Nightwatch by Valerie Hansen Page B

Loving and losing had been an intrinsic part of her past life and if she could guard against feeling that kind of pain again, she would.
    Pressing her lips into a thin line and remembering, Jill shook her head. First, her mother had willfully abandoned parental responsibility. Then, her grandparents had refused to take in a half-grown child, resultingin Jill’s placement in a long series of foster homes that she had mostly endured rather then enjoyed.
    When she had fallen in love with Eric Kirkpatrick and they had married, Jill had thought she’d finally have a real home again. Looking back, she should have known that was an impossible dream, one that had ended with Eric’s last breath.
    If she let herself fall for Mitch—and she wasn’t admitting that she might—she’d be right back where she’d started, with even less assurance of a stable future. His job required him to be ready to risk his life on a daily basis. What kind of security was that?
    None, she decided with conviction. She wasn’t a child. She could control her thoughts, could protect her tender heart from being broken again by purposely keeping her emotional distance from Mitch.
    In the back of her mind was a niggling perception that it was already too late to avoid falling for the valiant fireman.
    Jill ignored the silly notion. She was tough. Self-reliant. Independent. Twenty-eight years of life had made her that way and she intended to take full advantage of those hard-won strengths.
    Right now, what she basically needed was to locate Mitch and her dogs, she reminded herself. She swiveled and peered to the east. It was darker in that direction but she’d be okay.
    Eventually.
    She took one step, then another. Behind her she thought she heard other footfalls echoing hers.
    She stopped.
    The sound stopped.
    â€œMitch? Is that you?”
    No one replied.
    â€œMitch?”
    Trying to convince herself that the unsettling noises were figments of her vivid imagination, she lifted a foot as if to stride, then halted before actually bringing it to the ground.
    To her surprise and horror, a crunch of dry leaves sounded at the very moment she would have stepped down!
    Her eyes widened. This was no game. There was someone else out there. Someone other than Mitch. And whoever it was, was definitely trailing her.
    Her head whipped around. Shadows shifted. Was that a man’s shape? There? No, over there?
    Jill crouched, ready to defend herself. Nothing moved except green, spring leaves in the treetops and a few dry ones that tumbled along on the forest floor, driven by the ever-increasing wind.
    She turned to flee. Time seemed to be moving in slow motion. Lurching forward she leaned into the movement, her arms outstretched and groping to push aside intrusive vegetation.
    A spider web brushed across her face and stuck, tangling in her flyaway hair. Stifling a scream, she whisked it away.
    Her throat was dry, her breathing labored. She wanted to call out to Mitch again but the only sound she allowed herself was the gasping necessary to gather enough air to fill her lungs and keep going.
    A dead branch crashed close by. She thought she felt the swoosh of its passing before hearing it hit the ground. Was it thrown? Swung? She didn’t dare waste time looking.
    Adrenaline had given her the strength to bolt and was maintaining her headlong rush among the trees. Feet flying, she paid no heed to the saplings springing back as she passed or the drier twigs that caught, tangled and tore at her hair.
    A guttural voice cried out. Low. Male. Angry.
    Jill knew her pursuer was gaining on her but she kept going. Kept praying. Kept running, stumbling and recovering, over and over. Her legs ached. Her lungs were about to burst. The landscape ahead swam in her vision like an out-of-focus photograph.
    Suddenly, something caught the back of her jacket and she was thrown off balance.
    â€œNo!” she screeched, instinctively knowing she must