RedKnife (Skin Walkers Book 2) (7 page)

Chapter 12

Cindy limped after him to the door and then watched as he stalked down the hall.  She wanted to call him back, she needed more answers, but clearly it’d have to wait.

When RedKnife disappeared at the end of the hall, she turned to find several bags lining the wall just outside the bedroom door.  She lugged them into the bedroom and was startled to find so many clothes, all in her size.

Digging out a pair of thermal socks, fresh underwear, a bra, jeans, and a sweater, she went to the only other door in the room and sighed in relief when she found a bathroom.

She showered quickly even as she wondered where the cabin was located to be equipped with electricity and hot water.  She figured they had to be close to civilization, which would bode well for her if RedKnife couldn’t “talk Monroe down."

Shower finished and dressed in her new clothes, she folded her flannel gown she’d woken in and set in on the chair in her room.  She blushed at the knowledge that she hadn’t been wearing the warm gown when RedKnife broke into her apartment, which meant he’d changed her into it.  Undressing in the bathroom, she’d found her thigh, hip, and feet cleaned and wrapped.  She assumed RedKnife had changed her wet, and presumably bloody, clothes to be considerate, but she couldn’t manage to muster up any appreciation, especially considering he’d have seen her with no bra when he removed her other gown.

***

RedKnife paced the living room.  He wanted to go back to the room to help Cindy dress, but even with the light scent of her pain filtering through the house; he knew it was a bad idea.  Women didn’t like strange men helping them dress.

Turning, he stalked to the window and looked out at the forest.  He’d said he’d contact Monroe, but he wouldn’t.  Not now.  He’d gotten Cindy into this mess by presenting unverified intel to the CEO.  He wouldn’t do it again.  While he believed Cindy’s claim, he had to be sure it was the truth and not just his need for it to be so.  He was attracted to the female, and that made things worse.  If it were any other woman, he’d have simply delivered her to Monroe and allowed the Dominant to come to his own conclusions, but the mere thought of Monroe touching Cindy had RedKnife’s hackles rising.

“C-can you please close the door?”

Cindy’s words pulled him from his reverie.  He slid a glance toward the door, but didn’t move.  After a few moments, Cindy rolled her eyes and limped to the door, closing it.

He growled.

“What’s wrong with you?”  She bit out accusatorily.  “I’m the one being held against my will.”  She watched as RedKnife swallowed hard, his hands balling into fists before relaxing.

“I don’t like confined spaces.”

Cindy eyed the door before turning to study the cabin.  It was cozy, but she could see how someone not used to being inside would find it a little stifling.  Then she remembered what Monroe told her when RedKnife had approached her in the bar.  Monroe had said the last time RedKnife was inside a building was to perform a service for a friend.  What did that mean?  That he
never
went into buildings.  She eyed him warily.  He kept the door open because it made him feel less trapped.

“You gonna be okay?”  The last thing she needed was for her giant captor to go berserk and freak out on her because he couldn’t handle being indoors.

“Fine.”  But the word was clipped.

For long moments she studied him before crossing to the kitchen.  She eyed the fridge and the cupboards before asking, “May I?”

He nodded once.

Cindy dug through the cupboards, then turned and bent to rifle through the fridge.  She pulled out a few items, placing them on the counter.

RedKnife stood quietly, watching her work.  When she nibbled on her lip as she pulled out cooking utensils, the front of his pants tightened uncomfortably, prompting him into action.  Not wanting to leave her, he busied himself stocking more firewood next to the hearth, then swept up debris that had fallen from the logs.  While he worked, he watched her in the kitchen.  She’d pulled out a pot and turned to wash her hands before she started working.

He watched inconspicuously as she dumped dry ingredients into a large glass bowl and stirred them before adding water, mixing again, and then placing a towel over the bowl.  Then she was rinsing vegetables and chopping potatoes with a practiced hand.  Celery, tomatoes, and onions all piled into the pot around a hunk of venison roast.  It looked like it’d be good.

A soft humming had his eyes lifting from her hands to study her face.  She was beautiful.  Delicate brows speared down in concentration as she pulled a face he was sure she wasn’t even aware of as she worked.  It was mesmerizing watching her cook.  She blinked, and one corner of her mouth curled.  He studied her lips then, trying to decide if her lips were naturally that pink, or if she were wearing lipstick.

Her voice pulled him from his reverie.  “If you’re going to stare, you might as well help.”

Stare?
  She caught him staring!  Thank God for his Native ancestry, he knew it helped to hide some of his flush.  “I…was…” 
Staring!  Idiot.
  He shook his head and replaced the broom he’d been leaning on before crossing to the sink to wash his hands then turning to face her expectantly.

