Chapter One
No one would miss him.
Jack Slade had never felt so alone. He stared up at a small patch of deep-blue
sky surrounded by snow-capped pine trees. The sky felt closer. He was climbing
to meet it, but something weighed him down.
He wasn't ready to go yet.
How odd to discover he wanted to live, just as he was about to die. He started
to laugh, but wound up choking. God, it hurt to breathe. That had him worried.
He'd probably cracked a couple of ribs, but that didn't explain the knife-like
pain in his chest. Exposed to the bitter cold, he wondered how long he could
survive.
Hours?
Would he see another dawn?
The ache in his left leg was gone; at least that part of his body felt blessedly
numb.
Deep in the northern Maine pine woods, Jack was miles from anywhere. Earlier,
he'd cut down a section of hardwood. When the rest of the logging crew left,
he'd stayed on, hoping to get out one more load before quitting for the day.
He'd almost finished when a doe crossed his path.
Startled, he'd swerved to avoid it. For one long sickening moment, the log
skidder had started to tip. Jack tried to right it, but the track was uneven,
covered in a thin layer of ice. The huge mechanical beast went into a slow roll,
finally landing on its side and pinning him underneath.
Luckily a foot of packed snow had cushioned his fall, but there were rocks
buried beneath. He'd struck his head and had been knocked out for a while. Now
he lay trapped.
Ironically, he'd survived street gangs, a rough-and-tumble youth and even a
spell in prison - only to wind up in a primitive forest in Maine. He'd read
somewhere that logging, filled with physical hardships and risks, rated third
from the bottom when it came to optimum occupations.
Maybe he should have aimed higher....
Abby Pierce lingered in her office at the Pierce Sawmill. Her assistant had gone
home. The old post-and-beam building was eerily silent. No screaming saws, no
grinding trucks loading and unloading outside in the lumberyard. No rumbling
masculine voices - one voice in particular, calling her "Miss Abigail," its
owner taunting her with his sinfully blue eyes and a hard enigmatic smile,
undoubtedly intended to put her in her place - wherever that was.
Abby glanced at the clock on the wall. Jack Slade was late, probably working -
or stopped off at the diner flirting with a pretty waitress. For some reason,
women were drawn to his dangerous edge.
But not Abby.
With an impatient sigh, she closed the payroll files. Jack hadn't come in to
pick up his paycheck, and she was tired of waiting for him.
It was New Year's Eve - a time for shedding the past and looking to the future
with new resolve. Lately, Abby's life seemed caught in a holding pattern. She
had a date with Seth Powers that evening. She should go home and change into the
midnight-blue dress she'd purchased for the occasion, but something held her
here. She couldn't leave.
With a frown of irritation, Abby admitted the reason behind her unease - Jack
Slade hadn't checked in yet. Why should she care? Why indeed?
Abby rose hastily, dismissing the notion that Jack, with his dark good looks and
devil-may-care attitude, could mean anything more to her than a thorn in her
side. Like bad news, he'd arrived out of the blue, claiming her brother owed him
a favor. Drew had given him a job, and she'd rued the day ever since. Was it
only two months ago?
It seemed longer.
Nothing in Abby's sheltered life could have prepared her for a man like Jack
Slade. He was everything nice girls like her had been taught to avoid.
Abby stared out the window overlooking the lumberyard and watched the daylight
fade to dusk. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't ignore the parking
space where Jack's logging truck should be. His motorcycle took up the space.
Running her hands up and down her arms, she felt chilled and weary. And worried.
Jack could be hurt, or lost in the woods. It happened to even the most
experienced loggers, and Jack hadn't been around that long. Nevertheless, he
wouldn't thank her for sending out a search party simply because he was a couple
of hours late.
Abby glanced up at the sky. Night was falling, and with it, the temperature.
That settled it.
Taking a deep breath, she walked into her brother's office. "Have you got a
minute?"
Drew looked up from the pile of paperwork spread out on his desk. "I thought
you'd left by now. What's up?"
"It's Jack. All the other men have checked in, but there's no sign of him."
Drew leaned back in his chair. "He's probably just getting in a last load for
the day. I wouldn't worry about Jack, he can take care of himself."
Abby had heard that before, it was little comfort to her now. "But it will be
dark soon." Afraid to reveal her personal interest, she admitted, "I know it
doesn't make any sense. I just have this bad feeling."
He raised an eyebrow. "About Jack?"
She ignored the amusement in his voice. Naturally, Drew was aware of their
mutual dislike. Jack was Drew's friend - not hers. Never hers. From the first
moment they'd met, it had been hate at first sight. Abby couldn't hide her
disapproval and Jack had responded with male derision. To this day, their
working relationship remained awkward.
"Please," she said, putting her reservations aside,
"can you just check on him? Or send someone up there?"
"All right." Drew reached for the topical map - an aerial view of the section of
forest where the logging site was located. "He should be just about here." He
circled a dot on the side of a mountain.
"I'll go have a look around."
Abby looked at the map, aware of how easy it would be to get lost. How long
could a man survive out there?
"I'll come with you," she said on impulse, unwilling to be left behind where she
would worry. About Jack. The knowledge curled around her heart and squeezed.
(Continues...)