A Hero to Hold

by Linda Castillo

  Putting his fingertips beneath her chin, he forced her gaze to his. “It’s all right to be scared.”

  Her first impulse was to deny it. She didn’t know why, but something inside her equated fear with weakness. A sudden jolt of insight told her that her need to stand on her own two feet, to be strong and in control sprang from something that had happened in the past. Some profound event that had changed her forever and left a permanent mark deep in her psyche.

  Easing away from him, she forced a smile and met his gaze. “I’m not scared,” she said. “Just a little…unsettled.”

  “Unsettled?” He had the gall to look amused. “I’d be pretty damn terrified if I were in your shoes.”

  Hannah looked down at her ugly shoes, and felt a helpless laugh bubble up. “You’re just saying that to make me feel better.”

  “I never say anything I don’t mean, Red.”

  She didn’t doubt it. The man was direct, not to mention intense. At some point, he’d invaded her space again. Her heart was beating way too fast. She needed to swallow, but wasn’t sure her throat could manage it, so she didn’t. Instead, she gazed into his alpine-blue eyes, starkly aware of his size, the intensity of his gaze, and the clean, masculine scent of his aftershave.

  “I have to go arrange for a van,” she whispered, stepping back. “Thanks again for the coat.”

  He shot a glance toward the window. “There’s snow moving in. Knowing Angela Pearl, she probably doesn’t have tire chains on her van or any other vehicle she owns.”

  “You know her?”

  “I was a paramedic in Denver a couple of years before I started with Rocky Mountain Search and Rescue. Angela and I go way back. You’ll like her. She runs a decent shelter.” He contemplated her with thoughtful scrutiny. “What do you say we skip the van and I’ll drive you?”

  * * *

  John hadn’t always been such a sucker. He figured he would probably live to regret offering Hannah a ride. But as he’d stared into the depths of her soft eyes, taking in the mix of uncertainty and courage and another emotion he couldn’t quite put his finger on, he knew he wasn’t going to walk away—even if his instincts were screaming for him to do just that.

  He’d looked the other way too many times in his life when it came to women in trouble. As a boy, he hadn’t been able to do anything about it. As a man, he knew all too well what he was capable of. He wondered how Hannah would react if she knew what had happened the last time he’d decided to get involved.

  John knew what he was. Just as he knew why he felt the constant need to atone for it. And whether being a rescuer was his saving grace—or his fatal flaw—he knew himself far too well not to realize he didn’t have a choice but to help her.

  His mission should have been clear: take her to the shelter and forget about her. But he was quickly realizing that nothing was clear when it came to the feelings this woman evoked. Her plight touched a sore spot on his heart. Her vulnerability made it impossible for him to turn the other cheek. Ever since he’d dropped down out of the chopper he hadn’t been able to get her off his mind. Not a good situation for a man who prided himself on his ability to walk away. He told himself once he got her safely to Angela Pearl’s shelter, the savvy ex-hooker would make sure whomever had put those bruises on Hannah didn’t come back to finish the job. But John knew there were no guarantees. And for the first time in his life, he wasn’t so sure walking away was going to be the easy way out.

  Logic told him he didn’t have to get involved to help her. He could walk away from the situation any time he felt the need. He was in control, after all. John Maitland was always in control. He’d learned the importance of control the day he’d walked away from that Philadelphia tenement thirteen years ago. An education that had cost him a piece of his humanity—and taken a chunk out of his soul that could never be replaced. But he’d walked away wiser nonetheless—particularly when it came to matters of the heart.

  The brutal wind slapped at his face as they crossed the hospital parking lot toward his Jeep. Intermittent snow whipped down from a brooding afternoon sky. Beside him, Hannah huddled in her new coat, her hair tangling in the wind like strands of fine Oriental silk. Even from two feet away, he could smell her. A titillating mix of wildflowers infused with the mysterious essence of woman. A scent that had simmered in the backwaters of his brain since the moment he’d clipped his harness to hers and taken her into his arms to save her life. It was a scent that had been with him every waking hour since, haunting his dreams in the dark hours of night, disturbing his intellect by the light of day.

