The Protector (Game of Chance, #1)

She was scared to death at first, thinking maybe he’d attack. But instead, he simply joined her, walking slowly several feet away. Every time she stopped, too tired and cold to take another step, he was there. Encouraging her. She didn’t know where she was going, but she followed the dog because she had no other choice, really.

He was extremely skinny, with a few small scars on his face, but he wouldn’t come closer to her no matter how much she cajoled and sweet-talked the thing. And now that she was alive and warming up, she couldn’t stop thinking about him.

Where was he? Was he okay? Was he cold?

That was a stupid question. Of course he was cold. There was a freaking blizzard outside.

Carlise looked over at Riggs. His mouth was open a little, and he was snoring lightly. He’d fallen asleep.

Standing, she looked around and picked up two of what looked like the oldest blankets she could find. She really hoped Riggs wouldn’t be mad when he woke up and realized what she’d done.

She walked back to the door, took a deep breath, and opened it.

Once again, the cold seemed to blow right through her, but she couldn’t in good conscience leave the dog to fend for himself. He’d saved her life. The least she could do was try to help him.

Looking around, she didn’t see any sign of the dog. Of course, she couldn’t see more than a few feet from the door because of the dark and the snow.

A noise to her right caught her attention. Carlise turned and saw a dark shape at the end of the porch. The dog had wedged himself behind a tall stack of wood. Her heart nearly broke as she took a step toward him, and he whimpered.

“Thank goodness you’re here. I’m not going to hurt you. I’d invite you in, but I don’t think you’d come inside anyway, even though it’s much warmer. But I brought you some blankets. They’ll help keep you warm.”

She kept her voice low and even as she went to her knees. She moved slowly, shivering as she pushed the blankets toward the dog. He backed up as far as he could get and trembled as he stared at her.

Carlise wanted to kill whoever had owned this dog. He’d obviously been abused. She felt an affinity with the creature. She continued to murmur, reassuring him that she wasn’t going to hurt him, that he was safe, thanking him for rescuing her, for bringing her to this cabin.

Eventually, she got the blankets close enough to the dog that he could reach them. Then she backed up. “I’ll be right back,” she told him before heading into the cabin.

She was still shivering, but she couldn’t rest until she’d taken care of the dog.

She went into the small kitchen and began to open cabinets. Thrilled with how much food she found—and relieved that she likely wouldn’t be putting a burden on Riggs with her presence—she found a large plastic bowl and emptied two cans of shredded chicken, a can of carrots, a can of green beans, and a can of chickpeas inside before stirring it all together. Then she got another bowl and filled it with water before heading back to the front door.

Carlise looked over at Riggs, who was still sleeping. She frowned. She didn’t know the man, but it seemed odd to her that he’d fallen asleep so easily after inviting a stranger into his home, sick or not.

Shrugging, she headed back outside and kneeled once more on the wood planks of the porch. She put the bowls down and scooted them as close as she could to the dog. She was pleased to see he’d dragged the blankets behind the logs and had obviously scrunched them around himself as best he could while she was inside.

“Good boy,” she said softly. “I bet it feels much better to have some warm blankets around you, huh? I brought you some food. And water, although I’m guessing the water will freeze pretty quickly, so you should drink it soon. And don’t eat too fast, as it’ll make you throw up. I’ll be back in the morning to bring you more. You look like you need all the calories you can get. I promise to look after you, since you looked after me when I needed it most.”

She wanted to stay there, wanted to hug the dog. Watch to make sure he ate and drank, but she hadn’t put her coat on in her haste to help the animal, and her fingers were quickly going numb.

Praying the dog would be okay, Carlise scooted backward. “I’ll see you in the morning, yeah? Please be okay. Please.”

Then she turned, tears in her eyes, and headed back inside.

It was silly, but Carlise couldn’t help but turn the lock on the door. It was highly unlikely anyone would show up at the cabin with the intent to do her or Riggs harm, but she was from the city, and locking her door was as natural as breathing.

Not to mention, Tommy could be out there. The chances of him knowing where she was or even getting to her when there was a raging blizzard outside, were slim to none, but old habits were hard to break. There was no way she was staying in any house without a locked door.

She made her way back to the fire, not hungry in the least. Her first concern was getting warm. She’d worry about everything else later.



“Where is she? The bitch must’ve left town. I know she did. She thinks she’s so fucking sneaky, but she’s wrong. She’ll never get away! I just have to be patient. I just have to wait. She’ll slip up. She’s too stupid not to. Not nearly as smart as she thinks she is!”

The words were fast, bitter, as the pacing resumed, back and forth, over and over—and Carlise’s phone went straight to voice mail. Again.

“You think you can hide from me? I’m going to find you—and you’ll regret everything!”

Ideas. Plans. Plans on how to find Carlise . . . beginning to form. The bitch would get a few more days to show herself, then alternative plans would have to be made.

And if that happened, Carlise would suffer so much worse than she had already.

“I’ll find you. There’s nowhere you can go to get away from me!” This time, the words were firm, angry, and spoken without any doubt whatsoever.





Chapter Three


“No! Bob, duck! Shit, it’s gonna blow!”

Carlise sighed and rolled off the couch, standing slowly in a tired daze.

It was late—or early, depending on how she looked at it. Pitch black outside, sometime after midnight during her third evening in the cabin. And since that first night, Riggs’s illness had only gotten worse.

Throughout today, he’d seemed delirious from his fever, mumbling frequently in his sleep. She was certain now that he’d already been sick before going out into the storm, but being out there in the cold couldn’t have done him any favors.

The night she’d arrived—after taking care of the dog, changing into a pair of sweats she’d found in the dresser, and warming up by the fire—she’d tried to wake him, but he’d been completely zonked on the couch. It felt weird to be in a stranger’s house. She wasn’t even sure if he remembered she was there. Hungry, Carlise had fixed herself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. She let Riggs sleep for another hour, then tried to wake him again.

He roused enough to shuffle to the bathroom, then fell facedown on the bed in the corner of the room. Not knowing what else to do, Carlise had covered him up with another of the many soft and fluffy blankets sitting neatly around the cabin.

Eventually, she fell asleep on the couch. She woke up several times throughout the night to hear the wind howling outside the windows. Hearing the storm made her even more thankful that Riggs, and the dog, had found her.

Yesterday, Carlise had spent most of her time trying to get Riggs to eat and drink something, encouraging him to swallow some Tylenol, helping him to the bathroom, and attempting to befriend the dog who was still hunkered down in the blankets on the front porch. Once more, she’d slept on the couch, startling awake with every little sound outside and from the man on the bed.

It was almost surreal that two days ago she’d nearly died, and now she was living in a stranger’s house, taking care of him while he tossed and turned with a fever.

She’d been sleeping in fits again this evening, waking up because she was in a strange place, because of the storm . . . because she wanted to check on Riggs. She didn’t know him, hadn’t talked to him much at all, but for some reason, she felt responsible for his well-being.

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