Maverick

by C. J. Snyder

  Jack just smiled.

  Three hours later, there wasn’t a trace of that smile. He’d found the cabin easily, once Derek had redrawn the route on the topo map Chuck brought along. The shack was empty, and had been for a long, long time. There wasn’t a sign of Maggie anywhere. He unloaded the groceries and extra supplies, then headed back out to the rugged four-wheel drive truck. The cab sat four feet up off the ground over enormous tires. Chuck was going to get himself two commendations, probably bringing a bonus, maybe big enough for Chuck to retire. In Jack’s way of thinking that would be a damn shame. Field operatives like Chuck were one in a million.

  The rain was letting up, the skies clearing. It was about to get cold. On a hunch, he retrieved the original map Derek sketched for him. Had Derek jotted down the landmarks on Maggie’s copy? Would she even know what a snow fence was? Jack reversed the large truck into the meadow then headed back up the hill.

  Two hours later, nearing full dusk, he found her. The knobby front tire of the bike stood up perfectly straight in the road. He’d have driven right over the machine if not for that tire. He threw on the emergency brake and vaulted down from the cab.

  The only color in a world of browns and greys, her bright yellow helmet captured his attention immediately. Jack knelt next to her still form and checked her pulse and respiration. Nothing wrong there. Careful fingers slid over her body, down her legs. He checked a gash on her leg through the remnants of her jeans. Painful, but not deep. He resumed the examination. Down to her ankles, then back up her arms. Her right wrist was swollen to twice its normal size and ugly purple ringed it.

  “Maggie?”

  She moaned.

  Response or Coincidence? He couldn’t tell. “Maggie?”

  This time her eyelids fluttered.

  He blew out a relieved breath. “I’m gonna take off your helmet, darlin’. I think you’ve got a concussion and I’ve got to check your head.” He didn’t know if she could hear him, let alone understand him, but talking to her like she could sure made him feel better.

  The helmet rattled back onto the flat granite as soon as he unbuckled the strap under her chin. He carefully cradled her head, lifting it to his lap. Maggie frowned and moaned, murmuring something he couldn’t understand. He lifted the baseball cap from her head, slowing when it caught in her hair. His fingers moved gingerly over her scalp. He winced at the precise moment she did. There was a huge lump just above her left ear. Dried blood crusted her hair near the cut, but not too much blood.

  She could have died. The thought terrified him. His heart was pounding—had been for ages now. Funny he hadn’t noticed before. He lifted her eyelids with gentle fingers that shook. One at a time, he checked her pupils. She scowled and muttered a few more incoherent whispers. Her eyes were fine. If he remembered his training correctly, her injuries were probably not serious. He let out the breath he didn’t know he’d held.

  He stroked her face tenderly. “Maggie?” Another flutter from her eyelids. But she didn’t open them. He had to get her awake. “We’re gonna lose that backpack you’re wearing now, honey. I’m going to cut the straps, so I don’t have to jostle you.” No response. He cut the straps and pulled her close into his arms. For just a moment, his forehead rested against hers.

  Jack cleared his throat. “I’m gonna pick you up, darlin’. I’ll be real careful, but it might hurt. We’ve got to get back to the cabin. And you’ve got to wake up.” She moaned again when he stood with her, but sighed when he nestled her against his chest. He managed to get the passenger door open, and eyed the four-step ladder up to the cab. This wouldn’t be a smooth transition, no matter what he did. He trapped her injured wrist between their bodies. Her moan threaded through his heart, but he didn’t know another way to secure her arm during the transfer. He propped her chin far enough over his shoulder so the lump on her head wouldn’t touch anything. Seconds later, he settled her on the seat, careful to keep her on her right side. He stretched out her wrist on the wide seat next to her. He found a blanket behind the seat and smoothed it over her, pulling off her wet, muddy shoes, tucking the blanket in around her toes.

  “Maggie?”

  Behind her closed lids, her eyes moved again. Did that count as a response? He didn’t know. The movement was sure as hell better than nothing.