“We’re having bread with dinner too.”  She removed the towel from the bowl she’d been working on earlier to slap her hand onto the dough ball she’d formed inside.  “Can you knead this?”

“Do I?”

Her brows speared down.  “Do you what?”

“You said ‘can I need this’.  Don’t you mean,
do
I?”

Her voice raised an octave.  “What?”

RedKnife shook his head uncomfortably and turned to eye the dough.  “What do you want me to do?”

“Knead this.”  Cindy shook her head in exasperation.

RedKnife looked at her.  “Are you fucking with me?”

That evoked a bark of laughter from Cindy.  “What are you talking about, crazy guy?”  She kept laughing.  “Will you please
knead.  This.  Dough.”

He shook his head.  “I don’t know what this means. 
Need.
  Need how?”

Then she was doubled over in laughter.  “Oh my…Oh my God!”  She kept laughing, and it only increased as his scowl darkened.  Finally, she righted herself and rubbed the tears from her eyes.  She asked around a wide grin, “You’ve never kneaded bread?”

“I like bread, but I wouldn’t say I
need
it.”  He frowned darkly at the offending dough.

Chuckling again, Cindy shook her head.  “Knead.  K.  N.  E.  A.  D. It’s easy.”  Cindy wiped her hands on her towel.  “Just get in there and kind of punch it around.”

RedKnife looked at her and she nodded encouragingly.  “Go on.”

WHAM!  One solid punch right through the dough and the bowl shattered.

“Jesus Christ!”  She jumped, her paring knife falling to the counter with a clatter.  “What in the hell was that?”

“You said punch it.”

“I said punch it
around
.”  She grabbed his forearm and pulled his fist out of the bowl, inspecting it for wounds before shaking her head in dismay and picking up the larger pieces of glass before carrying them to the garage.  “I didn’t say to beat the shit out of it.”

To his surprise, she smiled at her last remark.  “Why don’t you just sit over there?”  She motioned with her head to the bar stool on the opposite side of the kitchen island.  “You can watch and maybe learn a thing or two.”

Taking a seat, he watched in awe as she prepared the food with a practiced hand.  He wanted to ask her how she’d learned to cook, but didn’t.  He’d learned that he tended to glean more information by watching people.  Still, he was shocked at the ease with which his interest encouraged him to strike up a conversation.

“Do you cook at all?”

“Some.”  He shrugged, not wanting to admit that he only knew how to cook simple things like boxed meals and eggs or meat.  Nothing fancy, and certainly nothing ever from scratch.

“So,” she began and he looked up to see her cheeks a little flushed.  “Any developments on that missing rancher?”  She didn’t look up, and he noted her cheeks flushed a little brighter.

He smiled.  She was attempting to remind him that she’d defended him.  She didn’t need to.  The act of kindness was one he wouldn’t forget.

“No.”  He answered simply.

Her only reply was a soft, “Oh.”

They enjoyed a comfortable silence as she finished preparing their meal -- the best RedKnife had ever had.

Chapter 13

Three days passed without much change.  Cindy cooked and stayed in the cabin, and RedKnife disappeared each night, but returned to spend his days watching her cook or helping clean and restock firewood.

Getting a little stir crazy, Cindy showered the morning of the fourth day and exited her room clad in jeans, socks, and a loose sweater.

RedKnife was already stoking a fire in the hearth.

“Morning.”

“Good morning,” he responded, turning to look at her.

“So.”  She clapped her hands together in front of herself.  “Any word from Monroe?  Is he coming to question me?  Or is it okay for me to go home?”

RedKnife assured her that he’d spoken with Monroe, but that was it, nothing else had happened.  She thought Monroe would either believe her or come and question her himself.  Neither had happened.

“But…but that doesn’t make sense.”  Her eyes crinkled in confusion.  “I mean, I understand if he was worried about me being a… a spy, why he wouldn’t want me at StoneCrow, but why hasn’t he come here?”

“He doesn’t know we’re here.”

“Wait.”  She help up a hand.  “You said he sent you to retrieve me.”

“He did.”

“But he doesn’t know we’re here?”

“I failed to deliver you.  We’ve been hiding out here.  Monroe doesn’t know where we are.”

She felt dread in the pit of her stomach.  “But…
why
?”

“I wanted to get answers for myself.”

“Because I helped you with that missing rancher?”  Her anxiety only grew when he dipped his head, looking repentant.

“RedKnife?”  She took a tentative step toward him.

Straightening his shoulders, he looked her straight in the eye.  “I gave Monroe the initial intel on what I thought was your disloyalty.  I heard you speaking of it, and I assumed it was true.  I believed you were a Walker enemy.”

It took a moment for her brain to catch up and process what he’d just said.  “You!” Cindy shot at him accusatorily.  “
You’re
the reason Monroe thinks I’m a traitor?”  Betrayal bit hard.  “Why?”  She nearly shrieked.  “Why would you
do
that to me?”

