by Lisa Gardner
She reached out her hand toward his chest, but he intercepted it in midair. His fingers closed around her wrist, gentle but firm. He replaced her hand at her side, his gaze level on hers.
Then he turned away from her and, without ever saying a word, raised the camouflaged hunting jacket over his own head to disguise his blond hair.
He resumed walking and, after a tortured moment, she followed.
The helicopters came and went. Once Maggie thought she heard barking, but the sound seemed very far away and things were distorted by the tunnel shape of the ravine. The barking never got closer, or the shouts of men. The ravine led them deeper and deeper around, until Maggie no longer knew which direction they were even headed, though they seemed to be headed up. She had the ridiculous thought that they would miraculously emerge in the courthouse in downtown Portland where all this madness had started.
Abruptly, she bumped into Cain. Only then did she become aware that he’d stopped walking.
Puzzled, she peered around his arm, and her eyes suddenly grew round.
They were on the top of a hill and beneath them, far enough away that the people looked like ants, an entire town had popped up in the middle of wild-running tumbleweeds. Even from this distance, Maggie could count four cop cars and a number of pickup trucks.
She turned to Cain. “Uh-oh,” she said weakly.
His lips curved tightly. She realized for the first time that his face was dangerously pale. Her gaze flew down to his thigh. The stain had grown to unbelievable proportions.
“Oh, my God,” she whispered. Her eyes bounced back up to his face. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“There’s nothing you could do,” he said, but then his bravado left him and he leaned heavily against the mud wall.
“Sit,” she commanded, panic releasing her vocal cords and lending strength to her hands. “Now!”
He sagged down to the ground without further protest, and for a moment she was terrified that he’d passed out cold. But then his head tilted back drunkenly, his green eyes definitely worn. “Now what, Miss Nightingale?”
“A tourniquet,” she determined.
“A tourniquet would cut off all circulation and I might lose my whole leg.”
She blinked rapidly. She was a marriage counselor, for crying out loud; what did she know about these things? “Do you know what to do then?” she asked in an agonized voice. “Just tell me, Cain, and I’ll do it.”
“I want you to go down into that town.”
“And get a doctor? I’ll do it!”
The silence lengthened. “Sure,” he said belatedly, too belatedly.
Her eyes narrowed. She sank back on her heels and regarded him warily. “What’s going on, Cain?”
“Maggie, I know you’ll disagree, but I think it’s time for us to part company.”
“You’re damn right I disagree!”
“It’s not your problem.”
“Oh, don’t give me that!”
His eyes abruptly fired to life. Color rose in his cheeks and his chin came up furiously. She’d thought he was weakened, but his hand snapped around her wrist with all the ferocity of a healthy, well-conditioned male.
“I’m in trouble, Maggie. We both know that. I’ll go down, but I go down on my own. I don’t take anyone with me. I don’t take you with me.”
“I’m not leaving you alone. Not injured and tired and—”
Her words were cut off as he abruptly dragged her forward. She fell across his lap, knowing she must be hurting his leg and trying to get a hand out to support herself. But he pinned her against his hard chest with his arms, his lips now just an inch from hers, his eyes blazing into hers.
“This is the only thing I’ll ever ask of you,” he whispered fiercely.
“And I won’t do it!” she cried back. Her eyes pleaded with him to understand, to realize just how much she loved him and that she couldn’t abandon someone she loved.
For one moment, she saw the strain again. She saw his pain; she saw his fatigue. And then his spine stiffened and he became relentless.
“Swear to me you’ll walk away and never look back.”
“No!”
“Swear to me you’ll walk away and never look back.”
“No!”
“Swear to me, Maggie, that you will walk away and never look back.”
“I can’t do that! I can’t leave you!”
“You have to, Maggie. It’s the only thing I’ll ever truly need you to do.”
And those words hurt her. They lacerated her heart and filled her chest with a fiery red ache. The tears welled up. Her lower lip trembled when she wanted so badly to be composed.
