by Sharon Sala
Roman considered his options. One, he could choose to ignore his brother’s less-than-subtle suggestion to go to the family cabin in Colorado. If he was going to take a vacation, the least Royal could do was let him pick the place. But then he’d never hear the end of it, and there was a slight truth to some of what Royal just said. He was tired. In fact, he was so tired of the whole damned rat race that for two cents he’d quit.
At that point, a thoughtful frown creased his forehead. But what would he do then? Inactivity was his hell. It brought back too many memories he’d spent years trying to forget.
Then he remembered the couple waiting for them at the table outside and shifted mental gears.
“Damn it, Royal, don’t you think it’s more than a little rude to invite Ryder and Casey out to dinner and then leave them alone while you pitch this fit?”
Royal didn’t flinch. The fact that their brother and his wife were in town visiting from out of state was not as important as getting what he wanted from Roman. And the fact that he’d left them alone at the table to follow Roman into the bathroom was moot. He was on a mission to take care of his family, whether they liked it or not. But Roman was not cooperating as he’d .planned. And the cool, absent tone in Roman’s voice was adding to his frustration.
Royal glared.
“Ryder is fully capable of entertaining his wife for a few minutes without our presence,” he muttered. “And you haven’t answered my question. Did you hear a thing I said?”
Roman’s composure slipped—but only a little. “Hell, yes, I heard you...and so did everyone else within a city block.”
Royal flushed. He knew he’d been yelling, but he didn’t have it in him to quiet down when he was on a roll.
“And,” Roman continued, “you didn’t ask a question. You made a statement. One, I might add, that is shot full of flaws. I never claimed I was indispensable to anyone except your daughter. I can claim to being Maddie’s favorite uncle, and we both know it.”
Royal almost grinned. “That’s because you never tell her no.”
Roman arched an eyebrow, but never cracked a smile. “She’s only four. There will be plenty of people telling her no for the rest of her life. I see no reason why one of them has to be me.”
The door opened behind Royal, and he spun, glaring intently at the man who just entered.
“We’re full up in here right now, buddy,” Royal drawled, and the glitter in his eyes sent the fellow scurrying back to his table.
Roman rolled his eyes in disbelief. “This is a public bathroom in a public restaurant. You can’t commandeer the whole place just because you get an urge to play big brother. What if he was in a hurry?”
Royal’s chin jutted dangerously. “When it comes to my family, I can do anything I damned well please if it means keeping them whole. Ryder is finally back on track. I don’t intend to have you pull a similar stunt and disappear on me some day just because you let the pressure get to you.”
Roman straightened. He’d let Royal blow off steam, partly because he was the oldest Justice, and partly because in a small, quiet corner of his mind, he knew Royal was right. But enough was enough. He took a step forward.
“Look, you bullheaded fool. Get out of the doorway before you get us both arrested. Let’s go back to the table and enjoy the evening. Ryder and Casey will be leaving for Ruban Crossing tomorrow.”
But Royal wouldn’t budge, and as hard as Roman had let himself become, he knew he couldn’t hold a candle to Royal Justice when it came to bullheadedness.
“Okay, I’ll make a deal with you,” Roman said. “I’ll go to the damned cabin, but only after Ryder and Casey leave.”
Royal started to frown. “You have to promise.”
Roman threw up his hands. “I promise. Now are you happy?” Royal gave him a long hard stare. “You swear.”
Roman sighed. “Swear.”
Royal relented. Roman was hard, but he didn’t lie, and he didn’t go back on his word. He grinned and held out his hand.
“Shake on it, buddy, and it will be a deal.”
Given the fact that he might never get to order his food if he didn’t comply, Roman cursed beneath his breath as he extended his hand. Royal’s grip was as firm as the smile on his face. Moments later, they walked out of the men’s room, sidestepping the line of men who’d been waiting to get in.
“Gentlemen, it’s all yours,” Royal said, waving his arm magnanimously.
