Chapter Three

Jim carried Kat off the elevator in her building, down the dark hallway to her apartment. She had briefly come to in his truck, and she’d stared at him in total confusion. He’d soothed her as best he could when he wasn’t able to touch her, and she had passed out again.

Now her head lolled against his muscular chest, and she lay in his arms, totally helpless. He held her tighter as her breathing hitched and her body tensed up a bit.

Jim lowered his lips to her ear. “It’s OK, Kat, I’ve got you. It’s me, honey.”

Kat muttered something unintelligible, but she relaxed again. He took her key from his jeans pocket and unlocked her door, kicking it open with his booted foot. He flicked on the lights and stood for a minute, blinking, letting his eyes adjust.

He carried her to her bedroom, set her down on the bed carefully. He stared down at her for a few seconds, waiting to see if she’d wake up. When she remained out cold, he sighed, then took off her shoes. He bit his lip, considering, then pulled off her jeans, keeping his eyes averted. He knew she had no idea what was happening, and somehow that made it even more important for him to respect her modesty.

Wow. Am I a gentleman or what, huh?

He covered her with the blanket, then he went back to the living room, stripping off his own clothing as he went, and settled onto the sofa. It was way too small for his long, bulky frame, and he thought about pulling it out to a bed, but he was so tired, he thought he’d be able to sleep standing up. He grabbed the knit blanket from the back of the chair, and burrowed under it in his boxers and a t-shirt.

That was when he saw the suitcase standing next to the door. Wide awake again, he sat up and glared at it. He hesitated for precisely four seconds before bounding to his feet, setting the case on the table, and opening it up.

Uh-huh. She’s ready to run.

Feeling no guilt whatsoever at his snooping, Jim went through every single item packed there. A few pairs of jeans, some t-shirts and warmer tops, changes of socks and underwear, basic toiletries. Enough for a week and a change of climate, he figured. The two glaringly missing things were any kind of ID or money, he was interested to notice, but he guessed that a runner like Kat would have those stashed away separately. Probably sewn into the lining of a coat, or a backpack.

That’s how I’d do it if I were her.

He sighed for what felt like the hundredth time that night, and repacked the suitcase. He set it back where he'd found it, then returned to the sofa not tired any more, but still feeling like he should be horizontal.

Jim lay in the darkness, staring up at the ceiling, his thoughts racing. He was surprised when he started to feel drowsy, and he shut his eyes, let himself drift away to sleep.

Where are you going, Kat? And just what the hell are you running and hiding from?