  “I’m going to get your gear. I’ll be right back with you.” Nothing. “Maggie?” The same response with her eyes. She heard him, at least. He jumped back down from the truck and secured her door. The back pack was heavy. Jack shook his head. Derek needed his head examined—sending her off top-heavy like that—the shifting weight alone could have thrown her off balance at any time. He kicked the helmet away and strode back to the truck, tossing the backpack up into the bed.

  He looked for the best place to turn around as he stalked to the bike. The motorcycle rolled easily to the flat granite—no way he was lifting it four feet over his head to take it with them. Makeshift saddlebags were tied onto the back of the seat with a rope. When he cut the rope, the contents of one of the bags spilled out.

  Jack swore and knelt, gathering canned goods and bags of noodles and beans. By fistfuls, he chucked them into the back of the truck. Sparing a glance up at the cab, worried about Maggie, he darted to the bike, gathered the rest of her belongings and carted them back. The last load was deposited on the floor inside the cab.

  Easing himself onto the seat, he lifted her head gently to his lap and started the engine. Twenty minutes later, they were at the cabin. Jack got her inside and stretched her out on a double bed in the corner. She didn’t move, and she no longer responded when he called her.

  Jack lit a lantern and yanked out his phone, punching in the numbers to his home office in Maryland. “9EX249.” “Go ahead.”

  “Maverick.”

  “Yes, Agent Myles. What can we do for you?”

  “I need a doctor. A neurologist, if you’ve got one.”

  “Hold, please.”

  Jack cradled the phone between his shoulder and ear and checked her pulse again. Slow and steady, just like her breathing. There couldn’t be anything seriously wrong if her heart and lungs were okay—or could there?

  As gently as he could, he probed her wrist. Nothing felt broken.

  “This is Doctor Steven Brockman.”

  Jack outlined her accident and listed her symptoms. “Taking her to the hospital could put her in extreme jeopardy, doctor. I need to know if keeping her out of the hospital is putting her in even more danger.” He pulled a pad of paper and a pencil from his pocket and started recording instructions.

  “I’m on call all night. Phone back when you’re finished.”

  “Thanks, doc.”

  Jack set the phone on the bed and glanced at Maggie’s pale features. Her clothes had to come off. Jack had to look for any bruising that could signify internal bleeding. If Maggie woke up during that process, she’d kill him. He smiled. If she’d wake up, he’d let her.

  He told himself he’d seen lots of naked bodies. He told himself he’d even seen nearly all of hers. In the end, the only thing that kept his mind on the exam and away from her beautiful body was her stillness. She never moved. He covered her carefully with the blanket from the truck, then added another one.

  He found no bruises, except for her head and her wrist. He picked up the phone. “No discolorations anywhere?”

  Only a birthmark, right behind her left knee. And another one, on her hip. His body responded to the memory and he closed his eyes. What was wrong with him? “Just her wrist. There are some old scars—under her chin, back in her hairline—nothing recent. Her pulse is strong and steady at sixty. Respiration normal.”

  “Got a flashlight?”

  “In the truck.”

  “Get it.”

  He brought in the first aid kit Chuck packed for him, along with the flashlight. The doctor instructed him how to check her pupils. Jack was happy to report they were the same size and responding normally—even if she wasn’t.r />
  He could hear the hesitation in the doctor’s voice. Jack didn’t blame him. He wanted her in the hospital himself. Except that nobody knew Kevin Cormack’s present location. Or his brother Paul’s. “And you’re sure she landed on her head? Not anywhere else?”

  “The helmet was scuffed good, right where the lump on her head is. She was lying on a backpack, but it was soft.”

  “Then give her an hour. If you still can’t wake her up, you’d better get her in.” “One hour,” Jack agreed. He put the phone back on the bed and knelt beside her, picking up her left hand, stroking lifeless fingers. “Maggie? Wake up, darlin’.”

  She moaned. Her eyelids fluttered again.

  “Maggie? Come on, honey. Wake up.” He kissed her forehead before he knew he was going to. His fingers stroked down her cheek. “Maggie. Open your eyes.” She rolled onto her left side, swinging her arm over her body, managing to hit the bump on her head and her wrist at the same time.

  The pain slitted her eyes open. Jack scrambled around the foot of the bed to the other side. “Maggie?”