“Big brother, you are a real charmer,” Roman said, and knew that he’d been had.
A small sports car swerved into the passing lane behind Roman and sped past him as if he were sitting still.
“Crazy damn fool,” he muttered, his eyes narrowing as he kept his four-wheel-drive vehicle to the inside lane of the narrow highway. There was a steep drop-off to his left that went straight down the side of the mountain. Speeding was not an option he was willing to consider, no matter how badly he wanted to reach his destination.
Not for the first time, he wished that he hadn’t let Royal talk him into this trip. Hell, he didn’t even like to fish, and from the looks of the sky, a storm was moving in. It would be just his luck to come all this way and then wind up stuck in the cabin with nothing to do.
He glanced at his watch and then shrugged. If he did get caught in the rain, it would be his own fault. He shouldn’t have waited so long to start the trip. But Ryder and Casey had stayed and stayed, and by the time they’d left the ranch, it had been after 10:00 a.m. And then it had taken nearly thirty minutes more before Roman had been able to tear himself away from Maddie. For a four-year-old, she was a demanding little wench.
He glanced at the sky again. It was unusually dark for this time of day, even in the mountains. Normally it would be light for a couple more hours, but not this evening. The storm would take care of that. He shifted wearily in the seat and thought of his niece again.
Damn, but he loved that kid. It never ceased to amaze him how he’d let one small little girl twist him into knots. Thinking of one female only led to thoughts of another. And it was only in rare times like this that they came. An old pain tried to raise its ugly head, but he shoved the memories back into the past where they belonged. Twelve years had come and gone since he’d watched her die. Part of him had died that day, too, and he knew it. He’d buried what was left behind an impenetrable wall, and that’s where he stayed. It was lonely, but safer.
A sound of distant thunder rumbled across the peaks. He looked back up at the sky. If he didn’t hurry, he wasn’t going to beat the rain. And that would mean unloading his vehicle in a downpour, or sleeping in a bed with no sheets.
As soon as he thought it, he snorted. Maybe Royal was right. Maybe he had needed to get away. He must be getting soft, worrying about where he was going to sleep. There had been plenty of times in his life when he would have settled...and quite happily... for a safe place to close his eyes, never mind whether or not there was a bed.
He’d taken far too many risks during his military career, although he rarely dwelled on the past. These days, he focused his energies on his job and the fact that he was still alive. Then he amended that thought. At least he was still alive, but that could change at any moment if he didn’t start paying closer attention to this damnable road.
A few moments later, he began negotiating a nasty turn in the road, and out of habit, glanced up at the rearview mirror. Startled by the expression on his own face, he looked away.
Returning his focus to driving, he took the curve with cool skill, refusing to admit, even for a moment, that Royal could have been right. Roman knew himself. He wasn’t about to break. It would take more than a few late nights on the job to wear him down.
Within a half hour, he had reached the cabin. The storm hit as he was carrying the last load inside. The rain began peppering against the windows as he kicked the door shut behind him.
He glanced around the room, trying to remember the last time he’d been here, and couldn’t. The overhead l
ight cast a dim yellow glow onto the brown leather furniture. He looked toward the loft, thinking of the king-size bed that was there.
And at that moment, the power went off, casting everything into darkness. With a muttered curse, he headed for the kitchen, trying to remember where he’d packed the flashlight and candles.
Yanked from a deep, dreamless sleep, she sat straight up in bed, her eyes wide and filled with fear. With a pounding heart, she listened, trying to discern what she’d heard. A nearby roll of thunder rattled the loft window behind the bed on which she’d been sleeping, and she wrapped her arms around herself and shuddered.
Thank God I’m not out in that.
A door suddenly slammed downstairs and she rolled from the bed, wincing as the movement sent fresh waves of pain shooting through her battered body. Shaking in every fiber of her being, she crept to the edge of the loft and gazed down through the railing, trying to pierce the darkness below. All she could see were more shadows, and yet she knew.
The owner! He’s come!
