There were no mistakes. No second chances. If you screwed up, you were either dead or in for a shitload of pain. But the truth was, even if I didn’t fuck up, I never really won. No. I just lived. Whether that was a good thing or not was still up for debate. But I sure as hell wasn’t letting some pathetic asshole make that decision for me.
I drew closer and clicked off the safety.
The person stumbled as they tripped over the rotting log near the old “cannon” tree where the river curved. It was a pine tree that had a huge hole through the center of the trunk like a cannonball had blasted right through it.
I silently moved in.
Five.
Four.
Three.
Two.
One.
With two movements, I locked my hand around their throat and slammed their body face-first into a tree trunk. A whoosh of air escaped their lungs from the impact, then there was a sucking sound as they attempted to draw in air after having the wind knocked out of them.
I pressed the barrel of my gun to their skull and clicked off the safety. “Who sent you?” I growled.
The person was small, maybe five foot five, and was no match for my six-foot-four height, even if they had extensive combat skills, which I doubted, since they’d made the noise of an elephant. That alone should’ve tipped me off that whoever I had crushed against the tree wasn’t a hitman.
No. It wasn’t a man at all.
It was a woman who smelled like cloves and coconuts with a hint of pine.
With her spine pressed against me, I couldn’t see her face, but I saw her toned, graceful legs clad in black yoga shorts paired with white, mud-streaked running shoes and a light pink T-shirt.
Her blonde hair was pulled back in a low ponytail, and a few wisps had escaped and brushed against the back of my hand that held her throat.
My jaw flexed. Christ.
Probably some rich bitch weekender from Toronto thinking she could go wherever she pleased because it was the wilderness. I had signs posted all over the bloody place. Even if Captain Kirk beamed her down here, she had to have seen one.
I released her throat, and she turned her head to look toward the cabin. I kept my gun pressed to the back of her skull to prevent her from trying to make a run for it. Not that she’d get very far. Still, after a ten-hour flight on a cargo plane, and a three-hour drive in the rain, I wasn’t in the mood to go for a run.
But she obviously was. What the hell was she doing running in the woods—on my property?
I was about to ask her that when she struck, quickly shooting her elbow back toward my throat. I blocked it with my forearm and grabbed for her wrist, but she whirled in a flurry, and my fingers latched on to air instead.
She jerked her knee up, aiming for my balls. With a quick sidestep, I easily evaded her attempt to send me to my knees, and she hit my thigh instead.
It took me two seconds flat to spin her around and trap her arms to her sides with her body caged against me. If I’d been some nervous asshole with a twitchy finger, she’d be dead right now.
“Never. Ever. Attack someone with a gun to your head,” I growled into her ear. “Don’t do anything stupid, and we’ll both go our separate ways in thirty seconds.”
She swallowed.
And never swallow in front of your enemies, princess.
“What are you doing here?”
“Running. I… was… just running,” she said in a raspy, breathless voice. The shortness of breath was likely a combination of fear and her stupidity run. I wasn’t sure about the raspiness. It was either natural, or I’d damaged her vocal cords when I squeezed her throat.
Either way, I didn’t like it. And I didn’t like it because the sound vibrated inside me and sank deep into the pit of my stomach where it settled, threatening to make itself at home.
“No shit.” I slipped my gun into my holster. “What are you doing running on my property?”