by B. J Daniels
“Great.”
Except she didn’t sound like it was truly great. “If you’d like to call him, you can while I make us something to eat.”
“I’d like to clean up first.”
“I thought that might be the case.” He went to the stove to check the three large kettles of water heating. Her grandfather was waiting for her call and she didn’t want to call him? Maybe that wasn’t strange. Maybe they weren’t close. Or maybe there was friction between them. JJ wasn’t a child. Maybe she resented the fact that because of her rich grandfather she’d been kidnapped.
It seemed strange, though. Wouldn’t she want to relieve his mind herself that she was all right? It made him suspicious. Surely she wasn’t involved in her own kidnapping. Although it wouldn’t be the first time, especially involving the granddaughter of a very wealthy man.
He studied her out of the corner of his eye. She looked to be in her midtwenties. That was an age where grandpa might have decided it was time she made something of her life and quit living off his money. Which in turn could have led to the kidnapping and ransom demand to get back at him.
Reining in his thoughts, he reminded himself that she’d almost died. Also, there was the needle mark on her neck. Maybe once she got cleaned up and ate something, she’d want to call him.
“I thought you might like a quick bath while I cook us something to eat.” He saw her surprised expression as well as a yearning desire flash in her eyes before she realized what bathing in his cabin would require.
* * *
JJ LOOKED AROUND in confusion. “And where exactly would I take this bath? Maybe it’s just me, but I don’t see a bathtub.”
He stepped to the back door and returned with a large galvanized tub, which he set in front of the fireplace.
“You can’t be serious.”
He didn’t answer as he set to work. Within moments he had a warm blaze going in the fireplace. “I’ve got water heating on the woodstove. Sorry, no bubble bath, but I do have bath gel. I’m not completely uncivilized.”
She had to admit, it was more than a little tempting. She wanted to wash the smell of her ordeal from her skin. Also, she was in no hurry to leave here and go to her...grandfather’s. One look at her and Franklin Davenport would blow a cork. Before he had her arrested. She would love to put that off as long as possible.
But at the same time, taking a bath in the middle of this cabin with this man...
“I promise you will enjoy the bath,” he said as he brought out the first kettle of hot water. He added bath gel, the scent rising on the steam into the air in the small cabin. “But only if you’re not overly modest. Up to you,” he said as he took the empty kettle back to the kitchen. “I guess it depends on how badly you want the bath.”
JJ heard the challenge. She looked longingly at the tub in front of the fire as he continued to add water. She could feel the grime on her, not to mention the dried blood, hers and possibly others. She watched him finish filling the tub, almost salivating to climb in until finally she met his gaze. “Do you have a shirt I could borrow?”
He stepped to the bureau against the wall beside the bed and pulled out a flannel shirt. “You can undress over there,” he said, pointing toward the bed. “While I cook.” He stepped behind the short wall that separated the kitchen from the living room and bedroom. He stood a good three feet taller than the wall, but he turned away and she heard the rattle of pots and pans.
JJ had never been overly modest, and given what she’d been through, stripping off her clothes in this man’s cabin seemed like no big deal. Still, she hurriedly discarded her dirty clothing and peeled off her bandage, anxious to climb into that tub of hot, wonderfully smelling water. She could hear him in the kitchen chopping something, his back to her.
Naked, she pulled on his flannel shirt. It was huge on her, falling down past her knees. She rolled up the sleeves and padded barefoot toward the tub. He was still chopping in the kitchen and apparently paying no attention to her.
She saw that he’d thought of everything. On the hearth next to the tub, he’d laid out two towels, and a bottle each of shampoo and the bath gel along with a washrag. She tested the water with her fingers before she shrugged off his shirt and stepped into the tub.
It wasn’t very deep, but deep enough that she could slide down and get water up to her neck. Taking the bath gel, she began to wash her body, lathering the outdoors-smelling gel on her skin, the firelight playing off her wet limbs. She couldn’t remember ever enjoying a bath this much.
She rinsed off and was considering how to wash her hair when she heard him behind her.
“I can help with your hair,” he said. She started to say that she could handle it, when he pulled the tie releasing her ponytail and then ordered her to “Lean forward.”
She did as he poured warm water from a kettle over her head. She was blindly reaching for the shampoo on the hearth when she felt his hand already holding the bottle. A moment later, he began to work the shampoo into her thick long hair.
It felt luxurious. She realized that she’d been holding her breath. Now she let it out as he massaged the shampoo in, using those big hands and strong fingers to massage her scalp. Eyes closed, she couldn’t help herself. She relaxed into it, hypnotized. No man had ever washed her hair. While titillating, it was comforting.
But it seemed so out of character for this man. How could he be so cold and calculating, even violent, and yet so gentle? She remembered how he’d been with his animals.
She leaned into his hands. A pleased moan escaped her lips, followed by a chuckle from him. Her eyes flew open. Had he washed his wife’s hair like this? Careful, she warned herself. One act of kindness and she was putty in his hands? Not if she was smart. Hadn’t he said he got his wife killed?
