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He was damned attractive, she ruefully acknowledged. When she’d been dressing the wound on his arm, his flesh warmed beneath her hands. When she’d inadvertently brushed against the black, springy hair on his chest, the texture enticed her. For a moment, her fingers yearned to stroke that hair, to glide across his muscled body. With a jolt, she’d returned to her senses.
Emily couldn’t allow herself to entertain fond thoughts about Jordan Shane. He was an escaped convict, a criminal. Her duty was to return him to police custody.
She snapped, “You can put on your shirt now.” He did as she ordered though his injured left arm was somewhat inflexible. He left the bloodstained, prison-issue workshirt unbuttoned.
Her gaze lifted to his face. She had covered his stitches with a white antiseptic dressing, but she could still see the angry red swelling on the left side of his face.
“I need you to come with me,” he said, “because of the roadblocks. I can’t use the car. I’ll have to escape on foot.”
“Are you crazy? It’s mid-September. The temperatures at night are below freezing. It might even snow.”
Casually, he reached down to pat Pookie who had taken up a position on the floor beside Jordan. “That’s why I need you. I don’t know how to survive in the mountains. I’m just a computer nerd from Florida.”
He certainly didn’t look like a nerd with those broad shoulders and darkly handsome features. But he didn’t look like a murderer, either. Appearances, she reminded herself, could be deceptive.
He rose to his feet, towering over her. “Pack your gear. Plan to be gone for a week.”
“A week?” Her voice rose to a squeak. “But who’ll take care of Pookie?”
At the sound of his name, the puppy bounded to his feet. His head whipped back and forth, glancing between Emily and Jordan. “Murfle, moof.”
“We’ll bring the dog along,” Jordan said. “Let’s move.”
Because she was always ready for an emergency call from S.A.R., Emily was quickly able to assemble two backpacks with sleeping bags, climbing equipment, medical supplies and freeze-dried food for herself and Jordan as well as puppy chow for Pookie.
“Do you have maps?” he asked.
“In the top left drawer of my desk.”
“I don’t suppose you have a G.P.S. unit.”
“What’s that?”
“G.P.S. stands for Global Positioning Satellite. A signal bounces off satellites and triangulates on your position. It gives longitude and latitude, accurate within ten meters, then references area maps.”
He’d lost her after the word “triangulate,” but Emily nodded as she always did when someone explained technology. “I don’t have one of those.”
While she completed her packing, Emily plotted an escape of her own which didn’t involve satellites or triangulation. Simple was better. If she could break away from Jordan, she’d make a run for her car which was parked less than thirty yards from the front door. One fast sprint and she’d be behind the wheel. She’d drive away and not look back until she’d contacted the sheriff’s department.
She had to go now. Once they got out on the trails, escape would be far more difficult. A dash to the car was the best solution, quick and decisive. Yet, she heard a whisper of remorse, echoing quietly in her conscience. Jordan had begun to trust her. He’d tucked the .22 automatic into the waistband of his Levi’s. Somehow, it seemed wrong to betray him.
“I’m finished.” Fastening the last straps on her pack, she sat back on her heels. Escape plans loomed foremost in her mind, and she didn’t dare look directly at Jordan. He might guess what she was planning. “I should go to the bathroom before we leave.”
“Emily?”
Her gaze darted nervously to his face. Did he know what she was planning? “What?”
“Are you okay?”
“Peachy keen.” She masked her tension with sarcasm. “This is my favorite way to spend a Saturday, being held hostage and kidnapped into a forced mountain trek.”
“I didn’t intend for this to happen.”
The ring of sincerity in his softly accented voice irritated her. “Oh, please! What were you planning to do when you left here? You couldn’t just leave me here. You knew I’d call the sheriff.”
“Believe this, Emily. I don’t want to hurt you.”
“You have a strange way of proving that.” She stood and confronted him. “You grabbed me around the throat when I walked through the door.”
“I needed to get your attention.”
“What if I’d struggled? How would you have subdued me?”
“I was pretty sure you wouldn’t make a fuss,” he said. “You’re not that kind of woman.”
“Not like your wife?”
He recoiled as if she’d slapped him. Though his expression remained unchanged, his eyes flared with suppressed anger. “I’m only going to say this once. I didn’t kill Lynette.”
