Bounty Hunter (11 page)

He had a split-second urge to pull her the rest of the way into his arms and kiss
her until she was too dizzy to deny him anything. But the very last thing she needed
right now was him coming on to her. It was amazing she’d let him offer what comfort
he had without delivering a stinging slap to his cheek. He swallowed hard on the knowledge
that maybe he’d feel better if she had. It might have gone a long way to assuaging
his guilt over knowing he’d wanted to offer her a whole lot more than a friendly shoulder.

His first priority, however, was to get her to talk. Which left one other alternative.
He knew it would be a lot easier for her to risk part of herself if he made the same
commitment.

“Annie, there are things about me you don’t know.” He heard a strangled sound. Had
she actually laughed? He didn’t pause to pursue it, knowing he wouldn’t have the nerve
to do this twice. “I’ve spent a lot of years … studying human behavior. I’ve done
some favors, worked for some people who have a lot of contacts. Powerful ones.” He
gave in to
the need to tug her another inch closer. “Let me help you,” he whispered.

He could see the glistening sheen of her eyes as she stared back at him. He felt her
soften beneath his fingers and had to swallow the urge to shout in triumph.

“I really shouldn’t …” She angled her body away from him, then blew out a long breath.
“I want to, Kane. But this is so hard.”

“I know it is. And I can’t force you to trust me.” He tugged her back around and unconsciously
lifted his hand to her face. The absence of light heightened his sense of touch. Her
skin was warm and soft, damp with the tears he’d caused her to shed. Very slowly he
lowered his head and placed the softest kiss he could manage on each silver-streaked
cheek. Her warm skin and sweet scent burned a path straight to his heart. But when
she gasped, his desire to taste the rest of her rocked through him so hard, he almost
dropped to his knees.

Using up all the willpower he had left, he let his hands drop to his sides in tightly
clenched fists and stepped away.

“Why don’t you find the lantern,” he said, his voice barely more than a gruff rasp.
“We’ll talk while we put this stuff away.”

SIX

The soft glow of the propane lamp lit the small square room in a muted golden tone,
casting into shadows the dinginess that even her extensive cleaning couldn’t erase.

Elizabeth kept as much distance between herself and Kane as possible as she stored
the groceries and issued directions. But while they’d managed to keep from touching
again, she found it impossible not to make occasional eye contact. His black gaze
was almost tangible, making her efforts at avoiding physical contact seem silly.

“I’ll use this empty box for the few things to be stored in the spring house,” she
said.

“No icebox?”

“There’s a cold-storage bin in the root cellar, but I haven’t gotten around to cleaning
down there.”

“Given the shape of the rest of the house, I imagine it’s not the friendliest place
in the world.”

Elizabeth stilled for a brief moment before continuing to arrange the items in the
cardboard box. It was more than a little disconcerting that he never took what she
said at face value, that he always understood the deeper meaning. Yet, it was oddly
comforting too.

“Yeah, well, I’ve never been thrilled with cold, musty places. We’re talking major
Vincent Price material.”

“I can check it out for you.”

Again, she paused. “I don’t think that’s necessary, the spring house is plenty big
enough and close to the back door.” She looked up and found his gaze on her again,
as she’d known it would be. “But thanks for the offer.”

After they’d found the lamp, he’d let her slip into the familiar routine of stowing
the groceries without pushing any further for the explanation she’d promised him.
She hadn’t expected the reprieve. Between her emotional outburst earlier and the riot
of feelings that had exploded inside her the instant she’d felt his lips brush against
her cheek, she more than welcomed the chance to regain her bearings.

Judging from the flat, unreadable expression that had returned to his eyes, his offer
of help was simply that, not a calculated move to remind her of his earlier offer.

It did anyway. She tamped down the uneasy feeling
that maybe she shouldn’t be in such a hurry to rely on her instincts again. Especially
where Kane Hawthorne was concerned.

Hoping to quell her sudden tangle of nerves, she turned back to packing the box. “However,
I reserve the right to call for help if I find another snake in the spring house,”
she said with a light smile. “Spiders and mice I can handle; anything with legs. But
creatures that can move on the ground that fast without any feet, I don’t trust.”

“The trick is not to let them see you coming.”

Elizabeth darted a glance at him. “Yeah, well, you’d know plenty about that,” she
teased.

She felt her pulse accelerate when she was rewarded with another of his rare smiles.
It was no more than a slight upward curve at the corners of his mouth, but it managed
to push a button. Lord knew how she’d respond if he ever flashed a real one. She’d
probably spontaneously combust.

“What’s so funny?”

She realized with a start that she’d been staring at him, and given the thread of
her thoughts, she could only wonder what he’d seen on her face. She felt her cheeks
warm and hoped the soft lighting kept it her secret. “Nothing really. It’s just … well,
you look so different when you smile. I guess I wondered why you don’t do it more
often.”

His smile didn’t disappear, as she’d half expected it to, but from where he stood
leaning on the counter a few feet away, she saw his jaw tighten and
a tiny muscle twitch at the corner of his eye. Another sore subject? Smiling?

Just as suddenly, the teasing, easy mood they’d shared for the past few minutes vanished.
Again she looked for salvation in the newly filled box in front of her. Grabbing the
corners, she lifted it, her motions made stiff by the sudden awkwardness she felt.
She didn’t hear him leave his post by the counter, but as soon as she’d settled the
heavy weight in her arms, he relieved her of the burden.

“I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” he said quietly. “You were just being nice.”
He stepped back and moved to go around her.

Without conscious thought, Elizabeth blocked his path. “I wasn’t ‘just being nice,’
I was being sincere. You’re a handsome man who happens to look pretty sensational
when you smile. It’s not a crime, you know.”

