Kitabı oku: «Bodyguard Father», sayfa 2
“Of course,” she said, shaking glass off her clothes, out of her hair. “I’m just a little…rattled,” she added, and proved it by trembling from the feet up.
“Stand here for a second,” he said as he handed her her handbag. “Don’t run away.”
He limped back to the truck and grabbed the rifle before pulling his duffel bag from behind the seat. He didn’t know how he was going to get out of here now that both vehicles were wrecked, but he knew he had to. Soon.
She still stood where he’d left her. What was he going to do with her? He couldn’t leave her here alone, could he? He pulled out his pocket watch and checked the time. The minutes kept ticking by.
As he approached, he saw the return of fear in her eyes. Why she should be afraid of him when it was she who had started this mess?
She believes you blew up Elaine Greason.
He moved a few steps toward the house and looked back at her. “Let’s go inside while I come up with plan B.”
She looked anxiously over his shoulder toward the cabin and back again, her gaze straying past the wreck. It appeared she longed to run down the hill screaming at the top of her lungs.
“The snow is beginning to stick,” he said.
“But—”
“Listen. I know you’re Anastasia Ryder, I know you have a husband named Jack, I know you came to find me and that you called someone named Shelby Parker once you followed me back to Ben’s place. I know all this. I know you’ve been stalking me and I know why. So let’s can the scared female act. Thanks to your little escape attempt, I have to figure out how I’m going to get out of here before the cops come. Or worse.”
As she walked toward him, she shrugged off her coat and shook off more glass. “Call me Annie,” she said.
THE FIRST THING Garrett Skye did was tape a square of thick cardboard over the broken pane in the door and sweep up the glass. He did this work efficiently and without fanfare as Annie stood by, still shaken up and disorientated. The stream of cold the hole had allowed to enter the cabin immediately stopped and along with it, some of Annie’s shivers.
Next, he produced a lethal-looking pocketknife and as Annie shrank away from the blade, cut the rope from around her wrists. As she rubbed the reddened skin, he disappeared into the kitchen, reappearing a few moments later with a small clean towel and a bowl of steaming water. He pointed at a chair and she sat down.
“I don’t have a lot of time but I can’t leave you here like this. I’m going to wipe the blood off your face. While I do that, you’re going to talk. Your last call, made minutes before you hiked up my driveway, was to Shelby Parker. Who exactly is she?”
“You looked at my cell phone.”
“Yes.”
What was the use of lying? She said, “Shelby Parker is Elaine Greason’s daughter.”
“Elaine’s daughter? The one who lives in Arizona?”
“That’s the one. She got tired of waiting for the police to find you.”
“So she hired you?”
Annie tried to look like a force to be reckoned with. “I’m sure she’s called the police by now. They’ll be here any minute.”
“You hope,” he said, dousing the cloth with water and moving it across her forehead. “Sure seems to be taking them a long time, though, doesn’t it?” he added as he wrung out the cloth. The water in the bowl turned pink. Annie’s stomach turned over. She wasn’t good with blood, especially her own.
She cried out as he dabbed at her chin. “There’s a piece of glass in there. Stay put.”
He found tweezers in a cabinet and brought them back to the table, where he deftly removed the glass. “I wonder why the sheriff hasn’t shown up?” he mused again as he tossed the glass chip into the waste basket.
She glanced out the big window in front. Snow. Nothing but snow. No cops running to the rescue.
He leaned back and looked at her. “I’ll tell you why. The sheriff’s office doesn’t know my true identity because you didn’t tell them. The whole town of Poplar Gulch thinks my name is Pete Jordan. They believe I’m a professor friend of Ben Miller’s, using his place to recover from knee surgery. I don’t talk a lot, but I’m friendly, ride Ben’s horse on occasion, and pay my bills with cash.”
“But—”
“Your cuts are minor.” He took the bowl and cloth back to the kitchen and returned with a box of bandages and a tube of ointment which he applied with a cotton-tipped stick. The bandages went on next. One near her temple and another on her left cheek. Two over the gash on her chin.
She looked at his face as he worked. He needed a shave. The dark stubble made him look raw, sexy, male. On second thought, perhaps he didn’t need a shave.