Her first instinct was to believe she’d been saved. But then she remembered the duffel bag and panicked. She had visions of revealing her presence, only to find herself on the small end of someone’s hunting rifle. People had been killed for far less than the money she was carrying. It would be very easy to hide a body in woods as dense as these, and whoever was down there could, quite literally, get away with murder. The instinct for survival that had gotten her this far kicked in again. She dropped to her knees and crawled across the floor, then shoved the bag beneath the bed and went in after it.
The floor was cold and hard against her belly, and the dust motes she’d unwittingly disturbed were tickling her nose. The duffel bag was against the wall at the head of the bed. Every time she flinched, the bulk of it pushed against her feet. Outside, raindrops were ricocheting off the roof like bullets against rocks. A cold draft was beginning to circulate around her legs and feet, while outside the thunder rumbled like a runaway wagon on a downhill ride.
She kept telling herself that maybe it would be okay. Surely God wouldn’t let her survive all of this, only to let her perish at a stranger’s hands. But she was too frightened to take a chance. And it would seem that the proper time for making oneself known had come and gone. In the midst of it all, she heard a sound that sent her into a panic. Someone was coming up the stairs!
Holding her nose to keep from sneezing, she scooted as far back as she could get and watched the landing, anxious to see his face.
The rain was coming down now in sheets. Roman could hear it running off the roof and down onto the hard-packed ground below. Out of habit, he flipped the light switch a couple of times and then shrugged. He wasn’t the kind of man to waste time on things that were out of his control. At least there was dry wood by the fireplace. He’d build a fire. That would provide light and warm the place up, too.
Satisfied that he had something to accomplish, he began laying the kindling. A short while later, he stood before the fireplace, watching in satisfaction as tiny orange tongues of flame began eating their way into the dry wood.
His belly growled, but he ignored the complaint. Without power, he would have to cook over the fireplace and he wasn’t in a Daniel Boone frame of mind. A gust of air rattled the door on its hinges. He thought of his apartment and of the well-stocked refrigerator he’d left behind.
“Damn Royal’s meddling butt, anyway,” he muttered, and laid one last log on the fire before moving the fire screen into place.
Chilled from the weather and weary from the drive, he was immediately drawn to the loft. He reached for his suitcase and then changed his mind. To hell with sheets. All he wanted to do was lie down. He’d make the bed tomorrow in the bright light of day. With one last look behind him, Roman started up to the loft, taking care not to miss a step in the darkness.
Halfway up, he froze. He could feel the hair rise on the backs of his arms. Something wasn’t right! Long ago, he’d learned not to ignore his instincts. He turned, gazing down at the scene below, and wondered what it was that he’d heard. Nothing seemed out of place. Everything was just as it had been when he’d come inside. A hard gust of wind hit the side of the house, rattling the windows, as well as the door.
Frowning, he retraced his steps to the door and turned the lock, relaxing only after the distinct click had sounded. Then he dug his handgun from a bag and started back up the stairs, satisfied that he’d done all he could. If someone wanted to try him, he was more than ready.
Heat was rising from the fire below as he dropped to the side of the bed and set the handgun on a nearby table. He looked down at his feet and then back at the bed. The mattress smelled a little bit dusty, but he was too tired to care.
In the back of his mind, he could almost hear his mother admonishing him to get his shoes off the furniture. With a rare smile, he bent down and pulled off his boots before dropping them onto the floor. With a weary groan, he lay down, folding his arms beneath his head and sighing as he looked up at the ceiling.
The rafters had taken on a warm, amber tinge from the glow of the fireplace below. His stomach rumbled again, but it was a small complaint he willingly ignored. He closed his eyes, inhaled slowly and never knew when he fell asleep.
Hours later, he awakened suddenly to hear the indistinct sound of fabric rubbing against wood. Without taking a breath, he reached for his gun.
Chapter 2
He’s asleep.
For her, that fact had been too long in coming. The floor was cold and she hurt—hurt all over. If she didn’t get out from under this bed and soon, she would never be able to move again. What’s more, she needed to go to the bathroom.
