by Sharon Sala
She laid her hand gently against the edge of his cheek. “I would if I could, ” she said, and then stepped into his embrace and rested her head upon his shoulder. “Besides, haven’t you heard that a woman’s love can make a bad man good?”
Pain drilled a hole through his heart, piercing all the way to his soul. He looked down, then tilted her chin until she was staring him straight in the face.
“Sweet, sweet Mercy, don’t you understand? Once a desperado, always a desperado.”
A cloud passed between earth and the moon, casting everything on the Kiamichis into an abrupt darkness. At the apex of total density, Rachel gasped. Just like that, the sunset and the dream man were gone. She had no idea how long she’d been standing there watching the scene unfold inside her mind, but the world had shifted back to nighttime and reality.
Her awareness returned to the cold, flowing water on her bruised and numbing feet, and then to the stranger who’d come out of the dark. The first thought in her head was that if she couldn’t see him, he couldn’t see her. Grabbing at the tail of her gown, she bolted from the creek and back up the hill, running away from a waking nightmare more horrible than those that haunted her sleep.
Boone heard water splashing. His heart sank. She was running away.
“Wait!” he called, afraid that she would hurt herself by running full tilt through the woods in the darkness. But when the cloud passed and the mountains were once again bathed in moonglow, he found himself standing alone at the edge of the stream.
With a sense of having somehow failed her, he turned and started back the same way he’d come. A long while later, he slid into the seat of his truck and then sat without moving, contemplating the sequence of events that had taken place this night.
He’d started out with one mystery and wound up with two. He still didn’t know the identity of the man behind Denver Cherry’s operation, and he’d found a woman who seemed as lost as he felt. Even worse, he didn’t know her name.
“And that’s the way you’d better leave it,” he reminded himself. “You were out to catch a thief, not mess with someone else’s woman.”
Startled by a car’s sudden appearance around a bend in the road below, he started his engine, then let it idle as the vehicle passed by. When it was gone, he turned on the headlights and pulled out of his place of concealment and drove away.
By the time he got into bed and pulled up the covers, it was past 3:00. The silent rooms of the dilapidated trailer that was his undercover home seemed to mock him. They were empty, just like his life.
Long after the lights were out, his jangled nerves were still rocking, on edge. Tonight was the closest he’d come to finding the brains behind Denver Cherry’s operation. But he’d failed again, and until he knew all there was to know about this drug operation, he was still a man living a lie.
With a curse, he rolled over on his belly. Jamming his hands beneath his pillow, he closed his eyes and willed himself to sleep. But when sleep finally came, there was little rest. Instead, he dreamed of a tall, slender woman with long black hair who called out his name and then ran screaming from him in fright.
Chapter 2
Rachel twisted the band on the end of her braid and then tossed it over her shoulder. It fell between her shoulder blades with a thump. Dressed for the day, she headed to the kitchen as the welcome scent of fresh-brewed coffee wafted through the rooms.
Working as an emergency medical technician for the town of Razor Bend was often stressful and sometimes hazardous, but to Rachel, it was a fulfilling career. She couldn’t remember a time in her life when she hadn’t wanted to be in some field of medicine.
She hadn’t really chosen the job of EMT. It had chosen her. Years ago she’d witnessed firsthand the dramatic difference that on-the-spot medical help could make in saving someone’s life.
After seeing the quick wit and skill of an EMT bringing a nearly drowned child back to life, her decision was made.
While her vocation had been planned, settling in Razor Bend had not. That had been an accident. Two years ago, while driving back from Galveston, Texas, where she’d spent a summer vacation from her job in St. Louis, Missouri, her car had blown a head gasket. It had taken the mechanic in Razor Bend a day and a half to get the parts to fix it. By the time it was ready to go, she’d fallen in love with the small mountain community.