* * *
WT COULDN’T HELP being anxious. He’d gotten Thorn into this. Worse, he was circumventing the law to help his friend Franklin. He told himself that once Geneva was safe, he would insist the authorities be called.
Thorn had the woman, so why couldn’t he relax? Because from what little the man had said, Geneva had been a problem. He winced as he remembered Thorn saying that he’d had to tie her up. Franklin would just love that. But he hoped his friend would be so thankful to have his granddaughter back that he wouldn’t be worried about possible rope burns.
That Geneva was a spoiled prima donna didn’t surprise him. Franklin had told him stories about his granddaughter’s bad behavior. He imagined how Thorn would have reacted to her, and found himself smiling. Geneva Davenport would have been shocked by Thorn, as well. Talk about an immovable object. Of course he wouldn’t put up with her giving him any trouble. He had a job to do, and knowing Thorn, he would have just done it—despite the woman.
Sighing, he was just thankful that Geneva had survived the plane crash with what sounded like minor injuries. Did she realize how lucky she was—especially since the plane had blown up after she’d gotten out?
Of course, this didn’t mean that it was over. If she set this all up... WT knew Franklin would want to deny the obvious. Unless the young woman really was innocent. He reminded himself that he’d been a judge a large portion of his adult life, and still believed in innocent until proven guilty.
But he also wasn’t one to ignore the evidence. Well, he told himself as he neared Whitefish Lake, where Franklin had an estate by the same name, deciding what to do with Geneva from here on out would be up to his friend. He knew Thorn would be glad to be rid of the woman.
Once Thorn brought her to Franklin’s home, he could go back to his solitary life in the mountains even though WT hated to see the man hiding out from the world. But there was nothing he could do about that. He’d tried to warn Thorn about his wife, but he’d been too in love to listen. It was something neither of them had ever mentioned after the tragedy. WT knew it would always be there between them like a w
edge.
Because of that, he was half surprised that Thorn had taken the assignment. Then again, Thorn Grayson was a man of honor. He would consider the request payment of a debt. Paid in full, WT thought, once Thorn delivered Geneva to her grandfather.
* * *
THORN HAD THOUGHT food might tame some of the wild out of this woman. Turned out, a bath and shampoo had done the trick. He’d felt her relax for the first time since he’d laid eyes on her as he’d washed her hair. He knew it wouldn’t last, and it didn’t. She’d let her guard down for a few minutes, but he could now feel the tension and wariness back in her.
Washing her hair had been an impulse, one he now regretted as he recalled how much his wife had liked him washing her hair. It wasn’t a memory he needed right now. “Ready to rinse?”
She nodded and leaned forward, the spell broken. He poured the warm water over her hair to wash out the suds. The soapy liquid ran over her shoulders and down her back. He tried not to notice her pale bare skin, the tiny freckles along her shoulders or the slim back that disappeared into the soap bubbles. He added the conditioner to her hair, worked it in and rinsed her hair again. When he stopped pouring, she lifted her head, wrung out her hair and waited for him to leave the room.
“It’s often slippery getting out,” he warned as he touched her arm and felt her start. “Let me help you. Promise not to look.” He couldn’t help being amused. She really didn’t believe he was one of the good guys. Not that he could blame her. He wasn’t so sure of that himself.
As she rose, his arm keeping her steady, she reached for one of the towels. He took the second one and wrapped it around her from the back, this time looking away as he realized how long it had been since a woman had stirred anything in him. As he reminded himself who she was, he didn’t need her being the one to remind him of his lost love.
She stepped out of the tub onto the rug next to it, and he quickly returned to the kitchen with the empty kettle. “I’ll rebandage your leg before we leave.”
He’d felt her gaze on him as he’d left the room. He hoped she was feeling guilty for suspecting he might have had other intentions when he’d suggested the bath in front of the fire—let alone the shampoo. And yet, if he was honest with himself, he shouldn’t have suggested either.
This was a job. Not even one he’d wanted. Once he turned her over to her rich, powerful grandfather, he’d be done.
And yet he couldn’t forget the feel of her thick hair in his fingers or the glow of her skin fresh from the bath. He was still a man, although it had been a very long time since he’d felt any longing for what he’d denied himself.
“I hope you like elk,” he said from the other side of the partition, surprised at the tightness in his chest, in his voice. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw that she was wearing his flannel shirt.
“I do.”
He thought she might have eaten anything at this point. He heard her stomach rumble as she stepped around the wall and into the kitchen, coming up beside him in the tight space. Her hair was wrapped in a towel. There were droplets of water still clinging to her lashes. She looked...sexy as hell, her cheeks flushed from the heat of the bath. He glanced away as he felt an ache in his chest he hadn’t felt in a very long time.
“Oh, that smells good,” she said with such enthusiasm that he had to look at her again just to see if she was joking. He doubted this woman had ever had to live on elk meat. Hell, he doubted she’d even tasted it before.
* * *
FRANKLIN DAVENPORT PACED the floor in front of the marble fireplace in his large living room on Whitefish Lake, hoping he’d done the right thing.
