by Alicia Scott
Her hands fingered the bright red strands self-consciously. Then with a belated flurry of movement, she grabbed the baseball cap from his head and stuck it on her own just as the cop car went flying by.
"What do you think?" she demanded to know, twisting in her seat to watch the brown vehicle whiz past.
She had her answer in less than five seconds. The brake lights lit up, the tires came to a screeching halt. Dust abruptly flew and rubber burned as the cop did a lumbering 180 and headed back toward them.
Cain wasted his breath on one succinct word, then the wail of sirens cut through the morning.
"Hang on," he called to Maggie, and pressed down hard on the gas.
She grabbed the roll bar above her head, her other hand holding the cap on her thick hair as the compact Jeep sprang forward like a well-trained beast.
Cain didn't fool around. The turnoff for 395 came and he took it, the cop car right on their heels. Its engine was more powerful. Cain was more desperate.
He watched the car come closer and closer, thought of all the buddies the cop must be calling on the radio. He wanted to swear more, he wanted to curse.
He had to remain focused.
"Maggie," he called above raging sirens, "do you trust me?"
"What?" she yelled back.
"I said, do you trust me?"
"Of course!"
"Good!" He cranked the wheel hard.
One minute they were burning up asphalt, the next minute they hit sagebrush and the little Jeep was airborne. They hit the dirt hard, moist earth and crackling brush cushioning the jarring blow and momentarily wrestling with the tires for traction. This time, the Jeep proved more stubborn than the mud and the vehicle leaped sluggishly forward.
The cop car followed, sirens growing louder as it, too, hit the air. It landed with a choking screech and the engine groaned loudly as the mud grabbed hard.
Maggie risked a look back. This close she could see the cop's face clearly, old and leathered beneath his brown hat as he leaned forward, putting his body behind his urging. The heavier vehicle remained stuck, though.
Maggie didn't have time to gloat. As the Jeep jostled and bounced her like a rubber toy, she saw the sheriff pop open his door and climb out of his vehicle. Then she saw him place the rifle against his shoulder and level it steadily.
"Cain, look out!" she screamed.
Gunshot cracked the sky, echoing in the vast sky and ringing in her ears. She flinched and ducked, losing her hold on the roll bar and almost getting bounced out of the vehicle. Cain simply tucked his head against his chest, not relinquishing his hold on the wheel even for gunfire. Another shot rang out, then another.
She heard the melodious tinkle of a rear light shattering, then the sharp thud of a bullet burying itself in the back fender.
"Faster!" she cried. "Faster!"
"No kidding!"
Then abruptly the ground opened up beneath them. One minute they were bouncing along, staring at flatland, the next they realized how much the horizon had fooled them. The ravine gaped open. They went sailing into the air.
Maggie had one moment to grab the dash. The Jeep plunged into the narrow ravine, burying its nose against the mud wall and ending with a whimper.
She went flying forward. The dashboard was very friendly.
Everything went black.
"Open your mouth for me, Maggie. That's it." Her cracked lips parted on command and sweet, thick juice trickled between them. Orange juice, she thought dimly, and drank deeply.
At the last minute, the liquid disappeared. She heard a faint groan of protest, then realized it was her own. Her eyes reluctantly cracked open.
She was sprawled out on the seat of the crumpled Jeep. Cain loomed above her, his face pale and grim as he looked down at her. She blinked a few more times and his body stopped wavering sickeningly.
"How do you feel?" he asked quietly, the concern obvious in his voice. He reached down and brushed back her hair once, then twice, then three times. Finally, he settled for keeping his hand on her cheek.
She turned her head into his palm, wincing a bit from the movement. "Like I've been in a car accident," she muttered against his fingertips. "And you?"
"The same."
Belatedly, she hefted herself to sitting. Her head hurt. She could feel a nice-sized lump growing on her forehead. But she still had two arms and two legs which functioned on command. She twisted at the waist, grimacing a bit.
"How long was I unconscious?"
"A few minutes."
"Is the cop coming?"
"I imagine we'll have all sorts of company shortly."
"Oh." She looked up at him miserably. "I'm sorry," she said automatically.
His lips curved, almost tenderly. "It's not your fault. I knew from the beginning that escape was a long shot. Do you think you can walk?"
"Yes, of course." She could walk. She could dance on a tightrope if he would just keep looking at her like that.
He hopped down from the Jeep, clutching the bag of their meager supplies in one hand. She followed more gingerly, but the wooziness was clearing rapidly. She must not have hit her head that hard after all.
Then she realized for the first time that he was limping.
"You hurt your leg!"
"Yes."
She scurried around to the left side of him, and her eyes widened. It was hard to tell, given the already disreputable shape of his jeans, but a wet stain appeared to be spreading along his thigh. "Cain, you're really injured!"
"I checked it out. It's not much."
She didn't believe him for a minute. He finally arched a single brow. "Do you know first aid, Maggie?"
She shook her head.
"If it is seriously injured, is there anything you can do about it?"
Once again she shook her head.
"Then its condition is moot. Even if it's serious, there's nothing we can do about it."
"We can sit here and rest!"
