Stowaway (2 page)

“That’s a cheap shot, Sis.”

“If the shoe fits…”

“It might be kinda nice to have you gone for three weeks,” Jack decided. “You know the code if you run into trouble?”

She made a rude sound and pushed the power window button. Nick heard Jack’s orders to drive safely before she shut him out completely. The window closed, the radio volume rose again and they eased around what he assumed to be a collection of patrol cars. Keri tooted the horn in greeting, and then they picked up speed again.

Relief washed over him with a paralyzing effect. He’d begun to think of Thornsbury as his personal Waterloo, not knowing if he’d make it out alive. He’d roamed too far from his home territory and people who trusted him.

He didn’t know what the hell was going down, but he needed time and distance to figure it out. Years of working vice had given him a highly developed sense of self-preservation.

That same sixth sense had kept him from going directly to the local authorities after the shooting. Local, county and even state law enforcement around here seemed to be a part of a good-ole-boy network he couldn’t fully integrate.

He’d lost his cell phone in the stream, and wasted his lone opportunity to use a public phone trying to reach his lieutenant in Miami. As soon as he was safely out of town, he’d try Alexander again. Right now, he needed time and distance. The sheriff’s daughter had just bought him a little of both.

His own guardian angel.

The turn of events also won him a brief respite from the mental and physical stress of being on the run. Exhaustion overpowered his knack to stay focused.

One thing did manage to pierce his lethargy—the sweet, feminine scent clinging to the clothes he’d buried himself under. He found the scent of a woman as captivating as a beautiful smile. Keri’s scent filled his lungs now, seeping into his senses and soothing him like a narcotic.

His pain and discomfort began to ease and blessed numbness overtook his body. The humming of the wheels and the gentle rocking motion of the SUV gradually lulled Nick to sleep. He dozed restlessly.

Then he heard the sound of angels singing and it startled him awake. No, he thought, mentally clawing his way through the fog of unconsciousness. It couldn’t be angels. He hadn’t died, had he? No pearly gates, no choir of angels. Just one angel with an awesome voice. But she wasn’t singing Latin hymns, and his heart stopped racing.

Keri Merritt knew the lyrics to every song on the country station, and sang one after another. He didn’t recognize many of the tunes and lyrics, yet they reached into his subconscious and struck a chord. Her sexy, Southern accent made each one more stirring.

The sound of her voice echoed around the vehicle, surrounding him, wrapping him in a cocoon of comfort as nothing else could have done. So sexy and sultry and as hypnotically seductive as her laughter.

The longer he listened, the more the music captivated him. Her lovely alto tugged at the depths of his emotions, coaxing like a siren’s song. Reality and fantasy merged, and his mind began to play tricks as he faded in and out of consciousness. Keri was close, and then distant again.

He was home in his own bed, rocking on a gentle wave of water. The heat and humidity of South Florida permeated his body in a room steamy with passion. The woman in his arms felt petite yet shapely; tiny but not fragile. She smelled sweetly feminine and alluring. With the voice of an angel, she teased and taunted, and her laughter set his blood on fire.

He wanted her with an amazing ferocity. Every muscle and nerve in his body sang with excitement. He tried to pull her beneath him, but she remained elusive. One minute their naked arms and legs tangled, and the next she had slipped from his grasp.

He groaned in frustration then stifled another groan as he reached for her and pain shot through his body. Very real pain that shattered his dream.

Rudely awakened, Nick stilled his restless thrashing and fought through a haze of confusion until he remembered his situation. Hidden in the backseat of an SUV, heart pounding and pulse racing, he wondered if he’d groaned out loud.

He strained to hear beyond the roar of blood in his ears. The radio still played and Keri still sang. The tension in his body slowly uncoiled, but the remnants of his dream lingered.

His fevered passion turned to spiking fever, burning him up with heat. The piles of clothes and bedding suffocated him. He could hardly breathe. Shoving them from his face, he fought to stay alert, but more feverish thoughts whirred in his mind.

