Kitabı oku: «The Rookie», sayfa 3

But then she resumed her work, jacking up the car as quickly and efficiently as the numbing tips of her fingers through her gloves would allow.

She’d unloaded the jack and had the hubcap off and a couple of lug nuts loosened, before she realized she had company. Three figures, watching her from the shadows like snow wraiths. And then she understood what was really going on. An icy chill shimmied down her spine.

This wasn’t about bad luck. This was about payback.

She locked the tire iron in her fist before pushing herself to her feet and turning to face David Brown and his two thick-necked jock friends.

“Dr. Livesay.” David’s smile was anything but genuine. “Having some trouble with your car?”

Rachel was oddly strengthened by the knowledge that David felt compelled to have backup when trying to intimidate her.

“I suppose if I check the stem, I’ll find a tiny pebble wedged beneath the cap.” She’d heard of the trick to slowly release air from a tire.

“I wouldn’ know about that.” David’s cheeks were flushed pink, as if he’d just come from inside some nice warm vehicle or building. Or worse. She picked up on the slight slur in his voice. He’d been drinking.

Intoxicated meant unpredictable. Rachel was already at a disadvantage. She needed to keep her head and think more clearly than any of these boys could.

“Then, you stopped to help me change the tire?”

“Looks like you’re doin’ jus’ fine on your own.”

Rachel noticed one of the bigger youths moving toward the rear of her car. She jabbed the air with her tire iron. “Stay put. I want all three of you where I can see you.”

David gestured to his friends and himself. His lips pouted and he took on a wounded expression. “We’re not in your class anymore, Doctor. You can’t give us orders.”

She nodded to the two muscle men, Lance Arnold and Shelton Parrish. “I didn’t kick them out of class. You’re the one who stole that paper. I found an exact duplicate on the Internet.”

David’s chatty drunkenness vanished. In its place she caught a glimpse of temper flashing in his eyes, followed by cold, heartless rationality. He pointed his finger at her and advanced. “Maybe you shouldn’t be such a tough bitch.” Rachel backed up against the car, succumbing to a moment of self-preserving panic. “It’s no wonder the guy who knocked you up didn’t stick around.”

“Get away from me!” When David was within arm’s reach, Rachel jammed the tire iron in the middle of his solar plexus.

David clutched his arms across his stomach, doubled over and coughed. Rachel poked him in the chest, nudging him farther away.

“You stay away from me,” she threatened in as succinct and even a voice as she could manage. “I’m calling the police right now.”

“With what?” David’s cough turned into a laugh as he straightened.

Rachel traced his line of sight and glanced over her shoulder, beyond the roof of her car. Distracted by the vile menace of David’s advance, she hadn’t noticed Lance circle around the front of her car. Her book bag—and the cell phone she kept inside—dangled from one big, meaty fist.

Fear—more chilling than the night around her—attacked her from within, robbing Rachel of her false sense of confidence.

The diversion was the opportunity David needed. He snatched the tire iron from her grasp.

Instinctively, Rachel circled her arms around her belly, shielding the most vital part of her from any harm.

David pointed the tire iron right beneath her chin, using it as a lethal extension of his accusatory finger. “I don’t want back in your lousy class,” he said, laying down his version of the law in unmistakable terms. “I just need you to clear my record so I can stay in school.”

“That’s out of my hands, David.”

“Do it.” Cold, cold iron tapped the end of her chin and she jerked away from its frozen touch. “Do it, or you might have to face worse than a flat tire.”

A frisson of anger worked its way through the chill that rooted her in place. “How dare you threaten me. You’re the one who broke the rules. You’re the one who has to pay the consequences.”

“It’s one…stupid…paper!”

His voice flashed with anger augmented by the liquor that still coursed within him.

Oh God. Rachel shivered against the raised fender of the car, shrinking into herself. What had she done? Why had she argued? Why hadn’t she stayed home?

This morning’s cyptic note burned an incriminating hole in her pocket. Because of her stupid paranoia, she hadn’t seen the real danger headed her way. Now she’d put not just herself but her baby in danger.

“David. Please…” For her baby’s sake, she wasn’t above pleading. “Lance? Shelton…?”

“Is there a problem, Doc?”

Rachel’s heart jumped to her throat and collided with her fear. The dark, low-pitched voice had startled David, as well. It was a voice that brooked no argument, a voice that showed no fear.

