"You fucking bastard," Rafe says. His back is rigid, his hands clenched. In the back waistband of his jeans I see the handle of a gun, and I'm both shocked and relieved to see that he has one, too. But it does him no good tucked away like that. If he moves a muscle, Matt might shoot him where he stands."I tried to do this the nice way," Matt says, "but you wouldn't listen to reason.""What do you want?" Rafe asks. "More money?"Matt shakes his head. "No. We're past that.""Then why the hell won't you leave me alone?""Because you fucked me over. And when you fuck me over, I fuck you over."The panic is threatening to take over me again. Rafe is in trouble. Matt clearly has no intention of negotiating anything. If anything, it's beginning to sound like he lured Rafe out here to murder him. I can't let that happen - but what can I do, bound and gagged like this?I don't have many options. But all Rafe needs is for Matt to be distracted for a second or two - just enough time to re
Rafe presses his mouth against my hair. My temple. My ear. My cheek. He rains kisses down on me - soft, gentle kisses that are sweet enough to make me forget the pain for a moment.And then I remember where we are."Where is he?" I ask. "Where did he go?" I lift my head, and for the first time since leaving the trunk, I look around. We appear to be at some sort of rest stop, only judging by the condition of this place, it's been out of use for some time. The building is run down, the roof partially caved in on the right side. The single vending machine has been smashed open, and there's not a single snack left inside. The parking lot is overgrown with weeds."He took off walking down the highway," Rafe says. "But he won't get far. I have a few friends waiting for him.""Friends?""Let's just say a local motorcycle gang owes me a favor from a few years ago."I lean back, looking up at him. As usual, his response brings up more questions than answers. But I try to focus on the most
I learn a few things in the ride to the hospital: first, that we're somewhere in southern Idaho. Second, that Rafe was in Las Vegas when Matt contacted him to tell him he had me."Don't ask me about Vegas, please," Rafe begs me. "I haven't exactly been coping well since you left me. And for the love of God, don't read any of the tabloids that come out in the next week."And I'm okay with not knowing. This time.He stays with me at the hospital, holding my hand the entire time. Now that the immediate danger has passed and I've calmed down a little, I'm not as worried about the baby. I can't explain how I know, but I sense that he or she is still safe and sound inside me. Just perhaps a little stunned by the whole ordeal.You're okay, sweet one, aren't you?Rafe isn't nearly as confident. His grip on my hand is like iron, and he's gone at least two shades paler since we entered the hospital. Like the last time, he barks at both the doctors and the nurses, demanding to know why we ar
"Did you hear?" Cynthia says as she reaches down into the dessert case. "Penny and George say they've had some big-shot Hollywood types shooting out at their ranch all week."I smile as I pull three fresh coffee mugs from beneath the counter. "There's been a rumor or two." News travels fast in our town, but Cynthia usually manages to get the best dirt - if there's gossip about anything, she's the one with the full scoop. She hears everything. Our late-night shifts together are rarely dull.She pulls a lemon meringue pie from the case and sets it on the counter. The kitchen here at Dandelion Diner is open twenty-four hours, but after eleven o'clock or so all anybody really wants is soda, coffee, and dessert. Occasionally you'll have a group of teenagers stumble in well after curfew and order chili fries and onion rings, and a few local cops will stop by after their shifts for bacon cheeseburgers, but most people out at this hour end up at Chief's Tavern down the road. At least until t
Four hours later, my shift is finally over. The morning crew arrives at three thirty, and Cynthia and I say our goodbyes and head out to our cars."Good night," she calls to me. We always tell each other good night, even in the summer when the sun is already coming up by the time we get off.Most mornings, I head straight home and collapse into bed, then sleep until noon. That gives me a few hours in the afternoon to take care of errands and everyday life things before returning to work again.Today, though, I find myself lingering at my car door, my face tilted up. The sky is gray and pink, and a couple of birds are already singing, heralding the coming day. As Cynthia's car gets farther and farther away, their chirping is the only sound in the air. The rest of the world is still, holding its breath before the sun rises above the horizon.The loneliness settles over me again. I stand there with my keys in the lock of my beat-up old car, unable to move, staring at that rash of pink
Some places, seeing someone you don't recognize wouldn't be a big deal. But we don't get many strangers here. And any man that approaches a woman alone in the woods is suspicious, no matter where you are. And no matter how startlingly attractive he is."Stay back!" I yell.He's already well into the river, ignoring the rocks and just wading right through the water. He's at least six feet tall with shoulders as broad as a bear's - this man could overpower me easily if he wanted to. And in spite of his stunning looks, he also looks dangerous - there are tattoos running up his arms, and I think I even spot one curling around the side of his neck.I throw the rock. I'm not the best shot, but I manage to hit him right in the chest. He grunts and clutches his ribs, and I bend over and find another rock. This one is smaller, but my first throw seems to have at least made him pause. He holds up his hands, palms toward me."Whoa, easy there," he says. "I didn't mean to startle you.""Stay
The man catches me before I can fall. The heat of his body is even more of a shock than the frigid water swirling around my legs. Warmth rushes through me, flooding the places where our bodies touch. His fingers burn like fire where they grip my arm.I straighten abruptly, pulling my arm out of his grasp. I think I notice a hint of amusement in his face as I do so, but I ignore it, running my cold fingers over my skin, trying to chase away the feeling of his touch. My arm tingles.This is what happens when you refuse human contact for so long, I lecture myself. You meet one attractive stranger and within minutes you're ready to melt into a puddle at his feet.We wade the rest of the way to shore without a word.When I'm fully out of the water and the breeze hits me, I shiver. The water was cold, but the way the wind sweeps over my skin is even worse. Even in summer, there's often a nip in the air.He notices."I'd offer you my jacket," he says, "but I don't have one.""You're ri
"No," I hear myself tell him, to my own surprise. "I don't want you to go.""Good," he says with a wolfish smile. "Because I'm not ready for you to fly away yet."I'm not sure what to make of that answer, so I turn away and begin searching the water around the rock where I was sitting. My bare toes skim across the bottom, feeling for anything that isn't a slick, river-smoothed stone. Periodically, I bend over and run my fingers across the bottom, grasping around through the dark green water.They wouldn't have floated away, I tell myself. They're heavy enough that they would sink. But I'm not sure if that's just wishful thinking. My mind keeps going back to other things."Sorry for dumping on you like that," I say. "About my mom, I mean. We don't even know each other. You don't need to hear about all my problems.""I don't know," he says. "Sometimes it's easier to be open with a complete stranger."I glance his way. "You think so?""Yeah. Isn't it?""Does that mean you're going