Excerpt of Rooted in Danger by Terry Odell

In the stronger light of the kitchen, she got her first close look at the man. There was something disturbingly familiar about him. She tried to imagine what he'd look like dry, with his dripping wet tendrils of hair restored to their normal state. He stood there, waiting, his questioning brown eyes peeking from under bushy eyebrows. Her grip on the gun tightened and she wrenched it free. "You! What's the deal? My father's double–teaming me now? Sends Mr. Nasty to scare me, and then you're supposed to come to my rescue? Is that it? How dare he? How dare you?" "I don't know what you're talking about. I never saw that bloke before. I told you, my car broke down. Have a heart. It's bloody cold and wet out there. You wouldn't want me to catch my death, would you?" One corner of his mouth turned up. "Why should I care?" she shouted. Leftover grief, full–blown fury, or demonic possession, she couldn't tell. But, totally out of control, she swung the gun at his head.