She stiffened and yanked herself from his arms. “I … I can’t tell you anything more, Kane. I’m sorry. I wish I could …” She pulled in an audible breath. “Maybe you’d better go.”
“Go?”
“Yes. Well, no. I mean—” She sniffled, then sighed heavily. “Thank you for offering support. I’d be lying if I said it didn’t feel great to lean on someone. It’s just … this is more complicated than it sounds, and I … I don’t want to talk about it anymore. I can’t. Do you understand?”
“What I understand is that you’re running yourself ragged up here, trying to survive,” he said, not giving a damn that his voice was harsh. She had him so tied up in knots, it was a wonder he could speak at all. “You obviously don’t think going back is the answer. Fine. But you won’t last the winter up here, Annie. So you’re going to have to deal with it pretty damn soon. And I don’t exactly see a long line of people standing around wanting to help.”
“I know,” she said softly.
There was so much defeat in those two words that a great deal of his anger fled. He took a step toward her but didn’t touch her. “So let me.”
“It isn’t that simple. I can’t let you get involved in this. You don’t know what you’d be getting into.”
“Then tell me so I do know.” His patience was close to snapping. He was going purely on instinct now, and it was wreaking havoc with his self-control. “I want to help you, Annie. But you have to tell me everything.” He wanted to reach out and pull her to him again, but he held his ground.
“Why? Why do you want to stick your neck out for me?”
It was a damn good question. Only he didn’t think she wanted to hear his instinctive response. She’d made an unexpected impact on him, and in only a few short days. He wasn’t too comfortable with the knowledge of his growing feelings for her and certainly wasn’t ready to share them. So he gave her a truth they could both handle.
“Because I know something is wrong here. And I know I can help. I can’t walk away from that. Is that so hard to understand?”
“Your sense of integrity is rare, no matter what you believe,” she said quietly. “But what makes you think you can help me? You don’t even know what I’m running from.”
There. He’d gotten her to trust him enough to admit it. But the feeling of triumph was overshadowed by the knowledge that she must have run for a damn good reason. “Then tell me,” he urged quietly. This time he did give in to the need to touch her. His eyes had long ago adapted to the dark, and he unerringly reached for her hips. He tugged her a step closer to him, struggling to keep his hold light.
She tensed. He could feel her muscles coil under his fingertips and sensed she was a breath away from running. He couldn’t let her do that. Not now when he was so close. He had to get her to tell him everything.
He had a split-second urge to pull her the rest of the way into his arms and kiss her until she was too dizzy to deny him anything. But the very last thing she needed right now was him coming on to her. It was amazing she’d let him offer what comfort he had without delivering a stinging slap to his cheek. He swallowed hard on the knowledge that maybe he’d feel better if she had. It might have gone a long way to assuaging his guilt over knowing he’d wanted to offer her a whole lot more than a friendly shoulder.
His first priority, however, was to get her to talk. Which left one other alternative. He knew it would be a lot easier for her to risk part of herself if he made the same commitment.
“Annie, there are things about me you don’t know.” He heard a strangled sound. Had she actually laughed? He didn’t pause to pursue it, knowing he wouldn’t have the nerve to do this twice. “I’ve spent a lot of years … studying human behavior. I’ve done some favors, worked for some people who have a lot of contacts. Powerful ones.” He gave in to the need to tug her another inch closer. “Let me help you,” he whispered.
He could see the glistening sheen of her eyes as she stared back at him. He felt her soften beneath his fingers and had to swallow the urge to shout in triumph.
“I really shouldn’t …” She angled her body away from him, then blew out a long breath. “I want to, Kane. But this is so hard.”
“I know it is. And I can’t force you to trust me.” He tugged her back around and unconsciously lifted his hand to her face. The absence of light heightened his sense of touch. Her skin was warm and soft, damp with the tears he’d caused her to shed. Very slowly he lowered his head and placed the softest kiss he could manage on each silver-streaked cheek. Her warm skin and sweet scent burned a path straight to his heart. But when she gasped, his desire to taste the rest of her rocked through him so hard, he almost dropped to his knees.
