Savaged

She met his eyes. “I lost track of time.” She looked toward the window, shaking her head, her expression nervous. She took her phone from her pocket, glancing at it. “No service here, but I’ve gotten service in this wilderness before. Sometimes it’s a matter of being in the right spot.”

He didn’t know what she was talking about—he knew what a phone was, but not how one worked. The thing in her hand was a mystery to him, but he didn’t question it. The very last thing he wanted was for her to see him as a child.

“I need to go out to my truck,” she said, grabbing her jacket.

“I’ll come with you.”

“No, it’s okay. I’ll be right back.”

“I’ll come with you,” he said again, not willing to let her walk out into the howling wind alone. He put on his coat and boots quickly and pulled the door open, squinting against the ice that burned his face. It was too easy to get lost in ice storms. One missed step or wrong turn, and suddenly you didn’t know where you were and could barely see a tree right in front of you before you walked into it. He used his body to shield her as they walked in the direction where her truck was parked, not able to see it until it was right in front of them.

He’d been lost in an ice storm like this once. He’d hunkered down with Pup and barely— But he pushed his thoughts away. He didn’t want to think about that right now.

Harper stepped around him, her head bent, the wind picking up in speed and sound, whipping her hood off her head, her hair going in every direction. She laughed, but it was high like a scared bird.

She climbed into her truck and he went in after her, slamming the door and escaping from the wind. It pounded at the truck, sneaking between the cracks, trying its best to reach them. Their mixed breath came out in sharp pants. The sound of the wind got less, though the truck shook, the house invisible through the front glass.

“Good lord,” she said, pushing her hair back, crystals of ice shining like jewels in the low light coming from the phone she’d brought from her pocket again.

She made a sound of unhappiness and then held her phone up in the air, moving it from side to side. “There. Damn . . . ah. Crap.” She did that for another minute, finally dropping it to her lap. “It won’t hold a signal.” She turned to him. “I don’t think I should drive in this. I’d probably run into a tree trying to get to the road, and even if I didn’t, that road has a drop-off on both sides. I could, uh, just wait out here. I’m sure this will die down in a little bit.” She looked at him, her eyes wide as she waited for him to say . . . something.

He frowned. Was she trying to get away from him? Did she want to sit in her cold truck instead of with him? “Why would you want to freeze out here, when you can be warm inside?”

“I just hate to keep showing up and forcing you to spend time with me.”

Forcing him? He was bigger than she was. Stronger. She couldn’t force him to do anything. He could crush her if he wanted to. He didn’t, but he could. His brow scrunched up. He didn’t understand when she said things that didn’t really say anything at all. He wasn’t sure what to say back. “If I wanted you to leave, I’d tell you to go.”

She let out a breath that was taken by the sound of the wind outside. “I was trying to be polite.” She shook her head and made a helpless sound. “I guess that in itself is a whole language, isn’t it?” She took a breath. “A dumb one most of the time.”

Jak thought about that. “So being polite is saying something you don’t mean so the other person has to say the thing you do mean.”

She laughed, the soft one he liked. “Pretty much.” She turned toward him. “So, then. Jak, I’d like to come inside and get warm instead of sitting alone in my cold truck. Is that okay with you?”

“I told you it was.”

Harper laughed. “Right. You did. Thank you. Then let’s get back inside.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

“Mrs. Cranley?”

“Yes. Who’s speaking?” The woman on the other end of the line had an unusually deep voice that rattled slightly. A smoker, Mark guessed.

“Hi, ma’am. This is Agent Mark Gallagher. I’m with the Montana Department of Justice.”

There was a brief pause and some rustling, and then Mrs. Cranley said, “What is this about?”

“Ma’am, I’m very sorry to inform you that your brother was found deceased.”

Another pause, longer this time. “Isaac?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Did he leave something for me in his will?”

Well, that was abrupt. Mark was taken off guard for a moment. “Actually, ma’am, it appears Isaac didn’t have a will. But you’re listed on several documents as his next of kin.”

“Well, I’ll be.” Mark heard some more rustling and then Mrs. Cranley’s muffled voice yelling to someone in the background, “Lester, Isaac died and didn’t leave a will. I’m his next of kin.”