"Okay."
It was sheer luck that Logan had even noticed the short skid marks veering off the shoulder. He'd been so preoccupied after his quick burger and fries at McCauly's Pub that he made a wrong turn and ended up on the mostly deserted highway. If he hadn't been watching so closely for street signs, he might never have noticed the trampled brush.
If he had just driven on by, like he almost did, the poor woman stranded down there might have spent the night. Or worse, never have been found.
The winch ground to a start with a loud screeching noise, but the chain with the harness attached began to unwind. He let it run until he had enough slack to toss the harness down the slope.
"Hello? Can you still hear me down there?"
"I hear you..." She sounded like she was in pain and about to pass out.
"I'm tossing you a harness," Logan called back.
"Are you able to put one on?"
He should have thought of that sooner. What if she wasn't able to walk or was trapped in her vehicle? Damn. So much for his emergency rescue skills.
"I...I think I can manage..." she responded weakly.
Good, she was ambulatory at least. Her voice didn't sound convincing, and he was worried about shock. If she had a head injury, she might not even be aware of it. The air had gained a distinct chill since the sun had set; the cool night air could make things worse for sure.
"Okay! Well, yell up when you can reach the harness and I will shut the winch down!"
"All right." Her words were becoming barely more than a whisper that he had to strain to hear.
"You doin' okay down there?" She wasn't sounding too great. He needed to get her out of there. It was way past dark and there was no telling what sort of injuries the woman had. The whine of the winch was like fingernails on a chalkboard as he paced the small area of grass. What was taking so long?
He was just about ready to rappel down the side of the gully himself when he heard her call up to him. "I've got it! The harness is here."
About time.
Throwing the lever that controlled the winch, he shut the system down. The forest around him went almost deathly quiet. Maybe it would be easier to hear the woman now. Logan strained to see her, but the shadows were just too dark so he waited as patiently as
he could, pacing as he watched the chain shake a little while she tried to work the harness.
"I can't do it," she called up weakly.
"Hold on! I'm coming down! Step away from the line!" Logan grabbed the chain and dropped over the edge of the embankment making his way quickly down the steep slope using the winch line as a guide. When he reached the scene of the accident, he let go of the line and turned. There stood Lucy Taylor, obviously in pain, leaning against the trunk of a large pine tree. He didn't even try to hide his surprise.
"You," she whispered, recognizing him immediately.
"Ms. Taylor. Yes, it's me. Logan Smith, your next door neighbor. In case you have forgotten." He shot her a smile meant to comfort her.
"I remember." She winced at the pain in her side, didn't return his smile. "But how did you find me? This road is practically deserted."
Logan quickly assessed the situation. She looked perilously close to going into shock. Lucy's face was deathly pale. Even in the dark he could make out the light tint of blue around her lips. A quick assessment showed a cut on her forehead. If she'd hit her head, there could be a concussion—hard to tell in the near dark of the ravine.
"New to the area. Took a wrong turn and got lost. Was trying to find my way back to town when I noticed the hole in the brush on the side of the road. Good thing too, gonna be a cold night tonight." His voice was already steaming in the cool air around his head. "Here, let's get you into this thing so I can get you out of this gully and to a nice warm hospital."
"Okay," she answered reluctantly. It was obvious she hated having to have his help, but Lucy seemed like a smart girl. She had to know her options were limited.
"You need anything from the vehicle?" Logan nodded at her car. Or, rather, what was left of it.
"Just my purse on the ground over there. I didn't bring anything home from work." She pointed to a worn leather satchel on the ground.
Logan motioned her over to where the harness hung. Despite the obvious pain she was in, Lucy insisted on getting into the harness herself. Her breathing was labored, and she favored her left side but she didn't give any other indication of being in pain. She was a tough cookie. Logan liked that. Together, they got the buckles and latches secure so that she hung suspended in the air like on one of those carnival rides with the dangling swings. Grabbing up her bag, he slung the strap diagonally across one shoulder.
"Wait right here. I'm gonna climb back up and turn the winch back on."
"Not like I can go anywhere," she grumbled through clenched teeth. Even when he was rescuing her, it was obvious he irritated her. It wasn't the first time he had that effect on a woman. Her agitation amused him. If she had the wherewithal to be angry at him, she would be able to hold on until he could get her out of there.
"I know I'm probably not exactly the help you were hoping for but I am pretty good at the search and rescue thing. I'll have you out of here in no time." He grabbed the winch line, careful not to jostle it too much, and climbed his way back to the ravine's top.
When he reached the top of the slope, he turned and yelled back down, "I'm turning on the winch now! Hang on tight, it's going to give a hard yank when it starts up."
"Okay!" she called up weakly. "I'm good."
The winch started with a jump. He heard her groan and then fall quiet. Her injuries made him nervous, especially that whack to the head.
"Almost there, Lucy! You doin' all right?" he called to her over the hum of the winch.
There was no response.
"Lucy!"
Still nothing.
"Oh, man, Lucy! If you can hear me, call up to me!"
She didn't make a sound.
The minutes felt like hours as Logan waited for the winch to lift Lucy from the ravine. There was no doubt in his mind, Lucy needed to get to a hospital fast.