He’d been invited to Thornsbury and welcomed the opportunity to investigate a gun smuggling operation. Last night, he and Don had gotten wind of a meeting to be held at dawn on the outskirts of town. They’d hidden in a copse of trees where several men gathered, but the fog had been thicker than a brick wall. Darkness had shrouded faces. He’d recognized the voice of Russ Carson, a local militia leader, as well as Jack Merritt’s. Two other voices had been too muffled to recognize. Then he’d heard gunshots and felt the searing pain.

Sweat poured off him as he relived the shooting. He heard Keri’s voice in the distance, but the sound of gunfire reverberating in his head shattered his concentration. He remembered the force of the blast that shook his body and sent pain slicing across his shoulder.

Nick battled his way out of the feverish stupor, trying to avoid the mental replays. He strained to focus on Keri’s singing, and let the richness of her voice soothe him again. Once he managed to concentrate solely on the velvety sweetness, he fell into a deep, undisturbed sleep.

Sometime later, somewhere in his sleep, the lilting quality of his angel’s voice altered to sharp and commanding. Nick once again struggled for clarity of thought. He opened his eyes to an unexpected light and squinted at the pale light bulb above his head.

Sleep vanished with an awareness of danger. His head still felt foggy but clear enough to realize the SUV had stopped moving and he wasn’t hidden any longer. A narrowed glance toward the door at his feet brought his guardian angel into view. She looked more like an avenging angel considering she was pointing a very lethal weapon at him.

She was little. Her gun was not.

Chapter Two

Keri’s expression warned him not to doubt her competency with the .45 caliber semi-automatic pistol leveled at his midsection. Their gazes locked, and he knew his reflected the annoyance in hers.

“Come out of there slowly,” she instructed in a tone totally lacking its earlier sweetness. “Don’t make any sudden moves and don’t try anything stupid.”

Nick noticed she stood close, but not close enough for him to kick the gun from her grasp. Smart girl. She couldn’t know that kind of action was beyond his capabilities at the moment. It took all his strength to shove aside a few clothes and pull his body into a sitting position.

Once upright, his head swam. The numbness in his arm faded, sending an agony of pain slicing through his body. His breath hitched and grew ragged. He swiftly grasped his left arm to support it with his right hand. It took a few minutes to regain control and a little longer for the nausea to subside. Then he shot a glance at Keri.

“I might need a little help.”

“You got in there by yourself. You can get out.”

The sheriff’s daughter was smart. Irritating as hell, but smart. Nick shifted his legs and carefully eased along the seat to the door, noting she took a slow step backward.

The gun wavered slightly, but she quickly steadied it. She probably didn’t feel nearly as bold as she sounded. A woman alone would be a fool to take chances. Even though they’d met on good terms, she wasn’t likely to trust him now that he’d been accused of shooting one of her dad’s deputies.

Another rush of dizziness hit him when he stepped to the ground. He held his bad arm tightly and leaned against the SUV until he regained some strength. Their gazes clashed again, and then hers slowly scrutinized the rest of him.

“You’re a mess,” she declared flatly. “I didn’t know you’d been shot too. You’d better get into the cabin so I can see how much damage is done.”

Nick took in their surroundings in one brief glance. They’d parked in a small clearing amidst a forest of tall pine trees. Grass or pine needles lay thick beneath his feet, and the SUV was parked in front of a small log cabin.

The pale yellow light on the porch indicated the existence of some kind of power. He couldn’t tell if electric lines ran to the place or if it was generated by battery. He wondered about phone lines, the closest neighbors and their isolation.

“Get moving.”

He obeyed without argument. His shoulder needed medical attention, so he’d have to worry about everything else later.

The distance from the SUV to the cabin was only a few yards, but they made slow progress. His legs felt too shaky, and his head pounded from lack of food and sleep. Every jarring step sent more pain through his shoulder, so he moved carefully. He sensed Keri’s impatience as she followed him, but she kept a safe distance between them.

Negotiating the two steps on to the porch was difficult. He swayed and had to grasp a rail for support, but his gun-toting hostess didn’t make a move to help. His estimation of her survival instincts kept improving. He didn’t have the strength to overpower her, but she needed to be wary. If he’d had the strength, he’d have taken control of the gun within seconds of having it pointed at him.

