The Eligible Suspect(52)

                Savanna sat on the other side of the truck, a fiery beauty full of temper.

                “Take me home. Now.”

                “Just come inside. I’ll explain everything.”

                “I don’t want to know any more about you. The fact that you just ran from police is already too much.”

                “I talked to the sheriff,” he said.

                “Only because you had to.”

                “Come inside, Savanna. If you still want me to take you home after I explain, I’ll take you.”

                She stared at him, debating.

                He opened the driver’s door, taking the keys with him and surveying the small clearing. She must think he had some redeeming qualities, because she got out and trudged through the snow to the door of the cabin, which was a lot smaller than hers and not as nice.

                Inside, they stomped snow off their boots. The cabin was oddly not chilly. Korbin went to the thermostat and checked the heat. It was set at about seventy degrees.

                Savanna waited in the middle of the room, the rustic kitchen behind her. Light from the front window touched dust in the air. Moose-patterned log furniture in the living room and bulky wood side tables had been chosen by a man. Savanna eyed everything as though ticking off a list of feminine accents she’d add, or maybe things she’d get rid of. But that lasted all of ten seconds. Then she turned her expectant gaze on him.

                Korbin went to the fireplace, crouching and holding his hand out. It felt warm. Someone had turned up the heat and had a fire. They weren’t alone.

                Creaking floorboards brought Korbin up and moving toward the hall. Damen appeared with a pistol. He aimed at Savanna.

                Ignited with rage, Korbin turned and as Damen began to swing the pistol toward him, he knocked Damen’s hand. The gun fired and took a chunk out of the wall.

                Savanna screamed while Korbin took Damen down to the floor. No way was he letting this man get the upper hand on him again. He squeezed Damen’s hand and bashed it and the gun against the wood floor. Wrestling Damen’s kicking legs, he blocked a punch and jabbed his fingers into the other man’s eyes, eliciting a shout from him. The gun fell out of Damen’s hand.

                Korbin grabbed the gun and aimed it at Damen’s head as he climbed to his feet. Damen blinked rapidly and rubbed his eyes, sitting up and trying to see. Swinging his foot, Korbin clocked him in the head, sending him falling backward, unconscious.

                Disarming the pistol, Korbin went into the main room where Savanna crouched behind the kitchen island. Seeing him, she rose. Korbin put the gun on the island and stuffed the magazine into his front pocket. Savanna’s breathing was fast and shallow. Her body trembled.

                “Are you all right?”

                She nodded shakily.

                Korbin brought one of the kitchen chairs into the living room and then went out into the garage, where he found some duct tape and an extension cord.

                Back in the cabin, he saw that Savanna still stood near the kitchen island. She watched as he dragged Damen to the living room and lifted him onto the chair. Damen groaned.

                “What are you doing?”

                She must be in shock or something. She could see what he was doing. “Tying him.”