Page 43 of Mountain Mens' Curvy Obsession

“Are you okay?” he asks, giving me a thorough once-over.

“What just happened?”

He looks at the dead man. I follow his gaze. The bloodied snow hides part of his face, but I can still tell my attacker is young. “I met him earlier. I figured there was something fishy about him, and it looks like my instincts were right.”

“He just… He just tried to—”

“Kill you. Yes”

“And you… you—”

“I killed him, yes.”

His voice trembles slightly. He’s a former Navy SEAL, after all. He’s in peak physical condition, with excellent marksmanship and combat skills aplenty. It was an effortless kill for Chance Hayes, yet it rocked my world.

“You killed him,” I whisper, the horror reaching my very bones.

“Anya, I had to. He was going to kill you.”

“Oh, God…”

“I had no choice,” he says, his hands gently patting me from top to bottom. I wince from the pain when he touches my side. “He hit you, didn’t he?”

“Yes.”

“I heard you pull out with my truck. You should’ve known better than to do something like this,” he reprimands me, but his tone is gentle as he helps me stand up. “This is why we didn’t want you coming to town.”

“I don’t understand…” My voice trails off as the door to the sheriff’s station opens, and out comes the sheriff himself, judging by his uniform and the gold star pinned to his chest.

“What in the ever-living fuck, Chance?” the sheriff blurts out.

He rushes down the stairs and checks the dead guy. No pulse and a puddle of blood spreading beneath him. He furrows his dark brows as he looks up at me, then at Chance.

“I don’t know who he is,” I whisper, my lower lip quivering. Whether it’s from the cold or the fear, I’m not sure. But I do know I’m shaking like a leaf, while my headache ratchets to a higher level.

“You’re safe,” Chance tells me and puts an arm around my shoulders, pulling me close. “I wish I didn’t have to do what I did, Mills.”

“What did you do, exactly?” the sheriff asks as he gets up.

“I had to stop him. He was going to kill her,” Chance says, then points to the cameras mounted above the station’s front door. “Your CCTV will confirm.”

“Who is this guy?”

“You came after me,” I say to Chance, unable to keep up with the conversation as thoughts of my own begin to intrude, mingled with fractured memories, snippets of faces I know but can’t remember. The dead guy is one of them. “I know him… don’t I?”

Sheriff Mills takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. “Chance, talk to me. Who is he?”

“Said his name was Max, but I’m not sure if he was telling the truth. I’ll bet you he’s part of the Sokolov syndicate out of New York.”

“Fucking Bratva?” The sheriff gasps.

“Bratva?” I ask.

“Russian mob,” Chance tells me. “And yes, I came after you, Anya, because I had a feeling you were about to walk into something deadly.”

“Why is the Bratva after me?”

“They killed your brother,” Chance says. “And you have no idea how much danger you’re really in.”

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