Using up all the willpower he had left, he let his hands drop to his sides in tightly clenched fists and stepped away.
“Why don’t you find the lantern,” he said, his voice barely more than a gruff rasp. “We’ll talk while we put this stuff away.”
SIX
The soft glow of the propane lamp lit the small square room in a muted golden tone, casting into shadows the dinginess that even her extensive cleaning couldn’t erase.
Elizabeth kept as much distance between herself and Kane as possible as she stored the groceries and issued directions. But while they’d managed to keep from touching again, she found it impossible not to make occasional eye contact. His black gaze was almost tangible, making her efforts at avoiding physical contact seem silly.
“I’ll use this empty box for the few things to be stored in the spring house,” she said.
“No icebox?”
“There’s a cold-storage bin in the root cellar, but I haven’t gotten around to cleaning down there.”
“Given the shape of the rest of the house, I imagine it’s not the friendliest place in the world.”
Elizabeth stilled for a brief moment before continuing to arrange the items in the cardboard box. It was more than a little disconcerting that he never took what she said at face value, that he always understood the deeper meaning. Yet, it was oddly comforting too.
“Yeah, well, I’ve never been thrilled with cold, musty places. We’re talking major Vincent Price material.”
“I can check it out for you.”
Again, she paused. “I don’t think that’s necessary, the spring house is plenty big enough and close to the back door.” She looked up and found his gaze on her again, as she’d known it would be. “But thanks for the offer.”
After they’d found the lamp, he’d let her slip into the familiar routine of stowing the groceries without pushing any further for the explanation she’d promised him. She hadn’t expected the reprieve. Between her emotional outburst earlier and the riot of feelings that had exploded inside her the instant she’d felt his lips brush against her cheek, she more than welcomed the chance to regain her bearings.
Judging from the flat, unreadable expression that had returned to his eyes, his offer of help was simply that, not a calculated move to remind her of his earlier offer.
It did anyway. She tamped down the uneasy feeling that maybe she shouldn’t be in such a hurry to rely on her instincts again. Especially where Kane Hawthorne was concerned.
Hoping to quell her sudden tangle of nerves, she turned back to packing the box. “However, I reserve the right to call for help if I find another snake in the spring house,” she said with a light smile. “Spiders and mice I can handle; anything with legs. But creatures that can move on the ground that fast without any feet, I don’t trust.”
“The trick is not to let them see you coming.”
Elizabeth darted a glance at him. “Yeah, well, you’d know plenty about that,” she teased.
She felt her pulse accelerate when she was rewarded with another of his rare smiles. It was no more than a slight upward curve at the corners of his mouth, but it managed to push a button. Lord knew how she’d respond if he ever flashed a real one. She’d probably spontaneously combust.
“What’s so f
unny?”
She realized with a start that she’d been staring at him, and given the thread of her thoughts, she could only wonder what he’d seen on her face. She felt her cheeks warm and hoped the soft lighting kept it her secret. “Nothing really. It’s just … well, you look so different when you smile. I guess I wondered why you don’t do it more often.”
His smile didn’t disappear, as she’d half expected it to, but from where he stood leaning on the counter a few feet away, she saw his jaw tighten and a tiny muscle twitch at the corner of his eye. Another sore subject? Smiling?
Just as suddenly, the teasing, easy mood they’d shared for the past few minutes vanished. Again she looked for salvation in the newly filled box in front of her. Grabbing the corners, she lifted it, her motions made stiff by the sudden awkwardness she felt. She didn’t hear him leave his post by the counter, but as soon as she’d settled the heavy weight in her arms, he relieved her of the burden.
“I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” he said quietly. “You were just being nice.” He stepped back and moved to go around her.