She took a steadying breath but all that accomplished was filling her nostrils with his woodsy scent. She was way too aware of him as a man, considering the fact he was a murderer. She’d read about those women who get all emotionally attached to vicious fiends and spend their life trotting back and forth to prison cells for conjugal visits. No, thanks.
“Why didn’t Parker tell you to contact the police when you found me?” he said. “Why contact her?”
Because that’s the way my dad organized it. She wasn’t going to tell him that. Let this guy think she had connections and experience. And a husband if he wanted. The bigger, the better.
He sat on his heels and directed a flashlight into her eyes. Wasn’t it obvious by now her eyes were fine?
“Don’t blink,” he said. “Anything hurt?”
“No.” She stared into his bottomless brown orbs, intrigued by the swirls of burnt sienna until she blinked rapidly and pushed his hand away. Had she really just sat there meekly and let him attend to her wounds, gazing into his eyes like a goof? Maybe she’d been in shock. If so, she was better now and she wanted a little elbow room. She said, “I’m good. Thanks.”
He switched off the flashlight and stood. Perching on the edge of the table, he said, “If Parker wants her mother’s alleged killer brought to justice, why direct her private eye to call her instead of the cops?”
“Alleged?” she said, sitting forward. “Didn’t you kill Elaine Greason?”
He stared at her. “Does it matter? You don’t care if I’m guilty or innocent, right? Just as long as you collect your money. You can’t be a bounty hunter because I was never bonded. Why don’t you have some kind of license or permit? You were carrying concealed. Is that lawful between Nevada and California?”
She ignored his questions because she didn’t really know what he was talking about. Was there a law against a concerned citizen tracking down a wanted killer? Her intention had never been to confront him.
He frowned at her, narrowing those rich, dark eyes in the process.
He said, “You took that picture of me in the truck when I went to see my daughter.”
She nodded as though she knew this was a fact. In truth, she had no idea when or where her father took the picture. But she did know Skye had left a little girl in Reno. In fact, that knowledge had tipped the scales in her mind when it came to looking for him. She had no patience for men who abandoned their children.
“So you know about Megan. You didn’t mention her to the Parker woman, did you?”
“Why would it matter?” she said. “The cops don’t want your daughter.”
“If it’s the cops she has in mind, no,” he said.
“What do you mean?”
“Did you or didn’t you mention Megan on the phone?”
“I don’t remember,” Annie said. Had she?
His gaze turned introspective for a second. Then he took a heavy-looking gold watch from his pocket. He’d looked at the watch in the parking lot of the store. She hadn’t noticed the cover design before, but she did now. The heavy embossing depicted a bridge arcing over a river. He popped it open, checked the time and repocketed the watch.
“Why is it so important?” she asked.
He stood abruptly and walked into the kitchen. His limp was better. When he returned, he carried a length of rope.
“Oh, no, you don’t,” she said, standing. “You are not going to tie me up again. I refuse.”
He spared her a cursory glance. “I’m going to bank the fire,” he said. “It should stay warm until morning. I’d leave you free to move around the cabin, but you’d just follow me.”
“What—”
He picked up the rifle from where it sat against the wall. It had been sitting there when he went to the kitchen and she hadn’t grabbed it and turned it on him. Merciful heavens, she had zero survival instincts. He pointed it at her. “Don’t let my friendly smile fool you, Annie. The last time I escaped I shot a man.”
“Randy Larson.”
“Right. And I liked Randy.” He gestured toward the big heavy chair by the fireplace. “Sit down.”
“And if I don’t?”
“I’ll shoot you.”
“You wouldn’t.”
He strode toward her, any semblance of a smile gone, grim determination settling in his eyes. She scrambled back until she more or less fell into the big chair. For a second she thought of fighting him but abandoned that thought as she caught another glimpse of the rifle. He stooped over her, pinning her to the chair with the sheer volume of his body.
“It’s for your own good,” he said, staring down into her eyes.
“Sure it is,” she said.
Setting the rifle aside, he once again tied a rope around her wrists. The knot wasn’t very tight. Then he knelt and secured her ankles. He used additional knots to secure her to the chair. The effort seemed halfhearted.
He stood when he was finished. “Maybe you should find a new line of work. Something a little less violent.”
“You wish,” she said.
He cracked a smile. Shaking his head, he took the duffel bag into the kitchen. She heard him opening and closing drawers before reappearing. He held a bottle of water.