"I'm sure the police would appreciate that." He continued walking along the floor of the shallow ravine, looking around himself and assessing the situation with his cool gaze.
Maggie scowled at him, but she didn't know how to make him stop.
"I wonder how far this goes," Cain murmured out loud.
"What?"
"The ravine. My guess is that helicopters will be brought in shortly. The land here is fairly flat. So the ravine could come in handy, such as it is."
Maggie understood his point. The ravine was only about six feet deep and ten feet wide, more like a gully carved out by rushing water. But its top was obscured by thick, tangled brush, helping hide their progress, and it did appear to be long, snaking around so that they couldn't see the end, just rich red dirt where it twisted around another corner.
"Do you really think we can make it on foot?" she asked.
Cain didn't reply, but his lips got very tight.
And she knew it then, as he must have known it all along. He wasn't going to make it. They'd been spotted and they were now on foot. In probably less than thirty minutes the area would be crawling with state troopers, county sheriffs and miscellaneous bounty hunters. They'd bring in helicopters, they'd bring in dogs.
Cain was smart, probably as smart as Brandon. And he was strong, probably as strong as C.J. But he was still just a man.
The police would find them. She would be "liberated" and Cain … oh, Cain.
"You're not going to do anything rash, are you?"
He still didn't reply.
"Getting yourself shot rather than going back to jail would be pretty stupid," she said more vehemently.
"No one will know the truth if I'm dead," he said at last, his voice perfectly expressionless.
That scared her. Tucked away in the cool shadows of the ravine, she wrapped her arms around her waist.
"Keep walking, Maggie."
So she did.
They heard the first sound of helicopters after twenty minutes, the pounding beat of blade
s almost deafening. Cain didn't say anything. Instead, he halted and turned back to her long enough to brusquely tuck her red braid inside her T-shirt. The black baseball cap he pressed lower on her head, momentarily pushing loose tendrils behind her ears.
His face was expressionless, but she could see the strain etched in the corners of his eyes and the grim set of his mouth. His green eyes were determined, but she could see fatigue there as well and hints of pain. His steps had grown more labored.
She reached out her hand toward his chest, but he intercepted it in midair. His fingers closed around her wrist, gentle but firm. He replaced her hand at her side, his gaze level on hers.
Then he turned away from her, and without ever saying a word, raised the camouflaged hunting jacket over his own head to disguise his blond hair.
He resumed walking and, after a tortured moment, she followed.
The helicopters came and went. Once Maggie thought she heard barking, but the sound seemed very far away and things were distorted by the tunnel shape of the ravine. The barking never got closer, or the shouts of men. The ravine led them deeper and deeper around, until Maggie no longer knew which direction they were even headed, though they seemed to be headed up. She had the ridiculous thought that they would miraculously emerge in the courthouse in downtown Portland where all this madness had started.
Abruptly, she bumped into Cain. Only then did she become aware that he'd stopped walking.
Puzzled, she peered around his arm, and her eyes suddenly grew round.
They were on the top of a hill and beneath them, far enough away that the people looked like ants, an entire town had popped up in the middle of wild-running tumbleweeds. Even from this distance, Maggie could count four cop cars and a number of pickup trucks.
She turned to Cain. "Uh-oh," she said weakly.
His lips curved tightly. She realized for the first time that his face was dangerously pale. Her gaze flew down to his thigh. The stain had grown to unbelievable proportions.
"Oh, my God," she whispered. Her eyes bounced back up to his face. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"There's nothing you could do," he said, but then his bravado left him and he leaned heavily against the mud wall.
"Sit," she commanded, panic releasing her vocal cords and lending strength to her hands. "Now!"
He sagged down to the ground without further protest, and for a moment she was terrified that he'd passed out cold. But then his head tilted back drunkenly, his green eyes definitely worn. "Now what, Miss Nightingale?"
"A tourniquet," she determined.
"A tourniquet would cut off all circulation and I might lose my whole leg."
She blinked rapidly. She was a marriage counselor, for crying out loud, what did she know about these things? "Do you know what to do then?" she asked in an agonized voice. "Just tell me, Cain, and I'll do it."
"I want you to go down into that town."
"And get a doctor? I'll do it!"
The silence lengthened. "Sure," he said belatedly, too belatedly.
Her eyes narrowed. She sank back on her heels and regarded him warily. "What's going on, Cain?"
"Maggie, I know you'll disagree, but I think it's time for us to part company."
"You're damn right I disagree!"
"It's not your problem."
"Oh, don't give me that!"
His eyes abruptly fired to life. Color rose in his cheeks and his chin came up furiously. She'd thought he was weakened, but his hand snapped around her wrist with all the ferocity of a healthy, well-conditioned male.
"I'm in trouble, Maggie. We both know that. I'll go down, but I go down on my own. I don't take anyone with me. I don't take you with me."
"I'm not leaving you alone. Not injured and tired and—"
Her words were cut off as he abruptly dragged her forward. She fell across his lap, knowing she must be hurting his leg and trying to get a hand out to support herself. But he pinned her against his hard chest with his arms, his lips now just an inch from hers, his eyes blazing into her.
"This is the only thing I'll ever ask of you," he whispered fiercely.