“Don’t do this to me,” she whispered. “Don’t hurt me like this when I love you so much. Cain . . .”
His composure snapped. The steadiness left his gaze and for one moment, he looked furious. And then his lips swooped down. He kissed her; he kissed her hard. And it was wild and raw and aching. It told her everything, how much he needed her, how much he wanted her. How much she’d managed to touch him in just twenty-four hours when he couldn’t afford to be touched.
He consumed her mouth as he wanted to consume her, and her tears spilled over and ran down her cheeks. She kissed him back as savagely as he kissed her and wept against his face.
Just as suddenly his hands bracketed her cheeks and forced her head back harshly.
“Go!” he whispered fiercely. “Run away from me and live happily ever after. Find your brothers because they will keep you safe. Unite your stepsiblings. Be happy.”
He paused, then his green eyes grew brighter. Her breath died in her throat and she was pinned by those fiery eyes.
“Someday,” he promised lowly, “someday, Maggie, if this is all behind me, I will find you. Wherever you are I will find you and I will throw myself at your feet and give you my life. I swear it!”
“I love you,” she cried helplessly. “I love you, I love you, I love you.”
And for his answer, he pushed her away from him so hard she stumbled and fell against the dirt. He pointed once more at the town, his whole arm shaking with the emotion. “Go!”
“All right!” she agreed at last. Her chest was laboring now, her hair red and tangled around her cheeks. She lurched drunkenly to her feet, swaying as she fought to breathe through the tightness in her chest. She knew what he was doing. Knew he was just trying to protect her, and dammit, she didn’t need to be protected! Not anymore.
“I’ll leave. But I’m coming back and you can’t stop me. I’m going to trot right down into that town. I’m going to tell them all you’re headed in the opposite direction. And then I’m grabbing a medical kit and coming right back up here. So don’t you move. You want to talk about trust? Well, trust me to come back to you. Trust me, dammit!”
“Do what you have to do.” His voice was tight, his hands clenched into fists at his sides.
“I will, thank you very much.” She spared one glance at her watch. It read eleven fifteen. “Give me one hour,” she said curtly. “One hour and I’ll be back.”
Not waiting for his nod, she squared her shoulders, focused her gaze at that town and headed straight out into the blazing sun.
Cain remained seated on the floor of the ravine, watching her saunter down the hillside as proud and vibrant as Joan of Arc going to war. Two helicopters swooped down. The ant-sized officers rushed forward up the hill to meet her.
She kept walking, her gaze forward and her shoulders level as minutes passed until finally she, too, grew small and distant.
God, she was magnificent.
And his gaze swept over the growing crowd of men around her, trying hard to make out faces and identify the one face that still haunted his dreams. The cops closed in on her, accepted her, no doubt hammered the poor hostage with questions.
Still no Ham. Cain finally allowed himself to breathe.
The police had her now. She was the rescued hostage and there was nothing to indicate any othe
r relationship. Her brothers would probably be with her shortly. She’d spoken highly of them. Surely they would keep her safe.
Cain needed to know that she would be safe.
The crowd grew too thick. She disappeared at last from sight. Her twenty-four hours of adventure were over, and civilization had swallowed her up once more.
“Remember me, Maggie,” he whispered as he sat in the red mud of the ravine. “Maybe that’s the only other thing I’ll ever need you to do. Remember me.” And I’ll remember you. For all the days, weeks and months to come.
He heaved himself awkwardly to his feet. His wound wasn’t as bad as he’d made it out to be—he’d figured it would take near death to get Maggie to leave his side. But the gash was still tight. He could feel his thigh throb hot and angry with each step. He could walk; he had no other choice.
Maggie was safe, his first mission accomplished. And now he had other business to attend to.
Chapter 13
“Brandon! C.J.!”