Inch by painful inch, and using the duffel bag at her feet as a launch, she began to scoot forward. As she did, the stiff nylon fabric suddenly rasped against the hardwood floor. Although it was still raining, the sound seemed magnified by the quiet within the room. She froze, relaxing only after the soft, even sounds of his breathing could still be heard.
Easy does it, she told herself, and once again, began to pull herself out from under the bed.
The stairwell was only feet away when something—call it instinct—made her look back over her shoulder. Through the glimmer from the firelight below, she saw him, raised up on one elbow, the gun pointed straight at her head. A calm settled over her as she rolled over on her back, and for the first time since she’d regained consciousness in the tree, came face-to-face with the fact that she might not live through this after all.
“Don’t shoot,” she said quietly. “I’m not armed.”
“But I am.”
The words were harsh, the warning tone of his voice deep and angry, like the storm still raging outside. She took a slow breath and started to sit when his voice cut through the quiet again, this time in a manner she couldn’t mistake.
“I didn’t say you could move.”
“Please,” she said. “I need to go to the bathroom.”
The request was so unexpected he laughed, and the short, angry bark brought goose bumps to the backs of her arms. She swallowed past a knot of cold fear.
“I never meant to deceive you,” she said quietly. “I just needed shelter. I was asleep when you came. Your arrival startled me so that I hid before I thought. After that, it seemed anticlimactic to announce myself.”
The bed squeaked as he stood, and when she looked up, fought back an urge to scream. He was so big...and so menacing.
“Get up.”
His order was brief. As she rolled to her feet, it occurred to her that this man didn’t waste energy on words.
Her movements seemed slow and measured, and once Roman believed he heard her groan. The thought crossed his mind to offer her help, and then he remembered that while she’d been hiding under that blasted bed, he’d been asleep on it. He rejected the notion. She got down on the floor; she could get herself up.
The muscles in his belly knotted at the thought of someone under the bed. It was a ki
d’s worst nightmare come to life—a monster under the everlasting bed. It remained to be seen if she was really a monster after all.
“Downstairs,” he ordered, waving the gun in her direction. “And take it slow.”
“That I can do,” she said briefly, unaware that her answer deepened the frown on his forehead. With aching muscles protesting her every step, she bit her lip and began to move.
The floorboards creaked beneath his weight as he moved in behind her. At that point, the phrase breathing down her neck took on new meaning. A short while later, they were standing before the remnants of the fire, and staring into the bits of dying embers rather than at each other.
Roman pulled back the fire screen and then pointed toward a nearby stack of logs with his gun.
“You. Toss one on the fire.”
The very idea of gripping anything with her hands was impossible to consider. She turned to him, holding out her hands in supplication.
“I don’t think I—”
“Do what I said, lady, or we’re right back where we started.”
She turned toward the stack, gritting her teeth against the pain as her fingers curled around the rough, dry bark.
This time, her groan was loud and clear. Halfway to the fireplace, she lost her grip. The log fell to the floor with a loud, abrupt thump, rolling to one side as she dropped to her knees, cradling her hands against her chest.
“What the hell—?”
“My hands are hurt.”
This time, he was forced to listen. He grabbed her hands and turned them toward the fire. In the light of the dying embers, he could see dark slashes and bloody stains. Guilt hit him belly high. He cursed beneath his breath and finished what she’d started.
Then without excuse or apology, he took her by the arm and pulled her to her feet. Within minutes, the room was aglow. And although they were still in shadows, they were finally able to see one another’s face.
Even though she knew it was rude to stare, she couldn’t help it. And, she reminded herself, so far he’d been anything but a gentleman himself. He was very good-looking, but the fact was lost in the fear rolling in her mind. In her entire life, she couldn’t remember ever seeing such a cold, flat expression on a living man’s face. And then she reminded herself that she was hardly in a position to be judging character. She couldn’t even remember her own name.