Without conscious thought, Elizabeth blocked his path. “I wasn’t ‘just being nice,’ I was being sincere. You’re a handsome man who happens to look pretty sensational when you smile. It’s not a crime, you know.”
All she got was a noncommittal grunt as he pushed past her and walked to the back door.
She didn’t bother hiding her smile. It felt too good. Besides, this time she had no doubt. “Why, Kane Hawthorne,” she called after him, “I do believe you’re blushing.”
The slap of the screen door was his only response. It wasn’t until she turned and went about storing the other empty boxes, that it occurred to her he hadn’t said whether he was coming back. Even though it was dark, it really wasn’t very late. And it wasn’t as if either of them had to be up at dawn. Somehow she doubted he was going to let her have the entire night to change her mind about telling him her story.
A frown crossed her face. Why was he so insistent on helping her? Was he really the honorable guy his references claimed he was? What else could he be? she asked silently. If he had some other nefarious scheme in mind, he certainly could have carried it out by now. So that left … what?
An honest man with a strong streak of integrity, her mind instantly responded.
“Yeah, and it’s no secret how reliable a judge of character you are,” she muttered.
She sighed and rested her back against the counter. She immediately noticed there were two bottles of beer sitting on the table. The boxes had hidden them from view before. She hadn’t taken them out, so Kane must have.
Well, that answered her earlier question.
She twisted the caps off with the tail of her T-shirt and headed out to the back stoop. They’d likely cave in the front porch if they both sat on it at the same time.
She perched on the wider bottom step and stretched her legs out in front of her while she waited for Kane.
She heard the spring door squeak on its hinges, which meant she had roughly thirty seconds to decide what to say to him. Two things hit her simultaneously as she heard him—or rather felt him—come closer. One: She did trust him, at least enough to use the shoulder he was willing to provide; And two. Although she had no doubt a man like Kane could have inspired a long list of loyal contacts over his years of wandering, the bottom line was listening to her was all he could do.
Her brother was the only man who could give her the kind of help she needed. Not Kane. Not a man also called Eyes of the Hawk.
“Nickel for your thoughts.”
“A whole nickel?”
Kane took the beer Annie offered, but when she looked up at him and the rising moon reflected in her eyes, he elected to lean against the house and leave the step to her.
He shrugged. “Inflation.” He forced his gaze from the graceful line of her legs all stretched out and begging to be admired. He had no doubt he could spend a rather enjoyable evening doing just that. But not tonight, maybe never. He needed information. “I figure you got a fortune’s worth of thoughts running around inside your head. Consider it a small down payment.”
He stifled a sigh as she pulled her legs in. She tucked her feet under the step, looping her arms around her shins and resting her chin on her knees. Bolstering her nerve and girding for battle, he thought, wishing she didn’t have demons to fight. Wondering why in the hell it was so important to him to fight them for her.
“Do you have a home anywhere, Kane? I mean, are you always on the road?”
Her question surprised him. Kane grimaced, determined not to let her sidetrack him into talking about himself again. Nonetheless, he thought about the small apartment he presently rented. No, it wasn’t any more of a home to him than the P.O. box he kept in Pocatello. “Not really.”
He’d thought himself long past the point of being bothered by that simple truth. He had no home, nothing he could claim as his own, except a truck and a few horses. He’d never found anything else worth claiming. So why did admitting as much to her hurt? He gazed down at her. And why did it feel like a lie?
“I think I know what that’s like. At least, a little.”
Her soft voice jerked him back to the present. He realized then that he’d reached a decision, had probably made it the day he’d met her. As of this moment, he was no longer working for Sam Perkins. He couldn’t tell her that, of course. Not if he had any hopes of helping her.
And he would help her. It was the only thing he had to offer her. When the time came to leave her, he would at least have that to take with him.
“You aren’t planning to stay here for the winter.” He hadn’t phrased it as a question, but she answered anyway.
“I don’t want to,” she responded carefully.