It was a voice she would never forget or be able to repay.

Her knight in shining armor stepped from the shadows into the illumination from the streetlamp. Josh Tanner. With his black jacket and jeans, he’d been invisible in the shadows. She knew he was six-three or-four, and his broad shoulders required the extra space of an empty seat on either side of him in her lecture hall. But as he stepped into the light, with his feet braced for a fight, his hands hanging in loose fists at his sides, and his blue eyes dark with some unnamed emotion, he looked bigger and tougher than she’d ever seen him in class.

She hugged her stomach, keeping her baby close in her arms, half afraid to trust in the rescue he promised.

“Lose the tire iron, David,” Josh warned.

David’s gaze darted from Lance to Shelton to Josh. The look he spared Rachel was a mix of hatred and smug triumph. “There’s three of us, Tanner.” David’s challenge dangled in the cold, damp air. “And this isn’t any of your damn business.”

“I’ve made it my business,” Josh answered, unmoved by David’s bravado. “Now, are you going to leave with your face intact, or with a bloody nose? The choice is yours.”

Chapter Three

“Well, David, what’s it gonna be?”

Josh patted his jacket, wishing his gun were strapped to his shoulder instead of locked with his badge in the glove compartment of his truck. He forced his hand back to his side, clenching and relaxing his grip, testing his readiness for an old-fashioned fist-fight.

“Are you as tough as you talk?” David challenged.

If Josh hadn’t made a lonely trek across campus through the frigid midnight air to clear his head and temper after that frustratingly unrevealing party he’d attended, he never would have happened onto the tense situation unraveling before him in the faculty parking lot.

No one would have.

Three taunting drunks cornering a defenseless woman.

Josh breathed in a long, silent, steadying breath. He was about to even up the odds.

“I’m tough enough.”

And smarter, too. He hoped.

He balanced himself over the balls of his feet, making a quick peripheral sweep of the scene, noting the slippery layer of new snow on the asphalt, measuring the distance between him and each of his opponents. The flushed skin and bleary eyes of the linebacker duo and their self-proclaimed leader indicated a dangerous level of alcohol in their bloodstreams, making them slow-witted yet unpredictable threats.

The back room of the off-campus party had been a seller’s market for pot, not meth. Though the marijuana was as illegal as the underage drinkers holding their beers in the main room, he couldn’t do a damn thing about it. His hands were tied with the burden of maintaining his cover. So he’d flirted with a few pretty girls and sipped his own beer.

Unlike Josh, though, Brown and his buddies had been nursing something considerably more potent.

He took special note of the only visible weapon—the tire iron—and how David kept it pointed directly at Rachel Livesay’s pale face.

Despite the liquor, David managed to articulate his underlining meaning with crystal clarity. “We were just having a little chat about a flat tire. Weren’t we, Dr. Livesay?”

The tire iron tapped Rachel’s chin. Her breath stuttered through her teeth.

Screw his good-ole-boy persona.

Nobody, but nobody, threatened a woman on his beat. A pregnant woman, no less. Not on his watch. Undercover or not, it just straight wasn’t going to happen.

Though Rachel’s eyes had swelled with panic, she was smart enough to keep her focus pinned on her immediate threat. “Don’t do this, David,” she pleaded in an urgent yet even voice.

Debating the reason in her words, David’s gaze slipped over to Josh, then to his two muscle-bound sidekicks. Lance and Shelton were more panicked than David by Josh’s unexpected appearance. They were looking to their leader for guidance. Retreat? Attack?

Lance dropped Rachel’s bag onto the hood of the car, prepping himself to either charge or run away. Josh seized on the young men’s hesitation. “Leave now, while you still can.”

Shelton, too, seemed indecisive. “David?”

The tire iron was still too damn close to Rachel for Josh’s peace of mind and pounding pulse. And Brown was no idiot. He could read Josh’s distraction. He probably sensed that Josh’s first priority would be keeping Rachel safe rather than defending himself.

Josh knew the moment David made his decision. The cocky young man’s lips curled into a smug smile. He pointed the tire iron at Josh.

“Show him who’s in charge here.”

“No!” Rachel lunged at David’s arm, but he whipped the tire iron up in front of him like a defensive shield and backed her against the car. Her protest was drowned out by his shrill laughter.

“Get away from her.” It was Josh’s final warning.

“Now, gentlemen,” David commanded.