  He wasn’t exactly sure how it had happened—he sure as hell didn’t want to define what “it” was—but with nothing more than a look and a silent communiqué, this woman had somehow broken through a wall he’d spent years fortifying. The realization that he might be vulnerable to her disturbed him more than he wanted to admit. He couldn’t help but wonder where this breach of his personal code would lead—or if he’d be sorry for it in the end.

  They reached his four-wheel-drive Jeep a moment later. John opened the door for Hannah, making sure—without touching her—that she could make the climb into the cab with her injured hands and feet. After stowing her bag in the rear, he slid behind the wheel and started the engine.

  Hannah broke the silence the instant his door was closed. “I appreciate the ride.”

  “No problem.”

  “I was wondering…um, why you’re doing this for me.”

  John had spent a good bit of the morning pondering the very same question himself. He couldn’t deny that initially his sudden sense of goodwill had been based on nothing more than good old-fashioned attraction. Faded scrubs or not, the woman could definitely turn a man’s head—even his. But John could handle his needs. He’d proven it to himself a hundred times over since he’d been in Colorado. He’d lived by the code of control for a long time, and not even a sexy, vulnerable female in trouble up to her eyebrows was going to make him break it. That she was three months pregnant would undoubtedly help. The last thing he needed in his life was to get tangled up with a pregnant woman who just happened to belong to another man.

  So what the hell was he doing driving her to the shelter, for God’s sake?

  “You mean aside from the fact that I’m a great guy?” he asked after a moment.

  She cut him a look. “I mean in light of the fact that I…you know…pointed that gun at you.”

  “Oh, that.”

  “I probably would have taken that personally.”

  He shrugged. “I’ll admit that’s not the reception I’m used to getting when I pick up a hypothermic patient clinging to the side of a mountain.”

  “I’m sorry I did that to you. I can’t stop thinking about what might have happened—”

  “Nothing happened. Don’t worry about it.”

  “I’m worried because I don’t know what kind of person I am.”

  “I consider myself a pretty good judge of character, Red. Unless that amnesia has turned you into a Jekyll and Hyde, you’re good as gold.”

  A smile touched the corners of her mouth, and John’s heart stuttered. Man, if she could do that to him with a little half smile, just imagine what would happen if she laughed. Not wanting to ponder the possibility too deeply, he put the Jeep in gear.

  “What was I doing with a gun?” she asked. “Why did I point it at you?”

  “Maybe you thought I was someone else, and you were trying to protect yourself.” John’s gaze dropped to her abdomen. “Or your unborn child.”

  Pressing her hand to her stomach, she shivered.

  “Cold?” he asked.

  “No, just…worried.”

  “Who’s Richard?”

  Her body gave a minute jerk. “I’m not…exactly sure. The name… It’s…familiar.”

  “You called me Richard right after you pulled the gun.”

  “Maybe that means I know the man who…did this to me.”

  “It’s a scenario we sh
ould probably consider.”

  Leaning forward, she put her face in her hands. “This just keeps getting worse.”

  John glanced over from his driving, hating that she’d gone pale again. “You need to get the police involved, Hannah.”

  Taking a deep breath, she relaxed back into the seat and sighed. “I know.”

  “We can’t ignore those bruises.”

  Worry crept into her gaze like a storm cloud darkening the ground beneath it. He hated to be the one to put it there, but when it came to the kind of trouble he was referring to, he knew firsthand that ignorance was never bliss.

  “You need to talk to the police and make sure they have a description of you and know the circumstances of how you were found. If a missing-persons report is out and you fit the description, they’ll be able to make the match.”

  “What if they run my prints and it turns out I’m an escaped convict or something?”

  She was serious, he realized, and had to stifle a smile. “Take my word for it, Red, you’re not an escaped convict.”

  “I could have killed you, John.”

  “You didn’t.”

