Freya’s stomach twisted. Clearly Hunt didn’t like what he’d encountered out there.
Chapter Six
Freya folded her arms across her chest to hide her trembling hands, but not before Hunt saw.
Hell, he wasn’t feeling all that easy right now either. Animals died, sure. But he’d lay good odds that this one hadn’t died of natural causes.
He shook his head to dispel the image in his mind, not wanting to dwell over it longer than necessary, even as his inner alarms were blaring.
Aries had come across the dead animal. When Hunt called his dog off it and crouched in the deep snow to examine it, he caught a whiff of its fur. Something chemical and all wrong for nature.
“I think I’m going to take a hot shower.” Freya’s announcement couldn’t come at a more perfect time.
“Good idea. Do you need anything?”
“No, I got it. Thanks.” She sent another look at him, a question lingering in her expression.
He offered a smile which she returned, even though it didn’t extend to her eyes.
After she went into the bathroom, he waited for the sound of the water. As soon as he heard it running, he snatched his phone from his pocket. A glance at his screen showed him enough bars to make the call he’d been putting off.
He positioned himself at the mantel with half an ear listening for Freya while the phone rang three times in his other ear.
When the familiar voice answered, “Sullivan,” Hunt’s words were already pushing past his lips.
“It’s Hunt Cason.”
“Cason. What’s going on?” Laughter and revelry sounded in the background, which cut off a second later as Penn Sullivan, captain of the Xtreme Ops team, found a more private place to talk.
“I’d like to hear about Cora and the baby, but I don’t have much time. Last night on the way up Bell’s Pass, I found a woman face-down in the snow. She has no recollection of what happened.”
“Is she all right now?”
“Besides some holes in her memory, I think so.”
“Did you call the police?”
“Not yet. I wanted to run this past you first. I suspect there’s more to her story than just a woman lost in the snow. She might be one of the victims of trafficking you deal with a lot.”
“Fuck. All right, give me all the details.”
Hunt strained to listen for the shower, relieved it trickled on. “She says her name is Freya. No last name given. She’s five-nine, about a hundred fifty pounds, brown hair, dark brown eyes.”
“Any distinguishing marks or tattoos?”
“No.”
“You’re sure?”
His mind roamed over her pale flesh clad in only panties and bra. “Positive.”
“I’ll run this through the system and see what we find.”
“I was hoping you’d say that.”
“Cason, she speaks English, right? Not Russian?”
Hunt fixed his stare on the door leading to the bathroom. Could she be snowing him over with a faked accent? He shook his head. “I don’t think she’s Russian. No one can wake from being unconscious and half-dead and fake an American accent.”
“Good point. I only ask because we’ve seen a lot of activity from the Russian mafia in the past couple years. They like selling women. Where are you now, Cason?”
“I’m staying in a cabin on the mountain. On vacation.”
Penn grunted. “Doesn’t sound like you’re on vacation if you’re rescuing women. I’ll be in touch as soon as I find anything out.”
“I appreciate it, man. If you have any trouble reaching me, the reception might be poor. Just keep trying. In the event that you need to reach me, call the dispatcher. They know where to find me.”
“Will do.”
“Give my best to your family.”
A smile entered his voice. “I will. Talk soon, Cason.”
Hunt lowered the phone from his ear and stared at the bathroom door. With that out of the way, he could focus on his other find—the rabbit. It was so disturbing because of the condition in which he’d found it. Lying a few paces from the wood pile with no visible signs of what had killed it except that chemical smell.
He knew when someone or something died of exposure, and that rabbit died another way. He couldn’t quite shake the smell of it. The acrid scent wafting off the fur might be some kind of fertilizer or poison meant to keep vermin out of the cabin. The rabbit might have gotten into it. Later, when the storm broke, he’d have a look around the foundation and see if he found any such substance.
He also didn’t like how distracted by the animal Aries had been, as if he detected a scent that had him going back and sniffing for more and more. Aries was well trained. The best of the K-9 unit. He never wavered from the course Hunt set him on. Even as a puppy, he’d shown the most promise when the trainers selected puppies from the litter as possible future rescue dogs.
Aries didn’t get sidetracked or fixate on any scent but that of a human in need of help. Yet Hunt had to call him off that rabbit three times, and only when he’d disposed of it under a branch and piled a few logs on top of it did Aries leave it.
Hunt scrubbed a hand over his face and glanced at the dog. Aries had returned to his bed to lie in front of the fire, looking as if his only care in the world was to dry off after being in the storm.
The shower shut off. A rush hit Hunt as he pictured Freya stepping out, water streaming down her long legs, reaching for a towel.
Hunt closed his eyes in an attempt to block the mental image, but it was too late.
His body reacted. His heart rate increasing…his cock hardening.
Hell, there was no escape from her either. Every corner he turned, he was bombarded by the hint of apple that seemed to linger to her skin.
Adjusting his fly, he found himself listening too hard and was forced to consider his action. Why was he waiting for her to cry out so he could storm in there and rescue her? She was a grown woman, quite capable of showering without getting into trouble.
He swung his head to stare out the window on the opposite wall. The snow was coming down at a slant now, mixed with rain. Dammit, would he ever be able to safely get her down the mountain to the clinic before he did something stupid, like ask her to stay for the holidays?
The thought no sooner entered his head than it blossomed, grew roots and stretched across the barren field of his emotions. All too easily he pictured laughing and drinking hot cocoa over games of Monopoly. Of late-night talks in front of a fire.
Of pressing his dick against the round globes of her ass…cupping her breasts from behind…
With a groan, he readjusted his hard cock to a more comfortable position behind his fly and dropped down to the floor.
When Freya emerged from the bathroom, Hunt was already fifty pushups in and heading toward his usual eighty. Her feet, clad in his socks, came to a stop just on the edge of his vision, and she made a noise in her throat that had his gut clenching with more desire.
She wasn’t even trying to be sexy. Or even cute. She just was both those things without trying.
Her footsteps didn’t move away from him. She was standing there watching him.
God, why did that fuck with his libido even more?