In The Arms Of A Stranger. Kristen Robinette
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She stepped back, admitting that the door was not going to open. Her heart pounded as she frantically paced the cabin’s porch, searching for a way in. It looked as if the porch wrapped around the cabin but it was difficult to tell. A bare lightbulb burned next to the door but the light didn’t extend…
Dana stopped abruptly. The window. There was a window near the door. Hope filled her. She needed something to break it, something hard. A dark object was on the porch stoop next to her feet. She knelt, curling her fingers around solid metal. A boot scraper. She could use it to—
Glass shattered above her and the porch light was instantly extinguished, plunging her into darkness. Rough fingers curled over her mouth, swinging her body up and against a solid form.
Oh, God, he was here. He’d found her. She was going to die…. As soon as the thought formed in her head, the baby squirmed against her chest, reminding her that her life wasn’t the only one at stake.
She would not let him die.
Dana brought the boot scraper up as hard as she could, aiming for the man’s face. It met flesh with a solid thump, then fell against the wooden planks of the porch. She heard the man curse beneath his breath. She’d hit him, but the heavy metal had connected with flesh rather than bone. He’d been too tall for her pitiful weapon to hit its mark.
She tried to scream then, even knowing that the effort would go unheard.
“Shut up,” a deep voice whispered next to her ear. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
He was dragging her, she realized, and she was helpless to fight with one hand securing the baby beneath her jacket. Her feet shuffled against the wooden porch. Was he was hauling her to the back side of the cabin? She heard the sound of keys rattling, and her mind struggled to make sense of what was happening. As Dana felt the man’s grip on her relax, she realized he was fitting a key into the door.
It might be her only chance.
Maybe he felt her muscles tense or maybe he read her mind, but his grip returned to her arm, pulling her against his side, his other hand still firmly wrapped over her mouth. “Who’s out there?” he whispered.
The words stopped her, and she repeated them in her head to try and make sense of what he’d asked. She heard the door creak on its hinges and a gust of stale air flowed over her as he dragged her inside. He used their coupled bodies to push the door closed behind them, then leaned his head near her ear.
“I’m here to help you.” He didn’t whisper this time, and the deep sound of his voice vibrated against her ear. “I’m a law officer. Do you understand?”
Relief, mixed with wary disbelief, poured over her. She wanted to believe. She nodded against his hand.
“If I let go of you, are you going to hit me again?” There was a tinge of humor in his voice that comforted her far more than his words had.
She shook her head.
She scrambled backward as he released her, connecting with something hard. She used her free hand to steady herself in the darkness. A stone fireplace. She took in huge gulps of air, never taking her eyes off the dark form of the man.
“Who was shooting at you?” His voice resonated in the dark. “What’s going on?”
Her thoughts tumbled over one another. The only logical answer was Gonzalez. But she was wary. After all, she didn’t know this man. He’d appeared out of nowhere, just as the shots had. Was she supposed to believe more than one person was crazy enough to be in the middle of nowhere during an ice storm?
“I don’t know,” she finally answered, her voice hoarse.
Luke studied the faint outline of the woman, sensing her presence as much as anything. She was small. That much he could tell. Her ragged breathing spoke volumes in the darkness. She was obviously scared as hell. Whether or not she was telling the truth was temporarily irrelevant.
“Are you hurt?” he asked.
“No, but…” She shifted and he thought he heard a soft grunt as if she were hiding an injury.
He glanced over his shoulder at the window, at the faint outline of light that shone through it. “Stay where you are,” he commanded.
Luke felt his way along the interior wall of the ranger’s cabin, finally reaching a bookcase. He knelt, hoping his memory of the place was still worth a damn. His fingers brushed along a row of books, finally reaching cold metal. The flashlight. Paydirt. He inched his way back down the wall, then covered the small distance between himself and the woman, grabbing her by the arm.
“We need to get to an interior room,” he said as he half dragged her through the cabin. She made a small cry of protest and followed clumsily behind him.
The cabin’s layout flashed in his head. It was practically one room, with a small kitchenette adjoining the den area they’d entered. There was a bedroom but it had a window. He mentally dismissed using it for that reason. A supply pantry off the kitchen was the only choice, and he pulled the woman toward it, finally hauling her through the door.
As soon as he released her, she began to fall. Luke caught her arm again and flicked on the flashlight. The floor was littered with supplies, and the woman had inadvertently stepped into the circle of a coiled water hose. The flashlight’s beam focused first on the hose, as she stepped clear of it, then on the woman’s boots and slender, jeans-clad legs. Mud and moisture clung to her thighs where they met an oversize down coat. Luke’s gaze traveled upward but stopped abruptly at the hand that protectively cradled her full abdomen.
She was pregnant.
He inadvertently flashed the beam of light toward her face, and she used her free hand to protect her eyes.
“Please…”
“I’m sorry,” he muttered. Luke sat the flashlight on the floor, its beam of light pointed toward the ceiling, softly illuminating the small room. He hoped she understood that the apology included manhandling a pregnant woman.
The woman immediately ducked her head, straight blond hair falling about her shoulders as she concentrated on unzipping her jacket. Her actions were frantic, her fingers trembling. Was she hurt? The sound of the jacket’s zipper lowering was punctuated by a shrill cry.
Time seemed to freeze as the woman reached into the bulky coat and pulled out an infant.
Luke suppressed a nervous laugh as he took in the blue-patterned sleeper that covered the baby from chin to toe. What had he expected? Considering he’d thought the woman was pregnant just moments before, not even a naked newborn would have surprised him.
She hugged the baby against her for a moment before easing herself to the floor. Laying the infant against her thighs, she inspected every inch of him, ignoring Luke during the process. “Thank God,” she finally whispered.
Luke knelt down next to her. “Is he okay?”
The woman glanced up, making eye contact for the first time. Luminous gray-blue eyes stared back at him, her cheeks flushed with color. Disheveled blond hair covered her shoulders, and a trail of dried blood had stopped midway down her left cheek. Beautiful. The thought registered, though it had no logic in the time and place. He frowned, reaching out to inspect the wound.
She didn’t pull away, but he watched her bite her lip as if the action frightened her. He turned her head slightly, noting that the wound wasn’t a threat, then forced his hand down. “Your baby—is he okay?”
“Oh, he’s… Wind rattled the walls of the cabin, and she jumped, her eyes searching the open doorway. “I think he’s okay,” she whispered.
“What’s your name?”
A look of surprise crossed her face. “Dana Langston.”
“I’m Luke Sutherlin. I’m the local chief of police.” Her eyes narrowed as she looked him up and down. He realized then that she probably expected him to look more official.