Chapter 2

Suddenly, the man lurched toward me. A scream caught in my throat as I staggered backward and tried to escape. His weight hit me full force, dragging me downward and sending us both sprawling on the floor.

"Get off me!" I screamed, battering his back and shoulders with my fists. I shrieked maniacally as I fought his hold, arms swinging as my heart raced out of control.

It took my muddled mind a moment to realize he wasn't fighting back. Nor had he said a single word. I froze and took stock of the situation.

The man lay draped over me, limp and deathly still. My frantic movements had partially dislodged him, and his forehead rested on the floor next to my left shoulder.

"Sir?" The single word came out as a whisper, and I cleared my throat. Screaming hadn't woken him up; he was likely passed out. I patted his back. "You need to wake up."

Something sticky clung to my fingers, and I lifted my hand to the light. My heart stilled at the sight of the dark blood that coated my fingertips. He was hurt. He was also…

Oh, my God. He was naked!

What the hell was this guy doing running around naked in the woods in the middle of the night? Ice water streamed through my veins. Nothing good, that was for certain.

The man was almost unbearably heavy, and my lungs ached as he compressed my torso, pinning me between his broad chest and the hard floor. With a grunt of effort, I wiggled my body and slowly began to shuffle out from underneath him.

"Damn." I let out an exhausted huff. "You're heavy."

Resting on my knees, I drew in several deep breaths and tried to control my sprinting pulse. My gaze dropped to the man in front of me, his body riddled with cuts and bruises. He was completely nude and badly malnourished, almost to the point of emaciation.

A combination of pity and anger welled up in my chest. Where had he come from? And what in the world had happened to him?

A cool breeze whispered over my skin, drawing my attention to the open door. Keeping low, I cautiously maneuvered around the man and peered outside. Everything was dark and quiet, just as it should be.

The man was sprawled in the doorway, his feet stretched over the threshold. Moving to his torso, I hooked my hands under his arms and pulled. For a moment nothing happened. I gritted my teeth and put all my weight into it.

One inch at first, then another, I pulled the man into the kitchen by increments. By the time I was done, I was nearly out of breath. Damn, I was out of shape. Shaking out my limbs, I made my way to the door and checked once more for anything out of place before locking up.

Spinning around, I rested against the cool metal and regarded the unconscious man sprawled on my floor. God, he looked even worse than I initially thought. His body was big and broad-shouldered, making his haggard state even more pronounced. Cuts and scratches covered nearly all of his body, and deep slashes marred his back, buttocks, and upper thighs, almost as if he had been… beaten.

Bile rose up my throat, and nausea twisted my belly into a tight knot. My gaze skimmed over his body, cataloging the various wounds from the soles of his feet to the tops of his shoulders. His face, strangely, seemed to be unharmed, and I took a moment to study him.

His hair was almost coal-black, and the unruly, too-long locks held a hint of a curl. His eyelashes rested on his cheeks, thick and sooty. The lower half of his face was obscured by a scraggly beard.

I tiptoed closer, every instinct on high alert as I crouched next to his head. I pressed my fingers to the base of his neck, and something like relief washed through me when I felt the faint thud of his pulse.

Thank God. He was still alive. But unless he got some medical attention, he might not be for long.

I reached for my phone, ready to call a doctor. But as my fingers hovered over the screen, I hesitated. Something told me that this man had endured too much already and that he wouldn't appreciate anyone else knowing he was here.

It occurred to me that I was basically inviting a stranger into my home. As unsettling as that was, it wasn't nearly as repulsive as the thought of turning him out. Besides, where would he go?

In addition to the several weeks' growth of beard, the thin coat of grime covering his skin told me he didn't have access to regular hygiene. Was he homeless? Pine Ridge was a fairly close-knit community, and I couldn't recall any homeless residents. He didn't look familiar, either.

Maybe he'd come from somewhere else. But the closest town was nearly an hour away. Would he have trekked that far on foot—and naked at that? The situation sent alarm bells ringing in the back of my mind.

My discomfort at having a strange man in the house warred with the innate need to take care of him. I pushed to my feet, debating what to do. Call for help, or do it myself?

I wasn't sure whether this man was good or bad, but I wouldn't know until he woke up. He was obviously weak; he wasn't likely to hurt me in this condition. It was a gamble I'd have to take.

Blood had seeped from the wounds, mixing with the dirt that coated his skin. Judging from the state of his body, he was already close to death. I needed to get him warm and take care of his injuries before they became infected.

I glanced ruefully at the tile floor. It would be easiest to clean him in here, but the floor was cold and hard. He'd already endured something horrific; even though he was unconscious, I didn't want to cause him more harm. The next best place would be the bedroom.

Dragging him the way I had before wasn't going to work. I needed something that would help him slide easier. Grabbing up a blanket from the living room, I spread it out on the floor next to the man.

As gently as possible I rolled him onto his back, sliding the blanket under him as I did so. His body flopped bonelessly, and my cheeks flared bright red at the sight of his genitalia. It felt wrong to see him this way, but I had no other choice.

Maneuvering him to the middle of the blanket, I finally got him positioned properly and began to drag him toward the bedroom. It seemed to take forever, and my muscles screamed at me by the time we reached the doorway of the single bedroom.

Taking a moment to stretch, I stared at the bed. There was no way I could get him up there. I would just have to put the mattress on the floor. But first things first—the man's wounds needed to be cleaned and cared for.

As I took a step backward, my gaze strayed to the window and the black void beyond. Goosebumps sprouted over my skin. Crossing the room, I quickly tugged the curtains closed. Just in case.

Retracing my steps to the kitchen, I gathered a large bowl of water and medical supplies, then pulled several towels from the bathroom as I passed. The man hadn't moved a single inch by the time I returned. Probably a good thing, because this next part was going to hurt.

Starting at the top of his body, I cleaned each cut before applying antibiotic ointment and bandages. My hands stilled over a puckered patch of flesh on his torso, and a chill swept down my spine.

He'd been shot.

The top layer of skin appeared to have healed, at least a little, but I wasn't an expert with gunshot wounds. Was he a soldier or an officer of the law? Or… was he on the wrong side of the law entirely?

I knew gunshot wounds had to be reported to the authorities. And yet, I was reluctant to bring it to anyone's attention. The various lacerations inflicted on his body told me there was far more to the story. Once he woke up, I would find out what had happened. But, for now, he was safe.

Nearly an hour later, I was finished. I put the supplies away and moved the mattress to the floor next to the bed. The blanket was now soaked, so I left it on the floor as I pulled the man the few feet up onto the mattress.

Once he was in place, I covered him with the comforter from my bed. I didn't have any men's clothing in the house, but this would at least preserve his modesty a little bit. Snatching up the wet blanket, I put it in the washing machine then headed back to the bedroom.

Resting against the doorframe, I stared at the man for a long moment. Would he make it through the night? My heart twisted, and I ventured closer. If he needed anything, I wanted to be close by.

I settled on the edge of the mattress, stretching out next to him. His face was turned toward me, but he remained utterly still aside from the steady rise and fall of his chest. Closing my eyes, I let exhaustion take over and pull me to sleep.