“Then why are you afraid to stand trial?”
“Innocent men and women are convicted every day.” His shoulders straightened. He stood over six feet tall, and he seemed to grow stronger by the minute. “I won’t go back to jail. I’d rather die.”
“You can’t live outside the law, Jordan.”
“Let’s go.”
This was it. Her best chance to make a run for the car. “I’ll be with you in a minute.”
She left the back bedroom and hurried toward the bathroom. She shoved the door closed with a loud slam, hoping he’d think she was inside, and palmed her car keys from her jeans pocket. Quietly, she eased toward the front door. In her heavy-soled hiking boots, total stealth was impossible, but she only had a few steps before she was outdoors. Was it enough of a headstart?
As she stepped onto the porch, Pookie bashed open the screen door. The dog bounded down the three stairs. “Moof, moof.”
From the back bedroom, Jordan called out, “Emily, what’s going on?”
Now or never! She leapt down the porch steps and raced toward the stand of Ponderosa pines where she’d parked her ancient Land Rover. Please, God, let it start on the first try!
She heard Jordan behind her but didn’t look back. Would he shoot her? The muscles between her shoulder blades tensed, expecting a bullet.
Her boots skidded on the loose gravel, costing her valuable seconds. She had to make it. The Land Rover was only ten feet away.
Her arms stretched out, reaching for the driver’s side door.
Before she touched the handle, she was tackled from behind. Jordan fell on top of her. She hit the ground hard.
With the wind knocked out of her, she couldn’t breathe. She was stunned. A tingling darkness danced in her peripheral vision. Jordan’s weight pressed down, heavy as the tons of snow in an avalanche. She was suffocating. Air. She needed air.
In an instant, he was off her. He rolled her onto her back, and she gasped. The first breath burned her lungs. She exhaled, then gulped down another breath. Her blurred vision cleared. She looked up at his face, silhouetted against overhanging pine boughs and blue sky.
He leaned over her. Closer and closer, he came. His mouth was almost touching hers. Instinctively, she wanted to close her eyes and welcome the taste of his lips joining with hers. Instead, she shoved at his chest. “What are you doing?”
“Mouth-to-mouth,” he said.
“Don’t need it.”
She gasped again, then her breathing settled. No serious damage had been done.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “This shouldn’t have happened.”
None of this should be happening. Emily squeezed her eyes closed then open again, as if she could change reality with a blink. She shouldn’t be lying on the ground with an escaped convict kneeling beside her. She shouldn’t be excited about the possibility of a kiss.
This was all his fault. Why did he have to be such a sympathetic person? She would’ve felt better if he slapped her. Instead, he was gentle and apologetic.
Ignoring his own injury and pain, he helped her to her feet. She leaned against him, intensely aware of his warmth and strength. Her hand slipped inside his unbuttoned shirt as she braced herself. When she touched him, he shivered. And she knew his reaction wasn’t due to a sudden chill. It was the opposite. He was hot for her. And she felt the same way about him. A terrible magnetism drew them together. “This couldn’t be any worse.”
“That’s where you’re wrong,” he said. “Do you hear that?”
A distant whir signalled the approach of a helicopter. Emily should have guessed that the chopper pilot, Harrison Perry, would fly by and check on her. They’d worked together on several S.A.R. missions. Last winter, they’d gone out on a couple of dates.
Jordan hustled her back inside the house. He turned her toward him and held her arms, forcing her to look directly at him. “Quick. Tell me about the chopper.”
“A police helicopter. The pilot is a friend of mine. He checks up on me.”
“What do you usually do when he flies over?”
“I step outside and wave.”
The noise of the rotary blades racheted loudly. He was hovering over her cabin. Outside, Pookie danced an enthusiastic but clumsy puppy welcome.
Jordan peered deeply into her face. His dark eyes glowed hot as charcoal embers. “I’m not a killer.”
“But the evidence—”
“If I’m recaptured, a great injustice will be done. Please, Emily, give me this chance.”
“I want to believe you.” The noise from the chopper was deafening.
“Go outside and let the pilot see you’re all right.”
She nodded.
