the buzzing in his ears wouldn’t go away, and the night started to close in on him. Caleb hung on to the railing, fighting the faint. One step at a time, he followed the porch to the front door, the hold on his consciousness beginning to slip.
As he raised his fist to knock on the door, he cracked his right arm against the jamb. The pain that shot through him was more than he could bear. Almost instantly he collapsed.
Chapter Two
A flash of lightning illuminated Shannon Garrett’s shadowy kitchen, followed quickly by the boom of thunder. Turning from the stove where she stirred the soup that was to be her dinner, she glanced through the window over the sink. Rain battered the diamond-shaped panes, blotting out her view. The wind outside howled like a wounded animal.
A strange prickly feeling came over her. This was going to be one hell of a storm, she thought. Thank heavens for propane tanks and oil lamps. It might be days before her electricity came back on.
She swung back to the stove and turned off the burner. The delicious smell of her homemade chicken soup wafted through the cabin, but she’d lost interest in eating. Suddenly, being alone, miles from civilization, didn’t seem like such a good idea. The storm and the dark were eerie. Shadows lurked in the corners of her small log cabin, making it feel claustrophobic, no longer the refuge it had been the past three years.
“Don’t be ridiculous, Shannon.”
The sound of her voice made her feel a little better. She was being silly. More for something to do than out of hunger, she took an oversize mug from the cupboard next to the sink and began to ladle soup into it.
A loud thump outside startled her. She paused to listen. A tree branch falling? When no other sound penetrated the howl of the storm, she went back to her soup.
Another loud bump made her heart rise to her throat. She stood absolutely still, head cocked, listening to the too-human sound of the wind groaning in the trees. Lightning illuminated the room like a strobe while thunder drowned out all other sounds. The silence that followed was broken by another skin-tingling groan. The door rattled as if something heavy had fallen against it.
Shannon put down the ladle, then opened a drawer and took out two large flashlights. Listening intently, she walked slowly to the front door. She wished it had a peephole. But then, without a porch light, she wouldn’t be able to see who it was anyway.
A flashlight in each hand, Shannon forced herself to be logical. It wasn’t likely that anyone was out there. The cabin was miles from her closest neighbor, even more miles from the main road. The few people who knew where she lived didn’t casually drop in on her. The noises that had spooked her were probably just those of a raccoon seeking shelter from the storm.
Still, she had to be smart here. This part of the Santa Cruz Mountains was remote enough to hide all kinds of criminal activity. It would be naive to ignore the facts. She turned on one of the flashlights.
Another crash against the door made her jump.
“Who is it?” Her voice sounded pathetically shaky.
“Open the door…need to…”
It was a man’s voice, and Shannon moved closer to the door. “Who’s out there? What do you want?”
Silence.
She held her breath. It was stupid to assume the man who’d answered her call had just gone away. The voice had been barely audible, but the plea had been clear. She’d have to be made of stone to ignore it.
Holding one flashlight over her head like a club, Shannon eased the door open slowly. She shone the other light on what looked like a large pile of wet rags on her front porch. The clump of fabric moved, the weak beam of the flashlight revealing a dark-haired man who lay on his side. His face was pale, his brows drawn together. His jaw was tight, as if he was gritting his teeth.
Keeping the light on him, Shannon moved onto the porch. “Are you all right? What happened to you?”
From the looks of him the man was far from all right. It was perhaps a silly question under the circumstances, but then, Shannon had never been in this situation before.
Using his left hand, he pushed himself to a sitting position. “Landslide,” he said, his voice as deep and dark as the night. He looked up at her with eyes the color of blue ice. Under several days’ growth of beard, his face was hard and drawn with pain. “Won’t hurt you…promise.”
Making what she suspected was a very foolish decision, Shannon set both flashlights on a table just inside the door, then reached down to help him up. He flinched when she touched his upper right arm.
Wondering if the flinch was involuntary or just a means of stalling, Shannon looked around cautiously. Was someone else out there? When lightning lit up the area around the cabin, all she saw were trees and her Jeep. No other vehicles.
“Are you alone?” Would he tell her if he wasn’t? Shannon thought dryly.
“Yeah.”
“How did you get here?”
He rose to one knee, bracing his hand on the wall for support. “Walked.”
“That must have been some walk.”
A gust of wind blew rain onto the porch, dampening her sweater and jeans. She really had no choice—she couldn’t leave the man out in the rain. Crouching on his left, she used both hands to help him stand. “Let’s get you inside before we both drown. We can discuss the hows and whys later.”
Her visitor leaned heavily on her as she guided him into the cabin. He was big, his body hard and muscular. His clothes were soaked through, and he was shivering. She led him to the couch. “Here, sit down in front of the fire.”
He slumped onto the couch. His eyes met hers for a second, then rolled back in his head as he passed out.
Shannon stared at her unconscious guest. Big and dark, he had a compelling face. Not exactly handsome, yet the kind of face that drew a woman’s attention, making her wonder if he was a saint or a sinner.
A cut at his hairline oozed blood, but a huge lump on his forehead drew her attention. Not wanting to hurt him, she touched it gingerly. No wonder he’d passed out. He probably had a concussion. Standing back, she saw that the rest of his body wasn’t in much better shape than his head.
His face and hands had several bruises and scratches. His black denim jeans were muddy and torn at the knees, as if he’d fallen. His jacket had a tear on the right arm. In short, he looked as if he’d gone through quite an ordeal.
Working as quickly and quietly as possible in the dim light, Shannon gathered the items she figured she’d need. With the help of one of the flashlights, she found the first-aid kit in the cupboard under the bathroom sink. She brought the kit, towels and a washcloth back to the living room and set them on the coffee table. In the kitchen she filled the teapot with bottled water, placed it on the burner and turned on the flame. It heated quickly. Deciding she’d need more light, she took the kitchen lantern and set it next to the one on the coffee table.
She returned to the kitchen and poured the warmed water in a mixing bowl. When she picked up the bowl, the water sloshed