“I heard you speaking with Cody.”  He took a step toward her, but she quickly retreated.

“How?  When?”

“In the parking lot, the day you found….”

“I wanna go home!”

RedKnife’s brow furrowed. 
Damn
.  She was angry, and he wanted to tell her that he’d been the dog she’d taken in, but now clearly wasn’t the time.

“I’M LEAVING!”  Cindy yelled as she turned and hurried to the bedroom and jerked a dresser drawer open.  Yanking articles out, she carelessly tossed them on the bed as she fought back tears.  Stilling, she stared at the drawer.

“Cindy?”

“Don’t get that gentle, pleady tone with me.  If you’re looking for a crybaby, you’ve got the wrong girl.”  Her bravado nearly shattered when a tear slipped free and she swiped at it angrily. 
Fucking men! 
She slammed the drawer closed, realizing they weren’t even her belongings.

“I can’t let you go.”

“Right.”  She whirled on him.  “You can’t let me go, but you won’t take me to Monroe so I can clear my own name.”  She shook her head.  “You’re the reason he thinks I’m his enemy.”  Her eyes burned with fury as she glared at him.  “Why can’t I go?”  She crossed arms over her chest and waited.

“You just…can’t.”

“You’re not protecting me by keeping me here.  You’re keeping me prisoner, same as Monroe would.  You’re no better than him.”  She turned her back on him.  “Just leave.”

When she didn’t hear him move, she scowled at him over her shoulder.  Another wave of angry tears flooded her eyes.  “I thought you didn’t like it inside. 
Leave
!”

And he did.  With a barely audible click of the door, she was left alone.

***

By the next morning, Cindy’s anger hadn’t faded any.  Although, she did feel slight guilt at RedKnife spending the night out in the cold, it wasn’t enough to diminish her ire.

During the restless night, she’d formulated a plan.  He refused to let her leave, but that didn’t mean she had to stay.  She wasn’t a Montana girl, but navigating her way out of the snowy mountains couldn’t be that hard.  Could it?  Decided, she hurried to her room and quickly changed.  One pair of thermal pants and shirt went on under her jeans and long sleeve flannel shirt.  She pulled on two pair of socks and laced on the hiking boots RedKnife had provided for her.  Racing to the closet she pulled free her heavy coat, wrapped a scarf around her neck and stuffed her head into a beanie.

Stepping out onto the porch as she donned her leather gloves, she half expected RedKnife to be standing there scowling at her.  To her relief, he wasn’t.

Her feet disappeared into the snow with her first step off the porch, and she was glad she’d opted for two pairs of socks.  The snow was still falling, but the sun was trying to force its way through.  It made for an odd combination of blinding snow covered landscape with just enough bite to the air to remind her that Montana winters could be fatal.

A few steps away from the cabin, and still no sign of RedKnife. 
Really?  Could it be this easy?
  Part of her was self-deprecating that she hadn’t attempted to just walk off sooner.

After another dozen or so steps and no RedKnife, she shrugged and set off at a steady pace.  About a mile from the cabin, Cindy’s gait was full of confidence.  RedKnife hadn’t caught her, and she was far enough away now that she doubted he’d be able to track her, even if he wanted.  The snow hadn’t stopped, which meant that her tracks leading away from the cabin surely were covered over.  The hiking was hard.  Snow was past her knees in some places, and her pants were quickly beginning to soak through, which meant she needed to get off the mountain before nightfall.  The knowledge was enough to have her quickening her pace and forging through the demanding thirst that called her an idiot for not bringing a canteen or any food.

Hours later, fear was riding her hard.  She was exhausted, she was starving, and she was dying of thirst.  She knew how survivors lost at sea felt.  It was torturous to be surrounded by snow knowing that all she needed to do was bend down, grab a handful, and shove it into her mouth.  Yet, she couldn’t.  She’d seen enough episodes of
I Shouldn’t Be Alive
to know better than to eat the snow.  It’d lower her body temperature and…  Her eyes darted to the sky. 
Fuck!
  The sun was setting fast.  Too fast.  Still surrounded by thick forest, she knew she was nowhere near getting to any town, let alone out of the mountains.  Worse, not only had the falling snow covered her tracks and prevented RedKnife from following her, but what she had hours earlier thought of as a blessing was now a curse.  Turning to look back, she saw that she couldn’t back track to the cabin either.  She was lost.  Alone in the snowy mountains, just like all the idiots she’d watched on that damn survival TV show.  The one where they’d barely survived, and hadn’t done so without frost bite claiming toes, fingers, or in some cases whole feet.  The memory was enough to have her forging on, wiggling her frozen toes in her boots in an attempt to get her circulation going.