Just A Little Bit Dangerous Part 14

That was only part of the problem. The simple part. The other part wasn't so cut-and-dried. "I'm not going to let you jerk my chain," he growled.

"Don't worry, your secret is safe with me."

This was not playing out the way he'd planned. In fact, nothing was working out the way he planned when it came to this woman.

He stared at her for a long while. She stared back, her expression challenging and, perhaps, a little hurt. He wasn't sure why, but he was having a difficult time reading her. That was unusual for Jake; knowing what people were thinking and feeling was second nature to him. That was what made him such a good cop. Why couldn't he read Abby? Why the h.e.l.l was he having such a hard time doing the right thing?

"I know a lawyer," he said, after a moment. "He's top notch. Criminal law. I could ask him to look into your case."

A kaleidoscope of emotions scrolled across her features. Shock. Disbelief. Grat.i.tude. Jake didn't want to see any of them, didn't want to know what she was feeling. He knew that kind of insight would take him one step closer to knowing her. He did not want to get any closer to Abby Nichols.

"I'm going outside to keep watch." Abruptly, he plucked his duster from the floor and started toward the door. He heard her say something to him, but he didn't stop. She was too close, and he was feeling the proximity like heat from a stove. He'd stay outside until she was asleep. At least then he wouldn't have to look into the violet depths of her eyes and think about everything she'd been through. At least then he wouldn't be tempted to make another mistake.

At least, he wouldn't be tempted to believe her.

Abby wasn't sure what woke her. One minute she was sleeping soundly in her sleeping bag a few feet from the fire. The next she was sitting bolt upright, listening...for what?

The embers in the fire hissed quietly. A few feet away Jake was huddled in his sleeping bag, his breathing regular and slow. Around her, the cabin was pitch-black and freezing cold. She s.h.i.+vered, not sure if it was from the cold or the uneasiness slinking through her. Rising, she moved closer to the fire and stuck out her hands to warm them.

If Jake hadn't caught up with her this morning, she could very well have been in New Mexico right now, sitting in Grams's kitchen where she would feel safe and warm and loved.

As the rising heat warmed her fingers, she listened to the wind tearing around the cabin outside. She didn't relish the idea of venturing out in the cold, but wondered if she should just make a run for it-even in her weakened condition. She knew the hypothermia she'd suffered from earlier was the only reason Jake hadn't handcuffed her to the chair.

Biting her lip, she looked over at him, felt that odd sensation of freefalling she got every time she looked at him. Even in sleep his expression was...uncompromising. She could see his face against the firelight. The lean slant of his jaw. The thick slash of brow. Lips that were far too sensuous for a male.

Images from the kiss they'd shared earlier in the day a.s.sailed her. She closed her eyes against the heady rush of pleasure. She knew the kiss had been a mistake, but for a moment, as he'd held her in his arms and made love to her mouth with his, she'd felt cherished. As though she was beautiful and desirable and the threat of spending her life behind bars wasn't hanging over her head like a dark cloud.

Abruptly she turned away. What was she thinking? Just because she'd liked the way he'd kissed her didn't mean she was going to go off the deep end, did it? Abby was off men for good, thank you very much. The only reason she'd kissed him anyway was to distract him. To see if she could get to him. Men were the most predictable creatures on G.o.d's earth, and by-the-book Jake Madigan wasn't any different. If and when the time came, Abby knew she could use that weakness against him.

Even if it meant selling her soul.

She wanted to believe he'd meant what he'd said about helping her with a lawyer once they got back. She wanted to trust him. She wanted to believe him. G.o.d, how stupid did that make her? She'd once believed Jonathan Reed, too. She'd believed his promises, trusted him. She'd covered for him and lied to the police in the process-a mistake that had ended up costing her her freedom. When it came time for him to deliver on those promises, Reed'd cut her loose.

Abby knew Jake wasn't any different. He might make promises now, while he was with her, while he was attracted to her. But after they got back, when the l.u.s.t cooled and she was sitting alone in her cold cell and Jake Madigan was a hundred miles away, he wasn't going to be thinking about her. He wasn't going to go out on a limb.

