Destiny Calls (5 page)

She was being effortlessly toted off to some hidden location by a stranger, and she still somehow managed to poke at her self-esteem. And the question that started this line of thinking still remained. How the hell was he carrying her so far without ever getting winded?

She folded her arms along his back and under her cheek as she dangled upside down. Her head was still throbbing, and her back burned, and she was pretty sure her ass bore a sizable handprint. But she was warm. Wherever he was taking her, she needed to be prepared for anything once she got there. So she shut her eyes and tried to rest until that time came.

Chapter 2

A door slammed, and Destiny came awake. Before she opened her eyes, the musty, unfamiliar smell of her surroundings filled her with trepidation. She groaned as she hoisted her head off of the flat pillow and opened her eyes. She was in a dark room, the walls nothing but wooden panels.

She strained to lift her head and awkwardly squinted at her surroundings. A utilitarian table was pressed into the far corner, and a lantern sat dimly flickering on the surface, casting a small pool of golden light over the room. There was a black-brimmed hat hanging cockeyed off the tall back of one of two wooden chairs. Curtains hung sparingly from the solitary window, and she realized it was nighttime.

Her neck was stiff, and she turned. The cabin appeared to consist of one room. She was on a bed. Her confusion grew as she realized she was alone. Where had her captor slash hero gone? The sound of heavy footsteps had her dropping her head back to the pillow and sliding her shoulders lower under the quilt that covered her. She remained flat on her belly and feigned sleep.

The door swung open, and she shut her eyes. A chair scraped along the pine floor, and the mattress dipped. When the blanket pulled off of Destiny’s shoulders, she gave up her pretence of sleep and reached for the covers. A heavy hand pressed into the back of her head and forced her back down to the pillow.

“Stay put. I’m going to clean out your cuts.”

He removed his hand from her head, and she heard the soft trickling of water. Turning her face to the side, she watched him ring out a wet cloth over a steaming pot placed on the chair he had pulled next to the bed.

“This may be a little warm, but I need to get any dirt out of your wounds and hot water is all I have. Hopefully the scrape isn’t infected already.”

She hissed through her teeth as the hot, wet cloth touched her tender skin.

“Sorry.”

His apology took her off guard. Why was he suddenly being nice to her? She wished she could find comfort in his nurturing, but it only made her more suspicious of his motives. What if he was preparing her for some sort of sacrifice to get even with her for killing his twin?

He bathed her back in silence. The longer he continued his ministrations, the cooler the water became. Her nipples pulled tight against the mattress, and she began to relax much like one does while getting a massage. The dried dirt and blood washing away was like heaven. The slight sting was worth feeling somewhat clean again.

The blanket pulled lower, and he shifted his weight. The cool air of the room touched the V at the top of her ass and, with the realization that she wasn’t wearing any pants or underwear, came a wave of mixed sensations. Had he removed her clothing? Who else would have? Unless she had, but she had no memory of doing so. The last she recalled she was being carried through the woods.

Water trickled over her rounded hip, and he brushed the damp cloth over the soft curve of her behind. She was suddenly very aware of her nether regions. She should have been having anxiety about this stranger, possible-serial-killer-slash-mountain-man touching her, and she was, but that didn’t negate the reaction her body was having from the intimate contact. Destiny blamed her recent, unwanted bout of celibacy. Nothing like a thirteen-month dry spell to heighten the attractiveness of a kidnapper.
Stockholm’s anyone?
She just prayed that she didn’t lose her head and moan.

“This really isn’t too bad. I wondered if you would need stitches, but it’s really just a couple scrapes.” It hadn’t felt like scrapes.

“Is this helping with the pain?”

“Mmm…” The drowsy moan filled the back of her throat before she could stop it. His hand stilled, and she cleared her throat. “Yes. Thank you.” Blessedly his hand continued to move, and he seemed not to notice the reaction he was causing.

The weight of the quilt covered her back again. “Stay here. I’m going to grab the other pot of water from the fire and dump this dirty one.”

He was back in a matter of minutes, but she was so relaxed she had almost dozed off again. He sat beside her once more and pulled the cover off of her shoulder. He carefully reached for her arm and began washing the dirt away from her fingers and her palm. She sighed, too relaxed to care what he thought.

He repeated the process on her other hand, working up her arms and over her shoulders. He moved her hair over her shoulder and massaged the warm water into her neck. The pull against her scalp told her he was removing dried blood from her hair. “What’s this?” he asked, pressing a finger into the place where her hairline met her neck.

“What’s what?”

“You have a mark.”

“Oh, it’s my stork bite.”

His fingers gently pressed into the birthmark. “Stork bite?”

She sighed. Nothing like a cute guy obsessing over a blemish. “Yeah. I was born with it. They usually go away, but for some reason if a baby has one on the back of their neck, it’s permanent in most cases. I could have had it removed, but no one ever sees it under my hair except for nosy mountain men.”

He grunted and continued to examine the raspberry stain. “Does it hurt?”

“No.”

He finally covered the mark and continued washing over her shoulders. When he finished he quietly asked, “Do you think you could tolerate lying on your back? The scratches are already starting to heal. I know it won’t be comfortable, but there is a cut on your knee that needs tending to.”

Destiny complied and rolled to her side without much grace, careful to keep her body covered. Her back was tender, but she had been sleeping on her stomach so much her breasts were killing her, so the change in position was a welcome one.

He scooted down closer to the foot of the small bed and pulled back the covers. The crude mattress whined under his weight. He lifted her ankle and began carefully washing her knee. It wasn’t until that moment that she realized she had been squeezing her thighs together. Parts of her now felt surprisingly empty.