Detective McDougal was in the middle of yet another of his “very important, downright critical questions,” but Maggie didn’t care. She bounded out of her seat as if it had been suddenly electrified and flew across the room.
Four steps and she leaped full-bodied into Brandon’s open embrace, wrapping her arms around his neck and burying her cheek against his shoulder. Immediately his arms were around her, holding her as if she were the most precious person on earth, and as if she was simply eight again and he was twelve and together they could survive anything.
Her cheeks were suddenly damp. She thought she felt his shoulders shake. Oh, she felt bad that he’d been so worried about her, but it was good to see him again. Him and C.J. The three of them back together again. They could do anything.
She forced herself to pull back long enough to hurtle herself into C.J.’s arms, hearing him grunt on impact. Then his well-toned arms caught her in a giant bear hug.
“Ah, kid,” he murmured. “You scared the daylights outta me.”
For her response, Maggie held him even tighter. Only slowly did she become aware of the third person discreetly clearing his throat.
She pulled back reluctantly, already wiping at her eyes. Brandon, impeccably clad in a charcoal-gray suit, was studying the floor and trying to pretend moisture didn’t suddenly stain his sun-beaten cheeks. His face was grim and much leaner than she remembered. Wearing his usual faded jeans and loose cotton shirt, C.J. was grinning—he was always grinning—but his eyes appeared suspiciously moist as well.
Then her gaze came to rest on the new face that had appeared between her brothers. Joel. Joel Epstein. She remembered those dark, burning eyes from the TV. How much he must have suffered. She wanted to grab his hands and tell him it would all be over soon. Cain would take care of everything.
Just as soon as she helped take care of Cain.
She summoned a smile to her face, shook Joel’s hand as introductions were made and began guiding him toward the door. “So nice to meet you. Come back in ten minutes. Detective McDougal?” She began herding him briskly as well.
The men in the room exchanged startled glances.
“Miss Ferringer, we still have quest—”
“Of course you do. In a minute.” The detective’s mouth gaped; then he worked it a few times like a fish. Maggie gave up on benign smiles and stamped her foot.
“Excuse me,” she declared in the most chastising voice possible, “but I have just been held prisoner by an escaped murderer for twenty-four hours. I’m exhausted, filthy, bruised and no doubt suffering from shock. All I want is ten minutes alone with my beloved brothers! Is that so much to ask for! Is it?”
Her voice rose to just the right fever pitch at the end. The room cleared in a hurry.
“Of course, ma’am.”
“Sorry, ma’am.”
“Let us know if you need anything, ma’am.”
“Yes, yes, yes,” she assured them and practically slammed the door of the room behind them. She turned immediately to C.J. and Brandon, both of whom were frowning.
“Are you all right?” Brandon asked immediately. His blue eyes skimmed down her intently, wanting to ensure that all was well with his baby sister.
She dismissed his concern with a wave of her hand. “Of course. How are you? And where have you been these days?”
“Indonesia. I’m fine.” His gaze was still narrow and his brow furrowed. “Are you sure you’re all right?”
“Indonesia?” She looked at him with genuine shock. “That’s where Max’s plane crashed. Brandon, what have you been up to?”
“Nothing.” He turned to C.J. abruptly, but C.J. just shrugged.
“You’re right,” C.J. agreed. “She seems different. And what were you doing in Indonesia? I don’t remember you saying you were going to Indonesia.”
Brandon ignored C.J.’s question as well, returning his frowning expression to Maggie. “Are you sure you’re all right? He didn’t try . . . anything, did he? He didn’t hurt you?”
“I’m fine,” she said brusquely, then opened her mouth to launch her attack.
C.J. interrupted her at the pass. “If I didn’t know better,” C.J. said abruptly to Brandon, “I’d say she found a man.”
“Hey!” She was flustered now. “What do you mean, ‘if I didn’t know better’? Why can’t I find a man?” Then she gave up and decided this was as good an opening as she was going to get. “Fine then. I found the perfect man.”
