Page 37 of Rescued By the Mountain Man Cowboy
I’m sitting in the center of Madi’s couch with her to my right, holding my hand. Gabe is standing next to her, and Luke’s standing to my left. All four of us stare at the basic cardboard box on the coffee table with a post office sticker with no return address, somehow.
Only this address and my name.
How the hell did they trace me to Madi and Gabe’s?
“Babe, you’re shaking,” Madison says, reaching behind us for the decorative throw blanket and resting it over my shoulders.
I know the action is being done, but I don’t feel any of it. I’m numb, staring at a box, playing every possible scenario of what’s inside.
“Gabe,” Luke speaks up. “Got latex gloves?”
“Good idea,” Gabe says, walking away.
“No one else touch it,” Luke instructs. “Just Gabe grabbed it from outside?”
“Yeah,” Madi responds. “He brought it in and set it down. The minute we saw whose name was on it, we left it alone.”
“Good,” Luke says firmly, arms crossed.
His legs are only in my peripheral, set apart, strong, alert. I don’t have to look up to feel the protective energy vibrating off him.
“Here you go.” Gabe returns, passing Luke a pair of gloves.
Both put on a pair.
Luke kneels between the coffee table and couch right next to me. I’m still staring at the thing in front of us. That is, until I feel his stare. I finally break sight with the box and look to my left, where Luke’s face is closer than I thought.
His hand rests on my bouncing knee, grounding me. “Whatever this is,” he says, “we’ll handle it. Together. All of us. You’re not alone, Anna.”
My heart, that’s been racing violently against my sternum and ribs, slows slightly. I take a proper breath and exhale deeply.
“That’s it,” his deep rasp is so low, meant for only my ears. “Good girl.”
My eyes widen as a wave of warmth runs up my legs and spine. That…was unexpected. My heart hammers for a different reason now, but I ignore it and compose my reaction. The squeeze of his hand on my knee tells me he totally noticed my reaction to those two words.
“Gabe,” he says, releasing my eyes. “I’m gonna open it. I want you on standby.” They stare at each other, having a silent conversation that goes right over my head.
Gabe nods.
Luke’s attention is back on me. “Would you listen and keep your eyes closed if I asked?”
I raise my brow.
He grunts. “Didn’t think so.”
Madison coughs to cover up her laugh. I squeeze her hand, and she returns the gesture while I hold my breath as Lukecarefully uses the small knife from his pocket switchblade to lift the flaps.
Please don’t be a head. Or a dead animal. Or body part. Or blood of any kind.
The minute it’s opened, we all stare, the room grows still and thick with tension. On top are countless photos.
Of my apartment, wrecked.
My car’s seats, ripped into with a knife.
Luke removes picture after picture, setting them aside on the coffee table. Then his hand stills, holding an image of my parents. The photographer is outside their Connecticut backyard, and my parents, through their sliding glass door, are sitting in the family room together.
My heart lodges in my throat as I fight the urge to scream and sob. I cover my mouth, fighting emotion. Madison’s hold on my hand grows tighter. I feel eyes on me, but I can’t look away. The one under the current picture now has me in a chokehold.