“Your clothes won’t be dry until morning. I washed them for you.”

She frowned into the dimness. Maybe she was wrong. Maybe mountain man wasn’t a twin. Maybe he was a triplet, because this thoughtful man certainly wasn’t the nasty guy from the cave.

These brothers were popping up everywhere. There was this nice man, the shirtless man from the cave, the angry one in the woods she shot, and she was pretty sure one of them was the reporter she had bumped into after a news update one day that past fall.

He placed her leg back on the mattress, covered it with the quilt, and folded the blanket off of her other leg then began rinsing away dust from the mountain. Emboldened by his focus on his task, she asked, “What’s your name?”

“Cain.”

That was a rather biblical name, Destiny thought. “Is this where you live, Cain?”

“This is where I’m staying for the moment.”

“And what about your brothers? Do they live here?”

“I only have one brother.” His hand gently nudged her legs apart, and she found it difficult to think.

That didn’t make sense. “But…”

“I have some questions for you now.” There was no hostility to his words, but he was moving from kind caregiver to interrogator. However, as his hand dragged that warm wash cloth over the inner soft flesh of her thigh, she wasn’t so sure what he was after.

“Who knows you were in the woods?”

She found no harm in letting him know that there were people who would report her missing. “My brother, Vito.”

“Is that the male you were speaking to on the phone before you were attacked?”

“How do you know about that?”

“Answer the question.”

She suddenly felt like she was shrinking. She swallowed nervously. “Yes.”

“And what of your coworkers? I assume they’re the unthinking reprobates that abandoned a helpless female in the middle of nowhere with a serial killer on the loose. I assume they, too, know you were in the woods.”

Meu Deus!
Was he the serial killer? She began to tremble, mentally kicking herself for allowing her guard to drop. She was completely at his mercy and vulnerable. She didn’t even have clothing.

His firm hand clamped over her trembling thigh, and he looked at her. “Easy. I’ve no intention of hurting you so long as you answer my questions and do not further complicate matters.”

Her breath was coming fast. “They know I was there,” she whispered.

He pressed his lips together and released his hold on her thigh. “That’s what I thought.” He folded the cover back over her legs and moved to sit on the outside of her hip. Paralyzed with fear, when he drew back the covers at her chin, exposing her shoulder and the upper swell of her left breast, she merely lay there.

He continued to sponge away the grime covering her skin. His gaze was focused on her shoulder, but she could tell by his expression that his concentration was elsewhere. “Tell me about what happened in the woods.”

His voice was calm, and that made it easier for her to talk. She haltingly explained what had taken place, starting with the argument she had with her crew before they left her there, all the way to the moment her finger hit that trigger.

“It was an accident, I swear it. I cry when a bird flies into my windshield. I could never intentionally shoot a person. He was charging at me and his eyes appeared…” She thought back to the eyes of the man in the cave. Not wanting to offend and unsure how many look-alikes there were, she said, “I didn’t mean to release the arrow. I know it doesn’t replace what you’ve lost, but if it’s any consolation, if you let me leave, I plan on telling the police exactly what I did.”

He paused and looked at her. His brow crinkled and lowered. “I told you no police.”

“But I killed a man!”

“What are you speaking of? I’m not dead.”

“I know, but your brother…”

“My brother is fine and no doubt planning my own demise at the moment. You knew I was a twin. How?”

“I…” Had she hit her head? “I shot him.”

“No,” he said with exaggerated patience. “You shot me.”

“But I killed him.”

He grunted and dragged the cloth over her collar bone and onto her other shoulder.

“Cain, what’s going on?”

Rather than answer he said, “You mentioned Anna. How do you know of her?”

“He…you…said her name.”

“When?”

“Well, if you’re the same man from the woods, right after I shot you.” This was impossible. “But there’s no way you could have lived through an arrow in your heart.”

“I’m fine.”

Destiny suddenly had the sick sensation that she was dead and so was he. Maybe they were like Bruce Willis in
The Sixth Sense
, unable to let go because they had unfinished business. She reached for his wrist, and he stilled. Softly she said, “Cain, are we dead?”

He laughed. “No, Destiny, you’re not dead. As soon as I figure out what to do with you, we shall have you back to sorts so that you can return to your daily life of exploiting others’ personal business once more.”

“That’s not what I do.”

“Oh? I hadn’t realized you had given up reporting.”

She pressed her lips together and turned her face toward the wall. There was nothing wrong with what she did. Being a reporter was a dignified position. She wasn’t the paparazzi for crying out loud.

She jerked her head around when the quilt pulled daringly low over her breasts. She gasped and gripped the blanket in her hands. “
What do you think you’re doing?
”

His hand stilled, and he looked at her, the picture of innocence. “I’m pretty sure I missed some spots.” She yanked the covers to her chin and scowled at him. She could almost buy his innocent act if it wasn’t for the deviant twinkle in his eye.

“I’m pretty sure you’re done!”

Chapter 3

Cain opened his eyes as the pink fingers of dawn crept through the cracks of the curtains. No dreams. He needed to get home to make sure that Anna was okay. The idea that she or the baby might have been harmed by his carelessness left a stew of unpleasant emotions bubbling in his stomach.

“Destiny.” When he called her name, the girl moaned and pressed her face farther into the mattress, turning away from his voice and toward the wall of the cabin. “Destiny, wake up. We need to get moving.”

“What time is it?” Her voice sounded raspy and muffled.