The Guardian's Mission. Shirlee McCoy

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      “Right. You can’t stand it that I’m going to the cabin alone. Admit it.”

      “Marti, the cabin has been closed up for two years. It might not be habitable anymore.”

      “As long as it’s still got a roof and four walls, I’ll be fine. I don’t need more than that.”

      “Need more for what? Grieving in private over that scumbag doctor? I knew he was no good the minute I met him. Wishy-washy, wimpy kid with a head too big for his scrawny little neck. If I’d had my way you would never have…” His voice trailed off and Marti could almost see his hazel eyes going dark with worry and regret. “Sorry, baby doll. You know how I am.”

      “Yeah, I know.” Which was why she’d had to escape to the mountains. Between her father, her friends, her church and her community, Martha had nearly drowned in the outpouring of sympathy since she’d called off her engagement three days ago. That was the problem with living in a small town. Everyone knew everyone’s business. Most of the time, Martha didn’t mind, but right now she needed space.

      She needed time.

      She did not need to be smothered by well-meaning people who all claimed to have believed her relationship with Brian was doomed, but who hadn’t bothered to tell her that.

      Her father cleared his throat the way he always did when he wasn’t sure what to say, then launched into a safer topic. “It’s supposed to storm tonight. You know that, right? The creek might flood its banks. You might get stranded for a few days.”

      “A few days isn’t going to kill me. Besides, I know how to handle myself out here. I was taught by the best.”

      “Glad to know I taught you something.” Since I obviously didn’t teach you how to protect your heart from smooth-talking men.

      Martha could almost hear the words, though her father loved her too much to say them. “You taught me plenty, Dad. So, listen, you take Sue out this weekend, okay? Somewhere fancy.”

      “Why would I go and do a thing like that?”

      “Because tomorrow is the three-year anniversary of your first date and she expects it.”

      “Three-year anniversary of our first date? Who keeps track of that kind of stuff?” As Martha had hoped, mention of his wife of eight months was enough to distract her father.

      “Sue. She’s been talking about it nonstop for two weeks. I’d have thought you’d have gotten the hint by now.”

      “You know I’m no good with hints. You could have given me a heads-up before now.”

      “Sorry, Dad. I just figured you knew.”

      “I guess I’d better get to work planning something. You be careful, you hear? And if you’re not back by Sunday noon, I’m coming to get you. Love you, baby doll.”

      “Love you, too, Dad.”

      She started to shove the phone in her pocket, then thought better of it and tossed it into the glove compartment. Reception was poor in the mountains. Besides, she’d lost three phones in the past two years. A fact her ex-fiancé, Brian McMath, hadn’t let her forget.

      Not that she was going to think about Brian. Or their relationship. Or why she’d tried so hard to fulfill his definition of what a doctor’s future wife should be.

      Organized.

      Efficient.

      Sleek. Slim. Beautiful.

      Martha stomped up the gravel road, forcing her mind away from her ex-fiancé. He’d been an arrogant jerk. She’d been too focused on trying to build the kind of family she’d always dreamed of to notice.

      Enough said.

      Rain began to fall, but she ignored it as she moved up the trail toward the hunting cabin. She would put her disastrous relationship with Brian behind her, and she would enjoy her weekend alone. Just Martha and the great outdoors. What could be better?

      Forty minutes later, she was thinking there were plenty of things better than walking soaking wet through thick foliage, with chilly air cutting through her jacket and jeans. Panting hard, her heels burning with blisters from new boots, she splashed across a creek and muscled her way up a bank. All the physical exertion should have forced thoughts of Brian out of her mind, but they were still there.

      Frustrated, she stomped up the cabin steps, pulled the key from her pocket and swung the door open. The place hadn’t been used in a while, and watery light danced on dust motes as she hurried across the room to pull the curtains open. She’d barely touched the thick material, when she heard something behind her. Or maybe felt it. A subtle shifting in the air, a whisper of danger that electrified the room, made the hair on the back of her neck stand on end.

      She wasn’t alone.

      Her heart pounded, her hand froze in place, her mind screamed directions that she couldn’t quite follow.

      Run!

      No! Never run from a predator.

      Walk back out the open door. Pretend you don’t know someone is here with you. Go. Go, go, go!

      Her legs were lead, the pack ten tons of brick as she started toward the door. She’d barely taken a step when the door swung closed, cutting off light, sealing her in. It was like a nightmare, like a horror movie come to life. Dead silence. Pitch-blackness. Someone waiting in the darkness. Her heart thudded as terror pooled in her belly.

      Please, God, I don’t want to die like some clueless victim in a horror film.

      She stepped backward, bumping into something hard, tall.

      Human.

      A scream ripped from her throat, but died abruptly as a hand slammed over her mouth.

      “You don’t want to do that.” The growl rumbled in her ear; a warning, a threat. “Do you?”

      Martha shook her head. Anything to get his hand off her mouth and give her another chance to scream. Not that it would do any good. There was no one around to hear. The cabin was miles from civilization.

      “Good. Just keep quiet, do what I say and everything will be okay.” As he spoke he moved backward, pulling her away from the door and farther into the darkness.

      Don’t just let yourself be accosted. Fight!

      She slammed her elbow into his stomach, but his grip didn’t loosen. “That wasn’t smart, lady.”

      Maybe not, but she tried again anyway. This time slamming her foot down on his instep. He grunted, his grip loosening just enough for her to jerk from his hold. She lunged forward, yanking open the door, racing outside and slamming into a short, wiry man.

      “Goin’ somewhere, darlin’?” His eyes were pale, clear green, his lips thin and tilted up in a sneer. Freckles dotted his face, but they didn’t make him look any less like a coldhearted killer. If death had a look, it was in his gaze. Martha shuddered, stepping back.

      “I—”

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