Protective Confinement. Cassie Miles

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      Abruptly, he stopped. His neck craned, and he stared in her direction. She felt his gaze. Her skin prickled. Don’t move. Don’t let him see you.

      He threw back his head and yelled, “Cara!”

      Her name ricocheted off the landscape. The sound was terrible and insane. Then came a low, threatening whisper that cut through the night air. “I’ll never stop until I have you. Never.”

      He turned back toward the house and went inside.

      Now. She should move now.

      Gathering her strength, she stumbled toward another tree. Though she hadn’t planned it this way, she was close to the intersecting road. If a car came this way, she might flag them down. But her strength was gone. She could barely put one foot in front of the other.

      An explosion erupted behind her. The small house where she’d been held captive burst into flames. She saw Russell’s car driving away. Toward this road. She had to get away from the road.

      Frantically, she backtracked. Her breath came in shallow, rapid gasps.

      Which way should she run? Toward the gas station or farther into the sheltering darkness? Her toe stubbed painfully against sandstone. She fell facedown. Get up, Cara. You have to run, have to escape. But the rich smell of the earth comforted her.

      Mother Earth would protect her. She was part Navajo. They were dineh, people of the earth.

      She closed her eyes. Consciousness faded.

      When her eyelids opened, she was aware that much time had passed. The moon had almost set. The edge of dawn lightened the skies. It was a new day, and she was looking up into a pair of the most intensely blue eyes she had ever seen.

      “Are you Cara?” he asked.

      She nodded. Instinctively, she knew she could trust this man. He wouldn’t hurt her.

      “I’m Dash Adams. I’m with the FBI and I’m here to help you,” he said. “It looks like your feet are hurt. May I help you stand up?”

      “Yes.” She appreciated his courtesy in asking rather than grabbing her.

      She struggled upright. Her muscles were weak, and the world was spinning. No way would she be able to walk. Gently and carefully, he scooped her off the ground and held her. “You’re going to be all right, Cara.”

      She believed him. Her cheek rested against his windbreaker. Her head tilted back, and she studied his face. His forehead was smudged with grime. Dark stubble outlined a strong jaw. His deep-set blue eyes shone with a determined light.

      He’d said his name was Dash, and he was with the FBI. What was the FBI doing here? She knew there was a simple answer, but her brain wasn’t working properly. Only one coherent train of thought presented itself. “I want to go home.”

      He said nothing. Didn’t he hear her? She repeated, “I want to go home now.”

      “It’s not safe. He knows where you live.”

      “Russell Graff.” Her blissful moment of forgetfulness was over. A series of nightmare images clicked through her mind. The stun gun. The Judge. The ropes. Drugs. Spiders. She was lucky to still be alive. “You didn’t catch him.”

      “No.”

      She jostled in his arms. “He said I belonged to him. He would never stop until he had me again.”

      He gazed down at her. The expressive light from his eyes communicated with her at a deep, primitive level. He was a warrior, her protector. “I won’t let that happen.”

      She became aware of many other people. There were flashing lights from police cars and an ambulance. Firefighters controlled the flames from the small house where she’d been held captive. The stucco walls had crumbled—destroyed by the fire. Soon the embers would turn to ash and blow away on the arid winds.

      More than anything, she wanted to forget that this had ever happened, to erase the pain and the humiliation of her abduction.

      Suddenly, she was surrounded. Dozens of voices asked questions, while other hands reached for her.

      She fastened her arms tightly around Dash’s neck and looked up at him. “Don’t leave me.”

      “I won’t let you out of my sight.”

      At the ambulance, Dash handed her over to the paramedics, who immediately checked her vital signs. He stayed close. When he’d promised to keep an eye on her, he’d been telling the truth. He needed Cara. She was his only witness.

      When Russell Graff, aka the Judge, was finally apprehended, it would be Cara’s eyewitness testimony that would ensure the sick bastard got what he deserved.

      Dash watched as the paramedics draped a blanket over her shoulders and treated her wounds. A knife slash on her arm. Bruising at her wrists and ankles. Her knees and the bottoms of her feet showed several small lacerations.

      One of the paramedics informed him that her injuries appeared to be mostly superficial, but she’d been drugged. They needed to take her to the hospital for tests. He arranged to ride along with them.

      When he approached Cara, he could see that she was more alert, more in control of herself. The glaring lights from the ambulance reflected on her high cheekbones. Her gray eyes, surrounded by thick black lashes, snapped with fierce intelligence.

      She didn’t precisely fit the profile for the Judge’s victims. Though Cara had the long, dark hair and slender build that the Judge preferred, she was taller than the others at five feet, seven inches. The other women had been small, almost doll-like. Also, Cara was older, in her thirties. And she was a professor, obviously intelligent. Harder to control.

      In a firm voice, she announced, “I’m not going to the hospital.”

      “They need to run tests,” Dash said. “You were drugged.”

      “I want to go home.” She lifted her chin and confronted him directly. “If I can take a shower and change clothes, I’ll be fine.”

      She was deep in denial. Not surprising, considering what she’d been through. Though her clothing was tattered and long black hair hung in tangles, she managed to project an attitude of control. She was one hell of a strong woman.

      “You need to be checked out in the hospital,” Dash said firmly. “Then I’ll take you home.”

      Reluctantly, she conceded. “All right. But you promise I can go home?”

      “Absolutely.” It was better to humor her right now. He was damn sure that she wouldn’t like his plans for her immediate future.

      Chapter Three

      In the hospital emergency care unit, Cara was poked and prodded and examined from head to toe. She’d been glad to shed her filthy clothing, but the thin cotton hospital gown offered little protection from the bone-deep chill inside her. With a blanket across her lap and another around her shoulders, she sat on a hard bed inside a curtained space. Dash stood beside her.

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