Connect the Dots

by Denise Robbins

  “Damn!” Trying to yank the splinter out proved fruitless. Her hand kept losing its grip. Chest heaving, shoulder throbbing, Charley squeezed her eyes shut and prayed for safety.

  Then her eyes flew open wide at the sound of feet crashing through the woods. Her gaze searched left and right for the source, but she saw nothing.

  TWENTY-FOUR

  As soon as he heard the door shut, Jake got out of bed and went to find Charley’s purse. She had distracted him long enough. Now he wanted answers. He knew what he was doing was sneaky and underhanded. If Charley ever found out, she would probably kick his ass. Of course, she would have to catch him first. All’s fair in love and war. Right now, he needed to find out who Charley Duston was, what kind of trouble she was in, and how he could help.

  So there he stood, in her bedroom, naked, rummaging through her purse. Unlike most women, she carried very little in the way of feminine stuff. She only had one tube of lipstick, not five, no perfume, heck, not even any hygiene products. As a little boy that would have skeeved him out completely and prevented him from such a personal search, but not anymore. Now, he wanted to find Charley’s passkey to the barn.

  While he searched her wallet, he noticed the lack of a security clearance badge, military ID, or any other intelligence agency card. Maybe he was wrong.

  “Ha!” Jake held up the small piece of notepaper folded and hidden behind her license. It held the code. He was shoving everything back in place when he heard a rifle blast. Quickly, he scooped the purse contents back up and dumped them inside the bag.

  Heart pounding against his ribcage, Jake pulled on his jeans, slipped into his shoes, grabbed his weapon, and sprinted, taking the stairs down two at a time. He reached the front door when another shot rang out. Without a thought for his own safety, he rushed toward the direction of the blast, the direction he knew Charley had gone.

  Under the cover of the trees, he ran as best he could with limbs smacking against his body every other step. When another shot sounded, he ducked for cover and tried to pinpoint the shooter. Then he listened. Where was Charley? High above, a whippoorwill sang its song and an owl hooted. Something else caught his attention. Angling his head, Jake heard twigs snapping and what sounded like shuffling or dragging. It had to be her. Charley.

  He took off to his right, keeping low so not to give the shooter another target. Before he became bait, he needed to see that Charley was safe. He sprinted, trying to make as little noise as possible. He heard another shot and saw the crack of wood as the bullet hit a large maple tree. The guy had a bead on her. And now, so did Jake.

  He wound his way through the back woods, trampling over moss and broken tree limbs until he spotted movement to his left and low.

  “Charley.”

  Movement meant she was alive, but she was on the ground. Was she injured? Swallowing the bile that rose in his throat, he hurried up behind her, and before she could cry out and give his presence away, Jake covered her body with his and slid a hand over her mouth. She wriggled for freedom but he had her pinned.

  “Do not scream,” he whispered so only Charley could hear.

  She nodded.

  “Where’s the shooter?”

  Charley held up three fingers. Three o’clock. Jake glanced in the direction she indicated but did not see any movement or residual smoke from the gun blast.

  Turning his attention back to Charley, he spoke again close to her ear. “Are you injured?”

  She nodded.

  With care, Jake slid off her and examined her where she lay. The first thing he came across as his hands ran over her body was the chunk of wood sticking out of her shoulder and the blood that trailed down her arm. Mother of— Why had he not noticed that?

  Holding three of his own fingers in front of Charley’s face, he counted down so she knew he was going to remove it. When the count hit one, Jake jerked the wood out. A fresh flow of blood oozed out of the wound, but Charley remained silent. Damn woman was tougher than he first thought. He tore a piece of her shirt and tied it around the injury to help staunch the blood and keep the bugs at bay.

  As he started to check the rest of her out, another blast hit the tree just to his left. Instinctively, he covered Charley. Shit! They had to get out of there. Now!

  “Can you run?”

  Charley shook her head and hooked a thumb toward her right behind her. Jake got it. Somehow she hurt her right leg or ankle.

