Midnight Exposure (Midnight #1)(39)

“Don’t worry, Jayne. Dad’ll make sure you’re OK.”

Scott’s promise hit Reed like an uppercut to the belly.

Keeping Jayne safe was Hugh’s job. Reed hadn’t asked for the responsibility. If he turned her over to Hugh, Reed’s duty would be done. He could restore his life to its former order. No more complications. No more risk.

Jayne would take her bright smile back to Philadelphia, and Reed would crawl back into the shadows.



Jayne glanced out the window as she set the last plate in the dishwasher. Nothing was coming out of the sky. Tomorrow Reed would take her into town.

Then what?

She’d report the crime, collect her Jeep, and head back to Philadelphia as soon as the roads were clear? Now that her courage had petered out, the thought of driving eight hundred miles alone made her knees weak and her eyes swell with tears. She couldn’t do it. She’d call Pat. One of her brothers would fly up and drive her home.

The only problem was that home didn’t feel safe either. Getting away from Philly hadn’t made a difference. Once she left Reed’s isolated house in the woods, she might never feel secure again. Of course, given what had happened, she wasn’t safe here either.

Would she ever feel safe again?

She reached under the sink for steel wool, tripping over the dog sleeping at her feet. After patting Sheba’s fluffy head, Jayne straightened and plunged her hand into the soapy water in search of the cast-iron pan.

When it was clean and dried, she stared out the window, watching Scott cross the yard. He was headed for the tarp-covered woodpile next to the shed. He’d need someone to hold the porch door open for him. She stopped in the mudroom to borrow boots and a jacket, but a movement through the panes in the door pulled her to the threshold before she had a chance to don them. Sheba butted her knees. The dog’s hackles lifted.

A feeling of unease passed over her as she pushed the storm door open and sidled through the opening, pushing Sheba firmly back into the house. “Stay.”

Scott grabbed another piece of wood and added to the pile in his arms. Jayne scanned the area. The hair on her neck tickled. Something was out there. On the other side of the door, Sheba let out a furious bark. Jayne’s gaze swept the trees.

And she saw it.

A small wolf stood about thirty feet away from Scott, teeth bared in a vicious snarl. Thin, scraggly gray fur stood up on the back of its neck. It stepped forward. A low growl emanated from its throat.

Scott.

Ice crawled down Jayne’s spine and liquefied in her belly. Driven by instinct, she stepped out into the yard. She barely felt the moisture soak through her socks. Her heart protested, banging furiously on the inside of her breastbone.

Scott eased back. He dropped all but one of the logs, holding the remaining piece in front of him as a weapon.

Jayne ran on numb feet, passing a fat tree stump, yanking free the ax buried in its scarred surface without stopping. It was heavier than she’d imagined. She tested the weight of the metal head. If the animal attacked, there’d be little time for a big, slow swing. Her best option was a straightforward thrust of the honed edge. She choked up on the handle and prayed it was sharp.

Jayne drew even with Scott. “Get in the house!”

Scott shook his head. He didn’t take his eyes off the wolf.

“Now.” Jayne planted herself between Scott and the wolf. She waved the ax. Her legs shook from cold and terror. “Shoo.”

The wolf snapped its jaws. Saliva dripped from its muzzle as it focused yellow eyes on Jayne.





CHAPTER FIFTEEN


The snowblower hitched in Reed’s hands as he rounded the house. He shut off the engine and bent to examine the blades for stick or rocks. He wasn’t even close to the fallen tree yet.

“Scram. Get out of here!”

The panic in Jayne’s voice cut through the brittle air. Reed whirled and sprinted toward the house. Her yell had come from around back. He raced around the corner and came to an awkward, sliding stop.

Jayne stood in the center of the yard, brandishing an ax at a damned big coyote. Coyotes didn’t generally attack adults, but this one looked hungry. The coat was a dull, dirty gray; its ribs visible through the sparse fur.

Scott reached out to touch Jayne’s shoulder. “It’s OK. It’s just a coyote.”

Jayne held her position. She waved the ax at the coyote like a mother bear defending her cub.

Reed ran forward. Inside the house, Sheba hurled her body at the closed door. Scratching and angry barking accompanied the rattling of the frame. With a nervous glance at Reed’s approach, the coyote turned and slunk into the woods.

Jayne didn’t move. Reed kept jogging until he stood in front of her. Her eyes were wide open, her features frozen with shock. He pried the ax out of her trembling hands.

“Thank you.”

Scott stepped up. “It was just a coyote. He probably wouldn’t have hurt me, but thanks anyway.”

But Jayne hadn’t known that. Reed would never forget the image of her wielding an ax to protect his son.

Jayne didn’t respond for a few seconds, just stood staring out into the woods, shivering. “That was a coyote?” Her voice quivered.

Reed’s eyes traveled the length of her. No hat. No coat. No boots. Pants wet to midthigh. Snowflakes in her hair. No thought to her own comfort or safety.