“If it’s not money problems keeping you here, then what? You don’t have to go back to him. You said you had a brother, won’t he help you?”
“He will if he can.”
Her whispered answer barely reached his ears. Louder, she said, “It’s more complicated … I mean, I just can’t go back right now.”
Kane crouched down next to her raised knees. Setting the bottle on the ground, he balanced one hand on his thigh and let the other one drop gently on her shoulder. He pressed his fingers lightly, urging her to look at him.
After what seemed like ages, she did. He’d expected the sorrow and uncertainty he found in her soft brown eyes. But what curled his free hand into a tight fist against his thigh was the unmistakable trace of fear he saw as well.
“Did he hurt you, Annie? Did you come all the way out here because you’re afraid of him? Of what he might do?”
Even the late hour couldn’t cast a shadow dark enough to mask the flash of pure terror in her eyes before she looked away.
He tightened his hold on her shoulder, using what was left of his restraint to keep from yanking her to her feet and doing whatever he felt necessary to get the whole story from her. “Annie,” he demanded softly. When she didn’t respond, he pulled her until she sat sideways on the steps, her tightly pressed knees tucked between his thighs. She kept her gaze cast downward. “You can’t stay here alone.”
“I’m not alone,” she whispered. Then, even softer, she added, “You’re here.”
His fingers trembled. “Look at me, Annie. Look at me.”
Slowly, she raised her eyes to him, and he could see what she’d been trying to hide. The moon highlighted their glassy surface, but her cheeks were dry.
“Did he hurt you? I know it’s hard, but you have to tell me if I’m going to help you.”
His fingertips registered the gentle tremors that raced through her. He ached to pull her into his arms. He wanted to hold her, heal her. He also wanted to kiss her, to taste her again and again, to make love to her. And that was absolutely the last thing she needed from him.
Her gaze locked on his, and his chest tightened. “I wish you could help me, Hawk. You can’t know how much.”
&nbs
p; “Hawk?” he echoed automatically.
A shaky smile curved her lips. “I don’t know where that came from. Your Indian name, I guess. It … it suits you.”
He fought his immediate physical response, telling himself it was only a nickname.
“Call me whatever you want,” he said, trying to sound as if it didn’t matter. “But I can’t do anything until you tell me why you ran.” He refused to let her back away from the truth.
She broke eye contact again and stared downward as she twisted her fingers together. So much tension in such a slender frame.
“Aw hell,” he muttered. Giving in to his need to ease her silent torment, he slid onto the step above her and gently turned her so she sat between his thighs with her back to him. He’d expected a fight and didn’t quite know what to make of her acquiescence. Not one to dwell on infrequent favors, small or otherwise, he began gently kneading the soft curves at the base of her neck.
She didn’t make a single noise, but after several minutes, she did let her head fall slightly forward.
Kane stifled a groan as the moon lit the fine ridge of her spine that peeked out from the top of her loose collar. Acting on instinct, he pressed his thumbs to the center of her back and ran them slowly downward. It was as if he’d unzipped her. Her body sagged, then shivered as he retraced the motion upward. He followed the same motion again, this time wringing a sigh from her as his hands stopped to rest on her shoulders. He forced his fingers to lay gently and not to pull her backward—against his hard, fully aroused, body.
Instead he let his hands drop, his arms resting on his thighs, his chin just above her head. The scent of her hair, the scent of her, kept him aroused, but he used the discomfort to remind him of his offer to help.
“Why did you run?” he asked, his voice a rough whisper.
After a long moment in which he felt her shudder as surely as if he were still touching her, she answered.
“Because if he finds me, he’ll kill me.”
She said it with total conviction. That fact, combined with the undiluted terror he’d witnessed briefly in her eyes, told him she was not exaggerating. Rage filled him. His palms fairly itched with the need to pound something. Preferably flesh. Specifically Sam Perkins’s flesh.
Bounty Hunter Page 8
