Page 1 of Bound to the Minotaur (Hillcrest Hollow Shifters #2)

Kess

“Come on! Just a couple more miles,” I begged my old car, tapping my fingers nervously against the steering wheel.

Around me, dark trees loomed tall and menacing, their bare branches seeming to lean toward my car as if they meant to snatch it.

Night was falling rapidly beyond the slightly fogged-up windows, and as it got darker, my nerves grew tauter.

I hated driving at night; I hated driving much at all, if I was being honest. It was crazy that I’d even gotten into my car to make this long drive.

Nobody knew that I was doing it; nobody was waiting for me at the end of the ride.

There wasn’t anyone who’d worry if I didn’t arrive in time. It was stupid, but it was necessary.

“Just a couple more miles,” I said again, though I didn’t actually know how much farther it was.

I’d cut away from the highway when a massive pileup was announced along my route on the radio.

My navigation system had assured me that taking some back roads would save me several hours of terrible traffic. Then my navigation system died.

Now, I was somewhere in the middle of rural Iowa, and I had no freaking clue whether I was still on the right track or not.

At this point, I was just hoping for a town to show up so I could gas up my old car, get my oil checked, and ask for directions.

Stopping wasn’t really an option; I had to be in Des Moines by tomorrow afternoon, or I’d miss the job interview I had lined up.

Thinking of the job—which I’d already been assured on the phone was as good as mine—made excited nerves flutter in my stomach.

It was an amazing opportunity, not just because the job was exciting and challenging but also because of the forced relocation halfway across the country.

He wouldn’t be able to find me with a move like that.

Even if he did, I didn’t expect him to put in the effort to follow me there; that wasn’t his style.

I thought that maybe the trees were thinning a little up ahead.

I could see the moon rising in the distance, casting a white glow over everything.

Were those lights I could see? A town, maybe?

The landscape dipped as everything started going downhill, and my car started rolling faster, too fast. I pumped the brakes, my fingers growing tight and slick around the wheel as I struggled to keep control.

This was not good. I’d been scared my engine would die or that I’d get a flat tire or something, not this.

I was still gaining speed as I rolled downhill.

In the distance I definitely saw lights coming from a cluster of houses in the valley.

They were still far away, too far away for help if I didn’t manage to get control.

The car was rolling faster and faster. I fought back the instinctive scream that wanted to rise I my throat. This wasn’t going to end well.

My arms ached from the strain as I fought to keep my accelerating death trap on the narrow strip of asphalt.

I jolted badly through a pothole, nearly flew off the road, but—by some miracle—managed to veer back at the last moment.

Then I was at the bottom of the hill, and—heart pounding, palms sweaty—my car started to climb the next one.

I didn’t dare press on the gas, and it began to slow, then roll back down, bouncing on the road until, finally, I was back at the lowest point between two hills and at a dead stop.

I had never pushed my car into park as fast as I did tonight.

Shaking, I turned off the ignition, and the headlights blinked out, plunging me into darkness.

Had the forest looked creepy before? It was terrifying now, all shadows and gloom, with only a hint of fading light in the far distance.

Nobody had been on this road with me, not for miles; the chances that some good Samaritan would find me were nil. Nobody here to rescue me but me.

I got out of the car slowly, yanking my coat around me against the stiff breeze.

It wasn’t quite winter yet; the last vestiges of autumn still made the forest, in daylight, look brightly colored.

In the dark, it was impossible to see the drifts of brown and yellow leaves.

The cold wind sure made itself known, however, cutting straight through my trendy jacket and into the cozy knitted sweater beneath.

My teeth started clattering almost immediately, and by the time I got to the hood of my car, I was shaking with cold.

Popping the hood, I stared helplessly into the guts of the old clunker, wondering what I even thought this would achieve.

I knew absolutely nothing about cars; I could barely remember the brand, let alone what any of these parts were supposed to do.

Nothing was smoking, and when I inhaled, I got a whiff of oak and pine; nothing burned. That had to be a good sign, right?

Feeling helpless, I returned to the driver’s side and plunked back down in the torn, fake-leather seat.

My phone had been charging slowly for the past hour via a cable and the ancient cigarette-lighter-plug thingy.

It had never been used for anything other than powering my nav or phone, and that had been flaky lately.

Which was why my navigation had died. Please, I begged silently, have a smidgen of power. My only option was to call for help.

My phone warbled as it booted, and I held my breath, eyes glued to the screen.

The battery was hanging in there at fifteen percent; that had to be enough to find a local towing service and make a call.

My thumb felt numb as I swiped it across the screen, but at least I had a signal.

GPS indicated I was closest to a town called Hillcrest Hollow, and there was only one option if I wanted to be helped.

The listing for the towing service was a very plain page, and one look told me it was also the garage and junkyard for this place, an all-in-one kind of thing.

Well, if my car was unfixable, it would be in the right place.

The Pit Stop, how charming. I hoped that was all this was going to be.

I needed to hurry if I wanted to make it to my job interview tomorrow on time.

With my breath stuck in my chest, I waited for the call to go through, each ring making me more and more nervous.

What if they were closed? There were no opening times on their plain web page, just a list of their services and their contact details.

It didn’t even mention who owned the shop or include a logo.

The ringing dragged on so long that I started to think no one was going to answer. Maybe the number was disconnected. Maybe the whole place was abandoned. The thought had just started to bloom into full-fledged panic when the call finally clicked through.

