women attracted to dangerous men?"
"Oh no," she said most hastily.
"That's not what I want. I … I … I don't do the dangerous man thing."
Or any man thing. Oh God, how had she gotten herself into this?
He seemed to relax a fraction, but his gaze was
still hard. "I believe in the power of choice," he stated firmly.
"We make our decisions, we pay for them. If you come on to me again, don't
believe that afterward I'll shoulder the blame or accept any guilt. I've told
you what you're getting into. You choose to play this dangerous game, then you
get the consequences."
She smiled weakly. "Not much for pillow
talk, are you?"
"Do you really need more platitudes in
your life, Maggie?"
Her breath caught, then she released it with a
smile that was old and wise for her. "No," she admitted honestly.
"I don't need any more platitudes."
"Good." His fingers released her
chin, but he didn't step back. "Now tell me who you called."
"My brother." It didn't occur to her
to lie.
"The Marine Force recon, the one who's
invented new ways for me to die?"
"Yes."
"Did you tell him where we are? Did you tell
him you were a hostage?"
She shook her head. "I didn't have time. I
just said I … I needed him."
Cain's gaze went flat. "Where does he
live, Maggie? Where is he?"
Her chin came up defiantly, her nostrils
flaring. They both knew he was wasting his breath. Maggie would fold if he so
much as plucked a hair from her head, but she'd fall willingly into her own
grave rather than hurt someone else. Her blue eyes stared back at him
mutinously, and finally he swore.
"He'll find us," he said curtly.
"It shouldn't take a rocket scientist to put all the pieces together.
Damn."
His fingers curled abruptly around her arm,
hard enough to bruise. "Get in the truck, Maggie. We have a lot of ground
to cover now, thanks to you."
He sounded furious, but he also sounded tired,
and that fast the spirit left her. Her shoulders slumped. She followed the pull
of his arm without protest. He didn't say another word. He didn't have to. The
disappointment and stress were obvious in his green gaze, and she curled up
inside herself just looking at him.
It was illogical, she knew, to feel as if she'd
failed her captor, but her parents had trained her well. Or maybe she'd trained
herself well. She didn't know anymore. She just knew she'd disappointed Cain,
and logically or not, there was nothing she couldn't stand as much as
disappointing someone.
Once inside the cabin of the truck, Cain
produced the handcuffs.
She held out her wrist without protest, and the
sound of the metal cuff closing in the silence rang in her ears.
In Sedona, C.J. didn't waste any time. He dialed Maggie's office and learned
from her secretary that she was supposedly on jury duty downtown. Then he
dialed Maggie's home just to be sure she wasn't there. Finally, he dialed their
grandmother, Lydia, in Tillamook.
After a brief discussion, he thought he knew
what was going on. According to Lydia, Maggie had reported for jury duty at the
Multnomah County Courthouse just that morning. And now according to news
bulletins, a murderer had escaped from that building.
C.J. didn't bother with shock or denial. He had
some practice in this sort of thing. And nobody, but nobody was going to hurt
his baby sister. He gave Lydia her instructions. Then he called and left a
succinct message with Brandon's answering service.
Ten minutes later, C.J. had a bag swung over
his shoulder and was striding out of his bar. "Gus," he thought to
call over his shoulder at the last minute, "you're in charge now."
Gus didn't even look up from drying the freshly
washed beer mugs. C.J.'s "other job" as a bounty hunter had made his
spontaneous exits for places unknown for times undetermined fairly commonplace.
C.J. was whistling beneath his breath as he
shouldered open the door. "Hang on, Maggie. The cavalry's coming."
Cain wasn't speaking to her anymore.
Hunched up on her side of the truck, her arm
laid out across
"Oh no," she said most hastily.
"That's not what I want. I … I … I don't do the dangerous man thing."
Or any man thing. Oh God, how had she gotten herself into this?
He seemed to relax a fraction, but his gaze was
still hard. "I believe in the power of choice," he stated firmly.
"We make our decisions, we pay for them. If you come on to me again, don't
believe that afterward I'll shoulder the blame or accept any guilt. I've told
you what you're getting into. You choose to play this dangerous game, then you
get the consequences."
She smiled weakly. "Not much for pillow
talk, are you?"
"Do you really need more platitudes in
your life, Maggie?"
Her breath caught, then she released it with a
smile that was old and wise for her. "No," she admitted honestly.
"I don't need any more platitudes."
"Good." His fingers released her
chin, but he didn't step back. "Now tell me who you called."
"My brother." It didn't occur to her
to lie.
"The Marine Force recon, the one who's
invented new ways for me to die?"
"Yes."
"Did you tell him where we are? Did you tell
him you were a hostage?"
She shook her head. "I didn't have time. I
just said I … I needed him."
Cain's gaze went flat. "Where does he
live, Maggie? Where is he?"
Her chin came up defiantly, her nostrils
flaring. They both knew he was wasting his breath. Maggie would fold if he so
much as plucked a hair from her head, but she'd fall willingly into her own
grave rather than hurt someone else. Her blue eyes stared back at him
mutinously, and finally he swore.
"He'll find us," he said curtly.
"It shouldn't take a rocket scientist to put all the pieces together.
Damn."
His fingers curled abruptly around her arm,
hard enough to bruise. "Get in the truck, Maggie. We have a lot of ground
to cover now, thanks to you."
He sounded furious, but he also sounded tired,
and that fast the spirit left her. Her shoulders slumped. She followed the pull
of his arm without protest. He didn't say another word. He didn't have to. The
disappointment and stress were obvious in his green gaze, and she curled up
inside herself just looking at him.
It was illogical, she knew, to feel as if she'd
failed her captor, but her parents had trained her well. Or maybe she'd trained
herself well. She didn't know anymore. She just knew she'd disappointed Cain,
and logically or not, there was nothing she couldn't stand as much as
disappointing someone.
Once inside the cabin of the truck, Cain
produced the handcuffs.
She held out her wrist without protest, and the
sound of the metal cuff closing in the silence rang in her ears.
In Sedona, C.J. didn't waste any time. He dialed Maggie's office and learned
from her secretary that she was supposedly on jury duty downtown. Then he
dialed Maggie's home just to be sure she wasn't there. Finally, he dialed their
grandmother, Lydia, in Tillamook.
After a brief discussion, he thought he knew
what was going on. According to Lydia, Maggie had reported for jury duty at the
Multnomah County Courthouse just that morning. And now according to news
bulletins, a murderer had escaped from that building.
C.J. didn't bother with shock or denial. He had
some practice in this sort of thing. And nobody, but nobody was going to hurt
his baby sister. He gave Lydia her instructions. Then he called and left a
succinct message with Brandon's answering service.
Ten minutes later, C.J. had a bag swung over
his shoulder and was striding out of his bar. "Gus," he thought to
call over his shoulder at the last minute, "you're in charge now."
Gus didn't even look up from drying the freshly
washed beer mugs. C.J.'s "other job" as a bounty hunter had made his
spontaneous exits for places unknown for times undetermined fairly commonplace.
C.J. was whistling beneath his breath as he
shouldered open the door. "Hang on, Maggie. The cavalry's coming."
Cain wasn't speaking to her anymore.
Hunched up on her side of the truck, her arm
laid out across
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