Amanda Stevens - Magnum Force Man

She was just a little jittery, she told herself. And rightfully so. Having a stranger in the house was enough to unsettle anyone, but given her particular circumstances, she had every right to be on edge.

And if her unease manifested itself in some peculiar sensations, well … that was probably to be expected. She was only human. A human with a terrifying past and a vivid imagination.

Taking a deep breath to steady herself, Claudia inched up to the bed. The stranger’s eyes were shut, but she could see the rapid movement beneath the lids as he continued to mutter. She couldn’t make out anything he said, and after a few moments, she adjusted the cover and moved away.

But at the door, she paused to glance back. A little shiver touched her spine, like the sweep of a moth, and she found herself glancing around the chilled room yet again. No one was there. She and the stranger were alone. And yet it was almost as if she could feel another presence, a quietly persistent manifestation that moved and faded with the shadows.

Help him.

“What?” Her gaze shot to the stranger but he hadn’t moved, and she was pretty sure he hadn’t spoken. No one had. And yet for a fleeting moment, the voice inside Claudia’s head was all too real.

Help him.

A crawling sense of dread tightened her throat. “Who are you?” she whispered.

Help him. Please.

Almost against her will, her gaze went back to the bed. “It’s okay,” she said softly. “You’re safe here.”

The mumbling stopped. The voice inside her head faded, and the cabin in the aftermath was so hushed, Claudia could hear the soft expulsion of the stranger’s breath.

Then his voice rose and she started. “Where are you? Where are you?” he asked desperately.

Apprehension prickled the back of her neck. “I’m right here.”

“Why can’t I see you?”

“I’m right here,” she soothed, even though her heart pounded like a racehorse’s hooves against her chest. She swallowed. “Everything’s fine.”

“She’s not there anymore,” he said in despair.

“Who’s not?”

“She’s gone. I can’t find her.” “Find who?”

“… danger …”

“Who’s in danger?”

“The girl inside my head,” he murmured, and for the first time that night, Claudia had a feeling he was speaking directly to her.

The girl inside my head.

God help me, she thought as she backed away from the door. She really had brought a lunatic into her home.

A lunatic with an uncanny ability of making her care.

It took a long time and a lot of patience, but he finally managed to rip off the tape around his wrists with his teeth, then freed his ankles and sat up in bed. Traces of the dream still swirled inside his head, and he pressed his fingers to his temples to sharpen the focus.

If he could just see those images a little more clearly, he might be able to make sense of them. He might actually be able to save her.

Because the one thing that was deadly apparent to him was the encroaching danger. They were coming. He didn’t know when or how, but they were coming. And they would kill her unless he could find a way to stop them.

The throbbing at his temples grew stronger, and he fell back against the pillow, wanting for a moment to draw the covers up over his head and disappear once again into his dreams.

But the sound of her voice had lulled him from sleep and now he had plans to make, traps to set.

Destiny was speeding toward him faster than a freight train, and he had no way to stop it. The only thing he could do was change it.

But first he had to convince the woman she was in grave danger. And that he wasn’t crazy.

For the latter, he really wished he had his clothes.

Claudia stood at the window for the longest time. The storm had moved off to the east. The rain had dwindled to a drizzle and the lighting was a mere flicker on the horizon. Now that the thunder had faded, the night was almost unbearably still.

In spite of the roaring fire, she felt a terrible chill. The cold was pervasive. It seeped in under the doors and around the window panes and settled over the room like a shroud.

And with the cold came a dark dread. Was someone out there?

Shuddering, she searched the darkness. Was she being watched at that very moment?

She tried to shake off her growing anxiety, told herself she was letting her imagination and her current predicament get the better of her, but the longer she peered into the darkness, the more convinced she became that someone was staring back at her.

It’s okay. The doors and windows are locked, and I’m armed and ready. No one can get in.

But what if the danger was already inside the house with her?

Now you are letting your imagination run away with you.

Was she really, though? She’d brought a stranger into her home, and that was never a good idea, no matter the circumstances.

Earlier, it had seemed as if she’d had no choice, but now Claudia had to wonder. Maybe she should have left him where she’d found him. All his mumbling about danger … that couldn’t be coming from a good place.

Who dashes out into the middle of an isolated road on a cold, rainy night?

Someone on the run, that was who.

An escaped convict, maybe, or someone fleeing from the scene of a fresh crime.

And she had brought him into her home.

Help him.

Where had that plea come from earlier? Had she manufactured that voice inside her head? Was it a manifestation of her guilt for having come so close to running him down?

Help him? Hadn’t she done just that by setting her own safety aside and letting him into her house? What more could she do for him?

This was so not good. For two whole years, she’d been so careful, painstakingly charting every course, meticulously planning every move and now in the space of a heartbeat, she’d put everything on the line.

Wrapping her arms around her middle, she started to turn away from the window, but in the flash of distant lightning, she saw something at the edge of the woods. A silhouette that looked about the height and size of a large man.

With a sharp sense of shock, Claudia peeled her eyes to the spot, stomach muscles contracting, nerve endings tingling with sick fear. But in another flicker of lightning, she saw that it was only a tree.

She really was letting the night get the better of her, so much so that a shifting log had the effect of a shotgun blast in the silent room. Rattled by her reaction, she walked back over to the fireplace and forced herself to calmly stoke the flames as she gave herself a little pep talk.

All she had to do was stay calm and in control. Morning would come soon. She would drive the stranger into town and she’d never see him again. Her life would settle back into the same routine, and that would be that.

The same routine.

For a moment, loneliness edged away the cold and the fear, and Claudia was given a glimpse of how easy it would be to throw caution to the wind for a fleeting companionship. She was only twenty-four, much too young to be living the sterile existence of a hermit. She craved friends, nightlife, someone special to keep her warm and safe on cold, wet nights.

The solitude of the woods and the isolation of the cabin could sometimes wear her down to the point of risking everything for a single phone call to an old friend. Then she would remember what had been done to Dr. Lasher, and her resolve would be bolstered all over again.

Facing death was one thing, torture quite another.

She warmed her hands over the flames, then picked up her cup. The tea had already cooled, so she drifted back into the kitchen to put the kettle on again. Waiting for the water to boil, she returned to the window, anxious and vigilant.