Like a skewed version of a Dr. Seuss book, Jock One and Jock Two—Lance and Shelton—obeyed their master and attacked like two well-trained guard dogs. Josh had to get his licks in first. Dazed and drunk or not, these two were almost as tall as he was, and at least as stocky. He had to scare them off while he could, before he lost the advantage of clearheaded sobriety to the fatigue that would weaken him in a drag-’em-out fight.

But Lance and Shelton were thinking power instead of endurance. Josh took a step toward Lance, who struck first. Deflecting one meaty fist with his forearm, Josh bent at the waist. With his shoulder he caught the younger man square in the gut and rammed him hard against the front fender of the car.

Shelton was on him next, throwing his considerable weight onto Josh’s shoulders. The propelling force of two men on top of him bent Lance over backward. Jock One conked his head on the windshield and swore. Dazed, he blinked and shook his head, out of the game until the world came back into focus.

Jock Two still had fight in him, though. With the wrenching force of a clothesline tackle, Shelton flung his arm around Josh’s throat.

Josh had quick enough reflexes to duck his chin to his chest and protect his Adam’s apple from a crippling blow. But Shelton’s extra weight pulled him off balance. He stumbled back a couple of steps, heading for the ground and certain vulnerability if the two attackers could get on top of him.

“Stay out of this!” David’s warning drew Josh’s attention as he landed hard on top of Shelton. Rachel had picked up the loose hubcap to use as a weapon. But with the reverberation of two cymbals clashing, David smacked it out of her hands. The dented metal disk hit the snowy pavement and skidded out of sight.

The brief diversion gave Shelton the opportunity to land a solid punch against Josh’s kidneys. Swearing at the bruising pain, Josh refocused his attention and retaliated.

With his hand squeezed into a rock-hard fist that turned his muscular forearm into a battering ram, he jabbed back with his elbow. The first blow hit Shelton’s diaphragm, pushing out his breath on a stifled grunt. The second loosened his grip on Josh’s throat. The third connected with a rib. Shelton released him and tried to scoot away across the slippery asphalt. In milliseconds, Josh was on his knees above him. He spun around and planted his fist in Shelton’s jaw, putting the big kid out of commission.

Josh spared a glance for Rachel as he climbed to his feet. David squared off against him, shoving the professor aside. But her green eyes widened and darted to the right, warning Josh of the threat advancing behind him.

He spun, ducked a swinging fist and kicked out, nailing Lance right in the groin. Jock One’s bloodshot eyes narrowed into slits. His knees buckled and he hit the ground, clutching himself and moaning in pain.

Josh’s breath steamed out on heated clouds in the cold air. Enough of this crap. “Doc—?”

“Josh!”

At Rachel’s shout, he saw the glint of shiny black metal hurtling toward him. He dodged to the side, trading a potentially fatal strike to the head for the stinging smack of iron against the flank of his rib cage. The force of Brown’s glancing blow was enough to knock Josh back a step. His feet tangled with Shelton’s and he tripped in the snow, hitting the parking lot flat on his back.

Josh swore as the initial paralyzing shock gave way to a fiery web of pain that mushroomed through his left side.

“Oh God.” That was Rachel.

“You son of a bitch.” David raised the tire iron to strike again. “Mind your own business!”

A snowball smacked the side of David’s face. His dark eyes widened above his reddened cheek at the unexpected attack, providing enough of a diversion to throw off his aim.

Josh seized the advantage and rolled as the metal club crashed down. The tire iron clanged against the pavement. The unyielding forces of cold iron meeting colder asphalt vibrated through the iron into David’s hands.

David swore. His grip popped open. Josh kicked the weapon aside, sending it clanging beneath Rachel’s car.

“Let’s go.” David wiped his dripping cheek and straightened as he gave the order. His brown eyes promised retribution as he glared down at Josh and back at Rachel, who stood poised with a second wad of snow clutched in her gloved hand. Shelton crawled to his feet and helped Lance, whose stooped posture revealed the pain he was in. “Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go!”

David urged his thugs back into the shadows of the snowy night, while Josh stood and positioned himself closer to Rachel. “I never expected a sweet-talker like you to be so good in a fight, Tanner,” he said. “I’ll have to remember that next time.” Then he dredged up a false smile for Rachel. “We’ll be talking again soon, Professor. Before my hearing.”