If she had a lick of sense, she'd muster the strength somehow and take off right now.

She was seriously considering doing just that when a sound at the door drew her attention, freezing her in place. The wind? she wondered. Had Jake left the door open? Not likely with a mad sniper on the loose. The thought made the hairs on her nape stand on end.

The door hinge creaked. Sensing danger, Abby stepped back. Adrenaline stabbed her gut. Someone was out there. Someone was coming in.

"Jake!" she shouted.

An instant later the door burst open and swung wide. A dark shadow loomed toward her.

Abby screamed.

"Shut up, b.i.t.c.h!"

She heard a whoos.h.!.+ then something hard struck her temple. Pain streaked down the side of her face. Pinpoints of light flashed, long yellow tails flaring like shooting stars. She reeled backward, realizing the son of a b.i.t.c.h had hit her.

"b.a.s.t.a.r.d!" she heard herself say. "n.o.body hits me and-"

The blast of a gun cut her words short. My G.o.d, she thought dully, he's going to kill me.

"Get down!" Jake's voice cut through her shock. Strong arms wrapped around her and flung her to the floor. Abby screamed as she went down, but knew Jake was only protecting her. Risking his own life to keep her safe....

Another blast rocked the air. She couldn't see in the darkness, couldn't hear for the thundering of her heart. She felt Jake leave her. Heard the thud of his boots on the plank floor. She saw a shadow against the window. A dark blur moving fast. But she couldn't tell if it was Jake or the intruder.

She scrambled to her hands and knees, looked around blindly. Where was the rifle? Where had Jake put it? She heard the shuffle of footsteps across the room. Jake's curse burning through the air. Another gunshot exploded. Her ears rang with the blast. Her heart pounded like a freight train in her ears, pumping fear through every inch of her body.

Abruptly, everything went silent. Abby crouched, deaf and blind, fear slithering like a cold snake inside her.

"Hey."

Rough hands gripped her. She tried to twist away, but the hands held her firm, lifted her to her feet.

"Abby. Easy, it's me. Jake."

"Oh, Jake. He was going to-"

"Are you hurt?

"Where is he? Oh, G.o.d, where-"

"Shh. Easy. Just...take it easy."

"Is he..."

"He's gone." His hands swept down her arms, back up to her shoulders. Abby noticed he was shaking and knew she wasn't the only one who was scared half to death.

"Are you hurt?" he asked.

"I'm okay."

He hesitated as if he didn't quite believe her, then squeezed her arms rea.s.suringly. "You sure you're okay?"

"I'm f-fine. What about you?"

"I'm ticked off."

"A little too close for comfort, huh?"

"Something like that." Still gripping her shoulders, he turned his head toward the door. It was standing wide open, snow and cold air swirling into the cabin. "Stay here. I'm going after him."

Because she couldn't speak, she nodded.

His gaze bored into hers. "We both know you're in no condition to run away, don't we, Abby?"

"Yes," she whispered, and Jake Madigan disappeared into the night like a phantom.

Chapter 10.

The shakes. .h.i.t her thirty seconds later. Abby was still standing where Jake had left her, staring at the door he'd closed behind him, trying to decide what to do next, when her knees turned to water. Her stomach clenched and for a terrible moment she thought she would be sick. By the time she made it to the fireplace, the tremors had grown violent, starting with her hands and traveling through her body like a shockwave.

After spending the last year in prison, she'd come to believe that she could endure almost anything, that nothing could shock her or shake her up inside.

Gunfights definitely shook her up.

She stood in the cold darkness for a long time, gripping the mantel above the hearth, listening to her labored breathing and the dull thud of her heart. She didn't know how long she stood there. Her mind kept replaying what had happened. The shock of pain when the a.s.sailant had struck her. The flash of the gun. She could feel the cold air pooling at her feet. She could hear the wind outside, feel the cabin trembling beneath its force. The stench of spent powder and violence hung heavy in the air.

She couldn't believe someone had just tried to kill her.

