Lumberjacked (A Holiday Lumberjack Mountain Man Romance) - K.C. Crowne Page 0,61
and smaller, closing in on me. I had to get out to think.
I slipped out of bed carefully, trying to be quiet so I didn’t wake Viktor. Silently, I pulled on my clothes. I wouldn’t go far, just wander around the cabin outside. Viktor was so damn worried about something happening to me. As if I couldn't stay alive in the forest at all. I was no wilderness survivor or anything, but I was pretty sure I could steer clear of trouble while I took a walk to clear my head.
When I stepped out of the cabin, the air was crisp and fresh, cool as ice on my skin, but it was refreshing. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath before I headed in the direction of the fire pit where we’d sat more than once. I walked past the cold, empty pit, and headed toward the back of the cabin.
The cabin was neatly built. Had Viktor built it himself? Or had it been built by someone else, left here abandoned for Viktor to move in? I had so many questions about him. How had he come to live in America when he was from Russia? Why did he live such a reclusive life in the mountains? I knew nothing about him, yet I trusted him with my life. And I was falling in love with him.
Even though I had no idea who he was.
The cabin was built almost on the edge of a cliff that dropped into the valley below. It made for a spectacular view, especially from the living room window. A small ledge on that side of the cabin stopped the small building from being perched completely on the edge, but I didn’t feel comfortable sidling along that way around.
The back side of the cabin had the few pipes that led to the bathroom and kitchen, and a small shack-like building a little lower down. I frowned and made my way down to it. The building was stacked on a bunch of rocks, almost as an afterthought. It had been thrown together roughly; the planks had gaps between them and a small window to the side was musty and dirty, so dirty I couldn’t see through it.
The door had a fancy biometric lock on it. A shiny, new lock that looked totally out of place in the middle of the rustic wild. I frowned, trying the lock, unsurprised when it didn’t open. I glanced around and realized the shack was made of rotten planks, and to the side, the gaps were wide enough to fit my hand through. I shouldn’t mess with this, I thought. This wasn’t my business. But that lock looking so tech savvy made me curious.
Why have a lock like that on such a hastily thrown together shack? And why was he so worried about me going out? Was it really about my safety? Suddenly, I needed to know what was in that building. And why it was locked.
The planks came away easily enough after I yanked and kicked at them a bit. The whole time, I felt guilty that I was breaking in. But I had to know.
When I’d pulled open a hole big enough, I poked my head through and looked inside. I wanted to climb through, but I couldn’t squeeze in. I didn’t have to. I saw guns in a corner. Not just hunting guns. The type of guns you saw in movies. The type of guns that killed people.
My heart dropped and my blood ran cold. I bounced back from the shack, my heart hammering in my chest, my breath coming fast. I suddenly felt lightheaded. I pressed my hand against my head, my thoughts running a mile a minute.
Who is he?
“Angela!”
I heard him call and I scrambled away from the shack so fast, I tripped over my own feet and fell. My hands scraped on the rocky forest floor.
“Angela!” His voice sounded panicked. I heard heavy footsteps.
When he turned the corner, his eyes were wide with worry. He saw me on the ground and looked around, scanning the trees before rushing to me. He skidded to his knees and grabbed me by the shoulders, his face riddled with concern.
“What happened?” he demanded.
I shoved him off me, the shock replaced by anger. I held onto that anger with both hands, relying on it to get me through this. Because I was terrified of him.
“What the fuck is this, Viktor?” I shrieked. “Who the hell are you?”