Over the sounds of his own labored breathing, Josh heard the crunch of snow beneath hurried footsteps fading as David and his cohorts disappeared. He didn’t plan to wait for them to regroup or gather reinforcements.

He allowed himself only a moment to press his hand against his rib cage to ascertain the extent of his injury. “Ow.” He muttered something cruder beneath his breath at the pain that resonated through swollen tissue. Tender. But nothing sharp stabbed him internally. He was bruised, but not broken.

“Are you all right?”

“Are you all right?”

If his side didn’t ache so much and her fingers didn’t have such a firm, questing grip on his forearm, Josh might have laughed at their simultaneous show of concern for each other. Under the circumstances, though, sparing time for laughter didn’t seem the wisest choice.

He covered her gloved hand with his own, offering a silent reassurance as he made another visual sweep of the darkness beyond the circle of illumination the streetlight provided. Convinced the threat had departed—for the time being, at least—he finally looked down at Rachel. Though her verdant eyes, rich as a dark pine forest, still danced with lingering sparks of fear and adrenaline, her golden skin seemed unnaturally pale.

Josh quickly shifted position so that he clutched her by both arms, right above the elbows. He hunkered down to her height, looking her straight in the eye. “Are you sure you’re okay?” She nodded, but splayed her fingers over her pregnant belly and rubbed tiny circles there. Josh dropped his gaze to the fluent movement of her hands, immediately looking for signs of trauma to her abdomen. “The baby?”

Rachel’s shoulders lifted with a sigh. A cleansing breath formed a foggy barrier between them, reminding Josh of the dangerously low temperature. “She’s dealing with this better than I am. But she won’t stop tossing and turning.”

Feeling somewhat relieved, Josh straightened. “The stress and cold can’t be good for it.”

“For her.” Rachel twisted her arms out of Josh’s hold. She pulled her shoulders back into a stiff posture as she walked to the hood of the car to retrieve her bag.

Josh grinned at the indignant reprimand. Good. If Dr. Livesay had the energy to chastise him, she wasn’t seriously hurt. “Her mom’s a nice shot,” he said, complimenting her snowball-tossing skills. “I owe you one. Thanks.”

He knelt beside the car and pulled the tire iron from underneath.

“I’d say we’re even. I’m not sure what I would have done if you hadn’t shown up.” She scrunched her arms together in front of her and shivered, though whether it was the cold air or the memory of David Brown’s threats that shook her, Josh couldn’t tell. “He could have killed you.”

“He didn’t.”

Purposely keeping his breathing shallow to avoid undue pressure against his sore ribs, he bent over and released the jack. He lowered the flat tire to the pavement and began disassembling the jack.

“What are you doing?” Though he had his back to her, Josh could hear the suspicious accusation in her voice.

“Packing up.” He straightened with the jack in one hand and the tire iron in the other. “Where are your keys?”

“In my pocket. What do you mean, you’re packing up? I still have to get home tonight.” She followed him around to the trunk of her car. “I’m not expecting you to stay around and change my flat, Mr. Tanner. Clearly, you’ve done more than I’d expect from any student. But—”

“I’ll drive you home tonight, then come back and change it for you in the morning.”

“I can change it myself.”

Dammit! Josh whirled around, his patience frayed by her stubborn independence and his own instinct for survival. “It’s two degrees out here. Wind chill puts the temperature below zero. Who knows how long you’ve already been outside. And Brown and his buddies might come back any minute—with more friends to back him up.”

“I doubt that. They’ve spent their bravado for the night. I think they’re smart enough to know not to try something that foolish again.”

“Did it feel foolish to you, Doc?” Josh leaned in. Rachel Livesay was a fairly tall woman. Her tipped-up chin met his shoulder. But few people could match his height or brawn. Especially when someone told him he was doing the wrong thing.

Again.

“You should have been scared,” he warned her. “I was.”

“Of course I was scared.” She lowered her challenging expression until she was staring at the front of his jacket. Her gaze darted from shoulder to shoulder, as if gauging the breadth of him up close like this and realizing for the first time just how big a man he was. “I think under different circumstances, David and I could have had a rational discussion about his grievances. With a little encouragement—”

“The only encouragement those hotheads need tonight is another beer in their bellies.”