"And I won't do it!" she cried back. Her eyes pleaded with him to understand, to realize just how much she loved him and that she couldn't abandon someone she loved.
For one moment, she saw the strain again. She saw his pain, she saw his fatigue. And then his spine stiffened and he became relentless.
"Swear to me you'll walk away and never look back."
"No!"
"Swear to me you'll walk away and never look back."
"No!"
"Swear to me, Maggie, that you will walk away and never look back."
"I can't do that! I can't leave you!"
"You have to, Maggie. It's the only thing I'll ever truly need you to do."
And those words hurt her. They lacerated her heart and filled her chest with a fiery red ache. The tears welled up. Her lower lip trembled when she wanted so badly to be composed.
"Don't do this to me," she whispered. "Don't hurt me like this when I love you so much. Cain…"
His composure snapped. The steadiness left his gaze and for one moment, he looked furious. And then his lips swooped down. He kissed her, he kissed her hard. And it was wild and raw and aching. It told her everything, how much he needed her, how much he wanted her. How much she'd managed to touch him in just twenty-four hours when he couldn't afford to be touched.
He consumed her mouth as he wanted to consume her, and her tears spilled over and ran down her cheeks. She kissed him back as savagely as he kissed her and wept against his face.
Just as suddenly his hands bracketed her cheeks and forced her head back harshly.
"Go!" he whispered fiercely. "Run away from me and live happily ever after. Find your brothers because they will keep you safe. Unite your step-siblings. Be happy."
He paused, then his green eyes grew brighter. Her breath died in her throat and she was pinned by those fiery eyes.
"Someday," he promised lowly, "someday, Maggie, if this is all behind me, I will find you. Wherever you are I will find you and I will throw myself at your feet and give you my life. I swear it!"
"I love you," she cried helplessly. "I love you, I love you, I love you."
And for his answer, he pushed her away from him so hard she stumbled and fell against the dirt. He pointed once more at the town, his whole arm shaking with the emotion. "Go!"
"All right!" she agreed at last. Her chest was laboring now, her hair red and tangled around her cheeks. She lurched drunkenly to her feet, swaying as she fought to breathe through the tightness in her chest. She knew what he was doing. Knew he was just trying to protect her, and dammit, she didn't need to be protected! Not anymore.
"I'll leave. But I'm coming back and you can't stop me. I'm going to trot right down into that town. I'm going to tell them all you're headed in the opposite direction. And then I'm grabbing a medical kit and coming right back up here. So don't you move. You want to talk about trust? Well, trust me to come back to you. Trust me, dammit!"
"Do what you have to do." His voice was tight, his hands clenched into fists at his sides.
"I will, thank you very much." She spared one glance at her watch. It read eleven-fifteen. "Give me one hour," she said curtly. "One hour and I'll be back."
Not waiting for his nod, she squared her shoulders, focused her gaze at that town and headed straight out into the blazing sun.
Cain remained seated on the floor of the ravine, watching her saunter down the hillside as proud and vibrant as Joan of Arc going to war. Two helicopters swooped down. The ant-sized officers rushed forward up the hill to meet her.
She kept walking, her gaze forward and her shoulders level as minutes passed until finally she, too, grew small and distant.
God, she was magnificent.
And his gaze swept over the growing crowd of men around her, trying hard to make out faces and identify the one face that still haunted his dreams. The cops closed in on
her, accepted her, no doubt hammered the poor hostage with questions.
Still no Ham. Cain finally allowed himself to breathe.
The police had her now. She was the rescued hostage and there was nothing to indicate any other relationship.
Her brothers would probably be with her shortly. She'd spoken highly of them. Surely they would keep her safe.
Cain needed to know that she would be safe.
The crowd grew too thick. She disappeared at last from sight. Her twenty-four hours of adventure were over, and civilization had swallowed her up once more.
"Remember me, Maggie," he whispered as he sat in the red mud of the ravine. "Maybe that's the only other thing I'll ever need you to do. Remember me." And I'll remember you. For all the days, weeks and months to come.
He heaved himself awkwardly to his feet. His wound wasn't as bad as he'd made it out to be—he'd figured it would take near death to get Maggie to leave his side. But the gash was still tight. He could feel his thigh throb hot and angry with each step. He could walk; he had no other choice.
Maggie was safe, his first mission accomplished. And now he had other business to attend to.
Chapter 13
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"Brandon! C.J.!"
Detective McDougal was in the middle of yet another of his "very important, downright critical questions," but Maggie didn't care. She bounded out of her seat as if it had been suddenly electrified and flew across the room.
Four steps and she leaped full-bodied into Brandon's open embrace, wrapping her arms around his neck and burying her cheek against his shoulder. Immediately his arms were around her, holding her as if she were the most precious person on earth, and as if simply she was eight again and he was twelve and together they could survive anything.
Her cheeks were suddenly damp. She thought she felt his shoulders shake. Oh, she felt bad that he'd been so worried about her, but it was good to see him again. Him and C.J. The three of them back together again. They could do anything.
She forced herself to pull back long enough to hurtle herself into C.J.'s arms, hearing him grunt on impact. Then his well-toned arms caught her in a giant bear hug.