’d demonstrated tremendous composure when she’d been eighty feet in the air. Most men he’d known wouldn’t have been as brave. And her shoulder had to be hurting, but she wasn’t complaining.

She could have easily died tonight. That made the beer in his stomach roll and he set the bottle down.

He lay down on the couch and waited for Molly to jump up, to stretch out, to take up way more space than she should have. But she didn’t move away from her spot outside the door of Chandler’s bedroom. She rested her head on her paws.

He closed his own eyes, strangely content that both he and Molly were watching over Chandler.

He didn’t wake up until a blast, loud and sharp, had him literally jumping off the couch. For a second, he thought he was back in the military, flying at night, and that his bird had been hit.

He got his head back in the present moment, went to the door, opened it and looked outside. The snow that had threatened all day had started to fall. There were already several inches on the ground. But when he looked up, he could still see the smoke. He judged the distance and whirled when he heard a noise behind him.

Chandler stood in the hallway. Her dark hair floated around her shoulders and the T-shirt that he’d given her hit her mid-thigh. Molly stood next to her, her nose in the air, her body on full alert.

“What was that?” Chandler asked, her voice rusty with sleep.

He stared at her. There wasn’t any easy way to say it. “I could be wrong, but I think your cabin just blew up,” he said. He ran his fingers through his short hair. This was all his fault. He’d known there were people who held grudges. He’d read the anonymous letters.

Had one of them snapped?

He was supposed to be staying at the McCann cabin. His mail was still getting delivered there. A reasonable person would have assumed he was there.

She still hadn’t said a word. He couldn’t blame her. If he was right, she’d just lost something that had been in her family for generations. She would hate him when she learned the truth.

She slowly walked toward the door and looked past him. Smoke was continuing to billow up into the sky. Molly crowded in next to them but the dog, finally showing some sense, stayed inside the cabin.

Finally Chandler turned to him. Her eyes were dark with pain. “I think I’m in trouble. Real trouble.”

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