Bounty Hunter

by Donna Kauffman

  She knew darn well he wasn’t washing up. She pressed a fist against the cold knot of fear that had settled in the pit of her belly. It was impossible to ignore the possibility that Sam had somehow tracked her down.

  “Dear Lord, what have I gotten him into?” She berated herself again for telling him, for giving in to her fear and loneliness and hiring him in the first place. She should have pushed on alone until Matt showed up.

  Her nerves tightened painfully, and she shot up out of the chair and began pacing, careful to stay away from the windows.

  There was no point belaboring her latest lapse in good judgment. What was done was done. She’d be better off using the time to beat some sense into her head regarding her feelings for Kane. She’d examined them enough over the last twenty-four hours to know they weren’t simply a result of his role in her predicament. Yes, he was strong and honest and made her feel safe for the first time in months.

  But he also called to a place deep inside of her. He had an emptiness about him, a sort of hollowness that had an affect on her she was finding increasingly impossible to ignore. The urge to reach out, to find out if she could be the one to fill it was unbearably tempting.

  Even if Sam Perkins ceased to exist that very moment, taking her fear for her life with him, she knew she’d go on wanting Kane Hawthorne. Eyes of the Hawk.

  As if her wanting had conjured him, he was there. He’d entered through the front door and was coming silently down the short hall when she looked up and gasped.

  “What happened?” She ran to him, placing shaking fingers on the thin gash slicing down the side of his temple.

  Kane lifted two fingers to his temple, half surprised when he encountered the sticky warmth of his own blood. He wiped his hand on his jeans and took her arm, leading her back to the kitchen.

  “I’m all right,” he said, steering her calmly but quickly toward the table. He motioned with his head for her to take a seat. He moved to one side of the back door.

  “At least let me clean it up a little. If you caught it on a nail or barbed wire—”

  He turned from studying the back field long enough to shoot her a crooked grin. “Afraid it will get infected and I’ll lose my head?”

  He watched her lips curve in response and thought she might even laugh. That’s why he’d said it. The tension was a live thing between them. It would help if he could lessen it. Not that it would make what he had to tell her any easier.

  Something of what he felt must have shown on his face, because her smile slipped, strain again haunting her beautiful brown eyes.

  The night before, Kane had fought back the killing anger he’d hoped to come to terms with, along with his growing feelings for Annie, by taking a long dip in the frigid stream. Instead he’d found something that only served to heighten both emotions.

  “Okay,” she said, a slight wobble the only indication she wasn’t as calm as she wanted him to believe. “If you won’t let me play nurse, then will you please tell me what has you standing at my back door like a sentinel waiting to alert the troops of an impending attack?”

  He swung his head sharply back to hers, scanning her expression for a sign that she knew something he didn’t. All he saw was honest curiosity, along with a healthy dose of fear.

  He forced an even tone as he said, “How about we pack a quick supper and take a short hike? I found a spot about a hundred yards above the spring that would give us front row seats for the sunset.” Not to mention provide him with a hawk’s-eye view of the ranch.

  Annie snorted and pushed up from the table, coming straight at him.

  She poked a finger square in the middle of the T-shirt he’d retrieved from the barn during his quick inspection of the grounds.

  “If you think you can make me spill my guts, then walk away”—she jabbed again—“come wandering back when you feel like it”—another jab—“order me into my house while you go off God knows where, only to sneak in my front door fifteen minutes later with blood running down the side of your face, and then expect me to believe you want to go on a nice little picnic with me”—another poke—“then your head wound is more serious than you think.”

  EIGHT

  Kane was worried for her life, fighting the overwhelming urge to kill her husband, not to mention the almost unbearable need he had to hold her. Yet he stood there actually suppressing a smile at her spitfire of a tirade.

  His lips quirked up no matter how he tried to keep them flat. “Thank you for caring about me.”

  Her eyes widened as he’d known they would, he was half disappointed that smoke didn’t pour from her lovely freckled nose.

  “Care?” she sputtered. “Of course I care! What do you take me for? Someone’s trying to kill me and you run off, and I don’t know if you’ve gotten hurt, or maybe you decided to leave or—” In the span of a heartbeat he watched her go from blazing fury to the brink of tears. He reached for her but her palm flattened on his chest, keeping the slight but important space between them.

  She sniffed, and her bottom lip trembled as she looked up at him, fury still somehow burning brightly in her glassy eyes. “Dammit, now I’m crying again, and I swore last night I wouldn’t do that anymore.”

  Her shoulders jerked as she sniffed, and all Kane’s good intentions flew out the window. “Come here,” he whispered, pulling her taut frame against his chest. He pushed the fingers of one hand through her wild red curls, cupping her head, forcing it gently but firmly to his chest. He wrapped his other arm around her waist.

  If she’d remained hard and unyielding, resisted him for even a minute, he’d have been able to regroup and let her go. But in the next instant, she relaxed. She didn’t cry or sob as he’d expected. She huddled against him, an occasional tremor racking her shoulders, not holding him or otherwise encouraging him, using his arms as a shelter from her internal storm as she slowly pieced together her control.