  Jake got to his knees, aimed at three o’clock, and pulled the trigger. Then in one swift movement, he jerked Charley up off the ground and over his shoulders in a firefighter’s lift. He shot one more time for cover and started back, deeper into the woods, darting between large trees, concealing their location and movement.

  At the edge of the tree line, a river creased the land. Jake stayed along that route until the back part of his property was in sight. From the cover of an old out building, he watched for any sign of intruders. Since leaving the spot where he found Charley, there hadn’t been another shot. Maybe the guy had given up but Jake would rather be safe than sorry. Sliding her down from the perch on his shoulders, he put Charley on her feet, leaning her against the worn out little shack.

  “Can you stand?”

  She held up a stick and grinned at him. “I’ve got this to help.”

  Jake gave a short nod. “Take this.” He handed Charley his weapon. “I take it you know how to shoot.” It wasn’t really a question but he waited for acknowledgement anyway. She nodded her ascent. “Stay here while I check out for any unwelcome guests.”

  “Okay.”

  Before he moved out, she grabbed his arm. When he looked up, his gaze met Charley’s.

  “Be safe.”

  “Count on it.” Then he took off across the unkempt land for the next out building and kept snaking his way until he reached his barn. Reaching the shelter of the structure, he went in the backside to the tack room, and grabbed the shotgun he kept hanging there on the wall. On the shelf, he pulled down a box of shells, slid two inside the weapon, and pocketed a few more. Slipping back out the rear door, he maneuvered his way toward Charley’s property.

  He saw no one and no cars. Unless they were looking to be obvious, they would have to be on foot. Next to his apple tree, he listened for any out of the ordinary noise. Nothing. With quick, evasive movements, Jake headed back the way he came.

  When he rounded the corner of the building where he left Charley, he was surprised to see she wasn’t there. Wrong shack? Frantic, his gaze darted up and down the other structures until he heard the sound of something fall. With his back pressed against the wood shingles and his eyes searching the area, he made his way to the door.

  “Charley?”

  “I’m stuck.”

  With one hand, he opened the door and slipped inside. Confused, he stared at Charley who was definitely stuck. He shook his head.

  “I told you to stay put.”

  “I got nervous and figured inside was safer than out.” She shrugged and then winced. “I guess I was wrong.”

  Setting the shotgun on the floor, leaning against the old, wooden table, Jake took the gun he had given her and tucked it into the back of his waistband. Charley had crawled onto the disgustingly ancient mattress and somehow gotten one foot and an elbow stuck in the springs of the bed. If she weren’t already injured, he’d probably burst out in laughter. Instead, he held his tongue, and gently opened the rusted springs so she could pull body parts out. Then without giving her any option, he once again lifted her over his shoulders, grabbed the shotgun, and checked the perimeter before exiting the little hut.

  With Charley slung across him, Jake wound his way to his place, stopping and checking for signs of anyone before he flung open his back door and entered his house. He walked right past the kitchen and down the hall to the first bath. Letting Charley slide down his front, he set her on the long counter.

  “This time, do not budge.”

  She smiled, making a face at him with a scrunche
d up nose and tongue. He laughed, went back into the hall to the linen closet, and quickly returned with a first-aid kit and towels, where he finally planted the shotgun on the floor.

  Opening the kit, he spoke. “Where else are you hurt?”

  He removed the makeshift bandage he put on her shoulder and took a better look. The bleeding had stopped but it was red around the edge, looked angry and painful.

  He poured antiseptic onto a cotton ball and distracted Charley with a question. “When did you lose your virginity?”

  When her jaw dropped and she gaped at him, he applied the antiseptic. At the contact, Charley’s lips clamped together and her eyes squeezed shut. Jake shook his head. He was awed and worried. She refused to scream out in pain, yet just two nights ago, she cried in his arms.

  “It’s okay to swear like a sailor or even whimper a little. No one is here.”

  He watched as she exhaled the breath that she had been holding.