  Her eyes were clouded with agony, but she focused on him easily enough. She groaned and closed her eyes. “Maggie.”

  “Go away,” she breathed.

  “Open your eyes, darlin’.”

  She rolled to her right side, jostling her wrist again. Her soft cry stabbed at his heart. That irritated him. He strode back around the bed and dropped to his knees. “Hold still and it won’t hurt.” Her eyes flashed open, accusing him of lying. His irritation vanished. Relief flooded through him, nearly making him dizzy. She would be okay. “Won’t hurt as much,” he amended cheerfully. “You’ve got a concussion. And a mangled wrist. I can’t tell if it’s broken or just sprained.”

  “Thank you, doctor,” she muttered crossly. “What are you doing here?” Her voice was whisper soft, but her animosity wasn’t. She wasn’t about to ask where ‘here’ was. “Saving your ass.” Jack’s grin was completely obnoxious. “Give me your wrist.” Maggie ignored him and closed her eyes, trying to remember. A sudden stop—lots of rocks. . . Sure she wouldn’t like the ending, she quit trying to make sense of it all. He wrapped something cool and firm around her throbbing wrist.

  “Maggie?”

  He sounded anxious. She had to be dreaming. She opened her eyes again. “What?” “Don’t close your eyes.” His words were a plea.

  “My head hurts.” He picked up her left hand and guided her fingers carefully to the goose egg.

  “I think you hit a rock in the road. The bike stopped. You didn’t. And that helmet you were wearing didn’t fit well enough to protect you.” “Where are we?”

  “Derek’s cabin.”

  Derek. The television show. Her careful escape. From him. “What are you doing here?” He shook his head at her sudden anxiety. “I’m on your side, Maggie. Derek believed me, even if you don’t. And whether you do or not, you’re stuck with me for a while. Worrying about it will only make your head hurt more. Be reasonable and let it go.”

  The words made her want to cry. She didn’t have a clue why. “Melissa?” “She’s fine. With Derek. He’ll take good care of her. I think he’s in love with her.”

  Damn but her head hurt. His words rattled around inside her mind. She had to capture them, one by one, and put them back in order to understand them. It took too much effort. She sighed and closed her eyes.

  “Maggie.”

  “What?”

  “Open your eyes.”

  She started to shake her head and groaned instead. “It hurts,” she whispered. “It really hurts.”

  “I know, darlin’.” She felt his fingers soothe her forehead. The soft pressure helped the pain, almost instantly. That surprised her. “Can you open your eyes for me, Maggie?” She forced her heavy eyelids up. “Don’t stop.” She caught his wrist and pushed his fingers back to her forehead. “Does it help?”

  “Mmm. . .” Her eyes slid closed again.

  His fingers moved away from her forehead.

  Her eyes opened in protest. She found his smile. Even through the pounding in her head, she could feel her heart respond to that sexy grin.

  “I’ll make you a deal.” She only watched him. “You keep your eyes open, and I’ll keep rubbing.” “Okay,” she whispered with a smile. Her eyelids fell again.

  “Maggie?”

  “Mmm.”

  “I’m going to stop.”

  “There’s plenty of time,” she whispered. “You’ll see. Don’t ring the bell anymore—just kiss me.” Her left hand slid up around his neck and pulled his face down to hers. Resisting didn’t occur to him—at least not then. The kiss was soft and slow. Her tongue slid out to meet his. Jack answered the invitation immediately. Only when he heard that little sound of hers—coming from deep in her throat—did he pull back.

  “Don’t,” she whimpered and he brushed his lips against hers once more. He couldn’t help it.

  “Ah, Maggie. . . You’re dangerous, darlin’.” She’d heard the words, because she was smiling. “Open your eyes, baby.” She did, smiling full into his. “Kiss me again. Then come get in bed with me.” Jack was very glad he was on his knees. “Do you know where we are, Maggie?”

  “Home,” she whispered. “And it’s my dream. So shut up and kiss me—and do that thing you do—that I like so much—“ Jack’s eyes widened. There were times he hated his damn principles. He sighed. “We’re not home, darlin’. We’re at Derek’s cabin. You’ve got a mean concussion. And as much as I’m dyin’ to make love to you, it ain’t gonna happen tonight.”

