Page 1 of Solid as Steele
1
The body lying on the front porch wasn’t included in Mackenzie Steele’s vacation home rental.
But there he was. Out front of her rustic cabin in the Oregon High Desert as she peeked out the front door.
A large, broad-shouldered man. His back to her. His legs curled up. Wearing dirty and torn athletic pants and a navy blue sweatshirt stretched tightly over his muscular back. Blood caked in his deep brown hair, and he looked like he’d traveled a distance on foot, reached her porch, and dropped.
Unmoving.
Was he dead?
Now what?Her coffee was only starting to brew. How could a girl think after only four hours of sleep and no java?
So what should she do?Yeah, what?
She was alone in this desert cabin sitting on one-hundred-fifty private acres and bordering government land for miles and miles. Her only company included deer, coyotes, and other small animals.
If this guy was alive, she couldn’t risk talking to him. Not yet. Not while unprotected.
She closed and locked the door without a sound then backed up to the bedroom she’d chosen for her stay. Her gun safe sat on the floor where she’d dropped it last night after she arrived in the dark. With shaky fingers she tapped in the combo. The door popped open, the click like a trumpet siren to warn the man of her actions.
Stop. Just your imagination.The safe opening had actually been quiet. The most important thing—she had a weapon and could protect herself while checking to see how severely the guy was hurt.
She shed her pj’s, put on jeans and a T-shirt, then clipped the holster on her belt and shrugged into a zip-front sweatshirt to hide the gun. She might be in a desert, but overnight low temperatures hovered around freezing, and she also needed it for warmth.
Heart thumping in her chest, she strode over the wood floors to the rough wood door and cracked it open to poke her head out.
The sun, a magnificent red ball of fire, rose over mountains in the distance, and the breathtaking red and orange striations of the Painted Hills in the foreground took her attention. For only a moment. Gorgeous, but if she stopped to enjoy God’s colors radiating across the sky and barren land this morning instead of paying attention to the man, she could lose her life.
He hadn’t moved. Not one bit.
She took a breath.
“Hello,” she called out.
No movement. Nothing.
“Hey you,” she said louder.
No response.
Fine.She had to get closer. Check his vitals.
She inched forward. Caught sight of his chest moving.Okay, good. He’s alive.But obviously injured.
“Sir,” she said. “Are you okay?”
No answer.
She moved even closer, standing over him now. One more attempt to get him to move via a voice command.
Failed.
She squatted, put a hand on his shoulder to shake him.
Flash.
He came awake. His hand clamping onto her wrist. He flipped her over his body and pinned her on the rough worn floorboards with a forearm to her throat.
