want to risk killing Derek before he found out where Betsy was. With any luck, she was here at the ranch too, but it didn't matter. He'd do whatever he had to do to get her back, no matter where Derek had stashed her.
The floor creaked in the hall, and Ian sucked in a breath. There was a short hall between the door and the main part of the room, and he braced his back against the wall on one side of the opening. The door handle jiggled, and he wondered for a minute if he'd locked it, but then a beam of light penetrated the darkness as the door swung open. He waited, his heart thudding in his chest as he held the dowel ready to swing like a bat.
A taller, thinner figure stepped into the room, and even as he started to swing, he realized it wasn't - couldn't be - Derek standing just two feet away. There was definitely something familiar about the person though, and he dropped the dowel mid-swing as he recognized her scent.
"Betsy?"
She turned just as he stepped forward, and a sharp zing of pain sliced through his stomach like a giant paper cut.
"Oh my god - Ian!" She pulled her arm back, tossing the knife she'd been holding on the bed as he fell against the wall and slid down. His stomach felt like it was on fire as she turned on a light, then knelt beside him on the floor.
"I was expecting one of Derek's men, or more," she explained pulling at the bandages already wrapped around his middle. "I had no idea - why didn't you say something when I came in?"
Ian looked down as she finally tore the cotton strips, wincing as the pressure on his ribs released.
"I was expecting Derek," he said, watching her probe at the wound. "Is it deep? It doesn't feel deep..." He closed his eyes, focusing on his stomach, but the pain seemed localized in his skin. When he opened his eyes, he found Betsy looking at him with a strange clarity in her eyes. It was beautiful and mesmerizing all at once, with a hint of sadness as well.
"It's not deep, thank goodness," she said finally, breaking eye contact to glance around the room. "I can sew it up if we have any supplies.
Ian pointed toward the bed. "All the stuff they used on me is in that table. Maybe there's something there." He watched her rifle through a plain cardboard box before she came back with a small white first aid kit.
"I don't think they intended for you to survive," she said, opening the kit and dumping the contents on the floor. "There's nothing here except band aids and a lot of gauze and wipes. I guess I could pull it together with band aids for now.
Ian chuckled. "Don't sound so excited." He watched as she worked, doing his best to stay still, though his ribs were throbbing. When she finished, she leaned back, but he caught her wrist and pulled her off balance so she had no choice but to sit next to him, under the curve of his arm.
She looked up at him, that mesmerizing look back, and he couldn't help himself.
"Come here," he whispered, pulling his arm tighter and her head closer at the same time. Her eyes drifted shut, and he pressed his lips to hers, reveling in the tiny sigh she gave before opening to him completely.
* * *
In the back of her mind, Betsy knew she should pull away. Ian was hurt, and she didn't want to make anything worse - especially since she was responsible for one of his injuries. But when he pulled her close and his lips touched hers, she was powerless to resist the indulgence.
He nibbled gently at her lips, teasing with a flick of the tongue as she opened for him, her body molding to his side as his grip tightened. She marveled at how perfectly they fit, how wonderful it felt to be snuggled up close to this man. She'd die a happy woman if she never moved again.
A loud, harsh noise filled the room, and Ian groaned even as he pulled away. Betsy blinked her eyes, confused and annoyed by the interruption as she watched Ian pull a cell phone out of his pocket.
"I took this off the guy guarding me," he said, holding up the phone before he
The floor creaked in the hall, and Ian sucked in a breath. There was a short hall between the door and the main part of the room, and he braced his back against the wall on one side of the opening. The door handle jiggled, and he wondered for a minute if he'd locked it, but then a beam of light penetrated the darkness as the door swung open. He waited, his heart thudding in his chest as he held the dowel ready to swing like a bat.
A taller, thinner figure stepped into the room, and even as he started to swing, he realized it wasn't - couldn't be - Derek standing just two feet away. There was definitely something familiar about the person though, and he dropped the dowel mid-swing as he recognized her scent.
"Betsy?"
She turned just as he stepped forward, and a sharp zing of pain sliced through his stomach like a giant paper cut.
"Oh my god - Ian!" She pulled her arm back, tossing the knife she'd been holding on the bed as he fell against the wall and slid down. His stomach felt like it was on fire as she turned on a light, then knelt beside him on the floor.
"I was expecting one of Derek's men, or more," she explained pulling at the bandages already wrapped around his middle. "I had no idea - why didn't you say something when I came in?"
Ian looked down as she finally tore the cotton strips, wincing as the pressure on his ribs released.
"I was expecting Derek," he said, watching her probe at the wound. "Is it deep? It doesn't feel deep..." He closed his eyes, focusing on his stomach, but the pain seemed localized in his skin. When he opened his eyes, he found Betsy looking at him with a strange clarity in her eyes. It was beautiful and mesmerizing all at once, with a hint of sadness as well.
"It's not deep, thank goodness," she said finally, breaking eye contact to glance around the room. "I can sew it up if we have any supplies.
Ian pointed toward the bed. "All the stuff they used on me is in that table. Maybe there's something there." He watched her rifle through a plain cardboard box before she came back with a small white first aid kit.
"I don't think they intended for you to survive," she said, opening the kit and dumping the contents on the floor. "There's nothing here except band aids and a lot of gauze and wipes. I guess I could pull it together with band aids for now.
Ian chuckled. "Don't sound so excited." He watched as she worked, doing his best to stay still, though his ribs were throbbing. When she finished, she leaned back, but he caught her wrist and pulled her off balance so she had no choice but to sit next to him, under the curve of his arm.
She looked up at him, that mesmerizing look back, and he couldn't help himself.
"Come here," he whispered, pulling his arm tighter and her head closer at the same time. Her eyes drifted shut, and he pressed his lips to hers, reveling in the tiny sigh she gave before opening to him completely.
* * *
In the back of her mind, Betsy knew she should pull away. Ian was hurt, and she didn't want to make anything worse - especially since she was responsible for one of his injuries. But when he pulled her close and his lips touched hers, she was powerless to resist the indulgence.
He nibbled gently at her lips, teasing with a flick of the tongue as she opened for him, her body molding to his side as his grip tightened. She marveled at how perfectly they fit, how wonderful it felt to be snuggled up close to this man. She'd die a happy woman if she never moved again.
A loud, harsh noise filled the room, and Ian groaned even as he pulled away. Betsy blinked her eyes, confused and annoyed by the interruption as she watched Ian pull a cell phone out of his pocket.
"I took this off the guy guarding me," he said, holding up the phone before he
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