“It’s too late to untie you and give you something to eat. I’ll help you take a drink.”
“So I’ll have to sit here without a bathroom? Thanks anyway.”
“You’ll get thirsty.”
“I’ll live. I got away once, I can do it again.”
“Suit yourself,” he said as he banked the fire by adjusting the flue and closing the glass door.
Damn. The rest of Shelby Parker’s money was about to saunter down the hill and there wasn’t a thing she could do about it.
Annie mentally apologized to her dead father and his living widow. Sorry about the loan sharks, sorry about being a failure, sorry, sorry, sorry.
Garrett snagged a thick jacket off a hook by the front door and shrugged it on over the leather jacket he still wore. Opening the duffel once again, he dropped in her wallet and cell phone, the camera and her father’s gun.
“Wait a second,” she protested. “Those things are mine.”
“There’s no phone in this cabin. I’ll borrow yours so I can call someone to come get Scio. I didn’t tie you very tight. You should be able to get out of the ropes in an hour or so. All I need is a head start.”
“There’s no need for ropes—”
“Sure there is. You have dollar signs in your eyes. If you’re still tied up in the morning when someone comes to get Scio, try hollering.”
“And the rest?”
“I’m doing you and the world a favor by disarming you.”
“You’re a thief as well as a killer,” she said.
A smile tipped his face from handsome to roguish. He once again knelt by the chair. This time he ran his fingers along her jaw. His touch did something to her, enflamed something inside she’d kept buried. She tried to twist her head away, but couldn’t and it wasn’t because ropes restrained her.
“Goodbye, Anastasia Ryder,” he whispered. His face came close to hers, his warm breath wafted over her skin. The next thing she knew, his lips had connected with hers. For a second she forgot where she was, who he was. Caught up in sensation, she became oblivious to reality.
The man was quite a kisser. Open mouth, warm and wet, gathering her into his passion against her will. Okay, not against her will. A dizzying pulse of sensations went straight to her head, and to her groin.
And then he was standing.
“I suggest you spend the night considering other things you could do with your life,” he said softly, firelight glowing on his skin.
“Because you’ve been so damn successful with yours?”
“Touché.” With a few backward steps he was at the door. He switched on a table lamp. “Do you want me to turn on the radio or the TV?”
“I want you to come over here and untie me, that’s what I want,” she said, struggling against the ropes.
“No can do,” he said, grabbing the rifle again. He opened the door and stepped out into the gathering dark. The door closed quietly behind him.
Watching his retreating form through the big window, she screamed his name as he disappeared into the snow.
Chapter Three
Why hadn’t Shelby Parker called the sheriff? Why wasn’t the place surrounded by floodlights and barking dogs and a SWAT team?
Thirty minutes of struggling accomplished nothing but rope burns. After forty-five minutes, not only had night stolen over the hillside and flooded the house with shadows but Annie’s wrists had finally slipped free of the ropes.
She quickly untied her ankles and, standing, began walking around the room trying to get the feeling back in her feet.
Despite the cold, dark night and the possibility of wildlife, she planned to walk down to the main road and hitch a ride to the sheriff’s station, where she would tell anyone who would listen about Garrett Skye. They could put out an APB. He’d be in jail by morning. He could try sweet-talking the deputies. Try kissing one of them. See how far it got him.
And then she was going to call Shelby Parker and demand the rest of her father’s money. After all, Skye’s location had been verified. It wasn’t her fault he got away.
Okay, it was her fault.
After that, she was going back to her quiet life and the little kids and polite parents who made up ninety-nine percent of the people she came into contact with. And judging from the flood of sexual energy Garrett Skye’s kiss had provoked, it was also time to find a new boyfriend.
Trouble was, she wasn’t good with men. Two boyfriends before, she’d had a fling with a divorced man who, as it turned out, wasn’t actually divorced, a revelation that had left her spoiled for men for a good year. The last boyfriend had had a gambling addiction he hid very well until Annie discovered him using her ATM card without permission.
And now an attraction to a felon. What was wrong with her?
What she needed to find was a nice man, not a dangerous one. Not a man who blew up women, not a man whose destiny seemed to be on a collision course with a life sentence in Nevada State Prison.
