When I Find You: A Trust No One Novel

by Brown, Dixie Lee

  He debated leaving her and going for his coat so he could wrap her in it, but the possibility of her disappearing again while he was gone was unacceptable. He opted for rubbing her arms and legs to generate some heat instead and, within minutes, her eyes popped open and she started coughing. He helped her sit and supported her back as she coughed continuously. Her eyes went wide again the minute her coughing spasm let up and she focused on him hovering over her. She scooted to the side, rolled away from him, and tried to get her feet under her.

  “Enough!” Walker grabbed her leg and pulled her back toward him. She kicked at his head, barely missing, and pushed, slapped, and scratched until her elbow caught him in the lip and he tasted blood. God help him, he was going to hurt this woman. He’d had all he could take. Grabbing her arms firmly, he pinned them against her stomach and leaned forward until he was inches away from her face.

  “Knock it off! Goddamn it, Darcy, I’m trying to help you!” A growl came from deep in his chest as he stood and backed off a few steps. The stubborn woman didn’t have sense enough to give up, even when the battle was lost. Damned if he wasn’t going to choke her for real if he didn’t put some space between them. He paced back and forth in front of her as she watched his every move, looking like she’d bolt. He was tempted to leave her sitting right there on the ground, soaking wet. Obviously, she didn’t want his help.

  Unfortunately, it was out of his control. It was his job, and he couldn’t opt out no matter how difficult she made his life.

  “Stay here.” He watched her cautiously until her raspy breathing and trembling legs convinced him she was too tired to run. Even then, he was taking a chance as he retraced his steps to where he’d dropped his coat, boots, and gun, retrieved them, and walked back to her. She eyed him distrustfully and he groaned. What he wouldn’t give for a stiff drink about now.

  “Okay—now that I’ve got your attention, let me tell you about my day.” Walker resumed his pacing. “I’ve been up since four thirty this morning. I’ve saved your neck three times so far today, and for my trouble I’ve been cracked on the skull, threatened by a bear, and nearly drowned. We’re through doing it your way.” He stopped and pinned her with a warning glance. “I realize you’re confused and you’ve got no idea who I am, but there’s only one thing you need to know. I’m taking you out of here with me, and I don’t care if I have to throw you over my shoulder and carry you out. Are we clear?”

  She watched him without saying a word, looking anything but resigned to her fate.

  Walker stared back, daring her to defy him.

  She never even flinched.

  “If you were me, what would you do?” Her strong, clear voice challenged him, while her eyes flashed with fire.

  “If I were you, I’d find someone I could trust and stick with him until this is over.”

  “And that’s you, I suppose? How do I know I can trust you?”

  He made a show of looking around. “You don’t have a lot of options at the moment, but in case you haven’t noticed, I’m the one trying to keep you alive.” He reached for her elbow and pulled her to her feet. The cool breeze through his wet clothes chilled him, and he worried about her. Even with her arms wrapped around her just beneath her breasts, she still shook. No sense putting this off. She wasn’t magically going to start trusting him in the next few minutes and they had to get moving.

  He held up his jacket in front of her and took a deep breath. “Get out of those wet clothes and put this coat on.”

  Her eyes widened in alarm and she stared at him, resting her hands on her hips in a stance that would have made him smile if she hadn’t been so serious. He held her gaze, expecting her to tell him to go to hell. He couldn’t afford to give on this issue so he kept talking. “We’ll head back to higher ground, start a fire, and get our clothes dried out. I have to get you warmed and this is the only way I know to do it. We don’t have time to argue about this.”

  “You can’t seriously expect me to . . . you’re wet and cold too. Wear your own damn coat.” She wrapped her arms around her waist again as though she could stop her trembling.

  The fear in her expression tugged at his conscience and sent him searching for the words to reassure her he wasn’t going to jump her as soon as she undressed. The suspicious glare she fixed him with succeeded in hardening his resolve, and he lowered the coat, raised an eyebrow, and swept his gaze over her. “You can either get out of those clothes yourself, or I can help you.”