  “That’s not the point.”

  Even though he was pretty sure she wouldn’t have used that gun, the possibilities of why she’d had it in the first place left a rank taste at the back of his throat. “Buzz Malone is an ex-cop. I’ll check with him and see if he has any ideas as far as getting you identified. He might be able to cut through some of the red tape and speed up the process.”

  “I appreciate that.” She fiddled with the bandages on her fingers. “I probably have…family looking for me, anyway.”

  John looked down at her naked ring finger and felt an odd sensation he refused to identify sweep through him. “Probably.”

  “It’s been twenty-four hours. There’s probably a missing-persons report out this very minute,” she reasserted.

  John nodded, realizing belatedly how alone she must feel, and that she was putting up a valiant front. He wondered if she realized her hands were shaking. “I’ll call the Rocky Mountain News. I know a reporter there. I’ll fill him in on your story, and see if I can get him interested. If the newspaper runs an article, someone might recognize you.”

  “Good idea.” She brightened. “Maybe we could even get one of the local TV stations to run my picture.”

  John risked a look at her. Huddling deeper into her coat, she leaned back in the seat and closed her eyes. He tried not to notice the fullness of her mouth or the way her hair curled wildly around her shoulders. He’d never been drawn by a woman’s hair before. He wasn’t even unduly attracted to redheads, though now he couldn’t imagine why. What was it about her that had him bucking his better judgment every time he looked at her?

  He was so caught up in his thoughts, he didn’t notice the sport utility vehicle until it was alongside his Jeep. Damn impatient drivers annoyed the hell out of him. He couldn’t count the number of accidents caused by Mr. Type-A personality trying to pass a slower-moving Mr. Type-B.

  “Come on, Speed Racer,” he muttered.

  Abruptly the SUV veered toward the Jeep. Adrenaline punched through him when the vehicle crossed the yellow line into his lane. He jerked the wheel to the right, but the SUV kept coming.

  “What the hell?” He barely had time to shout a warning before the SUV slammed into the side of his Jeep. “Hang on!”

  The Jeep fishtailed on impact. John fought the wheel, looked up in time to see the SUV loom large and menacing inches from his window. He hit the brakes only to realize the tires had already relinquished their grip.

  The screech of rubber against asphalt filled the air. Hannah’s scream rang out over the roar of the engine. Fighting the wheel for control, he steered into the skid. A curse flitted through his brain when the Jeep began a slow, sickening spin. As if in slow motion, he saw the guardrail approach at a stunning speed. As the Jeep careened toward it, he tried not to think about the woman and her unborn child whose lives now rested in his hands—or the two-hundred-foot drop on the other side of the rail.

  CHAPTER 5

  John’s Jeep impacted solidly with the guardrail. The momentum threw him against his shoulder harness with such force that he nearly lost his grip on the steering wheel. His left temple knocked against the window, the sound of cracking glass sputtering through his brain.

  Abruptly everything went deathly still.

  Blinking against the stars exploding behind his eyes, he shook his head to clear it, then glanced over at Hannah, concern for her jumping through him. “Are you all right?”

  “I’m okay…I think.”

  He looked toward the road in time to see the taillights of the SUV disappear ahead. “Damn crazy driver.”

  Shoving her hair out of her face with shaking hands, she raised her gaze to his. “What about you? Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine.” He wasn’t so sure—his head hurt like the dickens—but at the moment he was more concerned about her. Her face was pale in the dim light from the dash. But even with his adrenaline pumping and his temper riding a fast second, he couldn’t help but notice how pretty she looked with her eyes wide, her hair tumbling about her face. That was a hell of a thing for him to notice when he should be more concerned by the fact that he’d only managed to get a partial license plate number of the maniac who had nearly sent them to their deaths.

  “Stay put.” He reached for the door handle. “I’m going to come around to check you out, all right?”

  “I’m really okay.”

