by Cassie Miles
“I know what this looks like.” Excitement made her voice shaky; she couldn’t stop her heart from throbbing. “I’m using the handcuffs for professional reasons.”
“And what profession might that be?”
“I’m a reporter, and you’re a story. If I want to get my career in order, I need to show that I can be an effective investigative journalist. You understand what I’m saying, I know you do. You’re the one who told me I was going to be okay, that all I needed was to believe in myself.”
“That wasn’t much of a deduction,” he said. “Anybody who’s met you knows you’re smart enough to accomplish great things.”
“But I was scared. Paralyzed. I didn’t believe in myself.”
She’d hidden at her cabin like a hermit. When her position in the Middle East was cut, she knew it wasn’t because she was doing a bad job. The decision was based on budgets and revenue. Still, she couldn’t help feeling that she’d failed. Not anymore.
Jack’s story had all the hooks that readers love, from involvement with a crime family to being on the run to corruption within the marshals. Not to mention his mysterious past. His story was worth a whole book or a miniseries, and she’d be the one to write it. She’d be damned if she would miss a single minute.
“You’re right, Caitlyn. I believe in you.”
His surprising moments of sensitivity made it even harder to resist him. “If we’re going to get a good night’s sleep, we should turn off the lights.”
She climbed out of the bed, pulling him behind her with the handcuffs. She hit the light switch, and the bedroom faded into the half darkness. The glow from the surveillance screens lit their way back to the bed.
Finding a comfortable position with their hands cuffed together wasn’t easy. They both ended up on their sides, facing each other. In the dim light, she saw that his eyes were closed. His lashes were long, thick and black. Any woman would kill for eyelashes like that. But there was nothing feminine about his face. Not with the stubble that outlined his sexy mouth. Not with his strong cheekbones and jaw.
Sleep was the furthest thing from her mind. She asked, “Do we have a plan for tomorrow?”
“No particular plan, just a couple of ideas. I figured I’d stick around this area. Do some investigating.”
“Shouldn’t you be focused on escape?”
“There’s still three days before the trial. I want to use that time.”
“How did you plan on getting around?”
“Woodley has a nice little ATV in a shed behind the garage and I—”
“You can’t steal his four-wheeler,” she said firmly. “After the risk he took for you, how could you even think of hijacking his property?”
His eyelids opened. “Woodley and I already talked about it. He gave me the keys.”
“Well, good.” She shouldn’t have accused him. No matter what had happened in his past, Jack was far too loyal to betray the people who treated him right. “I can ride on the back of the ATV. You’ll be glad you brought me along. I can guide you through the backcountry.”
For a long moment, he gazed at her. A deep sense of yearning urged her toward him. She wanted to touch him, to glide into his embrace. Physically, he was everything she wanted in a man—tall, lean and muscular. She even liked the scars she knew were under his T-shirt.
“Tell me the reason,” he said, “that we can’t make love.”
“I don’t know who you are—Tony or Nick or someone else altogether.”
“You know me as Jack.”
She certainly did. He was the stranger who showed up on her doorstep, the man who saved her life and believed in her. “It’s only been a day.”
“A matter of timing.”
Though she didn’t have silly rules, such as not kissing on the first date, she didn’t want to rush into lovemaking. Intimacy was a risk she wasn’t ready to take. “Timing is important.”
“Tomorrow,” he said, “we’ll have known each other twice as long. That should be enough.”
She closed her eyes and pretended to sleep.
Chapter Seventeen
Though the curtains and shades over the bedroom windows blocked out the light, Jack sensed that it was close to dawn. His inner alarm clock, which he considered more accurate than a Swiss timepiece, told him that he’d been in bed for five hours. He lifted his head from the pillow and craned his neck to see the digital clock on the desk. Four forty-seven. Time to get moving.