  He damned himself for the bastard he was that she could continue to maintain grace under incredible pressure, while he’d caved in to his base desires on the first sight of tears. Because while she took a well-deserved time-out, he burned with a need to take her, to pull her underneath him and bury himself in her fire and light. Again. And again.

  He felt her draw herself together and move slightly away from him. He let his hands drop, then he fell heavily into a chair, not caring if it splintered under his weight, hoping like hell she’d been too preoccupied to notice the state he’d been in. Was still in.

  She sat across from him, resting her elbows on the table. “You found something last night.” She didn’t make it a question so he didn’t bother answering her. “Do we need to get out of here for a while? Is that why you suggested the picnic?”

  He looked up, letting his respect for her shine in his eyes. “Little sun, when you pull yourself together, you don’t waste time.”

  She sucked in a small breath. “I don’t have much to waste, do I?”

  He exhaled harshly, flattening his palms on the scarred table. “I don’t know. And to answer your other question, yeah, if we’re going to talk, I’d like to do it where I can keep an eye on the place.”

  “Okay. Give me a few minutes to pack something.” The look on her face as she cast a glance at the cabinets told him eating wasn’t high on her preferred agenda at the moment. But she stood and started gathering things anyway.

  “Just like that?”

  She turned back to him, her expression leaving no doubt she understood what he’d asked. “Just like that.”

  Knowing he should stay seated didn’t keep him from rising and crossing the small room. He came to stand behind her, wanting to touch her again but somehow finding enough strength at the last second not to. “I’ll do everything I can to make sure your faith in me isn’t misplaced.”

  She paused for a split second, then reached for the wooden bowl holding several shiny red apples. “I know.”

  Two words. Entrusting him with the most precious thing she had to risk;
her life. He vowed then and there not to lose control again, no matter the temptation, to do whatever it took to free her of the monster she’d married then get the hell out of her life and let her get on with rebuilding it. Because no matter how badly he was tempted to try and keep her with him, he had nothing to offer her and even less of a reason to give her hope that that fact would ever change.

  “Is it safe to climb the rocks above the spring?”

  Her words jerked him to the present. Steeling his resolve, he focused completely on the events of the evening ahead. “The barn will block us until we get into the trees a bit farther up.”

  “And getting past the barn?”

  Her voice was remarkably even, but he didn’t miss the light trembling in her fingers as she stuffed a box of crackers into the basket.

  “Clear.” For now, anyway.

  She turned suddenly, surprising him into complete stillness. “Is that how you got this?” she asked, gently touching the skin next to the gash he’d forgotten about.

  He hadn’t expected his resolve to be tested so quickly nor so strongly, especially with something as innocent as concern for a little scratch. He forced himself to withstand her soft touch as if it were some sort of test he had to pass before he could go on. It took far more will than he’d thought he had left. “Yeah. I’ll stop and clean it out at the spring, okay, Nightingale?”

  She smiled. “Okay, Rambo.”

  She might as well have cleaned out his wound with the salt in the stoneware cellar sitting on the counter. The pain would have been easier to withstand than dealing with the simple yet complex gift of her caring and easy humor at a time when he couldn’t tell her how much they meant to him.

  Loose rocks skittered down the path behind them as they made the last turn. Kane held a branch out of the way and motioned for Annie to pass him. The track was old and narrow and required concentration, a sprained ankle being the least of the consequences if they didn’t.

  Kane grimaced as he watched Annie’s jeans tighten across her trim backside as she bent and used her hands to pull herself up onto the rocky ledge. He was damn lucky he hadn’t broken his neck.

  He maneuvered carefully around her, and in a short time cleared a small area of rubble and mountain debris, then stood back as she spread the blanket.

  He let her go about unpacking, knowing she was no more eager to eat than he was, but wanting to put off for a few more moments their inevitable discussion.

  “Why don’t you start while I get this together.”

  He should have known she wouldn’t play it by his rules. He supposed he should be grateful she hadn’t followed him earlier, but he couldn’t lie to himself that the rush he’d felt when she’d come down the hall toward him had been one of relief.

  “Where did you go last night?”

  He swallowed a sigh. “I decided to take Sky Dancer out for a while. I needed to think.”

  She nodded, and he was glad there would be no pretense of misunderstanding between them.

  “Isn’t that dangerous? Taking a horse out in the dark?”

  “Depends on the horse. But I was going someplace familiar. She never forgets a trail.”

  “Familiar?”

  “The stream.”

  Again she nodded, and he wondered if she was remembering their fishing expedition.

  “Did you … come to any decisions?”

  “My intention had been to think through all you’d said and come up with a plan of action.” Not to mention take a nice long dip to keep me from coming back, on my knees if necessary, and crawling right into bed after you, he added silently.

  “But?”

  “The moon chose an opportune moment to stop playing hide-and-seek, and I noticed something on the ground.” He dropped the stick he’d been using to draw patterns in the rock dust and looked up at her. “Tracks. A man, about six feet. Thin, I’d say.”

  Her eyes widened. “You could tell all of that from a few footprints? In the dark?”