  “You wouldn’t dare!”

  “You’ll find there’s not too much I wouldn’t do.”

  Darcy glowered at him a few more seconds, clearly wishing she had a tree branch in her hand. Then she sighed and dropped her gaze, blinking several times in quick succession, obviously determined he wouldn’t see her break down. So, the woman wasn’t as tough as she wanted him to believe. Her vulnerability unleashed a wave of protectiveness that washed over him and left him feeling like an ass.

  He frowned. “I’m not the enemy.” He held the coat higher so it blocked his view of everything but her head and shoulders. “Hurry, we have to get moving.” Trembling visibly, her lips still maintained a bluish tint. She wasn’t out of danger yet.

  She searched his eyes for another moment. Whatever she saw there must have satisfied her, or maybe she’d finally reached the point of giving up. With a tired sigh she turned her back, unbuttoned her shirt, and dropped it on the ground, then fumbled awkwardly with the hooks on her bra. Her left shoulder was noticeably stiff and painful and, in the dim light, he saw the beginnings of a damn good bruise. She couldn’t rotate her arm and stretch far enough behind her back to remove the bra. Walker hesitated to help her, knowing it would only cause another layer of mistrust, but impatience gnawed at him. After her second attempt, the effort wrenched a sharp intake of breath from her.

  “I’ll look at your shoulder later. I’m a decent medic.”

  “No.” Her abrupt refusal was followed by a glance over her shoulder that didn’t meet his eyes. “You could stop ogling and help me.”

  Damn. He’d love to give an appropriate response to that remark, but he let it die on his tongue. If he ever wanted her to trust him, embarrassing her further wasn’t going to help. Laying the jacket over his arm, he unhooked her bra, ignoring the shudder that rippled through her when his fingers brushed her satiny skin, then opened the coat again while she unbuttoned her pants and stepped out of them. He pushed his coat toward her left side so she could slip into it without hurting herself. She pulled it tightly around her and buttoned it all the way up before turning to face him.

  His jacket nearly swallowed her slight figure and hung almost to her knees. The canvas shoes she wore without socks were soaking wet, but there was no help for that. He didn’t even have a dry pair of socks to offer.

  Walker tried a smile, but she looked quickly away. He wasn’t going to push his luck. For this moment in time, it seemed she was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt, although it could just mean he’d bullied her into submission and she didn’t have the strength to continue fighting. In any case, he had her cooperation for now, and he would take what he could get.

  He gathered up her clothes, holding them out of her reach when she made a grab for them. He almost laughed but caught himself when she pinned him with an angry gaze.

  “Stay close and let me know if you need to stop and rest.” He waited for her to nod before he started back toward the slope and stopped to retrieve his backpack where he’d dropped it in his haste to reach the water. Digging through the contents, he found a waterproof pouch and sealed her wet clothes inside. He placed the bag in his pack and slung it over his shoulder.

  Walker led her back the way he’d come, up the slope and away from the rushing river. As they walked, he kept an eye out for a good spot to make camp. It would have to be soon. They were both exhausted and cold, but it was obvious Darcy’s strength was failing. With both arms wrapped tightly around herself, she shook nonstop. Twice she trippe
d and fell. Each time she picked herself up, he thought surely she’d give out until he caught the grim determination in the set of her mouth. He should have swept her up in his arms and carried her, but he didn’t want to give her another reason to fight him. Clearly, her never-die attitude wouldn’t allow her to give up, and he admired that.

  “We’ll camp here.” Walker stopped by a rock outcropping at the foot of an embankment and turned in a small circle, studying the surrounding terrain. They were probably alone out here, but he didn’t like leaving things to chance. Putting their backs to a rock wall would mean one less opportunity for someone to sneak up on them. “Stay here. I’ll gather some wood and start a fire.”

  As soon as he stopped, Darcy sank down to the ground but popped back to her feet as he took off his pack and turned to go. “Wait. I’ll go with you.”