In spite of the handcuffs, he’d slept well. The cozy presence of a woman in his bed reminded him of what normal life was all about. Her scent, the little kitten sounds she made in her sleep and the way her body occasionally rubbed against him made him feel alive. He looked over at Caitlyn. His eyes had become accustomed to the dim light from the surveillance screens, and he could see fairly well. Her bathrobe was open and her long T-shirt had hiked up, giving him an unfettered view of her long, firm legs. One knee was bent, and her toes pointed like a ballerina midleap. Her free arm arched above her head. For a slender woman, she took up a lot of space. He grinned. Bed hog.
Leaning over her, he studied the delicate angles of her face from the sweep of her eyebrows to the tip of her chin. Her straight blond hair fell in wisps across her cheeks. Her lips parted slightly, and her breathing was slow and steady. She was still asleep.
Her need to follow him and get his whole story was understandable, and he appreciated her dedication to her career. But he’d rather work alone. If he could unfasten the handcuff and slip away before she missed him, that would be all for the best. The trick would be to retrieve the key from her bra without waking her up.
He lightly touched the bare skin below her collarbone. Her breathing didn’t change. Beneath her shapeless T-shirt, her chest rose and fell in a steady pattern.
Slowly, slowly, he moved his fingertips toward the valley between her breasts. He’d been in custody since he was shot, hadn’t been anywhere near a woman for five months. Her skin was soft and warm, enticing him. He wanted to touch her all over, to taste her mouth, her throat, the tips of her breasts. He wanted her legs wrapped around him. Her arms, clinging to him. Her idea of waiting for a specific number of hours or days or weeks before making love was ridiculous. They were consenting adults, obviously attracted to each other. Why the hell shouldn’t they seize the moment?
Under her T-shirt, he felt the edge of her sports bra. Just a little lower…
Her eyelids snapped open. “Are you trying to cop a feel or grab the key?”
“Both.”
“How about neither?” She pushed his hand away. “Go back to sleep.”
“It’s time to go. Unless you want to watch me pee, you should unlock the cuffs.”
“Ew. I’m not following you into the bathroom.” As she fished the key from her bra, she glanced at the clock. “It’s not even five o’clock.”
“You could stay here and sleep in.”
“Not an option,” she said. “But this is really, really early. Do we have to leave now?”
“I promised Woodley I’d be gone before he got out of bed. If the police come knocking, he can honestly say that he has no idea where I went.”
“Fine.” She unlocked the cuffs and rubbed the red circle on her wrist. “I get the bathroom first.”
“Hurry.”
“Less than five minutes,” she promised.
“Don’t turn on any lights,” he warned. Though Woodley’s security system hadn’t sounded an alert, it didn’t hurt to be careful. Always plan for the worst-case scenario. The marshals could be staking out the house.
Jack doubted that Rojas was still in the area. A wealthy man like him was able to pay for an arranged escape. He probably had a private chopper on call.
After her allotted five minutes, Caitlyn peeked in to tell him she was done, and he took his turn. Though he would have liked to shave, he followed his own warning and kept the lights in the bathroom off. Back in his bedroom, he dressed in a fresh T-shirt and jeans provided by
Woodley. The old man had also given Jack a lightweight canvas jacket in khaki. The keys to the ATV were in the front pocket.
Caitlyn joined him. She’d yanked her hair into a ponytail and thrown on the clothes she’d worn last night. The blue jacket was grungy from being in the car trunk, but she still looked fresh and awake.
Together, they went down the hallway, pretending that they hadn’t made enough noise to wake their host. Jack hoped Woodley’s taste in all-terrain vehicles didn’t mirror his love of vintage cars.
Circling the house, they entered the shed behind the garage, closed the door and turned on the light. The two-person ATV wasn’t brand-new but probably less than ten years old. The dents and scratches on the frame indicated that Woodley had ridden this four-wheeler hard, but Jack trusted the man who liked mechanics to keep all his vehicles in good running order. A blue helmet rested on the well-worn front seat. The lid on the storage container behind the second seat was propped open, and Caitlyn looked inside.
