Taken: Warriors of Hir, Book 2 (2 page)

Then Dolly turned and hustled toward Hope. “Sorry to keep you waiting, sugar,” she began brightly. “Now, you’re Miss MacGowan, aren’t you? Come to fetch the keys to the Skylands cabin right?” The space between her thin penciled-on brows puckered. “Oh, I meant to ask—are your friends going to need their own keys? Only that’s an extra twenty-dollar deposit, per set.”

“Hold on—What the hell was that?” Hope asked, indicating the door the pair had exited through.

“Oh.” Dolly’s pudgy cheeks flushed. “Bill Riley used to be town sheriff but he had himself a breakdown a while back. Nothing to worry about. Sarah Jane’ll take care of him.”

“And who’s Jenna McNally?”

“Just a girl that used to live hereabouts.” Dolly circled to the other side of the counter and started rummaging around. “She used to waitress here during the summers, a real sweetheart too—her and her granddaddy both. Probably the biggest funeral this town ever saw.”

“Wait a minute—” Hope took a quick step forward, her hands on the countertop. “Those people were killed at the cabin I rented?”

Dolly straightened instantly. “Oh, goodness, no! Nothing like
that
! This is one of my cabins, not the McNally place. You see, Pap—Mr. McNally, that is—passed on last year and his granddaughter Jenna was clearing out the house to sell, had it listed and everything. She was moving back to Asheville, I think. Anyway, she left town without saying goodbye and Bill got it in his head that—Look, the job got to him is all. He thought he saw someone pick her up and carry her off.”

Hope glanced at the other end of the room, at the rough men who’d been laughing at the former sheriff. “And by ‘someone’ you mean an alien?”

“That’s just Bill talking nonsense,” Dolly said impatiently. “Jenna must have had herself a boyfriend in Asheville and just wanted to get back quick, is all. Believe me, nothing carried Jenna McNally off.”

Rachel, breezing past with dirty dishes in hand, stopped at that. “My sister Susanna’s a nurse at Mission Hospital,” Rachel confided to Hope. “And she was there when they brought Bill in. Susanna said he was screaming like anything about how we had to get the army into Brittle Bridge, that we was all in danger from aliens. ’Course
Susanna
thinks it was a bear what attacked him and Bill was just in shock or something on account of losing so much blood.
I
think it might have been a werewolf. That’s what it sounded like to me.” Rachel paused, considering. “Or maybe one of them Sasquatch things—only not so furry.”             

Hope’s frown deepened. It was a seven-hour ride back to D.C. She probably wouldn’t make it before midnight but it might be worth the drive if everybody in Brittle Bridge was this bonkers.

“Hush yourself,” Dolly hissed at the girl. “Get that table wiped down and get busy with refills at table six. Can’t you see Lester Mills holding up his coffee cup over there?”

As Dolly handed the coffee pot past her Hope pressed her palms hard against the cheap countertop. She’d gotten up extra early every morning for months and left Brain sleeping to creep into the living room, a mug of coffee tucked into her hand. She’d sit there, curled on the sofa, sipping from her cup and gazing contentedly at the wonderful ever-changing chaos of wedding things spread out over her coffee table, imagining her perfect day, the perfect family the two of them would create when they exchanged those rings.

She’d left the table still covered with all that wedding stuff when she’d gone to Asheville—copies of
Brides
magazine, venue brochures, sample invitations printed in silver and gold. Brian’s clothes might still hang in the closet—or not.  He might have cleared his stuff out with Megan’s help but Hope doubted those two would be thoughtful enough to strip the bed. The sheets would smell like him. And possibly of Megan’s Hermès perfume too.

Having to walk into that living room tonight, alone, and see all those broken hopes waiting for her, the model brides smiling up from their big glossy pictures, the scent of optimism and anticipation gone sour, that cold, lonely bed—

Dear God, I think I’m actually better off here with the crazy mountain folk . . .

“Ah! Here you go, sugar.” Smiling, Dolly held up a key ring and jangled the keys before Hope. “Let me just run in the back and get you the rental packet.”

Still rubbing her eyes, Hope dragged herself onto the screened-in porch that ran the length of the cabin’s front. She’d managed to fall asleep last night but she still felt tired and raw. Dressed in jeans, T-shirt, and hiking boots, her favorite sweater and a cup of tea proof against the chill, Hope sank into one of the rustic rocking chairs to look out on the Smoky Mountain morning.

Fog blanketed the woods surrounding the cabin and gave the mountains a peaceful, otherworldly air. Hope wrapped her hands around the cup’s warmth and hunkered down, holding the teacup against the frozen lump where her heart used to be.

From Dolly’s helmet hair and polyester clothes Hope wouldn’t have expected the woman to own such a beautiful, well-appointed cabin, but this place was even better than the pictures. Three bedrooms—all with king-sized beds—a two-story windowed living room with stone fireplace, gourmet kitchen, hot tub; the place just rocked.

Maybe I’ll just stay here. Use my severance to rent the cabin out for the whole summer and learn how to fish or make preserves or even do some real art again. Maybe by September I’ll have some clue what the hell I’m going to do with myself.

Brian was just the latest in a lifetime of crap taste in men but she had good luck with vacation spots, at least. This place was just perfect for a girls’ weekend away. Good place to talk and unwind, to make cocktails and stuff save-the-date envelopes, to strategize about the wedding with her two best friends, it was even nice enough for a honeymo—

“How about a walk,” she muttered.

Hope put down her untouched tea, the steam curling above the delicate blue and white patterned china cup, and yanked her sweater tighter.

