Boneyard Ridge. Пола Грейвс

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      “You really don’t know who those people out there are?” she asked, not believing it for a second.

      He didn’t answer. Now that she was on her feet, he’d moved slightly away, although she could still feel the furnacelike heat of his body close by, helping cut the biting cold of the cave.

      A few seconds later, when it became clear he had no intention of answering her previous question, she asked, “How long before they give up?”

      “They don’t,” he replied.

      She’d been afraid of that. “Then how do we get out of here?”

      He didn’t answer right away, and she felt more than saw him move toward the cave entrance.

      She followed, noting with some dismay that while the pain in her feet had lessened, it was mainly because the cold had begun to render them numb. He edged over, giving her an opening to look outside with him, and she slid into the narrow space, her arm brushing his. He really was very muscular, she thought as she peered into the misty gloom.

      Scudding clouds gathered overhead, blotting out most of the moonlight filtering through the trees. The darkness outside loomed like a physical entity, threatening and impenetrable.

      “Rain’s comin’,” Hunter whispered, his drawl pronounced. Definitely a mountain native, she thought.

      “Is that good or bad?” she asked.

      He gave a little shrug, his shoulder sliding against hers. Heat slithered down her arm into her fingertips, catching her off guard.

      Good God, woman, she scolded herself silently, inching her arm away from his. He’s your captor. And not in a good way.

      “I don’t see anyone out there,” he whispered after a few minutes. “I think if we go a little deeper into this cave, we might risk a light.”

      “A light?”

      “Flashlight,” he said softly, tugging her with him away from the cave entrance. She stepped gingerly after him, less from pain than from the fear that her numb feet wouldn’t know it even if she were walking across a field of broken glass.

      A few seconds later, a beam of light slanted across the damp cave walls, illuminating the tight space they occupied. The cave was narrow but surprisingly long, twisting out of sight into the rock wall. Hunter swept the light across the visible space, as if reassuring himself they were alone.

      “No bears?” she whispered, quelling a shudder.

      “Not at the moment.” He flashed an unexpected smile, baring straight white teeth and a surprising pair of dimples high on each cheek. A flutter of raw female awareness vibrated low in her belly, and she jerked her gaze away, appalled by her reaction.

      His hand brushed lightly down one arm, scattering goose bumps where he touched her. He closed his fingers around her wrist, his grip solid but gentle. “Let’s take a quick look at your feet.” He tugged her with him toward a shelflike slab of rock jutting out from the cave wall. “Sit.”

      She complied, wincing as the coldness of the rock blasted right through her skirt and underwear to chill her backside.

      “Sorry. Didn’t bring a seat warmer.”

      But he had brought supplies, she saw with growing alarm, as he reached into the pocket of his jacket and withdrew a soft-sided zippered bag that contained a compact stash of first-aid supplies.

      Had he known beforehand that he was going to need to treat a wound?

      He ripped open a packet and the sharp tang of rubbing alcohol cut through the musty odor of the cave. “This is gonna sting,” he warned a split second before he wiped the alcohol swab across one of the jagged scrapes on the bottom of her foot.

      “Son of a—” She clamped her teeth shut and gripped the edge of the outcropping doubling as her seat.

      “Sorry.” Once again, he sounded sincere, making her feel off balance.

      He worked quickly, efficiently, as if he was used to offering aid. Hell, maybe he was. Maybe he was some sort of psychotic cross between Dr. McDreamy and Hannibal Lecter. Emphasis on the McDreamy, she added silently as she watched the muscles of his back flex visibly beneath the thick leather jacket he wore.

      He couldn’t conjure up a new pair of shoes from his little first-aid kit, but he did wrap her feet in a liberal amount of gauze. As footwear, the gauze didn’t have a chance of lasting through another wild hike through the woods, but for the moment, the gauze was bringing her numb feet back to tingling, aching life.

      She was beginning to wish they were still numb.

      With her feet safely bandaged, Hunter turned off the flashlight, plunging them back into icy blackness. The shocking change from light to dark sent another hard shiver through Susannah’s chilled body.

      Then warmth washed over her as Hunter settled on the rocky seat next to her, his hip pressed firmly against hers. She felt his arm wrap around her shoulder, and even though she wanted to pull away from his touch, the sheer relief his vibrant heat offered her shivering body was too much of a comfort to rebuff.

      With a silent promise to grow a backbone as soon as she could feel her fingers and toes again, she nestled closer to his heat.

      * * *

      HE’D LOST HIS cell phone. In the greater scheme of his present troubles, it wasn’t the worst thing that could have happened to him out there in the woods, but it was bad. How was he supposed to call in the cavalry—assuming Quinn could assemble one—if he didn’t have his phone?

      Beside him, Susannah Marsh had finally stopped shivering, her soft curves molding themselves to the hard planes of his own body. He’d felt her tighten up when he’d first slipped his arm around her, but she was a sensible woman. Even if she thought he was a crazy kidnapper—and really, she’d be an idiot not to—she surely saw the wisdom of letting him keep her from sinking into hypothermia.

      “I’m not a crazy kidnapper,” he whispered, feeling foolish but unable to stop the words from slipping between his lips.

      She stiffened beside him. “What proof can you offer in your defense?”

      “I wasn’t the one with the guns?” Well, technically he did have a gun, a subcompact Glock 26 tucked in an ankle holster. But if he told her that—

      “No, you’re the one who accosted me in the parking lot, dragged me barefoot through the woods and told me I had to run or die.”

      “Those were the only choices at the moment.”

      She sat up, away from his grasp, and cold air slithered into the space between them. Only a whisper of ambient light seeped into the small cavern from outside, so all he could make out of her expression was the faint glimmer of her eyes as she turned to look at him.

      He knew she couldn’t see him in the dark, but he wondered what she’d seen earlier, at the hotel, when she’d looked at him. He’d let his hair grow in the year since he left the Army. Or maybe the better term was, he’d let it go. Like he’d let a lot of things go—his СКАЧАТЬ