Chapter 8

Zoey

With the lantern in my hand, I make my way into the other room. There's a chill from the evening mountain air creeping into the cabin but the warmth of the fire makes it tolerable. Unlike my mood. After Backdraft left me like he did, I had to take matters into my own hands. Literally, but even that did little to satisfy the throbbing between my legs caused by Backdraft's touch. The cold water didn't help matters either and now I'm going commando in a stranger's clothing because oddly enough I couldn't find my underwear. The t-shirt is so baggy that it hangs off my shoulders and the sweatpants are too wide, even with the drawstring pulled tight. At least the heavy socks are warm and comfortable.

I stop in front of the wood-burning stove for a few minutes, letting the heat warm me and dry my hair. The bright orange flames flicker and dance, casting shadows across the dark cabin. Backdraft is nowhere to be found. I'm not sure if I'm relieved or disappointed. Maybe a mixture of both. I twist my hair up in a knot on top of my head and pad across the cold floor into the kitchenette area. Just as I expected, no Backdraft. Where the hell could he have gone? This place isn't big enough to hide. A chill runs over my bones but this time it's not from the air. The realization that he may have left me here alone after everything that has happened today is unsettling.

Anger surges through me, mixing with the hurt and betrayal already brewing inside of me. My hands shake as I reach for the refrigerator handle. I yank it open and confirm what I already suspected, no one has been here in months. The power is off, and the shelves are barren of food. The wretched smell hits my nostrils and I push the door closed. Reaching for a cupboard door I find a small ration of canned foods and a case of beer. Figuring I have nothing to lose, I twist the top and down a bottle in one gulp, trying to quell the panic rising in my chest. Its sharp, biting carbonation leaves a tingling sensation in its wake. I scrunch my face at the warm, bittersweet flavor that lingers on my tongue. Setting the empty bottle on the counter, I grab another. Pacing around the cabin, taking long swigs from the bottle every few minutes. My mind is racing with questions. Why did Backdraft leave me? Where did he go? Is he ever coming back? And most importantly, what am I going to do now?

Tears sting my eyes and I angrily swipe them away. Crying won't solve anything. At least not right now. I take another long drink from the bottle and my stomach drops when I see him through the window. The glow from his phone illuminates the worry on his face. He lifts it to his ear and then pulls it away, holds it out in front of him, and swipes it up in the air like he's trying to find a signal. Our eyes connect and it instantly pulls me back to him. His presence is so large and intrusive that it sucks the air from my lungs, suffocating me. I hate this feeling. I hate that I can't control the urges that rush through me when he's close to me and the crushing disappointment when he's not. He turns slightly, diverting his eyes from mine, and returns his focus to the phone in his hand.

"Good luck out here." I huff under my breath to myself. It's easy to live off the grid in the mountains for a reason. Cell phone reception is not reliable out here unless you're near a booster.

Taking another swig of beer, I flop down on the chair at the table, not wanting to admit the relief I feel that he's close by. Even if he might be trying to ignore me.

A cool whip of air fills the cabin when the door bursts open. The sudden impact makes me jump in my seat. I don't turn around or acknowledge him. He's the one who dragged me out here, teased me with his touch, and then bailed like I wasn't worth his time.

I feel him standing behind me, his scent filling my lungs and making me tense with the glare burning into my back. "Slow down, Little Lamb, I don't need you getting drunk on me."

My hand raises, bringing the glass to my lips and guzzling down what's left in the bottle. Backdraft takes a seat across from me, swiping the beer caps off the table and pocketing them into his vest. I glare at him, reaching for a third. I don't know why I'm acting this way. I'm accustomed to being told what to do but I'm sick and tired of it. I don't even know this man and he's been bossing me around from the start, like he owns me. Let's not forget that I saved his life. If it wasn't for me, he'd have blown up.

That realization makes my stomach churn. The bitter taste trails up the back of my throat. I can't stop the heave that rips out of my mouth and causes me to lunge forward in my chair. The overwhelming urge to vomit floods through me, threatening to spill out onto the floor. Backdraft's swift reflexes move a trash pail in front of me in time. The acrid smell of bile fills the air as I empty the contents of my stomach into the trash. My chest heaves with each retch, my entire body trembling.

"This is your fault." I huff out, slumping back into my seat, exhausted and embarrassed.

"Is that so? I forced you to pour warm beer down your throat?"

"No, but it's your fault those men are dead and I'm out here in the middle of nowhere instead of home in my own bed."

His head jerks up, darkness deepening the gray in his eyes. His teeth grind together, his nostrils flaring. "Let's get one thing straight here, Little Lamb. I didn't make you do shit. You chose to come with me, but I would have if you forced my hand."

I swallow hard, feeling the anger radiating off him, "And why is that? How is it you knew my name? What aren't you telling me?"

My breath hitches in my throat, when he shoves a glass of water in my face, "Drink."

I swing my arm out, pushing it away. "Stop telling me what to do and start telling me who you are and why I'm here."

"Drink the fucking water." He shoves the glass to my mouth with such force the water sloshes up the side and splashes over the edge onto my lips. Tipping my head back with his free hand, he pours the water down my throat. I gurgle and sputter as I struggle to swallow it. I cough and gasp for air as he pulls away, setting the empty glass on the table.

"Better?" he asks with a smirk, his hand still gripping my chin.

I nod, too afraid to speak. My mind is racing, trying to make sense of everything that's happened in this short amount of time. My heart is pounding in my chest, a mixture of fear and adrenaline coursing through me.

"Now," he releases me and sits back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest, "what do you want to know?"

I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself before asking the questions again. "Who are you? How do you know who I am? And why am I here?"

He gives a low chuckle. "Well, Little Lamb, those are some loaded questions."

I glare at him. "I'm serious."

"So am I." He says with a serious expression on his face. "You know my name, it's Backdraft."

"That's not your real name," I retort.

He shrugs nonchalantly, "It's what everyone calls me."

I give up on that round of questioning and ask the more important one that's on my mind. "How do you know who I am?"

"I was hired to find you." His voice takes on an edge as he speaks.

"Hired by who?"

"That's not important right now."

"It's important to me!" I snap back.

He leans forward suddenly, his tone harsh, "Listen here, Little Lamb," he spits out with venom in his words. "You need to trust me."

My heart races as fear creeps into every fiber of my being. "You were hired to kidnap me and I'm supposed to trust you?"

"Retrieve you. Not kidnap you."

"Semantics." I push myself up from the chair and storm out of the room, realizing I'm not going to get anywhere with him.

He's behind me in a few long strides, closing in on me. With a force, his hands grip my shoulders. I whirl around to face him, furious tears threatening to spill over. My heart slams against my chest and my breathing kicks up a notch. This man is dangerous, but his touch does something to me. I have no idea what I've gotten myself into but I don't care. My hands dart up, gripping his huge biceps, that familiar need rushing through me again. His lips hover over mine, just a breath away. I lick my lips, my mouth suddenly dry. His eyes drop to my tongue and I swear a low growl rumbles his chest.

"What do we do now?"