His shoulder throbbed, making him dizzy with the pain. He couldn’t head to the signal jammer. He’d return to Audrey and give her a real gun to protect herself. And hopefully, she could pop his joint back into place while he passed out.

Chapter Nine

Audrey paced the cabin. She’d managed to choke down a can of cold pork and beans with canned pears for dessert. Adrenaline had faded, and now the chill air sapped her energy. Add to that pregnancy-exhaustion hormones and she was yawning in a perpetual loop. Forty-five minutes ago, she couldn’t imagine sleeping, but now, she had no idea how she would manage to stay awake until Xavier returned.

So she paced, talking to the baby, or maybe she was muttering because she was falling apart. She wasn’t quite sure. But really, after the night she’d had so far, a mental breakdown was fully justified.

She reached the front window and pivoted on her heel, turning too fast. Dizziness swamped her. She swayed on her feet.

It was unlike her to lose her balance so easily, but nothing was normal tonight. She fixed her gaze on a thick log beam. She took a deep breath to steady herself.

Rain pounded on the roof and wind rattled the shutters. She pulled the blanket tighter around herself. She’d keep walking to generate heat and stay awake. But no more fast turns. She placed her hand on her belly. “Your daddy is coming back for us,” she whispered. “He’s going to turn off the signal jammer and call for help. An hour, maybe two, and helicopters will swoop in. We’ll be rescued.”

But could helicopters fly in this storm?

Probably not.

When hikers were trapped in the mountains due to weather, search and rescue was often grounded until the storm abated. Black Hawks might be better equipped to fly at night and in a storm, but the basic physics of flight in bad weather remained the same. And this storm was a nasty one. The lake and lodge were nestled in the western foothills of Mt. Olympus. There were no taller peaks between the lodge and the Pacific Ocean to redirect or disperse the storm.

This was Mother Nature in all her Pacific Northwest January wrath.

The back door rattled, and she jolted, then twirled to face the door, again moving too fast, but this time keeping her feet. Was Xavier back already?

She took a few silent steps toward the door.

It rattled again. The knob turned, but the dead bolt prevented it from opening.

She froze, fear pulling the blood from her head and sending it straight to her belly. Someone was out there, and it wasn’t Xavier. He would have knocked, using the pattern he’d chosen.