Chapter 1 - The Footprint Outside the CabinThe footprint appeared beneath Gavin Mercer's window just as the first gray light of dawn touched the mountains.
One footprint.
Fresh enough that the edges had not yet softened beneath the falling snow.
Gavin stood motionless, staring through the frost-covered glass. His right hand tightened around the heavy fireplace poker. Behind him, Belle Whitmore slept uneasily beneath his old canvas coat, her injured ankle elevated on a folded blanket, her cheek pale in the firelight.
Someone had followed them three miles into the forest.
Someone had found the cabin.
And whoever it was had taken the trouble to approach quietly.
Gavin had spent six years working in mountain search and rescue before a climbing accident ended his career. He knew the difference between a lost hiker stumbling through the woods and a trained pursuer moving deliberately through dangerous terrain.
The person outside had made almost no noise.
That frightened him more than the footprint.
He leaned closer to the window.
Another footprint appeared beyond the first.
Then another.
The tracks circled the cabin instead of leading toward the door.
The stranger was checking for another exit.
Gavin backed away from the window, grabbed Belle's shoulder, and shook her gently.
"Wake up."
Her eyes opened immediately. Even injured, she possessed the reflexes of someone accustomed to danger, though the pain had left her face colorless.
"What happened?"
"Someone's outside."
She looked toward the door.
"Rescue?"
"No."
The single word silenced her.
Gavin crossed the room and reached beneath a loose floorboard beside the fireplace. He removed a compact revolver wrapped in an oily cloth, checked it, and slipped it into the waistband of his jeans.
Belle watched him.
"You told me you were a mechanic."
"I told you I was mostly a mechanic."
"Is this the part where you explain the difference?"
"This is the part where you stay away from the windows."
A branch cracked outside.
Belle caught his wrist.
For the first time since he had pulled her from the wreck, she looked genuinely terrified.
"Mr. Mercer, whoever did this has resources. My company employs private security. The men looking for me may be professionals."
"Then they should know better than to hunt someone in a snowstorm."
He turned toward the cabin's rear wall, where an old wooden cupboard leaned crookedly over a patch of damaged flooring.
"My father used to maintain this place," he explained. "There's a crawlspace beneath the storage room. It connects to an old drainage trench. We can get out behind the ridge."
"You knew about this cabin because your father worked here?"
"Among other things."
Before she could ask what that meant, a voice called from outside.
"Ms. Whitmore!"
It was a man.
Calm. Clear. Almost friendly.
"We're here to help. Please come outside."
Belle's fingers went cold around Gavin's wrist.
She knew that voice.
Gavin saw recognition cross her face, and whatever color remained in her cheeks disappeared.
"Who is it?" he whispered.
She shook her head.
Outside, the man continued.
"Belle, we know you're in there. The roads are closed, and you need medical attention. There's no reason to make this difficult."
Belle pressed a trembling hand against her mouth.
Gavin moved to the window and cautiously lifted one corner of the curtain.
A dark figure stood between the trees, wearing a forest-green winter jacket and carrying a medical bag. A second man waited farther back, mostly obscured by the snow-covered branches.
Neither wore a rescue service uniform.
The first man raised his head.
For one terrible second, Gavin thought their eyes met through the glass.
Then the man smiled.
"We're running out of time," he called.
Gavin released the curtain.
"Do you recognize him?" he asked.
Belle swallowed.
"His name is Daniel Cross. He runs security for my company."
"Your security chief is hunting you?"
"No." Her voice cracked. "He's supposed to be protecting me."
A metallic scrape sounded at the front door.
Someone was testing the handle.
Gavin ushered Belle toward the cupboard. Beneath it, a square hatch revealed a narrow passage filled with cold, damp air.
"You go first."
"I can barely move."
"Then we'll move slowly."
He helped her lower herself into the opening. She bit back a cry as her injured ankle brushed the edge, but she kept moving. Gavin followed and pulled the hatch closed above them just as the front door shuddered.
A blow struck the wood.
Then another.
The old lock gave way with a sharp crack.
Gavin guided Belle through the cramped passage. They crawled over frozen dirt until the tunnel narrowed, forcing him to move ahead and clear a fallen branch.
Behind them, a man's voice echoed through the cabin.
"Check the bedrooms."
Another voice answered.
"The fire's still warm."
A pause.
"Then they're close."
Gavin reached the end of the trench and pushed aside a curtain of branches. Snow rushed into the opening.
They emerged on the far side of the ridge, hidden behind a cluster of fir trees.
Belle stumbled as she tried to stand.
Gavin caught her before she fell, lifting her into his arms again.
She wrapped one arm around his neck.
"I'm sorry," she whispered.
"For what?"
"For dragging you into this."
He looked toward the cabin. Through the trees, he could see shadows moving inside.
"You didn't drag me anywhere. I stopped because someone needed help."
"What if they come after you?"
"Then they'll discover I don't enjoy being interrupted before breakfast."
Despite everything, a small, disbelieving laugh escaped her.
It vanished when a gunshot exploded behind them.
A bullet struck the tree above Gavin's shoulder, showering them with splinters.
He ducked and turned, shielding Belle with his body.
From the cabin came a man's furious shout.
"Mercer! Put her down!"
Gavin froze.
The stranger had just called him by name.
Belle stared at him.
"They know you?"
He looked back toward the cabin, his face hardening.
"No," he said. "They shouldn't."
Another shot punched through the branches.
Gavin ran.
He carried Belle down the snowy ridge, through a narrow ravine, and toward the abandoned service road below. His lungs burned. The snow reached his knees in places, but he kept moving, his grip secure beneath her shoulders and knees.
Belle buried her face against his chest. She could hear his heartbeat, steady despite the gunfire and the punishing climb.
For the first time that night, she stopped thinking about how much money she had, how many lawyers she could call, or how many people owed her favors.
She thought only about the man carrying her.
The stranger who had risked his life without asking her surname.
The stranger who had looked at a burning wreck and seen a person instead of a business opportunity.
"Why are you doing this?" she asked.
Gavin did not slow down.
"Because my daughter expects me home tonight."
The answer startled her.
"You have a daughter?"
"Eight years old. Thinks I can fix anything with a wrench and enough stubbornness."
"And can you?"
"No."
For a moment, his voice softened.
"But I try."
Belle looked up at him, searching his face.
Then she whispered the words she had spent her entire adult life refusing to say to anyone.
"I feel safe with you."
Gavin's steps faltered for half a second.
Not because the words pleased him.
Because they frightened him.
He had once promised someone he loved that he would always keep her safe.
He had failed.
And now a woman who had never met him before was trusting him with her life.
Before he could answer, his old tow truck appeared through the trees, parked where he had abandoned it hours earlier.
He carried Belle toward the driver's door and lowered her carefully into the passenger seat.
Then he noticed something beneath the windshield wiper.
A small white envelope.
His name had been written across it in black marker.
GAVIN MERCER.
The handwriting was unfamiliar.
He opened the envelope.
Inside lay a photograph of his eight-year-old daughter, Lily, standing outside her elementary school.
The picture had been taken that morning.
On the back, someone had written six words.
BRING THE CEO TO US, OR SHE DIES.
Beneath that sentence was a second line.
YOUR DAUGHTER WILL BE NEXT.
Gavin stared at the photograph until the edges blurred beneath his fingers.
Then he looked toward Belle, who had just begun to understand that the danger surrounding her had become something much worse.
May you like
It had reached his child.
And Gavin Mercer had never been more dangerous than when someone threatened the little girl waiting for him at home.
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