  Walker started to argue but bit back the words. Uncertainty shone in her eyes. Did she think, after everything he’d been through to catch up with her, he’d walk away and leave her now? Maybe she had finally come to the conclusion he was her new best friend, offering a safe haven and a chance to be warm again. He was good with that, but did she really trust him, or was she just biding her time until he fell asleep and she could bash him over the head again? His gut said no. He was beginning to think she really was as innocent as her picture suggested, and once she offered her cooperation, he couldn’t see her withdrawing it as long as he kept his end of the bargain. Still, it wouldn’t hurt to sleep with one eye open tonight.

  Her chin came up and determination flashed in her eyes as she stepped around him and walked toward the trees that surrounded the clearing.

  His lips quirked as his gaze followed her. “After you.” He fell in behind her.

  THE FIRE CRACKLED as the flames licked the dry wood and shot sparks into the sky. The heat radiated outward from the blaze and, after hours of freezing, Darcy could finally feel her fingers and toes again. The stranger stood on the other side of the campfire, close to the flames, allowing his wet clothes to dry, and her shirt, pants, and undergarments hung over a nearby tree branch while she snuggled in the warmth of his jacket.

  Something strange had happened after he bundled her in his coat, as she helped him gather wood, and as she basked in the delicious warmth of the campfire he built. Her fear and distrust had receded, replaced by an irrational feeling of safety, which she grabbed onto with all her hope.

  He tended the fire and added to their small collection of dry wood, then sat with his back to the boulder and his feet stretched toward the flames. Was he telling her the truth? Did the U.S. Marshals Service send him to find her? She didn’t know what to believe anymore.

  Putting her trust in a stranger . . . just felt wrong. Didn’t that whole incident with Grant teach her anything? She was sure of one thing, though—she’d be dead now if not for this man. According to him, he stopped Grant from killing her. She had no proof but, foolish or not, she believed him. There was no doubt in her mind she would have drowned if he hadn’t pulled her from the river. So close. A wave of nausea rolled over her, compounded by her throbbing head. She reached up to touch the tender spot at her temple where she’d banged against the rock. It could have been so much worse.

  He pushed himself to his feet and added more wood to the fire before skirting the fire pit to where she stood. “Feeling better?” He reached out to brush his fingers across her cheek. “Not shaking. Not ice cold. I think you’ll live.”

  Darcy resisted her impulse to pull away from his touch, but he must have read her reaction. His hand dropped away and he stepped back.

  “Hungry? There’s some jerky in my pack.”

  “Maybe later. Right now I just want to enjoy the fire.”

  He pulled a silver flask from his pocket, unscrewed the lid, and handed it to her.

  “What is it?”

  “Twenty-year-old Scotch. Nothing warms quite as good.”

  Darcy shook her head and pushed the container back. “I’m not much of a drinker.”

  “A couple swallows won’t hurt you. You can go back on the wagon tomorrow.”

  She still hesitated as he held the flask out to her.

  “This falls under the category of doing things my way. Drink—unless you’d like me to help you.”

  His voice was almost a growl, and she drew herself up straight, tensing for a fight, but when she glanced at him, his eyes sparkled and he surprised her with a smile. Caught off guard, Darcy’s refusal died a silent death. She didn’t know she’d accepted the flask from him until he winked, and realizing she’d been staring, she tore her eyes from his. To cover her embarrassment, she tipped the container to her lips, took two quick swallows, and grimaced after each.

  The Scotch burned all the way down, igniting a fire in her stomach that spread its glow through the rest of her body within seconds. He wasn’t kidding. Warmth enveloped her inside and out. For good measure, she took one more drink before handing the flask back. The firelight reflected off the shiny container as he lifted it to his mouth and took a long swig. Again, she had to tear her gaze away. For a few minutes, she stood in silence and stared into the fire, pondering the strange longing generated by his smile.

  “How far do we . . . have to go?” She frowned when her tongue fumbled over the words. She caught his raised brow.

