Runaway Heart

by Saranne Dawson

  She walked toward him, smiling—flirting just a bit. His interest had been plain enough yesterday. But with each step, she became more certain that she was walking into a disaster.

  “Afternoon, Doc,” the guard said, his gaze traveling over her—but not over her big bag and the attaché case. The suit she’d chosen was as close to sexy as she dared for her job, a close-fitting jacket and a slim skirt that ended just above the knees to display the long legs she knew were her biggest asset.

  “He’s been asking for you about every five minutes,” the guard went on, his gaze shifting from her face to her legs. “I expect he’s worried about going back. They’re planning to discharge all of them tomorrow.”

  C.Z. glanced toward the rooms of the other two. “Maybe I should stop in to see them, too.”

  “I wouldn’t waste my time if I was you,” the guard said with a grimace. “Just see Hollis and then go enjoy your weekend.”

  She managed a laugh that sounded genuine. “I think I’ll take your advice. I’ll be seeing them soon enough as it is.”

  She wished the guard a pleasant weekend, then forced herself to walk casually toward the open door to Zach’s room. It was surely the longest twenty feet she’d ever walked.

  ZACH HEARD her voice as she talked to the guard. He’d begun to fear she wouldn’t come—that is, when he wasn’t busy hating himself for having asked her to help him.

  He still wasn’t certain she would help him, of course. She might be coming only to say she’d changed her mind. He couldn’t blame her for that. The risk to her was as minimal as he could make it—but it was still there.

  He heard her approaching and held his breath, then released it slowly when she appeared in his doorway, looking terrified and carrying both a big shoulder bag and an attaché case. He sent up a silent prayer of thanks for an idiot guard who’d clearly been too busy staring at her legs to search her bags.

  She stepped into the room, then hesitated, half turning to close the door. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, and she came over and sank into the chair with an audible sigh of relief, setting the bag and case on the floor beside her. He stared at them, still not completely certain.

  “I’ve brought everything,” she said in a low, breathy voice that was sexy as hell, even though he knew it was from fear, not from any intention to seduce him. She’d been managing that from the beginning, without any conscious intent.

  “I owe you a lot for this, C.Z.,” he said sincerely, wishing for the umpteenth time he’d met her under different circumstances. She didn’t wear a ring, and he wondered if there was anyone in her life. Maybe when this was all over…

  “I still think you’re making a mistake,” she said, her big gray-green eyes pleading.

  “I don’t have a choice.”

  “Where will you go?”

  “That’s none of your concern. The less you know, the better.” His voice was intentionally harsh. He was letting her know she would probably be questioned.

  “I just don’t see how you can possibly clear yourself if you’re a fugitive. Couldn’t you hire someone to look into it for you?”

  “What good would that do if I’m dead by the time they get it sorted out?”

  She stared at him, then nodded. “How are you really feeling?”

  “I’m fine,” he lied. He was still having occasional dizzy spells and some double vision, but he knew from experience that would end soon.

  “I wish you’d at least tell me where you’re going,” she said.

  Zach climbed off the high hospital bed and reached out to her. After a moment’s hesitation, she took his hand. His arm still hurt from the stitches, but he surprised himself by carrying her hand to his lips. He’d never done a thing like that before, and it felt weird—but also somehow right.

  “Don’t worry about me, C.Z. I’ll be all right. And I’ll get in touch with you as soon as I can—just to let you know that.”

  He let go of her hand rather self-consciously, and she let it drop into her lap, then stared at it. “I still can’t believe I’m doing this,” she said softly.

  “I’m glad you are and…” He hesitated, then let the words come out. “And I’m really sorry we had to meet again under these circumstances.”

  She lifted her head and stared at him but said nothing for a long moment while he thought about all the times they’d sat in her office, with that desk separating them, and how he’d wanted to pick it up and throw it out of the way and—

  “I’m sorry, too, Zach,” she said softly, then dragged her eyes away quickly, as she’d done so many times before.

  “What do you want me to do with the clothes?” she asked as she stood, her tone suddenly all business. It was a replay of the times before, when they’d edge toward the unthinkable, then pull back.

  “Put the shoes and whatever else you can into the nightstand, then give me the screwdriver and the rest and I’ll hide them in the bed.”

  She did as told while he edged closer to the door to keep an eye on the hallway.

  “I thought you might need some money, too, so I put two hundred dollars in the pants pocket. It isn’t much, but…”

  “That’s fine,” he told her. “I’ll see to it you get reimbursed for that and for the clothes.”

  “I didn’t get you a jacket because there was no way to hide it. But it’s gotten much colder out.”

  “I’ll be okay,” he assured her, wanting to get her out of there while he could still control himself. If he couldn’t get things straightened out and had to spend the rest of his life as a fugitive, he’d never see her again.

  “Good luck, Zach.” She walked toward the door—and him—with a tremulous smile.

  “Thanks.” He started to move aside, to let her pass and walk right out of his life.

  But they had come too close to each other. She hesitated, then moved sideways. He stopped. Their eyes met. And then they both stepped off the edge.