As soon as he could see the top of her head, Logan switched off the winch and grabbed hold of the line. It took several minutes to manipulate Lucy's limp form onto flat land, taking caution to avoid puncturing a lung if she really did have broken ribs. Just as he was undoing the last of the straps on the harness, Lucy stirred.
"I think I'm going to vomit," she whispered.
"Do you remember hitting your head, Lucy?"
"Hmmm...I think so. On the steering wheel."
"I need to get you to a hospital. You were unconscious for a few minutes. You might have a concussion. Can you walk?"
"No!"
"No, you can't walk?" Logan asked, confused.
"I can walk. At least I think I can. But I'm not going to any hospital. I just need to get home."
"Listen, Lucy, I don't know you, and I am sure you have your reasons for not wanting to go, but it's like this—you are going to the hospital. I'm pretty sure
you have a concussion and maybe even a few fractured ribs. Your car went down an embankment and hit a tree. You're pretty lucky to be alive. I'd like to keep you that way."
"What do you care?" she snapped. "It's none of your business anyway."
"Would you rather I have left you at the bottom of that ravine?"
"It would be better than the way things are now." Her eyes flashed with anger and something else. Fear, maybe?
"What is that supposed to mean?"
"Nothing. It means nothing."
He studied her for a long moment. Suddenly, the petite little teacher from the classroom next door was different. Secrets darkened her eyes. She was definitely hiding something, Logan was certain of it. Well, whatever secrets Lucy Taylor harbored, she still needed medical attention.
"Come on, let's go." Logan leaned down and scooped Lucy up in his arms. His muscles—all of them—tightened in immediate res
ponse to her closeness as he made his way to the passenger side of the Jeep.
"Where are you taking me?" Lucy demanded.
"To the hospital." He ignored the heated blood pooling below his waist and the definite rise in the front of his khakis.
What the hell was wrong with him?
His...parts...seem to take on a life of their own whenever he was around this woman.
Reel it in boy, we don't even know her. This is not exactly the time to be fishing around.
He turned his attention from his jockey shorts
back to the struggling woman in his arms.
"Put me down!" she commanded with about as much fierceness as a newborn kitten.
"I will. As soon as I get you to the Jeep."
She struggled against him weakly as he strode over to the passenger side of the vehicle, pulled open the door, and carefully placed her on the seat.
"Now sit still while I get things cleaned up and then we are going to the hospital."
"Please...can't you just take me home? I'll be safer there."
"Safe?" Logan paused and turned back around toward the open door. Her statement puzzled him. "What do you mean safe?"
"Nothing. Whatever." Lucy exhaled heavily as her head fell against the headrest. "Fine. I'll go to the hospital."
Logan quickly gathered the harness, unhooked the chain from the tree, and secured the line on the winch. He was annoyed by his body's reaction to holding Lucy in his arms. The woman confused him to no end. She obviously had no intention of confiding in him, and he really didn't want her to. The best thing he could do for both of them was deliver her to the hospital and go home and have a beer. He didn't need
to pry any deeper into the mysteries of Lucy Taylor
than he already had. As soon as he had that beer he would call Lieutenant George and get himself off the
case. There was no way he could show up at St. Mary's
every day and have to see Lucy. Not with the way his body reacted every time she was within sight. He would spend every hour of the day with a constant erection. Not a fabulous thing in an all girls' Catholic school.
Sliding into the driver's seat, he eyed the woman
next to him, a myriad of suspicions filling his mind. There was no denying Lucy Taylor had secrets, but were they of the sort that could put her in danger?
This whole mess was far more complicated than Lucy wanted him to believe. If only she didn't look so damned cute sitting there with leaves all tangled in her hair and that smudge of dirt on her cheek.
Come on, James. Get it together. You don't need that hot mess in your life. You do better alone and you know it.
Yes, he did much better alone, working the streets and only having himself to worry about. There was no room in his life at the moment for the fires Lucy had stoked in him with a simple touch.
He would get her to the hospital and be on his way back to his quiet, solitary life. A life he had grown very used to. No family, no close friends, no complication. The very reason they put him on this stupid undercover job in the first place.
***
Lucy kept her eyes closed hoping Logan would think she was asleep. His insistence on taking her to the hospital frightened her. Someone had just tried to kill her. If she went to the hospital, they would know she was still alive.
Maybe the whole thing had been an accident. Someone driving too quickly on the curvy road. They didn't see her, slammed into her bumper.
Three times?
Okay, so it wasn't an accident.
She could try and talk herself out if it any which way she wanted, but she knew the harsh truth. The Riccis had found her. She was on their hit list and they wouldn't stop until she was six feet under.
Lucy groaned in frustration, forgetting the man
beside her and how she'd hoped to fool him into thinking she was asleep. Shifting to take the pressure off her injured side, she cracked one eye open and studied him. He was handsome, in a boy next door kind of way. Strong forearms contracted constantly as he gripped the steering wheel with an unexpected strength. When she had met him earlier in the day, Lucy had thought him a pretty boy who lived off his daddy's money and thought teaching in an all girl's school would be a real jaunt of short skirts and flirty teenagers. The way he responded to her accident, his take charge attitude—hell, the equipment in his Jeep—told her another story. She may have come to a snap judgment tarnished by her experiences with pretty, rich boys like Salvatore.