  Catching all the words and putting them back in order took her a while. When she did, her eyes flew open wide and her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. She’d kissed him—and practically ordered him to—

  He grinned down at her. “I didn’t mind, darlin’. Believe me. And if you can keep your eyes open for the next two hours or so, we could probably—“ He laid a finger lightly over her sputtering lips. “Don’t get mad. It’s not good for your head.”

  All was suddenly crystal clear. She didn’t want to make love with him. She hated him. “Where are we?” Something about the question bothered him, she could see the worry in his eyes. “Derek’s cabin. You had an accident on your bike. We’ve already talked about all this—don’t you remember?”

  She did, sort of. “Am I okay?” “I think so. I called a neurologist. He said as long as you stay awake you’ll be okay.” He could read the progression of her thoughts. “Melissa’s with Derek. She’s fine.” Under the two blankets her leg moved restlessly. Jack bit down on a groan before it escaped.

  “My clothes.” “They were wet, Maggie.” She only had one useable fist, but it was poised and ready to strike. He already knew what she could do with that fist. He stood up to get out of range. “And the doctor said I had to examine you—“

  ”Examine me?”

  “For bruising—to see if you were bleeding anywhere—inside.”

  Sensible. And she understood the words nearly immediately when he uttered them. None of that mattered. “You stripped me.” He nodded. “I could bring up a certain alley in Connecticut, but I won’t. . .” “It’s not the same. I wasn’t even conscious.”

  Jack had the grace to look ashamed. “He told me to, Maggie.” He was digging himself an even deeper hole with each word, so he stopped. “I’ll go get the rest of your gear out of the truck—start us a fire. And make some supper. You hungry?”

  She sniffed derisively and rolled to her side, this time settling her wrapped wrist gently in front of her. She was extremely careful to make certain the blankets rolled with her. He smiled, but kept his voice gruff. “Keep your eyes open.” he ordered. “I’ll be right back.” He left the backpack on her bed, retrieved a flashlight from a small night stand and went back outside. She didn’t waste a second, except to frown over the sliced-through straps. That hadn’t happened during her fall. She extricated an extra large t-shirt first, then panties and her spare pair of jeans.

&nb
sp; Up on one elbow, she bit down on her bottom lip as she threaded her swollen wrist through the shirt. The neck opening grazed her head and her eyes stung with tears, but she ignored them long enough to pull the shirt down. She wriggled into her underpants and yanked them up. At least she was somewhat covered now.

  She cast a quick glance at the closed door and eyed her jeans. Her wrist throbbed. Was it worth the pain? She wouldn’t be able to button them up with one hand. But at least she’d have something on. She couldn’t stand to be in bed with both of them knowing she was nearly naked under the blankets.

  The room spun wildly. it after all.

  She swung her legs over the side of the squeaky bed.

  She groaned and sank back down, holding her head. Not worth Jack was suddenly there, lifting her legs back up, tucking in the blanket around her. His fingers stroked her forehead, applying just the right amount of pressure to ease the ache radiating from the knot on the side of her head. He didn’t speak until the pain receded to a manageable level. “Open your eyes, Maggie.”

  The routine seemed annoyingly familiar. Maggie opened her eyes. “Can I have some aspirin?” His eyes reflected her pain, but he shook his head. “Not til morning. I know it hurts. The doc was worried about internal bleeding.” He caught her left wrist, and lifted her fingers to her forehead. “Here, do it just like this. I need to get the fire started and get some soup down you. That’ll help some, I’ll bet. Did you eat today?”

  She couldn’t remember. She frowned. “Is it normal—not to remember?” “I’d think so. You rattled your brain pretty good. What were you thinking—a dirt bike in the rain?” “It wasn’t raining when I started.” Her own fingers weren’t as soothing as his, but the pressure helped. Jack had a roaring fire going in the fireplace in no time. She watched him turn to the wood stove next. She wouldn’t have had a clue how to use one. Jack acted like he cooked on one every night. She sighed. Helpless and needy. She didn’t like the combination in other people. She hated it in herself. Especially when the one she needed was a man she despised.