“This is so sweet,” she said. “He packed a sleeping bag, a canteen and some food for you.”
“Woodley’s a good man.”
She started searching thought the other outdoor gear in the shed. “He didn’t know I’d be coming along. We need to find another sleeping bag and helmet. Maybe a tent in case we need to set up camp.”
“We’re not going on a field trip.”
“Which brings up an important question,” she said. “Where exactly are we going?”
The best way for him to figure out why he’d executed the red-haired man was to learn more about Nick Racine. The name still didn’t resonate with him. He had hoped the hours of sleep might heal the holes in his memory, but no such luck. He needed to investigate.
Since Patterson and Bryant had identified him as Racine when he was in their custody, Jack thought he might find clues at the place where they’d held him. “We’re going back to the safe house.”
She found a second blue helmet which she plopped on her head. “But it’s a crime scene. Mr. Woodley said the police had their shoot-out with the Rojas men there. Won’t the area be closed off?”
“We’ll see.”
She stuffed a second sleeping bag into the carrier and closed the lid. “Have you ever driven an ATV before?”
“Oh, yeah.”
During the time he spent in the desert with his mentor, they used dune buggies to get around. This ATV—with its solid frame and seriously heavy-duty tires—was the muscular big brother of those dune buggies. Jack was looking forward to riding over the hillsides. Pushing hard, he wheeled the ATV out of the shed and locked the door behind him.
“Don’t forget your helmet,” she said.
“Colorado doesn’t have a helmet law.”
“Humor me.” She shoved the helmet into his hands. “We’re in enough danger without getting into a crash and busting our heads open.”
Helmet in place, he climbed onto the seat. Caitlyn mounted behind him. Her arms weren’t wrapped around him like they’d be on a dirt bike, but she was close enough to lean forward and tap the back of his helmet.
He turned his head. “What was that for?”
“Just excited,” she said. “Let her rip.”
He turned the key in the ignition. The engine roared as he drove away, threading his way through the tree trunks, heading uphill and away from the road. In the thin light before the dawn, he couldn’t see clearly and had to move at a slow pace through the forest. It was difficult to gauge distances, and he added a couple more dents to the frame of the ATV.
At the crest of the ridge above Woodley’s house, she flicked her fingers against his helmet and said, “You should go east. That’s to your right. And head downhill.”
He might have guessed as much, but he was glad to have her confirmation. The ATV rumbled along a narrow path, louder than a Harley. This vehicle wasn’t made for stealth; they’d have to park a distance away from the safe house and approach on foot.
As they meandered through the trees, the rising sun painted the sky in tones of pale pink and yellow, streaked with the long wisps of cirrus clouds. The dawn light gave form to the rising hills and dark forests.
When they came to a meadow, the wide-open space beckoned to him. After picking his way cautiously, he wanted to go fast. He gunned the engine and floored it. They were flying, careening over the uneven terrain with the fresh wind whipping around them. He felt free. Behind him, Caitlyn yelped and laughed in sheer exhilaration.
At the far side of the meadow, she tapped his helmet again. “Jack, you need to stop.”
He pulled onto a flat space and killed the engine.
Immediately, she jumped off the back seat and took off her helmet. She winced and rubbed at her tailbone. “Ow, ow, ow.”
“Are you okay?”
“Going over those ruts, I really whacked my bottom.” She stretched and groaned and stretched again. “I’m fine. It’s nothing a good massage won’t fix.”
“I’d volunteer for that job.”
“I bet you would.”
The light of a new day glimmered in her blond hair, and she beamed a smile. The combination of nature’s awesome beauty and Caitlyn’s lively energy delighted him. His blood was still rushing with the sensation of speed. He was…happy.
He dropped his gaze, knowing that he’d felt this way before. As Nick or Tony or Jack or whoever the hell he was, he had experienced happiness. A dangerous emotion often followed by despair. “How far are we from the safe house?”