  “You’d be surprised what the size and pressure of a print reveals. I went back up on foot this morning and scouted around. I found some tire tracks, small tread, probably a rental car, sedan anyway. They were at the last wide bend in the road down the mountain. I followed the foot tracks from there to the stream.”

  “Anything … closer?”

  “No.”

  She took a small breath and turned back to the basket. After staring at it for a moment as if trying to remember what she was doing, she shifted on her heels and gave up all pretense of laying out a picnic lunch.

  “But if whoever it was found the stream, then he must know about the ranch.”

  “Could be a fisherman looking for an unspoiled stream.”

  “Driving a sedan? Not likely around here. Besides, most sportsmen stop in at Dobs’s store. I don’t think he’d have sent anyone up here. I think he suspects I’m not here for a pleasure trip.”

  “He sent me.”

  Her eyes met his, all soft and brown—and scared. “I know. And I’m sorry, Kane. Sorry I got you involved in this.”

  “Don’t, Annie. I got myself involved.”

  “What did …? Did Dobs say something that made you decide to come here?”

  “No,” he answered, feeling like a lying bastard even though it was the truth. But it was all the truth he could give her. For now. Maybe for always. He’d have to rely on his actions speaking for him. It was the only way she’d trust him enough to let him get the job done. After that, it didn’t make much difference what she thought of him. The result would be the same. She’d go her way, and he his.

  She studied him for a moment, and he found himself praying she didn’t probe that point much further, he wasn’t sure he had any capacity left to tell her an outright lie.

  “Well, now that you know the entire story, I won’t hold you to your promise.” She held up a hand to forestall his interruption. “I know you honor your word. But I’m releasing you from it. You had no way of knowing you’d be risking your life.”

  He felt her lean forward when he shifted his gaze to the rustic tableau of the ranch spread out below them. He tightened his resolve to remain still if she touched him, but wasn’t able to actually move away and eliminate the possibility.

  “Besides,” she went on, mercifully keeping her hands to herself, “Matt should be home soon. He’ll help. He has all kinds of contacts. If anyone—”

  She broke off on a swift intake of breath as Kane shot to his knees before her. He grabbed her shoulders.

  “You don’t have the luxury of waiting anymore, Annie. I’m all you’ve got.”

  He hated the cold fear that filled her wide eyes with an intensity that rocked him. He wanted to erase forever that hunted look. Prey. Dobs’s description of her flicked through his mind. Not if he could help it.

  “I can’t let you—”

  “You don’t have a choice, Annie.” His grip gentled, and he absently let his hands run down her arms. Twining his large blunt fingers through her smaller, more slender ones, he squeezed gently. “I want to get this guy, too, Annie. It’s personal now.”

  Understanding dawned in her eyes. “I can imagine how hard it is for you, finding out about this group and knowing who’s responsible for perpetuating that sort of garbage. But Hawk, he’s dangerous. I didn’t get to hear much, but even what I did hear was enough to convince me that they are well organized and not hurting for money. Or power.” She grasped his forearms. “Let Matt help me with this. It’s not your crusade.”

  A million emotions crowded his brain, not the least of which was the way his heart dropped to his knees each time she called him Hawk. He didn’t bother to elaborate on the reasons this situation had become personal to him. Her assumption wasn’t wrong, just not completely right.

  “I agree that Matt would be a welcome sight right now, but he’s not here and someone else is. In the meantime, we can’t just sit here and wait like sitting ducks.”

  He watched as she fought down the fe
ar that had become an instinctive part of her life, her gaze skittering away as the fear began to win.

  Kane’s pulse pounded with fury at his inability to put an immediate end to her terror.

  “I’ll have to leave here,” she whispered. She lifted her eyes to his. “I … I don’t know where to go. And how will Matt find me?”

  “Annie—”

  “No, Kane. You’ve done enough. I’ll figure something out. No!” she repeated when he tried to cut in. “You’ve alerted me to the danger here, but now you have to go. I know how angry you must be, how insulted by what Sam’s involved in. But it’s precisely because of his beliefs that I think you should go.”

  “I can handle Sam.”

  “You don’t know him.”

  Kane flinched, feeling again the twist of pain in his gut for having to continue evading the issue of his damning connection to Sam Perkins.

  “If he’s not worried about killing me, he sure won’t think twice about killing you,” she stated evenly.

  “And I said I was willing to take that chance. I won’t leave you here.”

  Fire lit the depths of her brown eyes. “Why?” she asked, her voice anguished. “And don’t give me all that stuff about being the kind of man who can’t walk away. Damn your honor and damn your integrity!” she choked out. “I’m barely able to manage here, wondering from one minute to the next when Sam or one of his pals will track me down.” She turned pleading eyes to him. “I can’t worry about you too.”

  Kane wondered if a person could hear his heart break. “So don’t,” he said quietly, wishing more than anything he was worth her anguish and concern. Especially given the harsh truth that all he was liable to do was add to it. “Let me worry about me.”

  “I don’t think I have that choice. Not anymore.” Almost to herself, she added, “I’m not sure I ever did.”

  Kane swore under his breath, his control so close to shattering, he trembled with the effort to piece the ragged edges back together. This was alien territory for him, having someone be truly concerned about him, and frankly, it was scary as hell.