I’m in hell, Graham decided. The worst kind of hell.
She murmured something soft and breathy in her sleep, and Graham groaned.
Saving her might have been a mistake. An impetuous decision fueled by the man he used to be.
That...and her pretty face.
Her still, lifeless body behind the wheel had been almost too much for him to bear.
Bend. Lift. Drag.
She was easy to carry. So small. Almost fragile looking. Fair in that way that redheads often are, but with no smattering of freckles. In fact, the paleness of her skin rivaled the snow, and Graham wasn’t sure whether it was a natural pallor, or something brought on by the accident and the cold. It didn’t matter; she was entrancing.
Then he’d pulled her into the clearing, shaking and shivering and seemingly so needful.
Graham grimaced. She was beautiful, no doubt, but she definitely wasn’t frail. An accident like that should have killed her. Coming out alive was a feat. But the fight in her when she’d woken up...that was a whole other story. It had impressed him as much as it had ticked him off.
Under the fine bones of her face, she was a firecracker, no doubt about it.
Graham slipped his hand to hers, touching the soft pad of her open palm, just because he could.
And because you want to, scolded an internal voice that sounded a little too much like his late grandmother.
It was true, though. He did want to. It had been a long time since his fingers last found residence in someone else’s hand.
The girl’s hand closed reflexively, and Graham jerked away.
Nice work, he thought. Save a girl, then get creepy. You could at least wait until she tells you her name.
Her name.
He felt an impatient compulsion to know what it was and, after just a second of considering it, he decided to see if he could find out. Maybe check for her ID in the car. She was warm enough now that she wasn’t at risk of dying, and he could safely give her—both of them—some space.
He pushed aside his clothes-turned-blanket and tucked them around the girl’s body. Then he slipped from the dip in the ground, stood silently and surveyed the area. The cold air buffeted against his skin, but he was accustomed to the weather, and as he came to his feet, the strong breeze in his eyes bothered him more than the temperature did. The storm had slowed quite a bit. The snow was light, mostly blowing around from the residual wind.
He glanced down at the girl and adjusted the overhanging shirt so she wasn’t bared to the elements. She’d be fine alone for a few minutes while Graham had a closer look at her car and attempted to figure out who she was. Then he’d have to decide whether it was better to keep her close, or try to get her back into town.
Into town.
In the heated excitement of saving her, meeting up with Dave had gone out of his head. In fact, everything had gone out of his head, and he wasn’t sure how that was possible.
Graham turned back to the girl.
In the past four years, his pursuit of justice had been relentless. Single-minded to the point of mania. He’d thought of nothing but finding the man who took Holly and Sam from his life. Now, very suddenly, he was distracted from his purpose.
By this girl.
He took another step closer to the car. The front end dipped down from the pressure exerted by Graham’s body as he’d clambered across it on his insane rescue mission. The purple paint had been slashed to hell by the branches surrounding it, and the rear wheels were completely flat. Remarkably, the rest of the car was intact.
Graham stood underneath the vehicle, frowning. Damned lucky. The vehicle could have smashed to pieces, taking the girl with it. Or she could’ve gone off the road just a few miles up, and Graham would never have found her. She had to have some incredible karma stored up.
What if someone’s waiting for her?
Graham’s gut roiled. He had to assume that time wasn’t a luxury he had. The second they—whether it was an emergency crew or someone else—found that car in its weirdly whole state, with its empty driver’s seat, the relatively far distance to his place in the woods grew that much smaller.
Get control, man, he commanded himself.
He needed a plan.
His gaze sought the car and the spot where the girl lay hidden. A small, greasy puddle—presumably the source of the gasoline smell—had formed under the driver’s side door and it gave him an idea.
They can’t find the car in one piece.
He would make it harder for anyone to locate her. Harder to locate him.
Graham squinted up at the sky. Clouds obscured the waning sun.
Graham didn’t own a watch. It had been years since the batteries in his old one wore out, and it had never seemed like much of necessity. Right that moment, though, he wished he had one so he could pinpoint the hour, predict the sunset and time it just right.
But you don’t have one, he said to himself. And you don’t have time to wait, either.
All he needed was a spark. One that could easily be generated with some of the electrical wires in the car engine.
Once he got started, it took less than an hour for Graham to render Keira’s car satisfactorily unidentifiable. The dark, sour-smelling smoke was already dissipating, though he was sure he still reeked of fuel himself.
He took a step back to survey his handiwork once more. He thought it looked as natural as any burning car could. A branch puncturing the fuel line, the angle of the car conveniently leaking accelerant from the line to the engine, and the rest had gone up in smoke.
So to speak.
Graham was actually a little surprised at how efficiently the fire took hold. Not to mention how well the whole thing cooperated. Several minutes of blistering, blue-green flames, an enormous puff of black smoke, then a fade-to-gray cloud that blended in nicely with the fog that had rolled in from above.