That day, when she drove out of town, she’d left behind the beginnings of some good friendships, as well as her résumé. Less than a month later, she’d gotten a call that changed her life. Now she was a full-fledged employee of the town of Razor Bend. And, except for the recent onset of her sleepwalking episodes, everything was just about perfect.
Rachel entered the kitchen, aiming for the coffee brewing in the pot, and poured herself a cup. What was left of last night’s headache lingered at the base of her neck. Coffee in hand, she turned to look out the kitchen window, giving careful attention to the wide expanse of yard that sloped downward toward the trees surrounding the house. As she lifted the mug to her mouth, blowing gently before taking a sip, she took note of the weather, gauging what she was wearing against what she might need before her shift was over. The sun was coming up. The sky looked clear. After the rain they’d had all last week, they could use a picture-perfect day.
It didn’t take long for the jolt of caffeine to settle Rachel’s nerves, but as she let herself relax, memories came flooding into her mind, and with them a return of the fear and the panic that had come with the stranger who caught her sleepwalking.
With a groan, she turned from the window, her heart pounding, her hands trembling as she clasped them around the cup. She closed her eyes, remembering the sound of his voice coming out of the darkness, and with it the fear that had momentarily shattered what was left of her sanity. He’d seemed so big and menacing, yet he’d made no overture toward her that she could call threatening. His voice had been filled with concern, but Rachel had known such an overwhelming sense of dread that she’d lost all rational thought.
Tired of worrying over things she could not change, she pulled herself out of the past to focus on matters at hand. Such as a grocery list she needed to fill. Taking a jacket to work, just in case it would rain. Things that mattered. Things that she could control.
But even though her mind had moved on, her body was still in the same place, standing before the window with a cup of coffee held tight in her hand.
Why? Why is this happening to me?
She’d moved up the mountain exactly four weeks ago tomorrow. She’d never had an episode of sleepwalking in her life until a little over six weeks ago. That had been at the end of July. Now it was September, and their frequency was increasing by the week. If only she could remember what was going on in her head when they happened, then maybe she could figure out what it all meant—and, better yet, find a way for them to stop.
The first time she came to in her nightgown on a back street in Razor Bend, she’d panicked. The second time it happened, she’d woken up on the edge of town in a downpour and crept back to her bed, certain that she would be found out and fired.
Luck had been with her, but Rachel didn’t trust her luck to hold and had decided that finding a secluded house to rent outside of town might be safer...at least until she could. figure out what had triggered this behavior.
This house was about as secluded as it got. Her nearest neighbor was down the mountain and more than two miles away, with acres and acres of dense woods between them. But after last night, she wondered if she’d made a mistake. Last night she’d come close to losing more than a job. What if she hadn’t gotten away from that man? What might he have done to her? Worse yet, was he still out there... watching?
A muscle in her arm jerked, sending coffee sloshing over the side of the cup. It was only luck that kept her from spilling it on the navy blue pant legs of her last clean uniform.
With a sigh of disgust, she put her coffee on the counter and then reached for a paper towel to clean up the mess she’d ma
de on the floor. Moments later, she tossed the towel in the trash and then glanced at her watch. Her shift started at eight. It was time to go.
Grabbing her purse and jacket, Rachel exited her house just as the sun was brimming on the horizon. She paused, inhaling the fresh, piney scent of cool, clean air as a squirrel took a flying leap from the edge of her roof to the overhanging branches of a nearby tree. Laughter was rich in her voice as she chided his daring, but the smile on her face stilled as she looked east, past the limbs of the tree, to the sunrise in progress.
Her mouth went dry, and she choked on a breath. Her face flushed, then blanched, as she stared at the rich, vivid hues spreading across the sky. She reached toward the porch railing to steady herself.
It was all coming back. Only now was she remembering what happened before she broke and ran. Last night, the world had shifted before her eyes. She’d watched time move backward from night to day and let a dark-eyed, dangerous man take her in his arms.