“What?” A deep, rough voice barked into my ear. It wasn’t a question; it sounded like a demand.

“Hi, um, I’m sorry to bother you,” I said quickly, my voice too thin and shaky for my own liking. “My car broke down. I think I’m a few miles outside Hillcrest Hollow. I need a tow... please.”

There was a long pause, and I could almost picture the man on the other end glaring at the phone as if I’d insulted his mother. “We’re closed,” he growled. I flinched as though I’d been struck.

“Please,” I rushed out, swallowing the lump in my throat. “I don’t have anyone else to call. My brakes failed. I’m stuck here in the dark, and—and I’m scared to drive it even a foot farther.”

The silence on the line stretched so long that I thought he’d hung up on me.

I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to hold back the tears that burned at their edges.

The cold seemed to creep deeper into my bones with every second that ticked past. Finally, just as I was about to start sobbing outright, he let out a harsh breath.

“Stay put,” he snapped, and then the line went dead.

I stared at my phone, heart hammering, the call screen blinking back to the home screen with a pathetic finality.

He hadn’t said how long he’d be. Hadn’t even said he was definitely coming at all.

Maybe he was just getting rid of me. Maybe I’d be stuck here until morning.

I panicked anew when I realized I hadn’t even told him what side of Hillcrest Hollow I was on—north, south. .. How would he know?

The wind kicked up around my little car, rattling the dried leaves along the road in sharp, scratchy bursts.

I tucked my hands into my armpits and hunched into myself, trying to preserve what little warmth I had.

Every sound—the creak of the trees, the distant howl of some animal—made my heart leap into my throat.

Minutes dragged by, maybe hours. I lost track. I could barely feel my feet anymore. I was starting to wonder if I should try walking to the distant lights I'd seen earlier, when a faint glow broke over the crest of the hill ahead.

The rumble of an engine followed—loud and mechanical—and it wasn’t long before the truck came into view.

It was huge, ugly, and ancient. Rust ate away at the corners, the headlights flickered as if they might die at any second, and the battered body rattled with every dip in the road.

The tow rig on the back looked just as bad, its chains clanking like haunted bells.

But none of that mattered. Relief flooded through me so intensely that my knees buckled slightly.

The truck growled to a stop a few feet away, and the driver’s door swung open with a screech.

A man climbed out, big and broad-shouldered, his heavy boots crunching over the gravel.

Even in the dim, failing light, I could see the smudges of grease on his worn coveralls, the slight rip in the knee of his pants, and the way his black hair stuck up in messy tufts, like he'd raked his hands through it one too many times.

He scowled as he approached, and somehow, the surly expression didn’t diminish him—it made him look even more impressive.

His brown eyes, sharp and wary, caught the thin moonlight and turned almost gold for a moment.

He moved like someone used to heavy lifting, with a kind of effortless power, and my heart gave a ridiculous flutter, despite everything.

This was my rescuer: grumpy, rough, probably wishing he were anywhere else—but he had come. He didn’t say a word at first, just jerked his chin toward my car like I was wasting time. I scrambled to follow him, almost tripping over my own feet in my rush.

Up close, he smelled faintly of oil and something earthy, like fresh-cut wood or rain on dry ground. His coveralls clung to his broad back as he crouched down to peer under the front of my car, the thick muscles of his shoulders and arms flexing beneath the thin, worn fabric.

I tried not to stare. I really, really did. But my eyes had a mind of their own, trailing down the strong line of his back to where the material pulled tight over his very nice, very firm-looking butt. Heat rushed up my neck and into my cheeks before I could even think of looking away.

Of course, that’s exactly when he looked up. Our eyes met—his brown gaze sharp and unreadable in the dark—and I jerked my head away so fast, I nearly gave myself whiplash. Mortification burned through me, and I fumbled to pretend I'd been inspecting a spot on the hood instead.

A low, rough sound—something between a snort and a grunt—escaped him. I didn’t dare look at him again, but I could feel his amusement hanging in the cold air between us. “Brakes are shot,” he said gruffly, as if the moment hadn’t happened at all. “Could’ve got yourself killed.”

I swallowed hard. “I know,” I mumbled, hugging myself tighter against the chill.

“I didn’t mean to—it just...happened.” And now I wondered how much it was going to cost to get them fixed.

I could see his bill eating into my survival budget already.

How much would I have left to rent a hotel room until I could find an apartment?

Would I have enough to pay the first month’s rent?

This venture was already beginning to crumble.

Maybe my father didn’t need to chase me down; maybe he knew I’d be forced to return.

He gave the car a final once-over, then straightened up with a smoothness that shouldn’t have been possible for a guy his size. He towered over me, his presence so solid and overwhelming that for a moment, I forgot how to breathe.

“You’re lucky I was still at the shop,” he muttered, jerking his thumb toward the idling tow truck.

“Get your stuff. I’ll haul it back.” There was no warmth in his voice, but there was something else tucked into the rough edges—something steadier, something that made the fear inside me loosen just a little.

I nodded, too flustered to say anything else, and stumbled back to my car to grab my overnight bag.

Behind me, I heard the clank and rattle of chains as he got to work hitching up my poor car for the tow.

Maybe he didn’t want to help. Maybe he was the grumpiest man I’d ever met.

But he had come. And for now, that was enough.