  “Two or three miles, I’d guess. You led me around in circles so long, I’m not exactly sure, but we should be back to the road in a couple hours.”

  “Is Grant . . . dead?” She braced for the answer she didn’t want to hear.

  “If that’s the guy who was shooting at you—hell, yeah.”

  A shudder passed through her and she swayed unsteadily. He reached for her elbow, and Darcy lifted her head to look at him, again resisting the urge to move away. Instead, she raised her hand to touch the wound where she’d hit him with the tree branch. “I’m sorry. I thought . . .”

  “Apology accepted.”

  Her hand dropped to her side and she staggered back a step. His grip on her elbow kept her from falling.

  “Maybe you’d better sit down.” He led her to the wall and helped her to the ground, then added another branch to the fire before returning to sit near her. “You weren’t kidding . . . you can’t hold your liquor. You should eat something. It’ll make you feel better.”

  The backs of her legs tingled, and her movements were slow and awkward. Most disconcerting was the way her mind flitted from one thought to the next with no ability to focus on where she was or why. Was this what it felt like to be drunk? She should probably be alarmed, but she was warm, comfortable, and safe, and if any of that was attributable to the Scotch, she wasn’t the least bit sorry.

  He dug in his backpack again and handed her a plastic bag filled with jerky. When her fingers fumbled with the opening, he took it and tore through the plastic before handing it back.

  “I’m not usually so helpless.” She frowned as she accepted the bag again.

  “I called you a lot of things while I was trying to catch up to you, but helpless wasn’t one of them.”

  Darcy’s gaze rested on him. His crooked smile matched the laughter in his voice, but then the smile disappeared and his ruggedly handsome face grew serious again.

  “I’m curious. Why would you ever get in a car with that guy if you didn’t know him? You knew someone was after you. Don’t women have an instinct about that sort of thing?”

  His ridicule hurt even though she deserved it, and her gaze dropped away from his. She could try to defend herself. Explain she’d refused his offer at first. That Grant convinced her he was something he wasn’t, but the reasons didn’t really matter.

  She raised her eyes to meet his. “It was a stupid mistake.”

  “Could have been your last. On the other hand, I stepped between you and a wild animal, and you still chose a flood-stage river over believing I wanted to help you. Can you see why I’m confused?” His dark eyes held hers.

  Darcy stifled a ridiculous urge to gi
ggle. “I’d already made one bad decision. I wasn’t going to make the same mistake again. I thought I could find a way down off this mountain if I got across the river before you . . . I almost made it too.” She shifted her attention to the fire. “You must think I’m a fool.”

  “I think if you weren’t a brave and determined young lady, you’d be dead. Hopefully, you’ve decided to trust me now—even though earlier would have been better. For future reference, though, crossing the river was a bad plan.”

  Darcy shuddered. “I didn’t think I had a choice.” She shrugged. “And the jury’s still out on whether or not you can be trusted.”

  The man gave a short, sarcastic laugh, then took a swallow from the flask before holding it out to her. She hesitated a moment, accepted it from his hand, and tipped it to her lips, again experiencing the warming sensation as the liquid hit her stomach. This Scotch wasn’t half bad. After one more swallow, she handed it back to him and didn’t miss the amusement in his expression. There was kindness in his face, too, and his smile seemed genuine enough. She forced herself to stop staring at him, but her cheeks didn’t flush with heat, and she didn’t have to swallow the embarrassment that usually made it hard to speak. The Scotch again?

  “How did you come to work for a man like Johnny Fontana?” He put the flask back in his pocket.

  “I didn’t know who he was when I went to work there. By the time I figured it out, I already thought the world of his sons, and Johnny and Gwen treated me like part of the family. I couldn’t have asked for a better place to work. Nick and Eddy needed me, but I think I needed them just as much.” She tucked her legs under her and turned to look at him. “What will happen now?”

  “Someone from the U.S. Marshals office will want to talk to you as soon as possible. Do you know who the shooter was?”