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Run. Run. Run.

She pulled herself from the muddy river water, swiping wet hair from her eyes. After a quick frantic look behind her, she scrambled up the edge of the riverbank and stumbled toward the dubious protection of the woods. Leaves slapped at her face, branches and twigs scratching her limbs. Her sopping-wet clothes were plastered uncomfortably to her body. Water sluiced from her petite frame, leaving foot-sized puddles in her wake.

Run! Run! Run!

Her head pounded painfully with every step. With every frantic beat of her heart. The pain was so bad she could barely think. Her deepest survival instinct forced her to keep moving. She couldn’t stop. Not until she was safe. Would she ever be safe? The tip of her running shoe that had miraculously stayed on despite her swim down the river snagged a tree root, throwing her off balance. Arms flailing, she managed to grasp a low-hanging tree branch to keep from planting face-first on the forest floor. Staggering like a drunken sailor, she fought to regain her footing.

She needed somewhere to hide. A secure place where they wouldn’t find her. A sob broke free from her tight throat, but she didn’t stop or slow down.

Run! Run! Run!

Towering trees cloaked the sky. The sun was going down fast, the way it always did this late in the day. She’d be encased in darkness soon. That was both a blessing and a curse. But she didn’t fear the wildlife in the woods the way she abhorred the men hot on her trail. She needed to hide.

Certain death awaited if they found her.

Minutes seemed like hours. An hour felt like a lifetime. Her strength waned, and her steps slowed as she searched frantically for a refuge. She couldn’t go much farther. Her head throbbed in earnest now, and her stomach churned from the river water she’d swallowed. It was all she could do not to be sick.

Lord Jesus, help me! Save me!

A deer lifted his head as she stumbled into a clearing. The animal froze, staring at her for a long moment before he turned and leaped gracefully through the brush leaving the flicker of his white tail behind. She pushed forward, blinking in shock when she saw a cabin.

Was it real? Or was it her imagination?

She didn’t trust her mind, her thoughts a terrified blur, but she didn’t stop. She pushed herself toward the structure.

Until she couldn’t take another step. She collapsed on the stairs leading up to the front door. This was it. She couldn’t go any farther. Her cheek rested against the rough wood that felt real enough.

She closed her eyes and prayed for her Almighty Father to hold her close if this was to be her last moment on earth.

Hearing a muffled thump outside the cabin, Regan “Doc” Harmon jumped to his feet and reached for his weapon. Moving swiftly, he pressed his back up against the side of his living room and peered through the window at the woods surrounding his cabin.

He rarely got visitors. At least, two-legged ones. In truth, he preferred the four-legged variety.

At first, he didn’t see anything at all, then his gaze landed on what appeared to be a pile of wet clothing on his front step. Two seconds later, he realized the clothing included a slender woman.

Even then he didn’t immediately move. During his time in Afghanistan, he’d learned not to trust anyone. Women and children included.

But this was Lexington, Kentucky. Not Afghanistan. After a long moment of watching the woman who had not moved, he decided he had to at least figure out if she had a pulse and was breathing.

It would be just his luck a woman had dropped dead on his doorstep.

Cautiously, he opened the front door, still holding his weapon at the ready. “Hey, are ya’ll okay?”

No response. A trap? He noted her clothes were muddy, wet and stained with something that looked suspiciously like blood.

“Lady, can you hear me?” Again, there wasn’t so much as an involuntary flicker of movement.

Stepping onto his porch, he glanced around the clearing to make sure she hadn’t brought company. Seeing nothing alarming, he stepped closer and lowered himself to his haunches to feel for a pulse.

Her skin was cold and clammy. His fingertips picked up the thready beat of her heart, and up close, he could see she was sopping wet from head to toe. It wasn’t raining, so he felt certain she’d been in the Kentucky River.

Had she fallen off a boat? If so, why on earth had she come so far into the woods? The river was over a mile from his cabin.

“Ma’am?” He gently shook her slender shoulder. “Can you sit up?”

Still no response. He checked for her pulse again to reassure himself she was still alive. Satisfied that his mystery woman wasn’t going to spring to her feet to slit his throat, he holstered the gun and used both hands to gently turn her over so he could see her face.