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that was why he never saw the tree branch that knocked him on his back.
    The sudden impact left him breathless. Blinking up at the sky, he struggled to fill his lungs.
    By the time he recovered and picked up his flashlight, which had gone flying, an engine roared to life on the far side of the property.
    The other car. It’d gone beyond the cabin and circled behind, to an area he hadn’t yet reached.
    Isaac almost changed direction. He hated that someone might’ve hurt Claire and would get away with it if he didn’t at least see the car. But if Claire was still alive and needed help, every second could matter.
    The driver was tearing out of the forest as fast as possible, regardless of the damage such rough terrain might cause his vehicle. Isaac spotted a flash of taillights through the trees and wished he could see more, but he wasn’t in the best condition to follow, even if whoever was behind the wheel had been moving more slowly. Blood soaked his shirt, causing the fabric to stick to him. That branch hadn’t only knocked him down, it’d punched a hole in his chest.
    But he might be in good shape compared to Claire. Afraid he was already too late, that she’d been killed as her mother had most likely been killed when they were in high school, he ignored the pain and hurried to the stoop, where he slowly pushed in the door. He wouldn’t have been able to hear her scream so clearly if she hadn’t been close…?.
    Sure enough, there was blood at the entrance. And the door would open only partway…?.
    Something, or someone, lay behind it.

    When Claire came to, it was pitch-black and she was being carried. Where, she couldn’t tell. A man’s muscular chest provided a resting place for her head; one arm supported her back, the other her knees. She had no idea who she was with or where she was at, but she wasn’t frightened because both her surroundings and this person smelled so familiar.
    David’s was the first name she thought of, but she disregarded that guess instantly. Her husband was dead. She’d had to remind herself of that every morning for the past thirteen months and had finally started to believe it, mostly because she felt so empty inside and she’d never felt empty when David was alive. Besides, David had sold insurance; he’d smelled like cologne, the occasional cigar and his briefcase. This man smelled like…soap and fir trees and wood smoke.
    Where had she noticed that scent before?
    With a groan, she lifted her head in an effort to see his face, but it was too dark. They were in the forest. The thick branches overhead blocked even the moon’s glow, but the beam of the flashlight he held in one hand—the hand cradling her legs—showed the ground and confirmed her location. So did the pine needles that threatened to catch in her long, curly hair as they hurried through the trees.
    Why was she in the forest? Who was she with? What had happened?
    Then it came to her. She’d been attacked. At her mother’s studio.
    The man carrying her hadn’t reacted when she first stirred. He was too focused on getting them wherever they were going. But when she screamed and tried to get down, he dropped the flashlight.
    “Shh,” he murmured. “I’ve got you.”
    That was the problem, wasn’t it? “Who are you?”
    “How quickly they forget.”
    The wry humor in his voice gave away his identity. This was Isaac Morgan. Of course. He lived closest. And it was no wonder she’d recognized his scent. During the two-year period when she and David had split up, when he’d attended Boise State and they’d both dated other people and been undecided about their future, she’d had sex with Isaac at least a hundred times. Maybe more. Often enough for her to have formed an addiction to his touch that hadn’t been easy to break. Even after so long, she avoided him if possible; just the sight of him could send a powerful charge through her. The memories were that good.
    She raised a hand to her aching head.