Wylde by Jan Irving Page B

Thomas hadn’t seen that before he’d used his father’s gun and then almost gotten himself seriously lost.
She was on the last curve of road leading to her house when her jeep sputtered and died.
    “Well, son of a bitch! ” She got out and opened the hood, seeing steam coming from the engine. It could be any number of things. Her jeep was always breaking down, but she didn’t have the money to fix it.
    She growled to herself, realizing she’d have to walk to her house. Damn it, her feet were sore from working all day, and her head was pounding from the knock she’d taken in the woods. Alec had been right to be surprised to see her working again so soon; she really should have taken a day off, she guessed.
    She let her head fall back and briefly imagined Alec Danvers coming to her rescue in his air-conditioned SUV. She snorted at the picture. “You are never going to be Cinderella, honey, so you walk,” she scolded herself.
    Not seeing any point in putting it off, she slammed the door of her jeep closed, making sure it was locked up. Her feet hurt so much, she thought about taking her shoes off and walking barefoot, but the asphalt was old, like walking on hot pebbles, so she left them on. The faster she got walking, the sooner she got home—not that anyone was waiting for her, but that was the way she liked it, she reminded herself, irritated when she had another vision of Alec’s eyes on her face. She was doing him a favor, not taking him for a one-nighter. Those heartbroken eyes told her he wasn’t the type.
    Something snapped in the woods that ran alongside the road, and her heart gave a little bump. She paused, listening, but heard nothing more. It was very quiet.
    “Naw, nothing to worry about, girl,” she scolded herself. This wasn’t a repeat of the other night, not that she remembered much, other than hitting her head suddenly.
    She lifted her bag higher on her shoulder and continued heading down the road to her TV and a mac and cheese dinner, or maybe Thai with noodles tonight.
    About a half mile from her car, she looked back over her shoulder and saw a branch swaying by the road. There was no wind to speak of, so she felt a cold chill poke her spine. “There’s nothing there!” she muttered. “Don’t be an idiot, Jade.” She’d lived here for years and never seen anything much, except sometimes something got in her garbage, but that was to be expected up here.
    Still, she picked up her pace, almost running now on the road leading to her darkened house. She could just make out the roof peeking out of the bottom of the tall trees surrounding it.
    Behind her, something crashed through the brush—
    J
ADE was running, her breath making little frantic sobs as she raced for her home, forgetting dignity now. Behind her, she could hear the crash of something chasing her through the strip of woods that paralleled the lonely road.
    Suddenly she caught the sound of hard footfalls on tarmac. This isn’t happening, this is bullshit! Anger flared, saving her. Heart thundering, she dug frantically in her bag, grabbing what
she needed and dropping the bag, spinning around—
    “Get back, fucker, or I’ll waste you!” Jade yelled, pointing her gun at her pursuer.
“You’d shoot a peace officer, Jade?” Alec asked, hands up. He was huffing, color bright at the top of his cheeks.
“ Holy…! ” Jade dropped the gun to her side and then paced, muttering to herself. “Turnip brain! Dickwad!”
    “Hey, now, no need to be impolite. You okay?” Alec gently took the gun from her shaking hand, checking it out in experienced hands. “Beretta 92. Eight and a half inches long. Big gun for a woman to carry,” he noted mildly.
    “Give it back!” Jade spat, getting her wind back. “Pumpkin brain!”
Alec’s eyes widened, but instead of being pissed or offended, he looked amused. He had a cut across his cheek, Jade noted, from what looked like whiplash from a branch.
    “Why the hell were you stalkin’