Not that Graham was complaining—it sure as hell made his task a lot easier. The husk of the car continued to smolder, but with the fuel burned up and the decidedly frozen state of the surrounding area, he wasn’t even worried about it spreading any farther.
Not bad for my first arson attempt.
The thought only made him smile for a second. The last thing he needed was to add another felony to the list that already followed his name around.
“Is that my car?”
At the soft, tired-sounding question, Graham whipped around. For a second, he just stared down at her, mesmerized by the way her long, dark eyelashes brushed against her porcelain skin, and entranced by the enticing plumpness of her lips.
He’d never seen a more beautiful girl, or felt an attraction so strong.
“Is it?” she said again.
Reality hit Graham.
Saving her had been a hell of a lot more than just a bad idea. If Graham’s instincts were right—and they usually were—then this walk in the storm turned impromptu rescue mission...would be his undoing.
Chapter Four
Keira met the stranger’s wary gaze with one of her own. For a moment she saw something heated and intriguing in his eyes that cut through the cold air and sizzled between them. Then it was gone, replaced by the guarded look he wore now, and Keira was left wondering if she’d imagined it.
Maybe it was a hallucination brought on by a head injury, she thought.
Her brain did feel fuzzy, and when she blinked, the snowy world swam in front of her. Even the big man—who was as solid a thing as she’d ever seen—seemed to wobble. Then a wicked, head-to-toe shiver racked Keira’s body, and the Mountain Man’s face softened with worry. Very quickly, he undid his own big red jacket and stepped closer to offer it to her.
Keira only hesitated for a second before she took it gratefully. She vowed silently to give it back as soon as
she was thawed. But right then, it was warm and it offered her a decent amount of cover, and with it wrapped around her body, she felt a little more in control. Still woozy. But better.
“My car...” Her voice sounded hoarse, and her throat burned a little as she spoke.
When the Mountain Man didn’t answer her third inquiry, she tipped her head toward the smoking mess of metal, then looked back at him again. He just stared back at her, a little crease marking his forehead.
Keira let out a rasping sigh. “Do you speak English?”
He nodded curtly.
“So...what? You’re just testing me out? Deciding if I’m worthy of speaking to?”
Her question earned a crooked smile. An expression that said, Yeah, that’s about right.
Keira sighed again. A few silent hours with this stranger, and she could understand him perfectly. She doubted she could read Drew that easily, and she’d known him for years.
Drew.
Damn. A kicked-in-the-gut feeling made her shiver once more, and the Mountain Man reached out a hand, but she waved him off.
“I’m fine,” she lied.
He raised an eyebrow. Liar.
“I don’t care if you believe me or not,” Keira stated. Her eyes narrowed with an irritation to cover her embarrassment, and then she muttered, “I’m just not used to sitting nearly naked in the snow.”
He chuckled—a low, attractive sound that warmed her inexplicably—sat back on his heels and waited. Those piercing gray eyes of his demanded answers, and Keira found herself wanting to tell him the truth.
Her job as a child and youth counselor had given her the ability to form good, quick judgments. And something in this man’s handsome face made her think she could trust him.
Handsome?
The descriptor surprised Keira, and if her blood had been pumping through her body properly, she might’ve blushed.
Because yes, he was handsome.
He had full lips, an even brow and in spite of his facial hair, he had strong features. Keira was close enough to him that as she realized just how attractive he was, her heart fluttered nervously in her chest.
She was alone with him. In the middle of nowhere. She was injured. Maybe badly. And now she was remembering that glimpse she’d caught of his muscular torso when he’d stripped off his clothes so he could warm her up. Keira had been too out of it to think about it before. She was wishing she could see it again so she could memorize it.
What’s the matter with you? she chastised herself.
She couldn’t remember the last time she’d looked at a man like this. At least not long enough to notice how prettily translucent his eyes were, or how their wintry appeal so sharply contrasted with his burly frame. She certainly hadn’t come close enough to one to know how well his body fit beside her, or how comfortable it was to be in his arms.
No way could Drew come close to this kind of magnetism.
Mountain magnetism.
And he was watching her again, that same not-so-muted heat in his eyes.
Maybe he’s remembering the way you felt cuddled up beside him.
That thought was finally enough to draw the color to her cheeks, and Keira could feel the heat spread from her face down her throat and across her chest. She was sure she must be the same shade of red as the borrowed coat.
In an attempt to ease the increasingly palpable tension between them, Keira shifted her gaze back to her smoldering car.
Midway between the vehicle and spot where she was sitting a black flash caught her eyes.
My phone.
She knew that’s what it was, and that she had to get it. And for some reason, she also knew that her benefactor—if his intentions were even good enough to call him that—wouldn’t let her just go grab it. Not willingly.
Butterflies beat against Keira’s stomach as she offered him a weak smile.
“Can you excuse me for a second?” Her voice was weak, even to her own ears. “I think I need to...uh...use the ladies’ room.”