He didn’t want any more damned guns pointed at him.

Keri followed Lamanto through the door of the cabin, her gaze never wavering from him for an instant. As they moved farther into the lighted room, she noticed the blood stain down the whole left side of his lightweight cotton jacket.

Jack and her dad had wondered if he’d gotten shot too. From the looks of the bloodstains, she wondered how the man could still move. Most people would have collapsed from loss of blood long before now. She’d worked two full shifts since the shooting that had caused such mayhem in their small community.

Lamanto stopped just inside the room, and Keri knew he was mentally cataloging their surroundings. She’d lived too long with law enforcement officers not to recognize the routine.

He’d find the basic, four-room cabin serviceable, but not fashionable. The living room was the largest of the four with a door to the left that lead to a small bedroom and an even smaller bath. A wide archway at the back of the living room opened into the kitchen. Furnishings were mostly rejects from the Merritt home in town.

A thud came from the kitchen area, and Lamanto stiffened. He took a quick step backward and threw out his right arm in a protective fashion. The actions had to be pure reflex as he positioned himself to shield her from the unknown threat.

One tiny half step from him, and she sighed.

He would shield her body with his own, even though he could barely hold himself upright. His action dispelled some of her wariness. Whatever else Nick Lamanto had become, his instincts still leaned toward defending rather than hurting. Given that and his physical condition, she doubted he could fight his way out of a paper bag.

Gut instinct had her lowering the firearm. She hated guns, but her dad had insisted she learn to use them for her own safety. Why didn’t it surprise her that even wounded, on the run and burning with fever, her captive cop still reacted in typically male, macho mode?

He was one of them. One of the men she privately labeled as protectors. One of the modern knights who had a penchant for defending the weak and innocent. With or without a badge, they all reacted the same way. She just wished she had fewer of them to contend with in her life.

Until the shooting that had shocked the whole town, she’d heard nothing but praise for the visiting cop. An old buddy of Deputy Don Monroe’s, he seemed to have a great sense of humor and got along with everyone. He had a reputation of being a dedicated public servant, and descriptions of him had bordered on celebrity status.

Of course, his dark, striking looks hadn’t hurt his public imagine, either. Women could be such fools over a handsome man. She’d met him and felt the pull of attraction, but hadn’t been wowed. He came across as too smooth, too self-assured and too much a cop to hold her interest.

She’d didn’t much care for errant knights, but this one needed her help. His armor might be a little tarnished. He might be a cop gone bad, yet she didn’t consider him much of a physical threat in his current condition.

“I think a bag of groceries fell off the table,” she explained the noise. She’d unloaded the back of the car before finding her stowaway. “I haven’t unpacked everything.”

When his defensive stance relaxed a little, she added, “If you give me your word you won’t try to sneak out of here or do anything stupid, I can get rid of the gun and take a look at that wound.” Knights, errant or otherwise, always took great pride in keeping their word.

“You’re got it,” he agreed weakly.

Keri checked the safety on the gun and put it in the first-aid kit where her dad stored it. Carrying the kit, she led her unwanted guest to the kitchen. She couldn’t treat his wound and keep a safe distance, so she really didn’t have a choice. She’d always been a sucker for wounded animals, of any species, and he barely had enough strength to walk. Besides, being afraid required more energy than she could muster right now.

“Sit down,” she said, making room for him on one of the two chairs at the small dinette table. Thankfully, she’d gotten the generator running and unloaded the bulk of her supplies before discovering her unwanted guest.

She gathered clean towels, her first-aid kit and a pair of sharp scissors. When she had everything organized, she pulled on latex gloves and turned back to her patient. He’d managed to get his right arm out of his jacket, and she helped ease it the rest of the way off. Dried blood glued a dark green T-shirt to his muscular torso.

“You really are a mess,” she repeated her earlier assessment.

“Yeah.”

Despite his weakened, disheveled state, he was one gorgeous man, she thought while snipping through the fabric of his shirt. He’d caused quite a stir in Thornsbury this past week. Every woman within a twenty-mile radius had been raving about the visiting hunk.