  Zach’s mouth was on hers even as his hands began to explore her curves, sliding beneath the jacket to caress her through the thin silk of her blouse, palming the soft fullness of her breasts. She hesitated for a moment, then surrendered with a small, strangled sound as his tongue found hers and began a sensuous dance.

  He slid his hands down, cupping her bottom, wanting her to feel his hunger, his need. Then he smiled against the petal-soft skin of her neck as she gasped with pleasure.

  Still holding her against him, he began to move them both toward the bed. The flames of his hot desire were fed by hers as she grasped his head and deepened the kiss with her demands.

  And then, from the corridor, there was laughter. He raised his head. But no one was there. The laughter was coming from the next room.

  She moved away from him and he let her go, shocked, now that reason had returned, to see just how close they’d come to forgetting everything but the roaring fire of their need for each other. He could see in her eyes, too, that volatile mixture of surprise and desire.

  “I have to go,” she said in a low, husky voice.

  “I know. We just forgot there for a minute.”

  She hurried toward the door, then stopped at the last minute to comb her hair with her fingers and tuck in the blouse that had come loose. He picked up her bag and attaché case and handed them to her. They shared a smile that was, in its way, as intimate as what had gone before.

  Her scent lingered for a few minutes after she’d gone. Zach breathed it in greedily. It suited her well—subtle, delicate, sexy.

  He walked to the window, willing the darkness to come. He was far less certain of his future than he’d told her. He didn’t have a plan beyond getting out of here. Plans had a way of going awry. He’d take it as it came.

  Chapter Two

  A horn blared. Brakes squealed. C.Z. saw something briefly in her peripheral vision, a car swerving. Then she was through the intersection and staring with horror behind her at the red light she’d failed to see.

  Badly shaken, she pulle
d into the parking lot of a nearby office complex. Her hands were trembling as she pulled her fingers from their death grip on the steering wheel. She was a good driver and a cautious one. She’d never had an accident, not even a speeding ticket, ever.

  She wondered uneasily if she’d run any other lights. She couldn’t remember anything from the time she’d left the hospital—and Zach. She raised her trembling hand to her lips. She could certainly remember his kisses—and what had almost happened.

  She could remember her thoughts as she’d driven away—fears for him and what he would do, where he would go, how he could prove his innocence when he was a fugitive. Those thoughts had blinded her to everything else.

  Zach needed her help. He had practically no money, and she doubted very much that he had any place to go. She could help him with both. She had the money her father had left her, which she was investing until her job was more secure and she could think about buying a house. And she had the perfect place for him to stay, as well, courtesy of a friend who’d gone to Europe for a year.

  Those had been her thoughts when she’d run the red light. But sitting in the aftermath of a near accident, she told herself to stay out of it. She had done enough. She was probably still safe.

  She remembered her father telling her once about a murder case he’d solved. Sometimes, he’d said, people take one giant leap into crime, but most of the time, they do it in increments, descending by little steps until it’s too late to get out again.

  Already, the step she’d taken was more than a little one, but the chances were very good she could get out unscathed. But if she did more…

  She shuddered, thinking about those brief moments in his arms when she’d completely forgotten who they were and where they were. Never before in her life had she felt like that, even though twice she’d believed herself to be falling in love.

  And Zach was so very different from any man she’d ever known. She’d always dated men much like herself, cool, cerebral types who thought carefully before they acted. Zach, on the other hand, was a man who acted on his instincts, who’d never sit around calmly and rationally discussing any action or relationship.

  But he made her body sing. He made her feel the vast, exciting differences between male and female in a way no one ever had. He sent shock waves through her with nothing more than a glance—then tore her completely loose from her moorings with his kisses.

  People began to pour out of the offices, laughing and talking. Several of them sent curious glances her way as they got into their cars. She backed carefully out of the parking space, then headed home. Her decision was made, though a part of her still harbored the hope that she would come to her senses before the time came to put her plan into action.

  SHE PULLED into the rear parking lot at the hospital just after nine o’clock. She had a clear view of Zach’s room on the third floor. The lot was reserved for hospital staff, so she figured she should be safe until the shift change, which was probably at eleven or midnight. And she was sure he would make his move before then, to give himself as much darkness as possible to get far away.

  His room and all the others she could see were dark. The only lighted windows were at the nurses’ station at the far end of the hallway from his room.

  She’d thought his plan had looked dangerous from up there, but it seemed even riskier from down here. The ledge looked very narrow, and the window frames didn’t protrude to give him any handholds. To reach the corner of the building closest to the detached ambulance garage, he’d have to follow the ledge for about thirty feet. Then he’d have to jump at least twenty feet to reach the roof of the garage—but at least it was flat and probably no more than ten or twelve feet from the ground.

  She kept her eyes trained on his window, then drew in a sharp breath when at last she saw movement. He was definitely there, just inside the window, but she couldn’t tell if he was beginning to remove the pane or about to climb out.

  Anxious moments passed when she very nearly forgot to breathe. Then she saw him climb out and straddle the windowsill for a moment as he reached inside. When he made a sudden move, she was about to cry out, thinking he was losing his balance. But all he’d done was to throw a bundle to the ground. His prison clothes.

