State Of Emergency. Cassie Miles

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      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.”

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