“Congratulations!” C.J. said immediately, clearly surprised, which didn’t improve her mood. Abruptly, his eyes narrowed and she could see the pieces clicking into place as he realized what she had just said and whom she had spent the past twenty-four hours with. “Wait a second—”
“Maggie!” Brandon exclaimed. “What did he do? Why, that filthy—”
“Stop it!” she shouted at the top of her lungs. “Just stop it!”
And when their jaws quietly dropped to the floor at such a display of spirit from their meek little Maggie, she raised her chin haughtily and stared at them with all the blazing defiance of a Hathaway Red. “Cain’s innocent,” she declared in her most authoritative voice. “In fact, right now he’s being pursued by his older brother, Abraham, who actually committed the crime. And if we don’t help him, he’ll never survive to tell the truth.”
She leveled them with an impatient stare, waiting for them to hop to it.
Brandon said quietly, “You’ve been through a horrible ordeal, Maggie.”
“I’m going to kill him,” C.J. supplied, his tone a bit more succinct.
She stared at them both incredulously. “Haven’t you heard a word I said?”
“Of course. But we know you have a soft heart,” C.J. said soothingly. “It’s something I’ve always admired about you. But we all know it can be too soft—”
“Not this time!”
“Maggie, you once stopped picking strawberries because you thought the pulling motion was too painful for the vines.”
“I was nine!”
“And you won’t enter the meat section of the grocery store.”
“Well, that truly is barbaric!”
“You won’t even buy a down comforter!”
“I don’t want to have a bunch of geese running around naked because of me!”
“Maggie,” Brandon interjected in an exasperated tone of voice, “if you ever met the devil wandering the streets, you’d take him home, fix him dinner and offer him his choice of rooms. Worse, you’d give him your soul for free the first time he wrung his hands and said ‘pretty please.’ And we all know it!”
“Cain is not the devil, Brandon. And how would you know anyway? You’ve never met the man.”
C.J. and Brandon both took deep breaths. She surprised them, however, by regrouping quickly and launching a counterattack.
“Who said they would always be there for me?” she demanded.
“We’re here!” they both exclaimed.
“Oh yes, and a nice jo
b of saving me you did, too. You’re here because I had you paged!” They both looked immediately abashed and C.J.’s grin had slipped into a dark scowl. “And now I am asking you for help and instead of listening to me you’re treating me to a walloping dose of patronizing anecdotes. I won’t stand for it!” She wagged her finger at them in a fine impersonation of their grandmother. “I have always been there for you. I have always trusted you. I put up with you, Brandon, though you jet around the globe, are impossible to find and are scaring the living daylights out of all of us with your strange, Max-like behavior. I put up with you, C.J., though I know perfectly well you do more than just run a bar in Sedona and your weakness for troubled women and lost causes will probably keep you from living to a ripe old age. Now I’m asking you two to do the same for me. And you can either sit down, shut up and listen, or turn around and walk out that door. But one way or another, I’m going to help Cain.
“And you’re going to be very nice to him when you finally meet him or I’ll leak to the press how the brilliant millionaire Brandon Ferringer once got sprayed down by a skunk as you tried to sneak up on it because you’d read somewhere that you could catch and sell them. I believe we even have a lovely picture of you standing buck naked on the patio while Grandma dumped tomato juice over your head.” She whirled on C.J. “Then I’ll describe how a big strong Marine like you used to run screaming from butterflies because Brandon told you they were genetically engineered vampire bats. I’m sure photos can be arranged.”
Brandon and C.J. remained suspended for a moment, exchanging cornered glances.
“I liked her better when she was my little sister,” Brandon murmured.
“I think she’s gone and grown up on us,” C.J. agreed.
“If he hurts her, you know what we’ll have to do to him.”
“Oh, yeah.” C.J. shrugged philosophically. “But I think now we have to let her have the first crack at him. She’s not too bad, you know. When she scowls, she looks just like you.”
