Page 1 of Snowed In with her Mountain Men
CAMRYN
The knock at the door was loud, insistent, and well after darkness had swallowed the little cabin. It was an angry knock. The frustrated banging of someone who’d tried knocking a half-dozen times already, only they hadn’t.
It was also the first knock I’d ever had at my cabin door.
For that reason, fear surged through me.
“W—Who is it?”
My ass tingled as I stood up from the uncomfortable wooden chair I’d been sitting in for the past hour and a half.
The words on my laptop’s glowing screen were far too few, for that length of time.
I should have a dozen or so paragraphs by now, maybe even a chapter.
Instead, I had gibberish; the startled result of my fingers dragging across the keys.
“It’s ME.”
The voice was low. Gravelly. Absolutely furious.
“Me?” I croaked, my fear rising. “Who’s m—”
The door exploded inward, slamming against the wall so hard it rattled the ancient iron hinges. Splinters flew. The little fire I had going danced wildly, fed by all new oxygen.
“Where’s the RENT!?”
A cold rush of air swept through the cabin, reinstating the goosebumps I’d tried to drive away with my meager fire.
Silhouetted in the doorway was a man I instantly recognized.
I’d only seen him twice, however; once when I’d put down the deposit, and the other when he’d shown me the place. But I’d never seen him this angry.
“I’m… I’m sorry if I’m late with—”
The man ignored me and leapt forward, storming his way through the cabin. He moved with fury and purpose, turning things over as if he owned the place. Which, technically, I suppose he did.
“Mr. Pelham!” I shouted. “What are you—”
The words died in my throat as a hand shot out and impacted my shoulder. The biggest asshole of all landlords shoved me hard, spilling me to the floor on the way to his new goal: the little bag on the table that served as my pocketbook.
“No! Wait—”
“No more waiting!” the man growled. “Three weeks I’ve been waiting for your next check! Three weeks since you were supposed to drive into town and mail it out!”
Violently, he upended my bag. The contents spilled out everywhere, scattering across the table as I shakily stood up.
“STOP!” I shouted, leaning against the wall. “You can’t just—”
A small wad of bills caught his greedy eye. Moving like a viper, he snatched it up.
“No, let me write you a check!” I pleaded, as he shoved the last of my actual cash into his pocket. “I’ll do it right now. I’ll give you—”
“Two months!” he growled, shaking his fist. “You’re two months behind!” He pulled the bills back out, fanning them between his fingers before swearing, furiously. It couldn’t be more than forty-five dollars.
“I swear, I’ve got more money coming in,” I blurted. “If you’ll give me until the end of next week—”
But my belligerent landlord had already stopped listening. He was too busy scanning the tiny cabin, taking stock of everything I had. Obviously, I didn’t have much. But when his eyes returned to the table, they suddenly lit up.
NO!
I knew what was about to happen, and rushed to stop him. It happened anyway. Scooping up my laptop, he swept it from the table so violently the power cord popped from the wall and whipped me in the face.
Fuck!
My hands clapped instinctively over my ruined cheek. Ignoring the pain I scrambled forward, even as he headed for the door.
“I’m keeping this,” my landlord growled, stopping to shake my laptop like a prize. “Maybe you’ll get it back once you’ve paid me everything you owe me.” He grunted in contemplation, then curled his lip. “Or maybe I’ll just sell it. Depending on how much I can get—”
“NO!”
I rushed him, grabbing the arm holding the laptop with both hands. All my work! Everything I’d done!
“Please—”
He tried jerking his arm away, but I held fast. I was hanging on him now.
“You can’t just—”
The man jerked again, this time so savagely I couldn’t hold on. But neither could he. The sudden change in momentum as my hands fell away caused his arm to swing wide, his grubby fingers spreading open. Together, we watched as my laptop sailed across the cabin…
Nooooo!
… and landed square in the fireplace.
“NO!”
My whole life was in that computer! My heart lurched as I rushed to save it, scrambling across the rough wooden floor on my hands and knees. Overruling every last ounce of self-preservation, I reached deep into the firebox. Instantly I recoiled, realizing my mistake.
Pain bloomed in my brain, as searingly hot and intense as the flames now curling over the edges of my laptop’s plastic case. Crying, screaming, I tried reaching out again. This time, a hairy hand closed over mine.
“Let it burn.”
The words were gruff and callous, the voice laced with a grim, almost cruel satisfaction. I struggled against my landlord’s grasp, as the fire crackled. My laptop sizzled. The plastic bubbled and popped.
“Maybe now you’ll know I mean business,” the man taunted against my ear. A fat arm snaked around my waist as he pulled me tighter against his body. The stink of beer on his hot, stale breath was strong enough to make me gag.
“And if you don’t have the rent by the time I come back…” he threatened menacingly, “well, we’ll just have to see what else—”
The arm squeezing my waist coiled even tighter for a brief moment — so tightly I nearly threw up. And then, just as quickly and invasively as it slid in there, the arm was gone.
And so was my landlord.
Except for his screaming.