  “You’re also three months pregnant.” Releasing his safety belt, he tried to open his door, only to realize it was stuck. Muttering a curse, he shouldered it and the door opened with a creak. John stepped into the bracing wind only to realize his knees were weak. Damn, that hadn’t ever happened before. Bending at the waist, he put his hands on his knees and sucked in a couple of breaths. His heart was still racing, pumping adrenaline to his muscles and anger to his brain.

  That crazy son of a bitch had just about killed them.

  Dusk had fallen, and it was so quiet he could hear the wind coming through the pines on the north side of the road. There was no sign of the SUV. No traffic for miles. The fact that they were alone on a desolate stretch of highway sent an acute sense of uneasiness creeping over him.

  Working a kink out of his neck, he crossed in front of the Jeep, all too aware that Hannah hadn’t so much as moved. Dammit, the last thing she needed was any more physical or emotional trauma. Even though they hadn’t been moving fast enough to cause serious injury, it didn’t take much force to bring on a case of whiplash.

  He yanked open the passenger side door to find her leaning against the seat back watching him from dark, cautious eyes. “I told you I’m all right,” she said.

  “So you said. Turn toward me.” Using both hands, he reached out and cupped her face, then slid his hands down her neck, to her shoulders, her arms, briefly touching her hips and ending on her thighs.

  Hannah shivered.

  “Cold?”

  “Uh, no.”

  “Any pain? Any dizziness? Nausea? Cramping?”

  “I’m terrific, John, just a little…shaken up.”

  “That’s what all my patients say.”

  She rolled her eyes. “I’m not your patient any longer.”

  “I’m a medic, Red. Humor me, okay?” He grinned to put her at ease, but it felt plastic on his face. He was still shaking inside. Maybe he was the one who needed to relax. His patient seemed to be taking all this in stride. “Can you move your arms and legs?”

  She wiggled her fingers, then did a little tap dance against the floorboard with her feet. “All I need is a little music.”

  “Stop being a smart-aleck and slide out for me, okay?”

  She smiled. “We weren’t going that fast.”

  “Fast enough. Come on. Up and at ’em.”

  She slid out of the Jeep. Before he could stop her, she glanced over the guardrail into the ravine belo
w. “Oh, my God.”

  The last vestiges of color leached from her cheeks so fast, for a moment, John thought she was going to pass out. Quickly he leaned her against the Jeep. “That’s what I thought you’d say.”

  “Good Lord, if you hadn’t gotten the Jeep stopped, we would have…we could have—”

  “Shhh. Don’t go there.” John was a toucher. He touched people on daily basis. He slapped his friends on the back. Held his patients’ hands to ease their fears. He squeezed worried family members’ shoulders to comfort. The urge to touch Hannah now was unusually strong. Normally he wouldn’t have thought twice about reaching out to comfort her, but some inner warning told him to use caution.

  Letting out a pent-up sigh, he looked up and down the highway, still trying to convince himself this hadn’t been as premeditated as it seemed. “Dammit, that was close.”

  “Too close.”

  He looked at her and knew she was thinking the same thing he was. The driver had purposefully tried to run them off the road at a place in the highway where death would have been imminent.

  “Do you think he’s gone?” she asked.

  John looked over his shoulder, felt the hairs at his nape prickle. “Yeah. Not that I was hoping he would stop and render aid.” Reaching up, he touched the sore spot at his temple, and felt a lump the size of a hen’s egg. Wonderful. He looked at his fingers, relieved when they came away dry.

  “You’re the one who’s hurt,” she said.

  He knew better than to let her concern warm him, but it did. “Careful, Red. I like it when women worry about me.”

  “I’ll bet.” She looked as if she might touch him, but stuck her hands in her pockets instead. “That’s quite a bump.”

  “I’ve got a really hard head.”

  She didn’t quite smile, but he saw the play of amusement behind her eyes and felt another wave of warmth settle in his chest. “You’re probably going to think I’m being paranoid,” she said, “but the SUV…I mean, it seemed…deliberate.”

  “He could have been a drunk driver.” He said the words, but knew neither of them were buying it.