She approached him. “What’s wrong?”
“I want to get there before it’s too late.”
“We’re not far,” she said. “I can’t give you exact coordinates, but the safe house and Mr. Woodley’s place are both to the east of Pinedale. From the top of that ridge, we ought to be able to get our bearings.”
After she got back onto the ATV, he headed toward the high point. His skill in maneuvering had improved to the extent that he only ran over one small shrub on the way.
She tapped his helmet. “Park here.”
He turned off the engine, dismounted and took off the helmet. “You’ve got to stop flicking my helmet.”
She shrugged. “I used to do that with one of my drivers in the Middle East. We were covered in protective gear, and tapping his helmet was the best way to get his attention.”
“I don’t like it.” He hiked uphill to the edge of the cliff. A long view spread before him. To the south, he saw the main road and the turnoff to the safe house. Surrounding trees blocked his view of the house itself.
Standing beside him, Caitlyn bragged, “Am I good or what?”
Without her knowledge of the area, he could have been wandering these mountains for hours. “You have an impressive sense of direction.”
“I used to ride over here to visit Mr. Woodley and then go exploring. Never once did I get lost.”
That dangerous happiness lingered inside him, and he realized that she was a big part of that feeling. Though she could be irritating and aggressive, she challenged him in a good way. He wanted to pull her into his arms for a hug. Instead, he teased, “You have the instincts of a bloodhound.”
“Are you calling me a dog?”
“I’m saying that it’s no wonder you turned out to be a reporter. You always find your way.”
She leaned her back against a boulder and folded her arms below her breasts. “Getting close to the safe house is going to be a problem. We can’t muffle the engine noise. And it’s getting lighter by the minute.”
Though it couldn’t have been much past five-thirty, the sun was rising fast. “If anybody’s at the safe house, we’ll turn back. If not, the noise won’t matter.”
“I can’t believe the police left the place abandoned,” she said. “Don’t they need to process the crime scene?”
“Real life isn’t like the movies. In most cases, there isn’t a crack team of CSI investigators on hand. I’d expect the local law enforcement to be occupied with their manhunt. The
search for Rojas.”
“And for you.” She pushed herself away from the boulder and came closer to him. “I’ve been thinking. Would it be so bad to turn yourself in?”
“I’m not going anywhere with the marshals.”
“You don’t have to,” she said. “After the sheriff has taken a look at the safe house, Patterson and Bryant won’t have much credibility. No matter what their excuse, it’s obvious that they fouled up royally.”
“True.”
“Anybody would understand why you refused to be in their custody.”
“True again.”
Her gaze searched his face. “If you turn yourself in, you’ll be taken to Chicago and sequestered before the trial. After that, you’ll probably be in the witness protection program. I might not see you again.”
He couldn’t resist her any longer. His arm slipped around her waist, and he pulled her against him. “If you want to find me, you will.”
“But there are rules.”
“Since when did the rules stand in your way?”
She was a fighter, doing what she thought was right in spite of conventions and restrictions. She’d arranged to spring him from the custody of the marshals.
Her head tilted back. Her lips parted. He kissed her long and hard. They needed to be on the move. Didn’t have a moment to spare. Still, he took his time, savoring this moment when her body melted against him. He wanted to make love to her in the soft light of dawn, and he could feel her yearning. She wanted it, too.
He murmured, “Have we known each other long enough?”
“Not yet.” She exhaled a sigh. “Soon.”
They were meant to be together. He knew it.
Chapter Eighteen
Jack saw only one vehicle outside the safe house: the black SUV with the demolished front end and the flat tires. Since there was no reason for the police to conceal their presence, he assumed no one was here guarding the place. Still, he used caution, parking about a hundred yards away in a forested area and camouflaging their ATV with loose brush.
As they approached the house, Caitlyn said, “They didn’t even put up yellow crime scene tape. This doesn’t seem right.”
