Free Her Own Best Enemy (The Remnants, Book 1) by Cynthia Justlin Page A

anticipation that fisted in her stomach and sped through her heart.
    Her aching feet pushed her into a run. Which cabin? Where to start?
    “Grace.”
    Keith’s shout brought her up short. She turned to look at him and her eyes stuttered across his own shadowed ones then slid to his grim mouth, which could have been chiseled in granite for the emotion lacking between the thin lines of his lips.
    “You can’t just start barging into people’s cabins.”
    He was right, of course.
    A fact that irritated her almost as much as the smoldering look he’d given her back on the trail. She refused to think sexual chemistry could even be a possibility between them. A smile, a tease, hazel eyes filled with longing and desire...none of those things changed Keith’s fraudulent heart.
    She followed him to Phantom Ranch’s lobby where Keith summoned the owner.
    The portly man appeared behind the desk, his black hair and red skin hinting at a Native American heritage. “How can I help you?”
    Grace clutched the counter, her fingertips digging into the scarred wood. “I’m looking for my son and his father. I believe they’re guests here.”
    The owner shook his hair out of his eyes. “Name?”
    “Um, Mark Stevens.”
    His dark eyes squinted at the logbook on his desk. “I’m sorry. He’s not registered here.”
    Her heart plummeted to her stomach. No. She couldn’t be wrong. She’d wasted an entire day...
    She blinked to clear the fuzz crowding her vision, but fatigue and dehydration caused nausea to swirl up from her stomach.
    Keith’s strong hand splayed across her back. From the echo that reverberated in her brain came his sharp, no-nonsense voice.
    “It’s possible he’s registered under another name. There’s an issue of...ah...custody here and apparently the father took the boy on an unauthorized trip. She’s just trying to bring him home. Honey, do you have Ryker’s picture?”
    Honey? Startled at the endearment, her gaze snapped to Keith’s. He shot her a reassuring smile and she shook off her unease with a nod as she turned to dig Ryker’s photo out of her backpack.
    She slid it across to the owner. “He’s...eight,” she said with a crack in her voice.
    The man nodded and rubbed his crooked nose. “I do recognize him. He was traveling with a man, I’d say he was in his late thirties. Never did get his name since he didn’t have a reservation. Paid a week’s lodging in cash for cabin three.”
    Cabin three.
    As soon as the words were out of the man’s mouth, Grace dropped her backpack and reeled for the door.
    “Grace, wait!”
    Keith’s sharp command didn’t slow her down. He couldn’t possibly understand she couldn’t wait another minute to see her son.
     
     
    It was empty.
    Keith clenched his fist around the key he’d gotten off the owner and surveyed the barren cabin with growing irritation.
    They’d hiked away most of the day. And the damn room was empty.
    Grace turned circles in the middle of the room, pressing a fist to her mouth.
    “We must have the wrong room.” Desperation clogged her voice. Her eyes widened, fear and hope mingling in their cloudy green depths. “The owner said cabin three, right?” she asked. “This—this must not be the right cabin.”
    She rushed past him.
    “No, Grace.” He turned to grab her arm but she shook him off and ran onto the tiny porch.
    She traced the number beside the door.
    “Room three.” She blinked. “Room three.” Her face crumbled, tears spiking her bottom lashes. “But the owner said...”
    He fisted his hands at his side, itching to...do something. Smash the flimsy knotty pine wall. Shout in frustration. Comfort her.
    No way, not comfort her. What did he know about comfort?
    He took a quick inventory of the room’s offerings. A pair of bunk beds along one wall with a small dresser and what looked like a closet on opposite ends, a miniature kitchenette behind him, and a door off to his far right that had to lead to a