Page 3 of Snowed In with her Mountain Men
“Oh, fuckthis.”
The guy couldn’t have been more than forty, but the intense hatred in his expression made him look far older. He was short and squat, greasy and ugly.
And he had her by the arm.
Neither of them saw me until I surged forward and grabbed him by the collar. When I squeezed the flesh of his neck to pull him off her, he screamed like a little girl.
“She’s bleeding,” Oakley noted.
The little blonde who’d been clinging to this guy’s leg was crying, screaming and bleeding. It was all I needed to see.
WHAM!
It was always funny; how comically surprised most bullies looked when you finally punched them in the fucking face. I didn’t know who this asshole was, or where he’d come from. But I was more than happy to be his new dentist.
Wham! Wham! Wham!
“Ryder!”
Oakley’s voice floated in from somewhere, but I couldn’t hear it. Or at least, I pretended not to hear it for a few more punches.
“RYDER, STOP!”
I paused to look up for a moment. Oakley had her in his arms. She was clinging to him desperately, still crying, still bleeding. The blood on her face was the deciding factor.
WHAM!
I dropped my fist a few more times into the guy’s face, for personal reasons, before finally letting him go. Even dazed, he was smart enough to immediately scramble away. Still clutching his ruined nose, the asshole disappeared through the doorway and into the blowing snow. The roar of his truck’s engine told the rest of the tale.
“Jesus,” swore Oakley. “You’re going to be picking teeth out of your fist again!”
My hand was red and swollen, but my hand didn’t matter right now. What mattered was her. The poor thing sobbing in Oakley’s arms was five-foot nothing, her pretty, heart-shaped face streaked with blood and tears. Her long, probably beautiful blonde hair was all matted against it. Somewhere beneath that, a pair of stark blue eyes shifted wildly back and forth between us.
Before any of us could say anything, my nose wrinkled in disgust.
“What’s thatsmell?”
The blonde’s eyes went wide as planets as she twisted her way out of Oakley’s arms. To our surprise she made a dive at the fireplace, reaching her bare arms into the flames.
“WAIT!”
Or at least, almost into the flames.
“Stop, you’ll burn your hands off!”
We caught her just in time, pulling her backwards and away from danger. For some reason she kept struggling against us, beating on our arms with her tiny fists.
“My laptop!” she croaked.
Tears streaked her porcelain face, as her eyes reflected the firelight. And then I saw it. The bubbling, plastic goo of what was once a laptop computer lay melted against the logs and embers of the glowing fireplace. Even as I watched, it bubbled, hissed, and spat.
Striding to a nearby chair that was knocked over, I used one of its legs to fish the laptop out of the fire. It was a lost cause, though.
“She’s bleedingandburned,” said Oakley, examining her hand. “Quick, get me a towel. Something clean.”
I scanned around. Sparse didn’t even begin to describe the place. The single room cabin barely had anything in it, even though it was obvious she’d been here for months.
“I don’t see any—”
