Dark Curves (Dangerous Curves Book 6) Read Online Free PDF Page B

past few hours, and she was ready to move.
    Shay knelt down, rolled him over on to his stomach. She lifted his cut and t-shirt, and sure enough, she found his gun. All these idiots carried, and she’d have laid money that this man with the hard face and harder eyes was no exception.
    She tucked the gun against the small of her back, moved on to his pockets. She found the knife, and – jackpot! – she found his cell. Quickly, she checked it: full battery, which was awesome. No bars, which was not. She’d known that reception was going to be sketchy out this far, but she’d never intended to call the cops from the cabin, anyway. Her plan was to haul ass as far and fast as she could, then call when she felt safer. She’d check the bars as she hiked and as soon as she had a line to the world, she’d get help.
    For now, she pocketed the knife and the phone, then leaned back on her heels to look at him again. She told herself that it was to make sure that he was still out cold… but that wasn’t the whole truth.
    What a shame this man was a violent, murderous, one-percenter, MC dickhead. Because this man was exactly her type, so long as you didn’t look past the physical. He was taller than her – crucially important, and not so easy to find – and broad and strong. His accent had been warm and southern, and she’d liked the gentle drawl that he’d brought to his harsh words. Also, she liked blond men, and she was an absolute sucker for guys with beards.
    His beard brought out those cold blue eyes, brought out his sculpted cheekbones, brought out his curved, sexy mouth. Yeah, that dark-blond facial scruff gave him an edge, made him look darker and more dangerous and as much as she had no use for darkness or danger in her life, thank you very much, she couldn’t deny that the guy was hot.
    Too bad he was everything that she feared and despised in a man.
    Also? The bastard had made her cook. She hated cooking.
    She sighed again, maybe with a bit of regret this time, got back to her feet. She needed to pack a bag, and she needed to pack well and fast. No more time or brain power could be wasted staring at this guy’s incredible ass, and corded forearms, and large hands, and rippling biceps.
    Nope. Time to focus.
    Moving quickly now, she grabbed the small black backpack that had been sitting next to the door. It was empty, but no biggie. She put the knife in it, then opened the cupboard and took every single granola bar from it. She took the buns off the counter and raided the fridge too, took the cheese, fruit, sliced meats and eight bottles of water.
    She bolted down the hall to the bathroom and snatched the first-aid kit from under the sink. It was only OK – bandages and wraps, anti-bacterial cream, gauze, a thermometer – but it was better than nothing. Finally, she took all the matches that she could get her hands on from the jar on the mantel above the fireplace in the living room, and grabbed two flashlights and extra batteries.
    In less than three minutes, Shay had her coat, hat and gloves on, had her scarf and his scarf wrapped around her neck and face, and had moved the gun and phone to the coat pockets. She threw on the backpack, opened the door, turned to give him one last look.
    Yeah, hot for damn sure. But what an asshole.
    She stepped outside, her hand on the gun, waited a second to make sure that the cabin wasn’t being watched. When nothing happened, she shut the door behind her and adjusted the backpack. Turned right and started walking through the dense trees; started walking towards what she hoped was help, a warm room, and safety.
    She couldn’t have been more wrong.
    **
    About forty minutes later, Shay paused to catch her breath. She wasn’t in bad shape – kickboxing five days a week kept her fit, after all – but hiking in the Rockies was almost depressingly hard work. There were no paths out here, so she’d spent an insane amount of time scrambling up steep hills slippery with snow and