He’d heard nothing from the kidnappers. Nothing from Geneva. Nothing more from the judge after the last call that informed him that his granddaughter had been found alive. He’d been so relieved that he’d had to sit down.
“Then I don’t have to worry about raising the ransom money,” he’d said into the phone.
“I would go ahead and make preparations, just in case,” the judge had said.
“Just in case what?”
“I like covering all my bases,” his old friend said. “Go ahead and make the arrangements. I will be there soon.”
Except WT hadn’t arrived yet. He’d said Geneva would be calling him as soon as she had cell service. Except she hadn’t called. He desperately needed to hear her voice, to know that she really was all right. He thought of how stubborn she could be. Was that why he hadn’t heard from her yet? Or was there a problem? Was she injured and couldn’t call?
The judge had told him not to talk to anyone. But in order to raise the ten million, he’d had to call his lawyer and his chief financial officer. They were also on their way.
At the sound of the doorbell, he rushed to it and threw the door open. “Willie,” he said, relieved, but not as relieved as he would have been to see Geneva standing there.
The judge looked the same from when he’d seen him on the golf course in Florida this winter. Neither of them were the broad-shouldered, tall and strong young men they’d been when they’d met in the military. But they’d both taken care of themselves and were still solidly built for their years. They both had full heads of hair, though both were gray. It made them look distinguished, he liked to say.
Willie spent hours fishing the Gulf of Mexico from his Florida retirement home in the winter months, while Franklin played golf near one of his numerous homes in the south. Both also had homes in Montana where they spent the summer months. So they were both tanned with what he liked to think of as character lines. Their faces, though, were now etched with worry.
Franklin shook the man’s hand, not surprised by his strong grip. On impulse, he pulled him into a quick awkward hug. He’d never been so glad to see anyone. He’d learned while building his fortune that there were only a few people you could trust with your life, let alone your granddaughter’s. The judge was one of them.
“I can’t tell you how much I appreciate—” Willie waved the rest of his words away. “I’m so glad you’re here. I’ve been going out of my mind.”
“You haven’t heard from the kidnappers again?”
He shook his head. “Do you think they know that we have Geneva?”
“When the plane didn’t make it to its destination, they would know something had gone wrong,” the judge said. “Let’s sit down, and I’ll tell you everything I know.”
“But Geneva is safe?”
“She’s with someone I trust.”
Franklin let out a long breath and felt his eyes burn. He turned away to lead his friend into the living room. “Can I get you something to drink?” Willie shook his head and took a chair. As he did, Franklin saw him check his cell phone.
He felt a sliver of worry work its way under his skin as he started to make himself another drink, but instead poured sparkling water into a tall glass with ice and a slice of lemon before he went to sit across from the judge. “I had hoped she would call. I need to hear her voice.”
“She will soon be on her way here,” Willie said.
He tried to relax, but every time he saw his old friend check his cell phone, he felt his anxiety growing.
“Here’s what I know given the information you gave me for the tracking device on her phone,” the judge said. “Your granddaughter was abducted from her home, taken to a nearby private airfield where she was flown southeast toward Gardiner in a small four-passenger plane. The plane crashed in the mountains north of town. The pilot and another man were killed in the crash. Geneva was uninjured except for a cut on her leg, which my contact bandaged when he found her. Unfortunately, the plane was destroyed, but your granddaughter apparently took both men’s wallets and cell phones before that, so we know their identities. It shouldn’t take much to find the person behind the attempted kidnapping.”
Franklin put his face in his hands for a moment. He couldn’t
even imagine what his granddaughter had gone through. Let alone that she would have the sense to take the men’s wallets. But if Willie said she was all right... He lifted his head. “Thank you.”
“I wanted to speak to you first. Under the circumstances, I think the best way to get your granddaughter home safely would be with my contact. If you disagree, he can put her on a plane in Bozeman and you can pick her up at the Kalispell airport. He’s standing by, awaiting your decision. Let’s not forget that she will be in danger until the kidnappers are found. My advice is to have my contact bring her to you. That way, we’ll know she’s safe.”
“I’ll go along with whatever you think is best,” Franklin said even though he felt impatient to see for himself that Geneva was all right. “I trust you, Willie. If your...contact will get her here safely, then by all means.”
“It will take a while to drive from where she was found.”
“I’m just glad she’s okay.”
WT nodded. “Then I think what we need to do is talk about how to proceed from here.”
“I’ve had to call my chief financial officer and my attorney. They are both on their way.”
His friend frowned. “Did you tell them—”
“Nothing yet. I was waiting for you, but I need their help to put together such a large sum of cash. I don’t have ten million lying around. But we aren’t going to give the money to the kidnappers now anyway, right?”
“The kidnapping has failed, but, Franklin, that doesn’t mean the person won’t try again. Once Geneva is here safe, then we need to call the FBI and let them handle it from here on out.”
“I thought you said the kidnappers were dead?”
“One of the men in the plane got away, but my impression was that the three men were working for someone else. The pilot had an envelope on him with a large amount of cash, so it appears he was paid, at least partially, for the job.”
