Bounty Hunter (14 page)

A short look of surprise crossed her face, but then slowly, like a new dawn or a freshly
blossoming flower, her lips curved for him, then parted to show beautiful white shiny
teeth. “That. That’s why I call you ‘little sun.’ ”

Her smile faltered. She held it for him, even as a single tear formed in the corner
of one eye and slowly made its way down her cheek.

“Sweet Jesus, Annie, don’t,” he said in a raspy voice.

“I can’t help it.” She sniffed.

Kane steeled himself against the need to lower his mouth to hers, to taste her smile,
to drink in the sunshine that poured from her soul and shone so brightly on his dark
one. Giving him hope.

False hope.

“I don’t know what to say.”

Slowly, he set her away from him. “Say good night,” he answered roughly.

Her eyes widened a bit at his brusque request,
but her smile remained. New and now somehow shy. It melted what was left of his heart.

“Good night, Hawk.”

Need for her knifed through him so hotly, he fought against bending double to stem
it. He had to get the hell away from her before he did something neither one of them
would ever forgive him for.

“It’s been a long night,” he said, his voice so hoarse, it sounded like gravel. “Sleep
late tomorrow.”

“Okay.” Her voice sounded a bit uncertain as she slowly disentangled herself from
his lap. “I’ll see you in the morning?”

Kane had moved several steps away, but the soft vulnerability lacing her question
made him turn around. He choked down the moan that rose in his throat. She looked
so damn small and alone. He hated the uncertainty in her voice, but he didn’t dare
risk even one step in her direction right now.

“We’ll talk more after you’ve gotten some rest.”

“Okay.” She paused as if about to say something else, then let herself in the back
door.

Kane stood and stared through the rusted screen until the soft muted light of the
propane lamp glowed from inside the kitchen.

He headed toward the bunkhouse, then abruptly altered his direction to the barn instead.
Grabbing a fistful of black mane, he leapt quietly onto Sky Dancer’s bare back. Using
the subtle pressure of his knees, he steered her carefully down the road leading to
the stream, once again glad that the big bay
had night eyes almost as good as his. And she never forgot a trail.

He reached a hand down and stroked the mare’s neck. She responded with a low rumbling
whinny.

“What am I going to do, old girl? Hmm?”

The horse plodded onward, as silent as her rider.

Elizabeth groaned as she stood. She cast a baleful stare at the full bucket at her
feet, trying to work up some enthusiasm to pick it up. She rubbed the small of her
back and flexed her knees. The sudden sounds of repetitive banging brought her head
up, and she turned to look at the barn in the distance.

Kane was back. She couldn’t see him from across the field, but she knew the clanging
sounds were hammering and were likely coming from the barn.

What she didn’t know was where the hell he’d been.

Angry all of a sudden, she turned away, scanning the bramble patch she’d just picked
clean. She’d found it earlier that morning when, after a night spent wrestling with
her sheets—and her heart—she’d left the house for a mind-clearing walk. She’d watched
Kane leave on horseback from her window the night before. He and Sky Dancer were nowhere
to be seen when she’d left earlier that morning.

When she’d returned from her walk, she’d found Sky Dancer in the paddock, but still
no sign of Kane. She’d even worked up the courage to check the bunkhouse, knowing
she might well find him
asleep in bed. But other than his gear piled in one corner, the building was empty.

Feeling suddenly confused and unsure, she’d grabbed a bucket and lit out to collect
the sweet plump berries from the new cache she’d discovered.

Now he was back. Anger warred with an irritating, overwhelming sense of relief. How
dare he wander off?

A moan slipped through her gritted teeth as she lifted the heavy bucket and started
across the field. How dare he indeed, she mocked herself. “You’re lucky he didn’t
saddle up and take off at a full gallop the moment you said the word ‘supremacist,’ ”
she muttered. Swallowing the sudden sense of dread that clawed at her throat, she
pinned her gaze on the ranch house and picked up her pace.

She’d intended to go directly inside and take care of the berries before confronting
him, but halfway across the yard, a movement caught her attention.

