Trusting the Enemy

Twenty-Four

The explosion was not an accident.

Cory held the charred wires in his hand as he scanned the debris scattered along the shore. He switched his gaze to the lake, especially on the other side. Could someone have been watching from that far away? He doubted it. But to make certain, he brought up the binoculars and scoped the area. Unless the person sat in another boat and had a pair of binoculars, they wouldn't be able to see this far over. Besides, if another boat was anywhere near this cabin, it would have caught his attention.

So then, who could have activated the bomb? It had to be someone close by. Someone who watched Cory's every move. Someone who made sure Meggie was far enough away not to get hurt. That left one person.

Taylor.

He closed his eyes and rubbed the pounding growing in his forehead. Would she do that? His gut told him she wasn't trying to kill him this time.

Yet, why did the stalker try and hurt Cory instead of Taylor?

He hurried up the hill toward the cabin. Using his binoculars, he scanned the vicinity. Nothing looked out of place. Even from inside the grove of trees he couldn't detect anything. If the stalker had driven up the road, he would have heard the engine.

He lowered the binoculars, his mind replaying everything that had happened. The moose, the way he played with Meggie and the daggers her mother shot him. And especially the time the power went out.

The rainstorm!

He sucked in a breath and looked around again, this time he aimed his focus on the dirt road. Running to the edge of the road, he searched the ground, wondering if he'd see another pair of tire tracks.

Once he spotted them, he stopped. His heart sank. The thunder and the howling wind that night had covered up the sound of a truck. By the look of the fresh tracks, they'd had a visitor.

He growled and fisted his hands. They were not safe. They needed to get out of here.

Now!

Cory bolted up the porch steps and hurried inside the cabin. He glanced around to make sure all the curtains were closed. They were. It was then when the aroma of frying bacon and cooked waffles attacked his empty stomach and made it growl.

In the front room, Meggie sat near the television watching cartoons. Still in her pajamas and her feet curled under her, she appeared as cozy as he'd ever seen her. His heart softened.

He must protect Taylor, but now he had to guard his daughter. He wanted to guard them with his life.

He swung his gaze to the kitchen. Also in bare feet, Taylor stood beside the counter adding batter to the waffle maker wearing only a man's shirt and an apron – attire that didn't hide her long, slender legs. This was exactly what a man wanted to see every morning. Would his dream of having a loving wife and daughter ever come true?

Since neither Meggie nor Taylor had heard him enter, he closed the door and stepped softly into the kitchen. Taylor hummed a familiar love song. He grinned. Could she be thinking about last night? He hadn't forgotten the stirring moments on the bearskin rug and anticipated when they could finish it.

But not here in this cabin. Somewhere safe.

He walked behind her and slipped his arms around her waist. She jumped, but didn't make a noise. Her head turned toward him and a wide smile stretched across her mouth.

"Good morning," he said, before dipping his head to taste her lips.

She sighed and melted against him. This would have been wonderful if they didn't have a stalker after them.