All she got was a noncommittal grunt as he pushed past her and walked to the back
door.

She didn’t bother hiding her smile. It felt too good. Besides, this time she had no
doubt. “Why, Kane Hawthorne,” she called after him, “I do believe you’re blushing.”

The slap of the screen door was his only response. It wasn’t until she turned and
went about storing the other empty boxes, that it occurred to her he hadn’t said whether
he was coming back. Even though it was dark, it really wasn’t very late. And it wasn’t
as if either of them had to be up at dawn. Somehow she doubted he was going to let
her have the entire night to change her mind about telling him her story.

A frown crossed her face. Why was he so insistent on helping her? Was he really the
honorable guy his references claimed he was? What else could he be? she asked silently.
If he had some other nefarious scheme in mind, he certainly could have carried it
out by now. So that left … what?

An honest man with a strong streak of integrity, her mind instantly responded.

“Yeah, and it’s no secret how reliable a judge of character you are,” she muttered.

She sighed and rested her back against the counter. She immediately noticed there
were two bottles of beer sitting on the table. The boxes had hidden them from view
before. She hadn’t taken them out, so Kane must have.

Well, that answered her earlier question.

She twisted the caps off with the tail of her T-shirt and headed out to the back stoop.
They’d likely cave in the front porch if they both sat on it at the same time.

She perched on the wider bottom step and stretched her legs out in front of her while
she waited for Kane.

She heard the spring door squeak on its hinges, which meant she had roughly thirty
seconds to decide what to say to him. Two things hit her simultaneously as she heard
him—or rather felt him—come closer. One: She did trust him, at least enough to use
the shoulder he was willing to provide; And two.
Although she had no doubt a man like Kane could have inspired a long list of loyal
contacts over his years of wandering, the bottom line was listening to her was all
he could do.

Her brother was the only man who could give her the kind of help she needed. Not Kane.
Not a man also called Eyes of the Hawk.

“Nickel for your thoughts.”

“A whole nickel?”

Kane took the beer Annie offered, but when she looked up at him and the rising moon
reflected in her eyes, he elected to lean against the house and leave the step to
her.

He shrugged. “Inflation.” He forced his gaze from the graceful line of her legs all
stretched out and begging to be admired. He had no doubt he could spend a rather enjoyable
evening doing just that. But not tonight, maybe never. He needed information. “I figure
you got a fortune’s worth of thoughts running around inside your head. Consider it
a small down payment.”

He stifled a sigh as she pulled her legs in. She tucked her feet under the step, looping
her arms around her shins and resting her chin on her knees. Bolstering her nerve
and girding for battle, he thought, wishing she didn’t have demons to fight. Wondering
why in the hell it was so important to him to fight them for her.

“Do you have a home anywhere, Kane? I mean, are you always on the road?”

Her question surprised him. Kane grimaced, determined
not
to let her sidetrack him into talking about himself again. Nonetheless, he thought
about the small apartment he presently rented. No, it wasn’t any more of a home to
him than the P.O. box he kept in Pocatello. “Not really.”

He’d thought himself long past the point of being bothered by that simple truth. He
had no home, nothing he could claim as his own, except a truck and a few horses. He’d
never found anything else worth claiming. So why did admitting as much to her hurt?
He gazed down at her. And why did it feel like a lie?

“I think I know what that’s like. At least, a little.”

Her soft voice jerked him back to the present. He realized then that he’d reached
a decision, had probably made it the day he’d met her. As of this moment, he was no
longer working for Sam Perkins. He couldn’t tell her that, of course. Not if he had
any hopes of helping her.

And he would help her. It was the only thing he had to offer her. When the time came
to leave her, he would at least have that to take with him.

“You aren’t planning to stay here for the winter.” He hadn’t phrased it as a question,
but she answered anyway.

“I don’t want to,” she responded carefully.

“If it’s not money problems keeping you here, then what? You don’t have to go back
to him. You said you had a brother, won’t he help you?”

“He will if he can.”

Her whispered answer barely reached his ears. Louder, she said, “It’s more complicated … I
mean, I just can’t go back right now.”

Kane crouched down next to her raised knees. Setting the bottle on the ground, he
balanced one hand on his thigh and let the other one drop gently on her shoulder.
He pressed his fingers lightly, urging her to look at him.

After what seemed like ages, she did. He’d expected the sorrow and uncertainty he
found in her soft brown eyes. But what curled his free hand into a tight fist against
his thigh was the unmistakable trace of fear he saw as well.

“Did he hurt you, Annie? Did you come all the way out here because you’re afraid of
him? Of what he might do?”

Even the late hour couldn’t cast a shadow dark enough to mask the flash of pure terror
in her eyes before she looked away.

He tightened his hold on her shoulder, using what was left of his restraint to keep
from yanking her to her feet and doing whatever he felt necessary to get the whole
story from her. “Annie,” he demanded softly. When she didn’t respond, he pulled her
until she sat sideways on the steps, her tightly pressed knees tucked between his
thighs. She kept her gaze cast downward. “You can’t stay here alone.”

“I’m not alone,” she whispered. Then, even softer, she added, “You’re here.”

His fingers trembled. “Look at me, Annie. Look at me.”

Slowly, she raised her eyes to him, and he could see what she’d been trying to hide.
The moon highlighted their glassy surface, but her cheeks were dry.

“Did he hurt you? I know it’s hard, but you have to tell me if I’m going to help you.”

His fingertips registered the gentle tremors that raced through her. He ached to pull
her into his arms. He wanted to hold her, heal her. He also wanted to kiss her, to
taste her again and again, to make love to her. And that was absolutely the last thing
she needed from him.