After a while, the shock eased its grip. Mechanically, she picked up two logs and added them to the fire. She wondered where Jake was, if he was okay. She told herself she wasn't worried about him. Jake could take care of himself. She wondered what kind of man risked his life to protect an escaped convict.

Needing something to do, she picked up the kettle, took it outside and filled it with snow. Back inside, she melted it over the fire. When the water was warm, she set about was.h.i.+ng her face and hands. Her temple hurt where she'd been hit, but the water felt good against her skin. It was too cold for her to get really wet, but she didn't care. She felt...dirty, as if the man who'd come in out of the darkness had somehow tainted her with his violent touch.

Only then did she realize she was crying.

The realization left her incredulous. Abby Nichols didn't cry easily. But with the predawn light filtering through the grimy windows, she sloshed water over her face and neck and cried openly. She thought about Fate and all the things she'd wanted for her life. She thought about Jake and all the things she could never have. She thought about Grams, waiting in her little house in New Mexico and wished to G.o.d she could talk to her.

The water calmed her emotions, washed away the remnants of violence the man had left on her skin like a greasy smear. But it didn't help with the shaking. She couldn't tell if it was the remnants of terror or the cold that made her tremble, but she couldn't stop. For the first time since she'd left the prison, she was afraid. Someone was trying to kill her, and from the looks of things, they were pretty d.a.m.n serious about it.

Abby was dressed and putting another log on the fire when the door swung open. Jake stomped in on a blast of cold air and flurry of snow. He hadn't bothered with his duster or gloves. He was s.h.i.+vering. She thought she'd never seen a man look as dangerous as Jake did standing there staring at her, shaking with cold and anger and something else she couldn't readily identify.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

"Fine."

"Did you find him?"

"No." He started toward her. "He was on a snowmobile."

She thought about that a moment. "Do you think it was a professional hit?"

He didn't answer right away. Abby could clearly see he was irate. His eyes were hard and dark as smoke. His jaw clamped tight. It was obvious Jake Madigan didn't like to lose.

She was still absorbing that information when he stepped close to her, his eyes narrowing. "He hurt you."

"I-I'm okay," she stammered, taken aback by the sudden intensity in his eyes.

"He hit you."

She'd nearly forgotten, though her temple throbbed dully. Oddly embarra.s.sed, she turned her head away. But Jake lifted his hand, cupped her chin with his fingers, and forced her head around so he could see the b.u.mp on her temple.

"That son of a b.i.t.c.h."

"It's okay-"

"No, it's not okay. G.o.ddamm it, he hit you."

She choked out a nervous laugh. "I'm just glad he didn't shoot me."

Jake didn't laugh. Taking her shoulders, he guided her over to the hearth, then turned her toward him to get a better look. His face darkened with fury as he inspected the bruise on her temple.

Abby had seen him angry, but never like this. She'd never seen that dangerous light in his eyes. "Jake, I'm okay," she said.

"You're bruised."

"Hey, what's a little bruise in the scope of things, you know? It's all right."

"It's not all right. d.a.m.n it, Abby, you didn't deserve that. You don't deserve any of this."

"Jake-"

"He nearly killed you." He blew out a breath. "h.e.l.l."

She wanted to tell him to calm down; told herself she could handle this man's intensity. She'd dealt with worse in the past year and a half. But Jake was quickly overwhelming her with this protective-male stuff. She wondered where it was coming from. Wondered if it had anything to do with that streak of gentleman she knew ran so deep in him.

"I'm sorry he hurt you," he said. "I wish I could have stopped it."

His gaze pierced her. Abby couldn't move. Her heart beat a rapid tattoo against her ribs. She could feel the anger coming through him into her. He was shaking, his face taut.

"I'm going to get some snow, make a compress," he said. "Stay here."

"Okay," she said, a little stunned.

He walked out the door without his coat and returned with a pail full of snow. She watched as he took a handful and wrapped a fresh rag around it. Back at the hearth, he stood in front of her and pressed it to her temple.

Abby winced.

"Sorry," he said. "Sore?"

"A little."

"This will help stop the swelling, might even help with the bruising."

"Hey, with your eye and my temple, we could be twins."

He wasn't amused. "Ha, ha."