Exhaling, I take a good look at my surroundings. The deep green canopy provided by the trees and the mountains.
There isn’t another soul for miles except Harley. I’ve been gone a few hours and need to be heading back soon. I can’t wait to see her face when I teach her to clean the fish. I bet she will be all squeamish and grossed out. I find most women would be.
I grab my stringer, putting it over my shoulder and start back.
Surprisingly, I pass an ugly fuck of a man carrying a backpack. Nothing about him is outwardly suspicious but gi
ven Harley’s situation with her stalker, I’m not leaving anything to chance. I give him a chin nod and he offers me one back.
“Nice catch, man.” He eyes my fish. I start to offer him one, but I figure he can catch his own, and I don’t want him thinking it is an invitation to hang around our campsite.
“Thanks.” I keep walking not wanting to engage him further or give anything away that will tell him Harley is near.
When I get further down the trail, I turn back and don’t see him. He must have continued on around the bend but that doesn’t mean he won’t be back.
Picking up my pace, I hurry back to my woman.
My woman? Now I am losing it.
Must be my hunger. Yeah. That’s it. I need to eat.
Once I get food on my stomach, I’ll be back to myself and not thinking stupid thoughts.
My woman.
As I am shaking my head, I pull the stringer off my shoulder to show Harley how much fish I caught.
Looking around I don’t see her at first.
“Harley,” I growl.
No fucking answer.
The tent flap is down. Maybe she is still asleep.
Lifting it up I see her in the corner with her knees to her chest.
At first, I am afraid something happened to her. My mind flashes to do the dude with the backpack. If he hurt her…I’ll gut him like my fish.
Chapter Thirteen
—Harley—
I’m not sure how long I have been sleeping when I feel something brush against my foot.
Rubbing my eyes, I look around for Quinn. I don’t see him. I look down by my feet. Holy shit! There’s a damn skunk inside the tent with me.
“Shoo. Go away,” I whisper, afraid any sudden movement or sound will get me sprayed. Why do bad things keep happening to me?
Slowly, I pull my legs toward me and scoot into a corner praying like hell Quinn returns soon.
Ten minutes or thirty I don’t know how much time has passed by with this furry little bastard holding me hostage.
“Hey, little fella. Are you a good skunk or a bad skunk?” God, I feel dumb. I don’t know what else to do.
“Harley,” Quinn’s familiar voice growls.
“Quinn. In the tent. Help me,” I call out softly, even though I doubt he can hear me.