‘Why do you have so many?’ Her decision to blindly trust this stranger suddenly seemed like a very bad idea. Who needed that many weapons to hunt an animal?

Exasperated, Tony spun around. ‘What I use depends on what I’m hunting. Sometimes I use a bow, sometimes a rifle, sometimes a muzzleloader. Sometimes I hunt bear, sometimes elk or deer, sometimes something else. I keep them all up here, secure, so they don’t get into the wrong hands. Are you finished with your twenty questions now?’

Addis gulped back the important one that sprang to the tip of her tongue: What do you use to hunt people? But she figured she had her answer with the three weapons he set down on the floor before reaching back in and grabbing ammo.

‘How many of those do you need?’

His hand hovered in mid-air as he peered over his shoulder and fixed her with his steady stare. ‘Enough to get the job done.’ The coldness that seeped into his voice sent shivers racing along her skin. He closed the safe, reset the panel, replaced the wolf photo, and then brushed past her as he stepped into the small restroom off the hallway where he opened a medicine cabinet and grabbed a first-aid kit before emptying most of the rest of the contents in with the rest of the plethora of stuff.

Finished there, he headed back to the kitchen with Addis practically glued to his heels. From the counter, he opened a medium-sized insulated cooler and set it down in front of the refrigerator where he grabbed several bottles of water, some type of lunch meat, and on the very top, he secured a plastic container filled with bread.

Snagging a blanket off the back of a chair, he added it to the pile he’d set on the kitchen table. Then, hands on hips, he swept his gaze around, probably trying to determine what he might’ve forgotten.

‘Were you hunting when you found us?’

‘Actually, I was tracking…’ A curly wave of hair fell into his eyes when he shook his head. ‘Never mind. It’s not important. What’s important is that I came across you and your friend when I did.’

An onslaught of tears threatened to spill over when a picture of Emerson being tracked by a crazed killer replaced that of the cute little animal Addis envisioned had been injured by Tony. An explosion of fiery pain in her chest robbed her of breath. When she could speak again, she said, ‘I’m going—’