After a fruitless search for something sugary to eat, she settled on cold leftover spaghetti and meatballs out of Skye’s refrigerator. Then she searched the cabin for a warm coat. Hers was outside and covered with glass. As a bonus, she also found insulated gloves that almost fit. She took another big knife out of the kitchen drawer. Maybe there were coyotes out there. Maybe even more dangerous beasts roamed the hillside, the two-legged variety.
One more search to find a flashlight and new batteries, strap her small purse across her chest under her coat and she was ready to go. She opened the door. Cold wind slapped her in the face. Looking out at the two inches of new snow covering the rocky, unpredictable hillside and her determination drained. Her flashlight and warm coat were no match for that miserable driveway. She’d have to think of something else.
The horse. She’d take Scio. This time she’d have time to saddle him properly and talk to him in a soothing voice. He wouldn’t be afraid of her this time.
It had stopped snowing but only the faintest of moonlight made its way through the heavy cloud cover. Picking her way carefully, she made her way to the barn.
Scio wasn’t in his stall. He wasn’t in any of the stalls. Apparently, Garrett had taken him, which meant he wasn’t going to call someone to come get the horse. What if she hadn’t been able to get out of the ropes? How long would she have had to stay tied to that chair before someone came looking for her?
Another thought, even more uncomfortable. Why did it come as a surprise that Garrett Skye was untrustworthy? What in the world had she expected from a man like him?
She’d barely had a moment to consider her next move when she heard the sound of a motor. She ran to the barn door in time to see headlights sweep the tops of the trees.
At last! Shelby Parker must have finally retrieved her voice mail and called the sheriff. A car stopped on the other side of the wrecked vehicles still plugging the top of the driveway. Though giddy with relief, Annie waited for a moment to see who emerged from around the wreck. She wasn’t about to get herself into another out-of-the-frying-pan-into-the-fire scenario.
Car doors closed. The silhouette of two men backlit by headlights circled the wreck and met again on Annie’s side. She lifted a foot to step outside the barn.
And then one of them spoke. It wasn’t his words that halted her forward progress, it was the hushed, guttural sound of his voice.
“Looks like Skye had an accident.”
“Maybe he already bought the farm.”
A flashlight briefly flicked over the wreckage and then went out. “I don’t see a body, but the car has Nevada plates. I wonder where Ryder’s daughter is?”
“She’s no match for Skye,” the other said. “By now she’s probably dead and buried under a bush.”
Both of them chuckled.
Annie’s feet froze to the ground. Their chuckles were dry and sarcastic and cut through her like a polar wind. Plus, they knew about her. That meant they knew Shelby Parker, as Annie had told no one else she was coming here. But why weren’t they also looking for her dad? She’d tried to make her message sound like he was with her.
“Go around back, I’ll take the front,” one of the men said. “Remember, don’t shoot to kill, we want Skye alive.”
“What if the girl shows up?”
“If she gets in the way—”
Annie’s feet did an instant thaw as she shrank back inside the barn. Those men were not with the sheriff’s department. What in the world was going on?
She watched from her hidden position as one man slunk past her, stray shafts of moonlight clearly revealing the gun held down by his leg. Unsure what to do next, she all but stopped breathing.
Should she risk leaving the barn?
She couldn’t bring herself to step out into the open so she moved farther into the barn instead. All bravado abandoned her. What she wanted to do was find a dark corner and hunker down like a scared child. She should try to make a run for it. But the night sky was fickle, overcast one minute, moonlit the next. She kept seeing that gun and could almost feel the burning trail of a bullet piercing her spine, the sudden lack of feeling in her legs….
Thank heavens she wasn’t still tied up in the house.
She moved deeper inside until she backed into a ladder and then she climbed. The ladder emptied into the loft with an open hay door through which moonlight shone. The loft was full of straw and what looked like old tarps. She knew she couldn’t use the flashlight. Was the straw deep enough to burrow into? Wait, she had a kitchen knife. She could stab someone.
Before the other one shot her dead?
Caught in an agony of indecision, she approached the hay door, able to see only the night sky from her vantage point. The scene outside looked so peaceful. The moon high, clouds drifting in front of it, snow glittering on the tops of tree boughs.
There was a part of her that felt sure she could explain herself to those two men and hitch a ride out of here once they found Garrett had already left. There was a part of her that wanted this interminable day to be over, that couldn’t quite believe these men were the murderers they sounded like.