She sucked in a sudden deep breath and stopped in her tracks. Kane was on the roof
of the barn, on his knees, his powerful arms at work tearing up a piece of sheet metal.
The motion put into play all of his well-defined muscles, holding her in a sort of
thrall. He’d tied his long hair back in what looked like a piece of leather. The jeans
he wore were faded and fit snugly against his thighs and … She gulped as she spied
the split in the worn fabric just below the portion of his anatomy she’d been gawking
at.

Even from this distance, she could see her first impression the day she’d met him
had been correct. He was the same even brown shade all over.

She could have sworn she hadn’t made a sound, but Kane stopped suddenly and shifted
around to face her, sitting with his arms resting on his bent knees.

“Hi.” His voice carried easily down to her.

Oh my, she thought, not handling the front view any better than she had the back.
She set the buckets on the ground beside her. Apparently she’d underestimated her
success in using a long walk and hours of mind-numbing work to clear her head.

“Where have you been?” she blurted out, frustrated by the seesawing emotions he always
seemed to bring about in her.

“Wait there a minute,” was his only response.

With an animal grace she knew shouldn’t surprise her, he moved quickly to the edge
of the roof closest to the ground. Without a sound, he flipped easily onto his stomach
and slid off the side, until he hung by his fingertips. He dropped into a light crouch,
straightened, and brushed himself off as he walked toward her.

Her mouth felt as if she’d licked the dust off of him. She couldn’t swallow, much
less breathe. All she could think of as he drew closer was that she’d cuddled against
that very chest the night before, had felt with her own hand the heart that beat so
strongly under that dusty bronzed skin.

“You okay?”

His voice sounded rough to her, probably because she barely heard him above the thundering
rush of blood pounding in her ears. His concerned expression was what finally grabbed
her attention, and she felt the skin on her neck and cheeks heat as she wondered what
he made of her obvious reaction to him.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” She cleared her throat quietly and shifted her gaze to a point past
his shoulder. She wanted to ask him again where he’d gone, where he’d been all morning,
but suddenly she felt as if it weren’t really any of her business. And she didn’t
think she could stand hearing him affirm that fact.

She lifted her gaze to the barn roof and kept it there, reverting to the one topic
she did have the right to question him on. “I didn’t know you were going to work on
the roof. Is it bad?”

“Not as bad as I’d expected. A couple of the sheets on one side are rusted, so I’m
going to rip them up and switch them with better ones that cover the part of the barn
we aren’t repairing.”

We. A tiny little word. Two letters. It was ridiculous that it should have an effect.
Ridiculous and dangerous. She shifted her weight and cleared her throat again. “Good.
Well, I have berries to rinse.” She bent down, and lifted the buckets. “I’d better
be—”

“Annie, stop.” Kane raised a hand as if he meant to take her arm, but she took an
automatic step out of his reach. The flicker of surprise—and hurt?—
that crossed his face made her flinch, but she didn’t move closer. She didn’t trust
herself where he was concerned right now. The previous night seemed like light-years
ago. Now she couldn’t imagine being held in his arms. Not without wanting him to—

“I really need to get back to work,” she said, fighting to keep her voice even.

“What we really need is to talk.”

Anger flared in her, mercifully relieving her of the sudden excruciating awareness
of him, of what he was coming to mean to her. “I was out here this morning first thing,
but you were nowhere to be found. I couldn’t waste the entire day waiting for you
to decide to show up.” She looked away, dismally wishing she’d been able to control
her temper.

“I’m sorry.”

His quiet tone jerked her head around. “Where did you go? I was … I worried.”

She noticed his hands clench into fists at his sides, and she wondered if he’d wanted
to reach for her again. She fought the heat that loosened her muscles, making her
want to shift closer to him, to reach for him first.

“It … couldn’t be helped.”

Something else was flickering in his eyes now, something she couldn’t put a label
on. “Why?”

He ran a swift assessing look around them, scanning the fringes of her property with
an efficiency that made a chill race down her spine.

“Hawk?” she queried softly. “What’s wrong?”

Sky Dancer whinnied from the barn, and Kane went completely still. “I want you to
go inside the house and stay there, okay?”

