Riley's Retribution. Rebecca York

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ But he’d figured that enough guys carried them around here that he could get away with it.

      “Put away the six-shooter. I came to help you.”

      “Sure,” she answered. “That’s why you shot at me.” Her words were slurred, her face was pale, and he knew in that dangerous moment that she was suffering from hypothermia. She wasn’t thinking clearly, and she could shoot him if he blinked—or if he took a step back. On the other hand, if he stood here with snow swirling around him and tried to keep talking to her, she could drift dangerously close to death.

      “Let me help you,” he said calmly.

      “Get away.” Just the effort to talk seemed to be draining her remaining energy.

      “Don’t do anything foolish,” he answered, edging closer. When the pistol wavered, he made his move, diving for her gun hand, pointing the weapon toward the floor even as he wrestled the gun away from her.

      She had the strength of desperation, and she wasn’t willing to give up easily. As she fought him, he kept imagining disaster—one or the other of them with a gaping bullet wound turning the snow crimson.

      It felt like centuries as he fought her for the gun, trying to keep either one of them from getting hurt. Probably it was only seconds.

      She moaned as he twisted the weapon from her grasp. To hide it from sight, he set it on the ground below the truck.

      “Oh, sugar.” She said it like a curse, and he found the combination of vehemence and ladylike language oddly endearing.

      “It’s all right. Everything’s going to be all right,” he murmured as he cupped one gloved hand over her shoulder.

      Tears welled in her eyes, yet he saw her struggling for control. In the next moment, he found that letting his guard down was a big mistake.

      Still on the offensive, she made her gloved hands into small fists, pounding against his chest and shoulders.

      “Hey, cut it out,” he growled. “There’s only so far I’m willing to carry chivalry.”

      The situation was still deteriorating, and he couldn’t help wondering which one of them was going to end up getting hurt.

      Luckily, the hypothermia had sapped the little wildcat’s strength, and he was able to lean into the cab and wrap his arms around her, drawing her close.

      “Honey?” she said.

      Before he could answer, she whispered, “You came back to help me.” Whoever her honey was, he had a calming effect on the woman.

      She let her head drop to his shoulder, and he cradled her against his body, thinking she felt delicate and feminine under the heavy coat she wore. Holding her was no hardship.

      Her hands came up again, and he braced for an attack. But she only opened one of the buttons on his coat and slipped her gloved hand inside. When her fingers flattened against his shirtfront, he felt his heart thunk. Then she turned her face and stroked her lips against his cheek.

      Easing away, he looked into her sleepy camel-colored eyes. “We need to warm you up,” he muttered.

      “Oh, yeah,” she answered in a voice that had gone from panicked to sultry.

      He’d climbed out of his SUV to rescue a stranded driver, and he’d expected to be greeted with relief when he opened the truck door. Instead she’d fought like a wounded tiger. Now she was coming on to him—and she probably didn’t even realize what she was doing.

      Keeping his voice even, he said, “I think you’ve mistaken me for someone else. I saw you on the road and figured you needed help.”

      He watched her pull herself together and focus on him. Maybe she was really seeing him for the first time. In any event, her expression went from sexy to sharp in the blink of an eye.

      “If you’re here to help me, why did you take a pot-shot at me?”

      “I didn’t shoot at you,” he said, hoping he was putting the right amount of sincerity into his voice.

      “Oh, yeah? If you’re on the level, then go away and leave me alone.”

      He struggled to rein in his exasperation. “It’s too cold for that. Just for a minute, try to think logically. If I’d wanted to kill you, I could already have done it.”

      Either the reasoning had sunk in, or she was too exhausted to keep up the struggle because he saw her shoulders sag.

      He picked up her gun from the ground and shoved it into his belt. Then he reached for the lady.

      “What the hell are you doing?”

      “Getting you out of the cold.”

      She was back in fighting mode, kicking against him, and he ignored the thuds from her Western boots as he carried her back to the SUV, set her in the passenger seat and slammed the door before hurrying around to the driver’s side. To his chagrin, he almost lost his balance.

      As he climbed behind the wheel, she was already reaching for the door handle,

      He yanked her hand away. “Don’t do anything foolish. Let me get you out of this storm.”

      She gave a sigh and leaned back against the seat as though admitting defeat.

      But he wasn’t going to trust that. Not hardly. She was too far out of it—and too determined to fight him.

      He tucked the blanket more firmly around her and fastened her seat belt, wishing he’d feel her shiver. That would be a good sign.

      After starting the car, he turned up the heat and drove slowly down the road, squinting into a swirl of white and wondering how far he’d have to go before he found both of them shelter.

      After twenty minutes, he spotted a red-and-blue neon sign just visible through the driving snow.

      Leaning forward, he struggled to make out the words. Finally he saw Buckskin Motel. Vacancy.

      “Thank God,” he murmured, then looked toward his passenger. She was sitting with her eyes closed, breathing slowly and evenly.

      Was it safe to leave her?

      He thought about the scene in the lobby if he showed up carrying her over his shoulder like a caveman dragging his mate off to make love. No. Better leave her in the car—unless she was going to make a run for it.

      Wondering how fast he could get in and out, he pulled up beside the office door and cut the engine. Next to the office was a small restaurant. All the comforts of home.

      “Do us both a favor and stay put, sugar,” he ordered, then quickly exited the SUV and dashed into the lobby.

      “I need a room to wait out the storm, and maybe something to eat later,” he told the old man who came through a door in response to the tinkling bell over the door.

      “You’re in luck. We’ve got a few rooms left. And Molly just made a big pot of her beef and vegetable soup.”

СКАЧАТЬ