They move as though they’ve slithered through the dark a hundred times before. Use your head, Annie.
The voices, when they came again, sounded even closer. She moved toward the edge of the hay door in able to scan the ground. One of the men stood in the open doorway of the cabin, the other stood on the front porch. The cabin light illuminated them both. One was a huge, bald brute, the other shorter with straight dark hair and a twist to his mouth that seemed more sneer than smile. They both wore overcoats and polished shoes and looked as though they’d just stepped off a city sidewalk.
“He’s not in here,” the bald man said from the cabin door.
“He hasn’t been gone long, though. The fire’s still burning in the stove.”
A moment of silence, followed by, “Torch the house. That should cover our bases. I’ll check the barn.”
Annie ran to the ladder. She had to escape the barn right now. If they planned to burn down the house, the barn might be next. Her foot had touched the second rung when she heard one of them holler, “Skye? If you’re in there come on out. There’s no use hiding.” He stepped inside the barn, gun held out in front.
Had he heard her? She stood perfectly still, hoping the shadows hid her foot on the ladder.
“He’s not in the barn,” the man said, his voice softer as though he had turned away to speak.
The other thug moved into view. Thanks to the flaming piece of wood he held in one hand, Annie could see the top of his dark head through the open spaces on the ladder. Apparently he’d taken care of his arson job and brought the means to start another fire. As they continued talking, Annie slowly raised her bottom foot and shifted her weight on the ladder.
And once again fought the desire to announce herself and take her chances.
“Looks like he got away.”
“Burn this place down, too. It’s unlikely he left it, but you never know. Time we start back to Reno.”
“Without Skye? And what about the girl? There’ll be trouble—”
“We’ll stake out the Reno place tomorrow. We’d better get out of here before someone calls the fire department.”
Annie glanced to the hay door which now glowed with light given off by the flaming house next door. She glanced back at the men who both turned and walked out of the barn, one of them still carrying the makeshift torch. Maybe the plan was to let the house fire catch the barn. At the last moment, the flaming wood came sailing back into the barn where it landed against the new bales of hay Garrett had bought that morning. The bales instantly caught fire. Annie raced across the loft.
The men had stopped to look at the car/truck wreck at the top of the drive and she caught herself just in time at the hay door. “Go away,” she muttered, willing them with her desperation to get in their car and drive off before the fire caught the straw in the loft.
And as if hearing her, they threw one last look toward the cabin and barn, then circled the wreck and got in their car. Annie barely heard the slam of doors and the revving of the engine over the increasingly loud roar of the fire.
She raced back to the ladder to find it engulfed. She’d have to jump which would mean a broken leg. Could she crawl to safety with a broken leg? No. She couldn’t jump twenty feet. She needed a rope. She could shimmy down a rope. She had gloves to protect her hands. She began tossing hay, looking for a piece of rope while knowing it was unlikely one would be hidden under loose hay or old tarps. She’d lost the knife somewhere.
Smoke rose in the barn faster than the flames and she doubled over, coughing.
“Annie!”
She straightened up, listening.
The voice came again, louder this time. “Annie! Where are you?”
She ran across the loft to the hay door, shielding her face with her arm. “Up here!” she yelled. Was that Garrett’s voice? But he’d been gone so long….
“I see you,” he yelled.
Annie peered through the smoke. She finally made out a big bay horse and the man astride it. Her heart rate quadrupled as adrenaline pumped through her body.
“Jump,” Garrett called.
Jump? What, like the Lone Ranger from the top of a giant rock onto the willing back of his noble steed, Silver?
What’s your option? Jump now as a human being, wait another moment and jump as a shish kebab.
“Here I come,” she screamed, and taking a few steps back, dashed for the hay door and sailed into the night like a kid plunging into a cool lake on the hottest day of summer.
KEEPING SCIO CLOSE to the burning barn took all Garrett’s concentration. The horse was terrified of the flames and smoke and who could blame him?
Where was Annie? Why didn’t she jump?
He heard her yell something and looked up in time to see her flying through the night air, almost in slow motion, until she landed in his arms and Scio, as though sensing it was okay now to do what common sense had been urging him to do from the beginning, took off down the hill.