Last night she’d tried to convince herself that her encounter with the stranger had been had been part of the dream that had taken her from her bed and into the woods, but now, in the bright light of day, she had to face the truth. She hadn’t been asleep. She’d been wide awake and begging a stranger not to hurt her.
Rachel stared at the sunrise, shaking with a sick kind of fear.
“I’m going crazy.”
Without warning, she bolted for her car. After she was safely inside, with the door locked and the engine running, she started to rationalize.
“I’m imagining things,” she muttered. “Maybe it’s because I’m so isolated up here. My mind is starting to play tricks on me, that’s all.”
She put the car into gear and started to work. A short while later, she turned the last curve on the mountain road and saw Razor Bend in the distance. Relaxing at the familiarity of it, she took her foot from the brake and accelerated. It wasn’t until she passed the city-limit’s sign that something else occurred to her. Something she hadn’t let herself consider all through the night.
If the man who’d caught her in the creek was real, but the outlaw in her dream was not, then how had she known before the outlaw spoke that he was going to call her Mercy?
Late that same afternoon, Rachel was on her knees inside the ambulance, putting clean linen on the gurney and restocking supplies. Charlie Dutton, a resident paramedic and also her partner for the past sixteen months, was in the office, filling out the paperwork on the run they’d just made. The rollicking rhythms of country music were playing on a nearby radio, a welcome interruption to Rachel’s train of thought.
All day she’d been haunted by last night’s events—an—other sleepwalking episode—the fear she’d felt at being caught in the woods by a stranger, and then the dream that had become mixed up in it all.
Only when she and Charlie were on an actual call was she able to put the memory behind her. But there was something different about her work today. Though her hands were busy, it seemed as if her mind were moving in slow motion. On one level she was doing everything right, but on another, she felt out of place, as if she were seeing the world through someone else’s eyes.
Replace gauze pads.
Dark eyes searched her face as he lowered his head.
Check oxygen level in tank.
Sweet, sweet Mercy.
Need a new box of disposable syringes.
Once a desperado, always a desperado.
Her hands paused above a shelf as she let her mind roll backward. The feel of the outlaw’s mouth on hers had been so real...so familiar. She shuddered, then sighed. None of what was happening to her made any sense. She yearned for someone to talk to, someone in whom she could confide, yet there was no one she could trust.
She couldn’t talk to Charlie. He would think she was crazy. The idea of talking to a psychiatrist had already crossed her mind, but not in a small rural community like Razor Bend. It was asking for trouble. Someone would find out, and then that same someone—or another like him—would decide she didn’t have what it took to work under stress. It could very well cost her the job she loved so well.
She’d already faced the fact that telling her best friend, Joanie Mills, wouldn’t be smart. The old saying “Telegraph, telephone, tell a woman” could be directly applied to Joanie. She owned a beauty shop called Curlers, and it was a known fact in town that her place was a better source for current news than CNN.
Therefore, Rachel would not be telling Joanie that she sleepwalked, and she would certainly not mention the fact that, in her mind, the thin line of demarcation between fact and fantasy was starting to fade. Frustration was turning to anxiety. If only there was someone... She shoved the last box of disposable syringes into place and frowned.
Oh, God, what am I going to do?
No sooner had the thought crossed her mind than she realized the light in which she’d been kneeling was gone. She looked up as her heart took a nosedive. It was Griffin Ross.
She managed a smile. “I didn’t hear you walk up.” Griffin Ross grinned and leaned inside, pulling her down from the ambulance.
“I know I should have announced myself, but when you’re working, you get this intense, adorable expression on your face. I couldn’t resist playing voyeur. I’m sorry I frightened you. Forgive me?” Before she could answer, he’d kissed her cheek. Uncomfortable with what he’d just done, Rachel took a quick step back and managed to smile.
“You’re forgiven.”
Griff wanted to shake her. She said one thing, but he could see another in her eyes. Frustration was mounting over their situation. He’d been dating her for months, and if he was honest with himself, he had to admit that the only way he’d gotten to first base with her was on a walk. Rachel hadn’t given him a moment of encouragement. As always, she smiled nervously, then turned away.