There was something about the way he held himself, an air of authority, his lead foot against the accelerator as he handled the Jeep with expert training, that gave his true self away.
"You're a cop, aren't you?" she blurted the words out without really meaning to.
His shoulders stiffened with her accusation, and his hands gripped the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white, but his voice was calm as he replied. "I'm a history teacher, remember? We met this morning when I parked in your favorite parking place."
"You're no more a history teacher than I'm the next Miss America."
"You have a head wound, Ms. Taylor. You
don't really know what you are talking about." Logan kept his eyes on the road, his voice steady, but she could read him like a book. It was one of her investigative talents. Logan Smith was trying hard to
portray a calm exterior, but she could see the little
beads of perspiration on his forehead, the slight hint of a frown at the corner of his thin lips.
Lucy swiped at the small wound, feeling the dried blood caked to her forehead. "It's just a scratch. I'm not delirious! I would know the signs a mile away. You're a cop and I would bet my paycheck on it."
Logan pulled into the hospital parking lot and brought the Jeep to a stop in the center of the roadway. Turning in his seat, Logan studied Lucy in the glow of the yellow streetlight.
"What's going on here, Ms. Taylor? I know that was no accident you just had."
"Don't call me Ms. Taylor. It's Lucy." Her tone was far sharper than she had intended. "What do you think? I drove my car down that ravine for fun?"
Logan ran his hand through his already wild hair and sighed heavily. "No, Lucy. I don't."
"Well, what then?"
"I think someone ran you off the road."
"No! Why would anyone want to do that to a school teacher? I have never even failed one of my students!" She tried hard to sound convincing, but Logan's eyes told her he saw right through her. Her cover was about to be blown.
"The back end of your car was pretty messed up. No way that could have happened if you went straight down that embankment."
"What? Are you some kind of expert in accident reconstruction now?" she snapped. There was no way
that man was a simple history teacher. He could have been an armchair investigator what with all the true television that was on these days but she doubted it. He thought too much like her.
"You are a cop." It wasn't a question but a
statement of fact.
"I'm a history teacher." He responded way too calmly. "Stop trying to change the subject."
A small ping against the side of the Jeep silenced them both. A second ping sounded against the windshield, but this one left a chip and a crack. Gun shots. "They found me! Damn it!" Lucy grabbed for the door handle. "I have to get out of here!"
"Get down!" Logan yelled as he shoved her forward below the level of the dash.
"Let me out! If I run, they will leave you alone!"
"Just stay down!" Jamming the Jeep into gear, he didn't wait for Lucy to heed his order, just slammed down the gas, racing across the nearly empty parking lot. Her side ached, but she stayed low. Despite her earlier statement, Lucy wasn't prepared to die.
Something crashed against the back of the Jeep shaking the vehicle as Logan accelerated like a mad man.
"What was that?" Lucy called above the din of the racing engine and the curses flying from Logan's mouth.
"I'd guess a .308. Apparen
tly the .22s were just warning shots. What in the hell is going on? Why would anyone want to kill you? You're just a history teacher!"
That last statement was laced in sarcasm. Despite the tenseness of their current situation Logan wasn't buying her cover any more than she was buying his.
"Just get me somewhere safe and I'll tell you what you want to know." The aches and pains in her body were suddenly gone, replaced by a heavy ball of fear that had settled itself deep in the pit of her gut.
Salvatore had found her and no one, not
witness protection, and certainly not this strong, handsome man that she was absolutely certain was a cop, could protect her. Sal would have put his best man on it—Rico Marcetti. And Rico never left a job unfinished.
Chapter Five
Logan loved a good car chase when he was the one doing the chasing. The big gun trained on the back end of his Jeep added a whole new twist. Another slug bounced off his bumper, sending a ripple through the vehicle. He clenched the steering wheel tightly, focused on the rising needle of the odometer. The Jeep had a lot of power but the mountain roads were twisted. Spinning the wheel to the left, Logan slammed the gas pedal to the floorboards and shot forward around yet another turn in the road.
As soon as he got this woman to safety, he had some big questions he expected answers to. The vehicle careened around another curve. Logan had no idea how fast the four-wheel drive vehicle could go but he had a feeling they were about to find out. Glancing into the rearview mirror, he was shocked to see that no one was following them.
"What the hell?" he muttered easing up on the gas just a little bit.
No headlights. Where the hell had their pursuer gone? He slowed down to about ninety and looked in the mirror again. Nothing.
"Lucy?" He shot a glance at the petite woman
huddled on the floorboard. She looked pale. Even in the darkness of night, he could see the hint of fear hovering in her eyes as she peered up at him. He got the feeling Lucy Taylor wasn't used to being so exposed when she quickly shuttered her expression and climbed up from the floor to settle in the seat.
"I'm fine," she whispered. There was no mistaking the slight tremor to her voice. "Are they gone?"
Witness Protection (Defenders of Love Book 1) Page 4