The polished wood rail was smooth and cool under her hand as she headed down the cabin stairs. The ground was soft after last night’s rain, her footsteps silenced by the dampness as she headed into the woods. North Carolina pines towered over her head and the mountain air smelled richly of growing things.

Yep, this is better.

A mourning dove’s plaintive coo sounded through the trees. Hope quickened her pace, letting the cabin and the mess that was her life vanish into the fog. In no time she was enveloped by cool, clean forest with all the hurt and heartache and pain left far behind.

I’ll walk for a while then head back and drink my tea. I’ll make pancakes for breakfast and I won’t think about—

Hope broke into a trot, determined to outpace all those memories, all those nagging feelings insisting that something wasn’t right, all those red flags waving right in her face.

Like the tiny tuck of smugness at the corner of Megan’s pink mouth whenever she saw Brian. How Brian was always suggesting she invite Megan to join them for drinks or dinner when it really should have been just the two of them alone. How he was a bit too proprietary with Megan, a bit too suspicious of her dates, how he always insisted on walking Megan to her car after dinner, his hand at the small of her back—

Hope stumbled, catching the front of her boot on an exposed tree root in her hurry, and fell hard, scraping her palms. 

Her knees and hands throbbed as she knelt there, her head hanging, a wail rising from her chest to stick and catch in her throat before it finally broke.

“Never again,” she sobbed to the solid silence of the mountain beneath her. “Will never be so fucking . . .
stupid
again . . .”

She stayed like that, her red curls blocking her vision, tendrils sticking to her face, the space around her enveloped by fog, her weeping the only sound in the little clearing.

Finally, wrung out and trembling, Hope slumped back to sit on the damp ground. She brushed her hands onto her jeans to get the dirt off and then wiped at her wet face.

I should have known. I
did
know. Give me a room full of men and I’ll pick the first lying, cheating, son of a—

The soft crunch of a nearby footfall brought her head up.

Out of the grey mist dark shapes moved toward her and Hope froze as they took on recognizable forms.

Oh my God!

No more than ten feet away now and already well into the little clearing where she sat, the large black bear swung its head in her direction. At the same moment, Hope spied two young bears toddling behind their mother.

A mama bear with cubs.

Hope had grown up within walking distance of the metro’s Red Line but even
she
knew you stayed the hell away from a mother bear and her cubs.

The fur on either side of the big bear’s snout was a light tan and the black fur of her body gleamed darkly in the fog’s muted light. The sow sniffed at the air and her inky eyes locked with Hope’s.

Hope’s fingers clenched, digging into the damp earth at her sides as the bear lumbered closer. The bear’s claws gleamed against her black fur—white, long, deadly.

The bear paused, her wet nose twitching, then suddenly slapped her feet on the ground in challenge. The sow made a loud huffing noise, somewhere between a moan and a growl, her eyes fixed on Hope.

An
angry
mama bear with cubs!

Hope whimpered and risked a darting glance around where she sat. There wasn’t even a branch or a rock nearby to grab. She’d left her cell back at the cabin. Even if she could shield herself from the bear long enough, she couldn’t call anyone for help. Like an idiot she’d just blundered blindly into the woods; she didn’t even know which direction the cabin was from here!

The bear huffed, clacking its teeth.

What the fuck am I supposed to do? I can’t remember what I’m supposed to do! Play dead? Run? Climb a tree?

A scream tore from Hope’s throat as the bear charged—

A huge snarling blur shot past her to throw itself against the bear. Hope scrambled backwards as the force of the man’s impact knocked the bear off its feet, his powerful arms wrapped around the sow’s neck to wrench it away from her. Then the two—bear and man—went tumbling, rolling over, the bear moaning, her cubs making high-pitched cries as they pawed at the ground.

The big bear gripped at the ground with her claws and gave a sharp shake of her powerful body to throw the man off.  He twisted in the air, nimble as a cat, to land in front of Hope in a crouch, his back to her and balanced on the balls of his feet.

The sow swiped at him and the muscles of his broad back tensed as he dodged the bear’s claws.

The man growled and a chill ran up Hope’s back as the sound rose to an inhuman snarl. The bear’s large head reared back at his roar, her black fur rippling in alarm as the sow backed up toward her cubs.

He angled his body to stay protectively in front of Hope even as the bear nudged her cubs and fled with them, the three lumbering over the crest of the hill to disappear into the mist.

His broad back still toward her, the man stood, showing himself ungodly tall—six feet seven or eight inches at least. His clothes looked to be brown leather and they had the oddest look to them—as if they had been wrapped around him—but Hope wasn’t much for the outdoor life. For all she knew,
all
hunters were dressing like that now, and this guy must spend most of his time outside; his skin was very tan for a blond.

His golden hair, long and gathered at the nape of his neck, had picked up a few pine needles and a tiny leaf during his tussle with the bear. He kept his attention fixed on the spot where the bears had vanished and shifted his weight restlessly in those big boots of his, his broad hand flexing beside the gun holstered at his hip.

“Thank you!” Still sprawled out, her jeans cold and damp from sitting on the ground, Hope pressed her hand to her chest, her heartbeat thundering in her ears. “Thank you so much! God, if you hadn’t been here that bear wou—” 

The man turned toward her and Hope broke off, her mouth parting in horror.

For a moment, all she could do was stare up at those glowing, green eyes. His eerie gaze bored down at her from beneath thick blond brows; his brow bone was heavy and his forehead bore inhuman raised ridges.