She flattened her hand at the top of her protruding stomach in an instinctively protective gesture, and retreated a step. Damn. Now he was scaring her. He tried to inject some reason into his voice. “Quite frankly, Doc, my fingers are growing numb and my side aches. I’m not leaving you here by yourself, and I’m not in the best of shape to change a tire or take those three on again. If you won’t accept a ride for yourself, think about your baby’s welfare.”

That wide, green gaze was studying him again. The tiniest of frowns dimpled her forehead. “You are hurt.”

In the space of three short sentences her tone had changed from lecturing him as a professor to debating her convictions as a therapist to expressing her concern in a soft, throaty voice that was all female compassion.

His aching body lurched in unwitting response to that gentle tone. Beneath Rachel Livesay’s cool, professional demeanor, she was incredibly feminine.

Maybe it was her blossoming mothering instincts that had her running her gloved fingers along the ridge of his jaw, tilting his face from side to side to inspect for damage. But if he didn’t know any better, he’d say the cool professor was checking him out. Why else would her hand linger on the jut of his chin? Why else would those rich green eyes be looking so deeply into his own?

She pulled away and raised her two fingers in a victory sign.

“How many fingers am I holding up?”

Then again, he could just be imagining that the attraction sparking between them was mutual.

Josh turned his face up toward the falling snow and exhaled a painful, impatient breath. “Two.”

Typically, he prided himself on his ability to read a woman’s moods. He had a mother and sister and three sisters-in-law who were as different in looks and personality as were any of the women he’d dated.

But Rachel Livesay was as confusing and unpredictable as they came. “I’ve had some advanced training in first aid.”

“I’m okay.” He looked down into her uptilted face and saw all three facets of her personality reflected there. Professor. Counselor. Woman.

David Brown and his juvenile thugs he could handle. But Rachel Livesay’s mood swings? Maybe her hormones were out of whack. Maybe his were.

Maybe by their next class he’d have her figured out. After a long talk with his mother. Or his sister. Or anyone who could explain his fascination with a woman he had no business being fascinated with.

Right now, though, he’d settle for getting her someplace warm and safe so his conscience could have a rest. “Would you just unlock your trunk? Please.”

She answered by pressing the release button on her key chain. The trunk popped open. Josh loaded the equipment inside and closed it. “Are you sure I don’t need to get you to an emergency room?”

“I’m sure.” His injury would prompt questions that might lead to a police report. And Josh couldn’t afford that kind of attention while he was on this assignment. “It’s just a bruise. I can doctor it myself.”

“What about the police?”

When he looked down, her wide, full lips were pinched at the corners, as if she’d tried to hold the words back but couldn’t. Explaining tonight’s brawl to cops who didn’t know he was undercover would prove pretty tricky, as well. Still, he wasn’t the only one who’d been threatened tonight.

“That’s up to you.”

The pinched look relaxed, though she didn’t smile. “I think I’d rather just forget about this for now.”

He didn’t stop to question a mature woman’s motive for avoiding the cops. “Then, let’s go.”

He slipped his hand beneath her elbow and steered her across the slippery asphalt to the sidewalk. After a moment’s hesitation, she fell into step beside him, hurrying to keep up with the brisk pace he set. “How far are we going, Mr. Tanner?”

“My truck’s a block away. Where do you live?”

“Just south of the Plaza. About twenty minutes from here.”

“I’ll have you home in no time.”

“Uh—” Her breath came in quick, short puffs in the night air as she seemed to rethink whatever she’d been about to say. “Good.”

Josh immediately shortened his stride. She didn’t sound good. “Don’t worry. My heater works fast.”

When they hit the light from the next streetlamp, Josh looked down. Rachel’s chin quivered as her clenched teeth chattered. The north wind had already numbed his cheeks, and the tips of his ears and nose. Rachel must be freezing. He slipped his arm around her shoulders and snugged her close to his uninjured side, letting his big frame block the wind while offering what body heat he could.

For an instant he felt her lean in to him, turning her face and her belly toward the warmth and shelter he provided. But two steps later, she stopped and pulled away. “This doesn’t feel right. I’m sorry. I should just call a cab.”

“That’s crazy. My truck’s right there.” He pointed to the red Dodge Ram parked fewer than twenty feet away.

The wind caught a strand of her sable hair and whipped it across her face. She shook her head as she reached up and tucked the errant lock beneath the brim of her red cap. “You don’t understand. You can’t give me a ride home.”