  “Oh—my—freaking—gosh. That burns like a mother.”

  With his free hand, Jake covered his mouth. That was her version of swearing? He must have failed at covering up his smile because Charley narrowed her gaze at him and shot him with a death ray out of sharp, blue eyes.

  “Shut up.” She attempted to slug him with her good arm but ended up whiffing the air. “It hurts.”

  Jake dropped his hand, but not his grin. “Believe me, I know.” Before bandaging the wound, he applied an antiseptic cream then taped it up.

  “What’s next? Something on your right leg?”

  Charley bobbed her head up and down. “Not sure what happened. Sharp pain shot up my side and I couldn’t walk. Then I couldn’t get to my feet once I had fallen.”

  Sliding his hands under her arms, Jake lifted Charley up off the counter, set her feet on the floor, and turned her body away from his. Supporting her with an arm and the cabinets, he bent down and ran a hand across her leg. When his gaze met the area on the side of her thigh just above the knee, he knew why she hadn’t been able to get to her feet. Shit! The bastard must have hit dirt and sent rocks flying, burying one, if not more into her thigh.

  He rubbed a hand over his face and peered up. Charley was looking at him over her shoulder.

  “What is it?”

  “A rock or rocks embedded in your leg.” He stood and his gaze met hers in the mirror. “I’m surprised you aren’t wailing in agony.” The anguish he saw reflected back at him in her expressive eyes, told him she struggled with the pain but she would not give in to it. “I really think I should get you to a hospital.”

  Charley bit her lip and shook her head. “Can’t you take it out?”

  “Charley.”

  “Please, Jake. I trust you.”

  She trusted him? With her life maybe, but not with who she was.

  “A hospital will be less painful.”

  “Believe me, I can handle the pain. I hate hospitals.”

  One of Jake’s brows shot up. Yeah, he knew she could handle the pain. “Okay, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

  “I won’t.”

  “There’s not enough room in here, we’ll have to use the kitchen. Next to the bathroom, it has the best light.”

  Lifting her back up, he carefully set Charley back on the counter. “I’ll go get it ready.”

  TWENTY-FIVE

  As Charley sat on the edge of Jake’s bathroom counter, she heard him rumbling around in the kitchen. How was she ever going to explain someone using her as target practice? But knowing Jake, even with as little time as they’ve had together, she knew he would not let it drop.

  Heck, she couldn’t even explain it to herself. With her good arm, she raked her fingers through her disheveled hair until she reached the ponytail. Removing the rubber band, she questioned what happened. Why? Who? It made no sense. Before she could question it too much, Jake returned, standing in the doorway.

  “You sure I can’t convince you to go to the hospital?”

  She shook her head and the hair she released from its ponytail swung around her shoulders. “No! Thanks.”

  That was the second time he had offered to take her to the hospital in as many days and she had been adamant both times about not going. Jake gave a disapproving shake of his head then came into the bathroom and with a gentleness that surprised her every time, lifted her into his arms and carried her down the hall.

  In the kitchen, he had covered the table with blankets and towels and a bottle of Jack Daniels sat on the black granite counter top. Charley looked at Jake, back to the bottle of JD and then to Jake.

  “Uh, I figured you could take a swig of that to dull the pain.” He set her down on the table and reached for one of the glasses.

  “Why the two glasses?” She eyed him with skepticism as she took the two fingers of amber liquid he poured for her.

  “Don’t worry. That’s for me when I’m done. I’m nervous as hell about causing you more pain.”

  She downed the whiskey and handed him back the glass. Before he stepped away, she put a hand on his warm, shaking arm and waited for his gaze to shift to hers. “I’m tougher than I look.”

  He poured another shot and handed it to her. She downed that one just as fast as the first.

  “I’ve already figured that out.” Jake walked away and set the glass down. “I’m just not certain I’m as tough as you.”

  Charley giggled, feeling the effect of the quick buzz that rushed to her head and warmed her from the inside. Just like Jake had last night. Then she hiccupped and tried to cover her mouth with her hand. Instead, she tilted to the side.