* * *
GRAHAM NARROWED HIS EYES and considered calling her bluff. He was sure whatever reason she had for suddenly getting up, it had little to do with the most basic of physical needs.
Graham had to admit that he was surprised she could stand at all. What surprised him more, though, was that she took off into the dark. The borrowed boots flew off, and she moved at a hobbling, barefoot run.
What the hell?
Graham was so startled that he almost forgot he should chase her down. He stared after her, a puzzled frown on his face. Her creamy legs poke out from under the big coat, as sexy as they were ridiculous.
She really should tuck those away before she ruined them with frostbite, he thought absently.
She glanced over her shoulder at him and stumbled forward a little farther.
Where the hell did she think she was going? Her ridiculous flight was going to run her straight into the thickest part of the forest. It was going to tear up those pretty little feet of hers. And was going to create unnecessary work for Graham.
First World, fugitive-about-to-turn-kidnapper problems.
Still, Graham might’ve been tempted to let her go a little longer if he hadn’t spied the wound on her thigh.
Dammit, he growled mentally.
How had he not noticed the slash before?
Her movement across the snow opened up the cut, and even from a few dozen feet away, Graham could see the blood ooze out of it.
Belatedly, he jumped to his feet and strode after her, his long legs closing the gap between them.
In seconds, he was on her, and without preamble he reached down, wrapped his arms around her knees and threw her unceremoniously over his shoulder. She beat weakly at his back, but he ignored it.
“Let me go!” Her order was almost a squeal, and Graham ignored that, too.
He carried her across the ground like a sack of potatoes, and when he had her right back at the spot she’d run from moments earlier, he dumped her to the ground—not quite hard enough to hurt, but just hard enough for her to squeak.
He shot her a look that commanded her to keep still and, although her eyes flashed, she didn’t try to get up again. From the shallowness of her breathing and the deep flush in her cheeks, Graham doubted she could get up.
But as soon as he leaned back, she was off at a crawl.
If we were at the hospital, Graham thought, I’d insist that an orderly strap her down.
For a moment, he considered calling after her.
No. Speaking to her will only create more issues. Make you slip up and give something away. Too much risk.
He watched her shimmy helplessly over the snow for another second—she barely got more than a few inches—then stretched out, closed a hand over one of her ankles and dragged her back.
He righted her, set her between his thighs and held her there.
Using his teeth, Graham tore his T-shirt into strips—one to bind her hands together, another to bind her feet together, and a third to stop the flow of blood from her thigh. She fought him on the first two things—and he couldn’t blame her for that—but when she finally spotted the wound, she stopped struggling.
Graham could feel her eyes following the quick, sure movements of his hands as he fashioned the stretchy cotton into a tourniquet. He was disappointed that the blood soaked through almost immediately. He tore off another strip from his T-shirt, bundling the wrapping as thick as he could and as tight as he dared.
The flow of blood ebbed, but she was going to need stitches, and Graham had nothing on hand that would do the job.
“Mountain Man?” Her voice was soft. “I’m really hurt, aren’t I?”
Graham nodded curtly.
She was silent for a minute, leaning her back int
o his chest. Then she shifted a little, tipping her head just enough that he could see her tempting, pink lips.
“I should warn you,” she murmured. “I’m not going to make this easy.”
Graham rolled his eyes. As if that surprised him.
In spite of her words, though, she turned sideways and settled her face against him. Then her eyelids fluttered shut, and her knees curled up as if she belonged in his lap.
With a frustrated groan, Graham tried to ease away, but the sleeping girl wriggled closer and then she murmured something else, and instead of trying to disentangle himself from her, Graham found himself straining to hear what it was. He tucked the coat over her legs and leaned down, pressing his face close to hers.
She shifted in his lap, and her lips brushed his ear.
Graham’s body reacted immediately. Desire shot through him, and his grip on her tightened.
Slowly, he untied her wrists. He breathed out, waiting for her to wake up, realize she was free and level a punch at his face. Instead, she flexed one free hand, then slipped it up to his shoulder, her thumb grazing his collarbone.
Graham groaned and crushed down the ridiculous longing coursing through him.
A lock of auburn hair slipped to her cheek. Graham reached to brush it away reflexively. When his hand slid against her cheek, he realized the heat he felt could be blamed on more than just desire. Her skin was hot to the touch, and though her face was still pale, two spots of pink had bloomed in her cheeks.
Graham frowned and placed the back of his hand on her forehead, then trailed a finger down her face. Yeah, she was definitely far warmer than she ought to be.
He needed to get her somewhere safer, cleaner and functional enough for treatment. The clinic in the resort town was out of the question. Anywhere public was.
Home.
It was the best option.
Graham glanced up at the sky. The sun had completely set, and the sky was pitch-black. Travel now would be dangerous.
Trusting a Stranger Page 3