“Why not?” Did every authority figure on the planet hold him to standards he had to fight to measure up to? “You’re a hell of a lot safer with me than you were on your own or with David Brown.”

“It’s not that, Mr. Tanner.” She patted the air with an open hand, placating his defensive outburst with a rational explanation. “You’re a student of mine. It wouldn’t be proper to accept a favor from you. It could be misconstrued as fraternization.”

“Fraternization?” Was she for real? It was past midnight. He was a cop. It was his job to protect innocent people, including headstrong college professors whose sense of decorum could kick in at the damnedest times. He grabbed her hand and pulled her toward his truck. “I’m not asking for any favors in return. I’m just doing my—”

“Mr. Tanner!” She planted her boots on the sidewalk and jerked her hand from his.

Josh pulled himself up short. His frustration seeped out on a sigh of understanding. Of course. To Rachel Livesay, he wasn’t a cop. He wasn’t even Josh Taylor.

He was the smart-mouthed charmer who sat in the second row of her Community Psychology class. Her student. Her younger, less mature, more impulsive student.

“Sorry, Doc.” Josh scanned the eerie snowfall that shut out the silent campus around them before shrugging his shoulders and curving his mouth into a wry version of a smile. She didn’t have to know his real identity to accept a logical argument. “My ma taught me to always see a lady home to her front door. Not just out of respect for her family, but because it’s just not as safe a world as it used to be. Do you see anyone else around here? You shouldn’t be alone on campus in the middle of the night.” He hoped he could sweet-talk her into letting him drive her home. “Look. After seeing those kids go after you, I’m not going to get any sleep tonight until I know you’re safely locked inside your own place.”

Rachel rubbed her hands up and down her arms, the chill or nerves or both evident in the shaking tips of her fingers. “Your mother is to be commended for instilling those values in you. But—”

“Next time you can call Campus Security to walk you to your car. Tonight I’m driving you home.” He raised his hands in a gesture of conciliation. “Please.”

She paused to consider his argument. “No sleep at all, huh?”

“Not a wink.”

“I suppose it would take forever to get a cab here this time of night. And I do have to go to the bathroom.”

He’d heard that frequent pit stops were a necessity for pregnant women. Maybe he could win this argument, after all. “We’ll stop at the first facility that’s open and well-lighted. I promise.”

“I’ve already detained you long enough.” She shook her head again and sighed, as if leaning toward a decision that went against her better judgment.

Flattering.

Josh pushed the sarcastic thought aside and waited as patiently as he could for her to speak. This was about her safety, not his ego.

“All right. I’ll take that ride—”

Finally! He’d never had to work this hard to get a woman to share his company before—be it for business or pleasure or practicality. Josh pulled out his keys and unlocked the door.

“But don’t think this is earning you any extra credit, Mr. Tanner.”

Would it kill her to call him Josh instead of using that fake name over and over? But as he opened the door and helped her inside, he remembered the role he was supposed to be playing and laughed on cue. “Do I need any extra credit? I thought I was acing your class.”

She laughed. “Not quite.”

Definitely a hottie. When Rachel Livesay smiled, her eyes sparkled like polished emeralds and her full lips just begged to be kissed.

“I guess I’ll have to work harder, then.” Josh leaned into the truck, almost giving in to his body’s natural instinct to press his mouth against hers.

Fraternization.

The thought sobered him up like a slap in the face. He pressed his lips together, trying to rub away the temptation that lingered there. Minding his manners and the part he had to play, he pulled out the seat belt and handed it to Rachel, making sure his fingers never touched her eloquent hands.

Then he shut the door and cooled his libido in the night air as he circled the truck.

Once he had climbed behind the wheel, he started the engine and cranked up the heat. The confined area of the truck’s cab quickly filled with the smells of winter dampness on wool and leather. Then his nose attuned itself to a more subtle scent. Something delicate. Like peaches and cream. The scent of Rachel herself.

He tightened his grip on the steering wheel. Oh boy.

“Did your mother also raise you to be this persistent, Mr. Tanner?”

“Josh. It’s—” He turned and looked into her eyes, which flashed in stubborn contrast to the wind-whipped cold that turned her cheeks a rich, rosy pink. Whoa. He had completely lost perspective here. Teacher, he told himself. Think teacher. Think dead Billy Matthews. Think undercover assignment. He breathed in deeply. The sharp pinch of bruised ribs provided plenty of pain to clear his head and get him thinking straight.