  Jake grabbed her and held her upright. “Ah, hem. I think you’re dull enough. Let’s get this done so I can be in the same place.”

  “Otay.”

  Jake chuckled. “Buckwheat impersonation, I like it.”

  He turned her over on her belly, placed a folded towel under her head for comfort and then draped a blanket across her back. Her eyelids drifted shut.

  “Mmm.” She felt good.

  “Don’t go to sleep,” he warned her. “I want to know if I hurt you.”

  With her head pillowed on one side, she smiled at him. “Otay.”

  The chair scraped against the wood floor as Jake scooted it up near her side. She watched him wipe a wet cloth on her wound out of the one exposed eye. How could such a big guy be so gentle? So caring? It flabbergasted her. Especially when mixed with the same man who had carried a shotgun like it was an extension of his arm while hefting her across several acres of forest.

  “Do you want a warning?”

  “Huh?”

  “Where was the first time you had sex?”

  “What?”

  Her senses may have been dulled, but she understood his question. And then, blam! Yow! Her fists clenched until her knuckles were white and she bit down on the inside of her lip. It felt as if Jake was digging for gold inside her leg. When the pressure eased, she blew out an extended breath. Opening her eyes again, she smiled at Jake, offering him what reassurance she could.

  “First time. Um, my parents’ baseme—”

  Her head dropped and she counted to ten inside her head as Jake used the tweezers again. When he pulled back, she breathed normally while he wiped at the blood that trickled down her leg.

  “Where was your first time?” She asked between gritted teeth.

  Jake smiled a disarming, bright grin. “The back of my old Ford pickup after a hay ride.”

  Once again, pain seared her skin, traveled up her side and caused her to tighten every muscle.

  “Don’t tense.”

  “Easy for you to say,” she ground out.

  “Yup, it is. I’m sorry.”

  “Just do it.”

  “Only a little more.”

  “Who was shooting at you?”

  She waited for him to attack again, but he didn’t. He paused for an answer, tweezers poised just above her leg, green eyes boring through her.

  “I don’t know.”

&n
bsp; The assault was quick but not painless. She held her breath, tears ready to push out from behind closed lids. When she felt the cloth, she exhaled, and reached for his large hand. Clutching his fingers, Charley looked at him.

  “Jake, I honestly don’t know.”

  He nodded stiffly, but for the moment, he let it drop, and returned to his task of fixing her up. After he taped the last piece of gauze in place, he took care of putting the kitchen back to order. Resting on her forearms, Charley watched as Jake leaned against the counter, poured himself a glass of Jack Daniels, and swigged the contents in one gulp. Then he poured a second.

  “Are you alright?”

  Without his help and with only a slight wince, she managed to flip over onto her backside. “See. I’m already better.” Okay, it wasn’t completely honest but the guy looked like he’d been sucker punched, dazed and confused.

  “Would you mind sharing another glass of whiskey?”

  “Not at all.” Reaching behind his back, he grabbed the glass she used previously, poured two fingers and handed it to her. He clinked his glass with hers and drained it. Charley followed suit.

  The liquid felt so good going down, but oops, her head swam a little and suddenly felt like it could not stay on her shoulders.

  “I think I better way dwown.”

  TWENTY-SIX

  Jake reached her before her body went limp and her head hit the table. Charley was out for the count. He found out one more thing about his new neighbor. She could not hold her whiskey. Slipping his arms under her legs and back, he lifted her and carried her upstairs to his bedroom where he laid her on top of the bedspread and pulled up a throw to her shoulders. To his amazement, she burrowed in.

  Heading back downstairs, Jake went to the kitchen and retrieved a plastic baggie from under the sink. Holding it in the same place he had been, he picked up the whiskey glass Charley had used and slipped it into the bag, sealing it inside. Then he lifted the handset from his wall phone, hit a speed dial number and waited for an answer.