This time she was unable to tamp down the cold fear that sliced through her. “Tell
me what’s wrong.”

“Not now. Just go in the house. I’m … let me wash up, and I’ll come in and we’ll finish
our talk.”

Instinctively she reached for his arm before he could turn away. “Tell me,” she demanded,
her voice hushed as his had been. His skin was dusty and hot under her fingers, she
could feel his pulse pounding steadily in the ridged vein of his bicep. Her senses
vibrated as if the beat were inside her instead of under her fingertips.

She barely had time to process the thought before he turned back and took both of
her arms in his hands.

“Do you trust me, Annie?” His gaze was forceful, unwavering.

“I want to.”

“Do as I asked,” he said, his expression shuttered again. “Please,” he added, surprising
her. “I’ll explain everything as soon as I get back.”

She tightened her hold, his bicep twitching in response to her touch. “Get back? From
where?” She hated the sound of panic in her voice, but there was no help for it. “Don’t
go,” she begged without knowing exactly why. His eyes darkened, something she hadn’t
thought possible. He looked the savage
now, fierce and indomitable. Tremors rocked her, and this time they were her own.

“I’ll keep you safe, little sun.” He turned her toward the house. “Go.”

She whirled around to tell him it wasn’t her safety she was concerned about, but he
was racing on sure, light feet across the ground toward the barn. “Be careful,” she
whispered, then turned and did as he’d asked.

She knew she’d only been in the house for thirty minutes, but she felt as if she’d
lived two lifetimes. She relived every nuance of her most recent encounter with Kane,
damning herself for her preoccupation with his effect on her. What had she missed?
Why had he left the night before and again that morning? Was it related to whatever
he was doing now?

She knew darn well he wasn’t washing up. She pressed a fist against the cold knot
of fear that had settled in the pit of her belly. It was impossible to ignore the
possibility that Sam had somehow tracked her down.

“Dear Lord, what have I gotten him into?” She berated herself again for telling him,
for giving in to her fear and loneliness and hiring him in the first place. She should
have pushed on alone until Matt showed up.

Her nerves tightened painfully, and she shot up
out of the chair and began pacing, careful to stay away from the windows.

There was no point belaboring her latest lapse in good judgment. What was done was
done. She’d be better off using the time to beat some sense into her head regarding
her feelings for Kane. She’d examined them enough over the last twenty-four hours
to know they weren’t simply a result of his role in her predicament. Yes, he was strong
and honest and made her feel safe for the first time in months.

But he also called to a place deep inside of her. He had an emptiness about him, a
sort of hollowness that had an affect on her she was finding increasingly impossible
to ignore. The urge to reach out, to find out if she could be the one to fill it was
unbearably tempting.

Even if Sam Perkins ceased to exist that very moment, taking her fear for her life
with him, she knew she’d go on wanting Kane Hawthorne. Eyes of the Hawk.

As if her wanting had conjured him, he was there. He’d entered through the front door
and was coming silently down the short hall when she looked up and gasped.

“What happened?” She ran to him, placing shaking fingers on the thin gash slicing
down the side of his temple.

Kane lifted two fingers to his temple, half surprised when he encountered the sticky
warmth of
his own blood. He wiped his hand on his jeans and took her arm, leading her back to
the kitchen.

“I’m all right,” he said, steering her calmly but quickly toward the table. He motioned
with his head for her to take a seat. He moved to one side of the back door.

“At least let me clean it up a little. If you caught it on a nail or barbed wire—”

He turned from studying the back field long enough to shoot her a crooked grin. “Afraid
it will get infected and I’ll lose my head?”

He watched her lips curve in response and thought she might even laugh. That’s why
he’d said it. The tension was a live thing between them. It would help if he could
lessen it. Not that it would make what he had to tell her any easier.

Something of what he felt must have shown on his face, because her smile slipped,
strain again haunting her beautiful brown eyes.

The night before, Kane had fought back the killing anger he’d hoped to come to terms
with, along with his growing feelings for Annie, by taking a long dip in the frigid
stream. Instead he’d found something that only served to heighten both emotions.