The Mercenary's Kiss. Pam Crooks

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СКАЧАТЬ fingers closed over her elbow, but she jerked free. She didn’t want this man touching her when he was so determined to keep her from going after Nicky.

      “I don’t want to sit,” she said. “I want—”

      “I know damn well what you want.” In the silence of the night, his voice sounded rough. “You just can’t have it yet.” He took her elbow again, but this time his grip remained firm. “Sit over here.” He pulled her with him away from her horse. “I’m going to start a fire. We’ll eat. Then we’ll sleep. When it’s morning, we’ll get up, eat breakfast and ride again.”

      She stiffened at his condescending explanation. Did he think she wouldn’t understand the routine? He released her, but she remained standing. “You needn’t talk to me as if I were a child.”

      “I’m just telling you the way things are going to be.”

      She glared at him. “Have I no say in any of this?”

      He kicked pieces of wood into a pile with the toe of his boot, then lit a match. In the glow of the flame, his hard eyes met hers. “No.”

      “Nicky is my son. Not yours.”

      “Which is why I’m giving the orders. I can think better than you can.” He hunkered over the firewood. In moments, flames hissed and snapped. He straightened again. “So until you can step back from being afraid for him, I’m going to do your thinking for you.”

      He strode toward the horses. Clearly he considered the conversation at an end. Elena’s mouth opened to protest.

      But she closed it again. He didn’t even spare her a glance as he bent to uncinch the saddle on his horse. Why would he bother to listen to anything she had to say anyway? He hadn’t so far, had he?

      She folded her arms and shivered, more from worry for Nicky than the chill in the air. Energy coiled through her, a tight, nervous energy that threatened to spiral out of control.

      She began to pace. Jeb expected her to trust him. Why should she? She knew nothing about him—his skills, his background, his credibility. Yet she was supposed to let him lead her around by the nose? Place in his charge the daunting task of finding her precious child? What would he know about confronting the ruthless Mexican, Ramon?

      Then again, what would she?

      Jeb expected her to step back from her fear and worry. Ha! Easy for him to say. She couldn’t imagine a hard man like him ever having a child of his own. How would he know what it was like? What could Pop have been thinking, insisting that she go with him?

      But what choice did she have at the moment?

      The first ragged edges of fatigue seeped into her muscles. With it, doubt. And a whole new round of worry raised its ugly head. What if she failed Nicky? What if she never saw him again? What if—

      Elena stopped short. She had to stop thinking like this. It’d destroy her if she didn’t.

      “If it’s any consolation, the men who kidnapped your baby are holing up somewhere,” Jeb said from behind her. “Just like we are.”

      Elena whirled. “We have no way of knowing that.”

      “It’s the middle of the night. Their horses have to rest, too.”

      Elena was no stranger to the care of them. She knew the importance of keeping them watered and fed, that a tired horse could soon be a lame one. And without strong mounts to help them flee with Nicky, they’d be vulnerable to the repercussions.

      “Yes, of course.” She tiredly tucked loose strands of hair behind her ear. It was an angle she hadn’t thought of, and the knowledge that, at the very least, she and Jeb weren’t losing ground in their chase was somewhat reassuring.

      “I’ve got beans warming on the fire.” He opened one of his saddlebags and removed a leather case, slim and rectangular in shape. “Let me have a look at that cut on your head.”

      His words reminded Elena how the Mexican had struck her with the butt of his rifle. She touched her fingers to the tender spot, the blood from the gash long since dried.

      She spied her valise on the ground, laid there by Jeb when he had unsaddled her horse. The small suitcase bulged from all she’d hurriedly stuffed inside—essentials for Nicky, along with a few things for herself. She lifted the lid and took out a bottle of Pop’s elixir.

      “What’re you going to do with that?” Jeb stood on the other side of the campfire, feet spread, hands on hips. The broad brim of his hat kept his features in shadow, but the hard set to his mouth made his disapproval clear.

      She latched the valise. “The injury needs to be disinfected.”

      “I’ve got whiskey for that.”

      “Pop’s elixir is better.”

      “That so?”

      “Yes.” She refused to defend Doc Charlie’s Miraculous Herbal Compound to him. Except for her father, no one knew its benefits better than she did. “I always carry some with me. I never know when it’ll come in handy.”

      “And now is one of those times.”

      She ignored his sarcasm. “Yes.”

      Folding a washcloth, she saturated a corner, then dabbed the wet fabric against the laceration. The slight sting indicated the elixir was working its magic.

      “I’ll do that.” Sounding impatient again, he took the washcloth from her and indicated a fallen log he’d dragged closer to the fire. “Sit.”

      She hesitated. She truly did need his help, she supposed. Without a mirror, it was impossible to see what she was doing.

      But she fully expected his method of cleaning the wound would be as brusque as his manner. Bracing herself for it, she gave in and perched on the log warily. He straddled it, his body at a right angle to hers.

      “Turn toward me,” he said. He cupped her chin and tilted her face toward the fire.

      It’d been a long time since she sat so close to a man other than Pop. Elena didn’t move while Jeb studied the laceration first, then the swelling on her cheekbone,

      She could smell horse on him. Tobacco and leather.

      Raw masculinity.

      The strength of it rocked her. It was all she could do to keep from pulling back, to distance herself, a defense mechanism that had slammed into place the night of the Mexican’s brutal attack.

      “You’re going to get a shiner out of this,” he said, his words dragging her from her discomfiture. He ran the pad of his thumb over the puffy skin beneath her eye, his touch far more gentle than she had anticipated. “You’ll need a few stitches, too.”

      “We’ll find a doctor for that later,” she said firmly as he took the washcloth and began wiping away the old blood. “I don’t want to delay finding Nicky for something so frivolous.”

      The washcloth halted. “Frivolous?” Jeb grunted and resumed cleaning. СКАЧАТЬ