“Emily.” His voice was low and intense as he stepped away from her and took the gun from his waistband. He didn’t need to state his threats. The presence of the weapon was reminder enough. “You hold my life in your hands.”
Emily went onto the porch. Now was her chance to turn him in. She could easily signal Harrison Perry, letting him know she was in trouble. She could scream. She could make a thumbs-down gesture. He’d find a place to land and radio to the sheriff. Deputies would surround them. This ordeal would be over.
But what if Jordan truly was innocent? What if he’d been framed for a murder he did not commit? His escape attempt might be the last nail in his coffin. The death penalty was seldom used in Colorado, but life in prison was worse. She imagined Jordan being locked away forever with shackles on his wrists and ankles. How could she do that to him? She was a nurse. Her life was dedicated to nurturing.
She stood outside her cabin with Pookie at her side. The dog’s liquid brown eyes seemed to accuse her. Don’t do this to him. She looked up at the chopper and felt her lips pull back in a false smile. The downdraft from the rotary blades swirled around her. Her arm lifted and she waved. For good measure, she made an O with her thumb and forefinger to let Harrison know she was okay.
He waved back. Then, like a giant dragonfly, the police helicopter moved away. He hovered low, searching the wooded landscape for an escaped convict, searching for Jordan. The noise faded to stillness as she stood, unmoving. Possibly, she’d just made the biggest mistake of her life.
She heard Jordan approach. He said, “You did the right thing.”
That remained to be seen. “Harrison will report that everything is okay in this area. It’ll give you a little more time for your escape.”
“It’ll give us more time.”
When she turned, Emily saw that Jordan was already wearing his backpack. In his hand, he held a length of nylon rope which he looped over her head like a lasso and cinched around her waist.
“What’s this?” she demanded.
“Insurance,” he said. “In case your conscience needs a little reminder.”
Furious, she yanked at the rope. “A leash! You’ve got me on a leash!”
“It’s no use in tugging, Emily. This is a fisherman’s knot. On a double rope like this, you won’t be able to untie it because the other ends are attached to my belt.”
“I hate this!”
“Too bad,” he said. “I need both hands free for climbing, so I can’t carry the gun. But I need some way to control you.”
After everything she’d done for him—treating his wounds and chasing away the chopper—he repaid her with a rope. To control her. She wanted to tell him off, but Emily was utterly incoherent with rage.
Since she had no alternative, she stomped back toward the house and maneuvered into her backpack. She’d been a fool not to signal the chopper. She wouldn’t make that mistake again. On the trail, she’d take her revenge. This wouldn’t be an easy hike in the mountains and she would definitely leave a trail.
With adrenaline pumping, she left the house and set out toward the open field at an aggressive pace. The rope pulled her up short and she whirled around. “Now what?”
“We should stay under the cover of the trees until nightfall. Your friend with the chopper might be back.”
“Fine,” she snarled.
“I suggest we head in a roughly northeastern direction,” Jordan said. “Back toward Aspen.”
“That’s about the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard. Everybody’s going to be looking for you in Aspen. Why would you want to take that risk?”
“Investigation,” he said.
“Of what?” She’d just about had it with his cryptic responses. Even if he didn’t think she’d understand his logic, she deserved to know what was going on inside his head. “Tell me, Jordan. Just what do you think you’re going to investigate in Aspen?”
“I’m going to find out who murdered my wife.”
AFTER TWO HOURS and twenty minutes of hiking, Jordan ached in every cell of his body. The gunshot wound in his arm was nothing compared to the screaming muscles in his thighs and lower back. The tight throb of the stitches in his face penetrated his cheekbones and spread across his skull. Though he’d been in the high country for a couple of months and had acclimated to the altitude, his lungs couldn’t suck enough oxygen from the thin mountain air.
It didn’t help that Emily chose consistently uphill routes or that she purposely pushed back tree branches and allowed them to snap back at him. Though she claimed to hate the rope that tied them together, she yanked at the cord every five minutes, sending a jolt through his midsection.
Still, Jordan hadn’t complained. Neither he nor Emily had spoken for over half an hour.
The only one who seemed happy about their cross-country trek was Pookie. The dog bounded ahead of them, scrambling over rocks and darting through the firs. The dog suddenly froze, alert and watching. Had he seen something? Were the searchers approaching?