  He swung his body out and planted his feet firmly on the ledge. He was barely visible as a faint, dark silhouette against the dark red brick facade. She reached for the door handle, then stopped. There was nothing she could do to help him, so it made no sense for her to expose herself yet.

  Once again, she held her breath as he began to move along the ledge. She couldn’t see him that well, but his movements seemed very sure. Maybe he hadn’t been lying about his condition, after all.

  After what seemed like half her lifetime, he was at the corner. He hesitated for only about half a second before suddenly launching himself into the air, landing in a crouch at the corner of the roof. He didn’t move for a few seconds, and she began to worry that he’d hurt himself.

  She dragged her gaze from his shadowy figure and scanned the lot, then glanced at his window. No one was in sight in the lot, and his window remained dark. She opened the car door quietly, not wanting to startle him, then left it unlatched and began to run in a crouch toward the garage, concealing herself between the rows of cars.

  There was still one row of cars between her and the garage when she heard a thud, followed by a muffled groan. When she peeked out from between the cars, she saw him picking himself up slowly as he clutched at his injured arm.

  “Zach!” she cried in a loud whisper, at the same time standing and waving at him.

  He ran toward her in a crouch, then dragged them both down between two cars. “What are you doing here?” he demanded, his hand clutching her shoulder.

  She shrugged off his hand and ignored his anger. “Come on! My car’s back there.”

  For a moment, she thought he would refuse. He raised himself to look around, and she saw him sway slightly, then put out a hand to steady himself against the hood of a car. She grabbed his other hand.

  “Come on, Zach! If you pass out, I can’t carry you!”

  Still, he hesitated, even started to pull his hand from her grasp. But she held on, and he stared at her, then nodded reluctantly. In his reluctance, C.Z. saw her foolishness as clearly as he did. But a line had been crossed. She was committed to helping him.

  Staying low, she hurried toward her car, then turned when she reached it. He was gone! She knew one brief moment of indecision—and then she saw him coming toward her, running in a low crouch, carrying the bundle he’d tossed to the ground earlier.

  Moments later, they were out of the lot and on their way. She felt a surge of triumph she had no right to feel—no right, that is, if she were being rational about it.

  She glanced at him as he sat there silently, occupying far more space than he should. She saw beads of perspiration glistening on his face. He was clutching his injured arm, and when his hand came away, she saw blood.

  “I ripped a couple of stitches,” he muttered when he saw her staring. Then, after a brief pause, he said, “You’re crazy, you know.”

  “I can’t be crazy—I’m a shrink.” Rather to her amazement, she began to laugh, and a moment later, his deeper laughter joined hers.

  “Well, Clyde.” She grinned. “Where do you want to go?”

  He chuckled. “I don’t know, Bonnie. This seems to be your show.”

  “Believe it or not, I have a plan—or at least a place where you can stay.”

  “You do?” he asked skeptically, turning in his seat to face her as she tried to keep her attention focused on her driving. “Look, C.Z., just get me away from here and drop me somewhere. That way, you’ll still be safe. I can manage.”

  “No one could connect this place to me even if I were under suspicion. It’s a mountain cabin that belongs to an old friend from grad school. He’s in Europe for a year, and he asked me to keep an eye on it and use it if I want.”

  “Where
is it?” he asked, and she detected a wary sort of hope in his voice.

  “It’s off that old road that runs from Trevorton to route—I can’t remember the number. The road from Neff’s Mills over the mountain to the Thruway. I have the directions. I haven’t been there yet. He left just last week.”

  “The Warrior Ridge Road?” he asked.

  “Right. That’s it. You go on this gravel road and make a couple of turns, and then you’re on a dirt road that runs to Scott’s cabin and one other. His is at the end of the road. Scott knows the owner of the other cabin. He bought the land from him. But he travels a lot and only uses it during ski season, according to Scott. So he won’t be there for a while yet. Scott says it’s really isolated. He drew a map for me because he says it’s easy to get lost back there.”

  He remained silent as she drove through dark, quiet, residential streets, half expecting to hear sirens.

  “Well, do you have a better plan—or any plan at all?” she demanded impatiently when his silence continued.

  “No, I don’t,” he admitted reluctantly.

  “Okay, then that’s where we’re going. We should be able to get there in about two hours or so, even if I stay on back roads.”

  She glanced at him to see his reaction, but he was staring out the side window. There was a dark patch of blood on the sleeve of the shirt she’d bought him.

  “I’d better stop somewhere and get you something to put on your arm so it doesn’t get infected,” she said.

  He nodded. She was surprised and even a bit annoyed at his silence. She asked how long he thought it would be before his escape was discovered. Instead of responding, he reached over and switched on the radio, then began to punch his way through the stations.

  “Zach!” She cried in exasperation when he stopped at a station that was carrying a baseball game.

  “Just a minute. I need to get the score.”

  “What?” she sputtered, unable to believe he could be interested in a baseball game at a time like this. She was driving with one eye on the rearview mirror, expecting to see flashing lights and hear sirens at any moment. “How can you—”