Griff must have come for a reason, Rachel thought as she tugged at the edge of a sheet covering the gurney, tucking it in place. He wouldn’t be here during business hours unless he wanted something. She kept telling herself that if she stayed busy, she wouldn’t have to make small talk with a man she wished would leave her alone.
As president of Ross Savings and Loan, Griffin was Razor Bend’s most eligible bachelor. He’d been relentlessly pursuing her for the better part of six months, yet she knew that when he kissed her just now, she’d flinched.
It wasn’t the first time she’d objected to Griffin Ross’s interest in her, though Joanie saw fit to remind her on a daily basis that he was handsome, well-to-do, single—and interested. If she had a brain in her head, Joanie claimed, she would already have snatched him up. But Rachel didn’t want him.
There had been more than one occasion during the past few months when she wondered if something was wrong with her feminine radar. She knew she should be thanking her lucky stars that a man like Griffin was pursuing her so diligently, but she wasn’t.
Griff frowned as Rachel turned away. By nature, he wasn’t a masochist, but he was beginning to realize that the only relationship he and Rachel Brand had was the one in his mind. Yes, they dated, and on more than one occasion they’d shared what he liked to call a passionate kiss, but nothing more. And the passion that existed between them was definitely one-sided.
But Griffin Ross hadn’t risen to his level of success with a defeatist attitude. As his father had always said, the show wasn’t over until the fat lady sang. He laid his hand on Rachel’s shoulder, ignoring the flinching of muscle beneath his palm.
“Rachel?”
She looked up.
“The Elks lodge is sponsoring a fund-raising dance this weekend. Would you like to go?”
The pause between his question and her answer was too long. Griff hid his impatience behind an open smile, but when Rachel’s partner, Charlie Dutton, came out of the office calling her name, he fought the urge to wring the man’s neck.
Thankful that she’d been spared from answering, Rachel turned. “I’m here!” she shouted. “What�
�s up?”
Charlie Dutton’s walk was closer to a bounce than a stride, but when he saw Griffin Ross standing at her side, he came to an abrupt halt. It was all he could do not to frown.
“Sorry. I didn’t know you had company. You left your keys on the desk.” He handed them to her with an easy grin. “What’s the deal with putting nail polish on them?”
“The keys to the front and back door look alike, but they’re not, so I painted an F on this one, for Front, and a B on this one, for Back, ” she said.
Charlie grinned. “So, what’s on the key to your car? C for Car, or D for Drive?”
“Very funny,” she said, dropping her keys in her pocket. “Don’t you have something else to do?”
“No.”
Rachel rolled her eyes. When pushed, Charlie Dutton was impossible.
“I was going to tell you that I’m through with the paperwork and ready to go to lunch,” he offered, purposely ignoring the fact that Griff was there.
Rachel felt torn. She was all too aware that Charlie’s feelings for her went beyond friendship, and while she admired and respected him, she felt nothing romantic for him in return. But they were partners, and on the job, where one went, the other followed.
“Just give me a minute,” she said.
Charlie nodded, then gave Griffin Ross another cool glance and walked away.
Rachel waited until Charlie was gone before addressing Griffin’s request. “About the dance... I’m not sure about my schedule. Can I get back to you?”
Griff’s smile felt frozen on his face. “Of course. I’ll give you a call at home in a few days, okay?”
Rachel braced herself for the kiss she saw coming, but when Griff’s mouth touched her lips, she had to hide her distaste. His lips were too hot, too soft, and too demanding. Out of nowhere came the thought... The outlaw’s lips had been cool and hard... but so beguiling.
A car honked on the street and Rachel jerked with embarrassment and took a quick step back. Distinguished citizen or not, she shouldn’t be letting Griffin Ross kiss her while she was on duty.