It was tense going for a few moments as the horse gave in to his panic, the woman slipped forward on the horse’s neck and Garrett fought to keep one hand on her and the other on the reins. It was dark down among the trees and the footing was uneven. He couldn’t see where they were going and was left to trust the horse’s ability to avoid trees and ditches.
They reached the bottom of the hill in record time. As the land flattened out, the horse began to slow down. Eventually, Garrett was able to pull Annie closer to his chest and wrap an arm around her waist. The awful feeling she was about to slip from his grasp to be trampled underfoot lessened. She held on to the saddle horn, though he saw during flashes of moonlight that she’d also grabbed a healthy handful of Scio’s mane and twisted it through her fingers.
He regained control of the horse before the highway. As the sound of thundering hoofbeats retreated, another noise filled the night air: sirens, in the distance, on their way. He looked through the trees, straining for a glimpse of the top of the mountain. A few feet farther on, they’d cleared all the trees and he was able to reign Scio in. They both turned in the saddle to look back.
The burning house and barn crowned the hill as Ben Miller’s cabin and barn went up in smoke. An explosion followed by high flames announced the fire had spread to the car and the truck. The only thing to be thankful for was that rescue equipment was on the way and the fire wouldn’t engulf the whole hill.
He heard Annie groan. “Are you okay?”
She turned even farther until they were nose to nose. All he could see was the twinkle of ambient light reflected in her eyes. She smelled strongly of smoke.
“Am I okay?” she repeated. “I am so not okay it’s not funny.” And with that she turned back around and started coughing.
Once she’d stopped, he said, “What happened back there?”
“A couple of guys came to see you. They were annoyed you weren’t home so they burned down your house.”
“Shelby Parker’s men?”
“I think so. They knew about me.”
“The police—”
“Trust me, they didn’t call the police.”
He got off the horse, caught Annie as she slid to the ground, got back in the saddle and, lowering a hand, grabbed her arm and helped her swing up behind him. She tucked her hips as close to his as possible and wrapped her arms around him. As they continued on, her head rested against his back though her grip on his torso never loosened.
Scio’s hot breath created a cloud of vapor in the moonlight as his hoofs cracked through the icy snow. Garrett admitted to himself it felt good to have Annie plastered against his back. Too good. To ward off increasingly erotic thoughts, he concentrated on what he should do next.
The first thing was easy—get as far away from the hill as possible. But the horse had had a traumatic time of it and was now carrying two adults. Garrett didn’t dare ask Scio to do more than amble along.
Keeping off the road, they rode for another mile. As they were riding away from town, the sounds of sirens grew fainter. Garrett could think of only one place to go and that was Joanna’s. He could leave Scio with her and from there, Annie Ryder could call her husband for a ride back to Reno.
And he could disappear.
Never to see Megan again? He couldn’t bear to think about his little girl so he put her out of his mind.
Other than a few strings of twinkling Christmas lights around the windows, Joanna’s house was dark. The barn was dimly lit, however. He paused by the big bell she kept on a post outside her house and rang it. When no answering lights went on in the house, he gathered she was gone for the evening and allowed Scio to head for the barn.
Joanna’s horses greeted them with whinnies and curious tosses of their heads as they peered out of their stalls. Garrett rode to the center unsaddling area. He helped Annie dismount before getting off the horse himself. Annie stood right next to him for a moment, knees shaking, though whether it was from riding, fear or injury, he didn’t know.
“Are you hurt?” he asked her, thinking he needed to turn on brighter lights and make sure she wasn’t bleeding anywhere.
She looked up at him, eyes blazing, bandages still stuck to her sooty face in a trio of places. He expected a slap or a tirade or something equally hostile. Instead, she stood on her tiptoes, put both arms around his neck and pulled his head down closer to hers.
“Thank you for coming back for me. You saved my life,” she said, and with that, planted her lips on his. The wild kiss that followed chased away the fire and the night.
She was soft, she was feminine, she was small and she was fierce. When her tongue touched his, his hands slipped down to cup her rear. He almost lifted her off her feet.
Maybe it was what they’d been through together that day, maybe it was the odd circumstances of their getaway, maybe it was the fear of loss and the joy of not being dead. Whatever it was, he was ready to make good on that kiss and tote her off into the hay. Except…
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