Austin - Piper Stone

Chapter 1

Francesca

A darkened night. A rain-slickened twisting road. A light fog.

An accident waiting to happen, but I hadn’t been able to tolerate remaining in Hamilton another freaking minute. While I didn’t mind certain political obligations, my grouchiness had rubbed off on the audience members. Or maybe vice versa since I’d been heckled by a solid twenty perfect of the crowd.

While threats weren’t new, a solid percentage of those living in Montana hating some of my viewpoints, a few had escalated enough I remained nervous. That’s the reason I always carried my weapon with me. I never left home without it.

I rubbed my hand through my hair, exhausted from the long days and sleepless nights. Something in my boring life needed to change. As I rounded a sharp curve, I automatically slowed, fearful of wildlife crossing the road. It seemed like I was miles away from civilization and I didn’t want to become a tasty snack for a hungry bear.

That would piss me off.

As I laughed, the headlights flashed on something up ahead and a moment of creepy-crawlies slithered down my spine. I eased off the accelerator as I approached, craning my neck and wishing the freaking windshield wipers would work faster. The sight of someone walking on the side of the road wasn’t unusual, but it was for this time of night as well as this stretch of the road. The hooded figured realized my approach, turning slightly and sticking out an arm.

Oh, my God. The person was hitchhiking.

My commonsense prevailing, I swerved to avoid tossing the hitcher against the rocks of the hillside. I also slowed down to a crawl, straining in order to get the slightest look at who it was. While the shadows were too significant to make out any features, there was no doubt the person was a man.

A big, brawny dude with a killer body.

I kept going at a snail’s pace, barely going three miles per hour.

“What the hell are you doing, Franny?” I whispered to myself as I gazed into the rearview mirror, a strange sense of longing creeping in, easing to a stop. “This isn’t like you. You’re a smart woman. You don’t pick up strange men on the side of the road.”

Whether or not the reminders did me any good wasn’t going to matter.

The hulking mass was approaching.

Uh-oh.

I reached under the seat, pulling my Beretta into my hand, prepared to fire if necessary. No motherfucker was going to take me down without a fight. I kept the doors locked and the windows up as he approached, managing to grab a flashlight out of the console. After flicking it on, I swung the beam toward his face.

His incredibly gorgeous face and eyes that could melt your very soul. While there was no smile on his face, I sensed he had no other options and rolled down the window. “Where ya headed?”

“Missoula.”

One word, but with that single three-syllable word, I was drawn into a moment of blatant desire, the tone husky and deep. From what I could see, he was carrying a single duffle bag and there were no signs of weapons.

Make up your mind.

“That’s where I’m going. Why don’t you jump in?” As I hit the unlock button, a knot formed in my stomach. Did I have a death wish? I’d never been one to engage in this type of risky behavior. I kept my hand on the weapon as he crawled inside, shoving his bag between his legs. Suddenly, the cab of the truck was filled with his masculine scent. Ripe with testosterone and the smell of the forest, I was forced to take a deep breath, the fragrance intoxicating.

He slowly slipped the hood of his sweatshirt off his head then pushed his sleeves to his forearms. While two- or three-day stubble covered his angular jaw, his head was devoid of hair. I was able to see additional ink crawling up both sides of his neck. He was rough, rugged, and one badass man.

And damn if he didn’t make my mouth water.

The door was still open as if the mystery man was giving me an opportunity to kick him out. Immediately, my eyes were drawn to the tattoo on his left am. He was a Marine. I took a deep breath, shoving the weapon back under the seat before offering a nod and a smile. “You’re in the service.”

“I was,” he stated with no inflection before closing the door, shoving us into almost total darkness.

“My brother was a Marine.” When he didn’t say