Page 2 of Sanctuary

No one should be here but me.

But what I’m hearing are wheels turning—like the ones on my own cart—and the occasional huff or grunt of effort.

I peek around the tree trunk to see the road, and I realize who it is at the first glimpse of his cart.

Damn it.

What the hell is Aidan doing here?

He’s been operating in this region for years longer than me as a trader, a messenger, and an odd-job man. Del claims he helped out her and Cole several times, but his “help” always comes with a hefty price tag.

He also isn’t picky about the kind of people he works for.

I can’t stand him and avoid him as much as possible. A wave of angry resentment washes over me as I realize the only reason he might be here right now is if he’s trying to do the same supply run as me.

He’s trying to steal my job.

He already has a lock on most of the well-supplied communities in this region. They won’t work with anyone but him. And now he’s trying to snatch away one of my contacts—merely because he can.

I raise my gun as he comes into sight, pushing the cart with obvious effort. He’s obnoxiously good-looking. Tall with a lean kind of strength—not big and bulky. He’s got longish hair that looks gold in sunlight but a light brown on gray days like today. He’s originally from England and still speaks with an accent.

The mere sound of his clever, cultured voice grates on my nerves.

Everything about him does.

Del told me he demanded that I back off on his territory.

Me. Breanna. Back off. As if everything Aidan lays his eyes on belongs to him.

I’ll never back off. Not for him.

Not for any man who demands it of me.

Not anymore.

I click off my safety, fighting the temptation to simply shoot him. The move makes a small sound, but it’s soft. Muted. There’s no way he should have heard it.

He pauses from pushing his cart, wiping sweat off his face like he’s taking a breath. Then, in a move so smooth I’m barely aware of it, he pulls out the pistol he keeps in the holster on his hip and points it directly at me.

Damn it.

I really hate this man.

“Might as well come out, love,” he says after peering into the shadows of the trees for a few seconds. “That hair stands out like a beacon in the gray of those trees.”

I’ve got vibrant red hair that’s grown halfway down my back, since it’s been ages since I’ve had a haircut. It does tend to stand out, but right now I’ve got it pulled tightly into two french braids to keep it out of my way. Surely it’s not as conspicuous as he indicates.

Despite my skepticism, I step out from the shade of the trees, keeping my pistol pointed directly at his chest. He’s got his still aimed at me too.

“What are you doing here?” I ask him, although I already know the answer.

He has a smug little smile that hovers on the corners of his mouth. “I would think that would be obvious.”

“This is my job. They made the arrangement with me.”

“They made the arrangement with me first. I made a deal to take care of it after I completed another job. So you’re the one who stole the job from me.”

I blink, genuinely surprised by this piece of information. The people in the town said nothing about dealing with Aidan. I asked for the wedding dress, and when they offered this job, I negotiated until they also agreed to the sack of flour. “I didn’t know that.”

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