heal Will, but she didn’t trust him. Raphael addled her brain and made her lose sense of everything. She’d be better off ignoring anything he told her.
Images of Raphael invaded her thoughts. She couldn’t figure out what had happened. She had never reacted to a man the way she did with him. Not even Will. She was confused, embarrassed, and horrified. And scared.
Raphael told her he would come for her.
Not if she had anything to do about it.
The sun rose as she continued north, exhaustion overtaking her after she drove around the edge of Minneapolis. Will suggested that she stop, but the early morning light made his injuries more evident and she was even more anxious to get him help.
“Will, you’re really hurt. I need to take you to a doctor. It might be safe here. They have no idea we came to Minnesota.”
“No,” he moaned, his breath raspy. “James will be able to help. Just get to James.”
So she ignored Will’s insistence that she stop to rest and prayed that James really could help.
She turned onto a two-lane highway. They were out in the middle of nowhere. Raphael would never find her here. She realized how ridiculous it was to be more afraid of a single man than two groups of powerful gunmen. But she had the feeling he was more dangerous than all of them put together.
“How close are we?” she asked. They’d been on the unpopulated road for a half an hour.
“Close,” he croaked. His face was pale and sweat beaded his forehead.
The street grew blurry through her tears.
Will told her to turn down a single lane dirt road. She drove for a quarter of a mile until a cabin came into view nestled in the trees, about a hundred feet from a lakeshore.
“What if he’s not home?”
“We can go in.” He paused to catch his breath. “James won’t care.”
Emma pulled in front of the cabin, the gravel under the tires crunching. She ran to the front porch and pounded on the door.
A muffled voice called out, “All right. I’m coming. Keep your pants on.” The door swung open, a man wearing jeans and tugging down a t-shirt stood in the entrance. He ran a hand through his short, cropped hair and eyed her with appreciation. “Or in your case, don’t keep your pants on.”
“Are you James?”
He grinned. “At your service.”
Emma shook her head. “God, no wonder your Will’s best friend. You’re exactly alike.”
He looked surprised. “Will?”
She started toward the car. “He’s in the front seat.” When she opened the door, Will’s labored breathing scared her. It had gotten even worse. “He’s hurt. He said you could help.”
James sucked in his breath. “Fuck. What happened to him?” He leaned down and unbuckled Will’s seat belt. “Dude, you look like shit.”
Will’s swollen mouth formed a pathetic grin. “Yeah, you don’t look so great yourself.” The words came out in raspy gasps.
James looked at Emma, his face stricken. “What happened?” His teasing tone was gone.
“Three men beat him up,” her voice broke and tears filled her eyes again. “One of them had a metal pipe.” The memory of Raphael hitting the man with the pipe made her gag.
James turned back to Will. “You let three men beat the shit out of you? You’re losing your touch. We gotta get you out of there. This is going to hurt like hell.”
James pulled Will out of the front seat. Will stifled a cry of pain as he leaned into him.
“Open the door so I can get him in.” James directed her.
Emma ran and held it open as James and Will shuffled into the cabin. James led Will to the kitchen and sat him down in a chair.
“In the bathroom is a stack of washrags and towels. Bring them here,” James said. She ran down the small hall and grabbed an armful of linens, carrying them to the kitchen. When she returned, James was cutting Will’s shirt off.
“Son of a bitch, Will. What the hell happened?”
“I had a little encounter with a metal pipe.”
“Looks like more than just a
Images of Raphael invaded her thoughts. She couldn’t figure out what had happened. She had never reacted to a man the way she did with him. Not even Will. She was confused, embarrassed, and horrified. And scared.
Raphael told her he would come for her.
Not if she had anything to do about it.
The sun rose as she continued north, exhaustion overtaking her after she drove around the edge of Minneapolis. Will suggested that she stop, but the early morning light made his injuries more evident and she was even more anxious to get him help.
“Will, you’re really hurt. I need to take you to a doctor. It might be safe here. They have no idea we came to Minnesota.”
“No,” he moaned, his breath raspy. “James will be able to help. Just get to James.”
So she ignored Will’s insistence that she stop to rest and prayed that James really could help.
She turned onto a two-lane highway. They were out in the middle of nowhere. Raphael would never find her here. She realized how ridiculous it was to be more afraid of a single man than two groups of powerful gunmen. But she had the feeling he was more dangerous than all of them put together.
“How close are we?” she asked. They’d been on the unpopulated road for a half an hour.
“Close,” he croaked. His face was pale and sweat beaded his forehead.
The street grew blurry through her tears.
Will told her to turn down a single lane dirt road. She drove for a quarter of a mile until a cabin came into view nestled in the trees, about a hundred feet from a lakeshore.
“What if he’s not home?”
“We can go in.” He paused to catch his breath. “James won’t care.”
Emma pulled in front of the cabin, the gravel under the tires crunching. She ran to the front porch and pounded on the door.
A muffled voice called out, “All right. I’m coming. Keep your pants on.” The door swung open, a man wearing jeans and tugging down a t-shirt stood in the entrance. He ran a hand through his short, cropped hair and eyed her with appreciation. “Or in your case, don’t keep your pants on.”
“Are you James?”
He grinned. “At your service.”
Emma shook her head. “God, no wonder your Will’s best friend. You’re exactly alike.”
He looked surprised. “Will?”
She started toward the car. “He’s in the front seat.” When she opened the door, Will’s labored breathing scared her. It had gotten even worse. “He’s hurt. He said you could help.”
James sucked in his breath. “Fuck. What happened to him?” He leaned down and unbuckled Will’s seat belt. “Dude, you look like shit.”
Will’s swollen mouth formed a pathetic grin. “Yeah, you don’t look so great yourself.” The words came out in raspy gasps.
James looked at Emma, his face stricken. “What happened?” His teasing tone was gone.
“Three men beat him up,” her voice broke and tears filled her eyes again. “One of them had a metal pipe.” The memory of Raphael hitting the man with the pipe made her gag.
James turned back to Will. “You let three men beat the shit out of you? You’re losing your touch. We gotta get you out of there. This is going to hurt like hell.”
James pulled Will out of the front seat. Will stifled a cry of pain as he leaned into him.
“Open the door so I can get him in.” James directed her.
Emma ran and held it open as James and Will shuffled into the cabin. James led Will to the kitchen and sat him down in a chair.
“In the bathroom is a stack of washrags and towels. Bring them here,” James said. She ran down the small hall and grabbed an armful of linens, carrying them to the kitchen. When she returned, James was cutting Will’s shirt off.
“Son of a bitch, Will. What the hell happened?”
“I had a little encounter with a metal pipe.”
“Looks like more than just a
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