Chapter 3
Casually taking off his hat, the uniformed man ran his sleeve over his sweating brow. Aislinn sat up and took notice. His uniform was that of a sheriff, at the very least a deputy.
"Stella, get me a beer," he called out as soon as the door slammed closed behind him.
The blond waitress turned and gave him a wide, welcoming smile that indicated their level of familiarity. "Well, look what the cat just drug in." Leaning back against the bar, she propped her elbows on it. The posture displayed her huge bosom to its full potential. The sheriff showed his appreciation by giving her a lecherous smile.
"Missed me, didja?"
"Hell no," she drawled, curling her arm around his sunburned neck as he squatted on the stool next to where she was standing. "You know how it is with me. Outa sight, outa mind."
"For two days I've been chasing some damn Indian nobody's seen hide nor hair of. What I need is a coupla cold ones and some tender loving care."
"In that order?" The blonde leaned down and purred the question near his mouth. He kissed her, but then swatted her ample hip.
"Get me that beer."
Stella went to do the hunter's bidding while the hunted sat seething next to Aislinn in the booth. "Damn," Greywolf said beneath his breath, pounding his fist against his thigh under the table. "Just a few more minutes and we would have been gone. Damn."
He kept up the frustrated litany, all the while leaning over Aislinn in the corner of the booth as though they were petting. "Don't you dare do anything to attract his attention. Because to rescue you, sweetheart, he'll have to go through me."
"What do you plan to do?"
"For the time being, more of the same," he said, kissing her neck. "Maybe he'll leave."
But apparently the officer intended to make a night of it. His "coupla cold ones" turned into three, then four. Stella didn't move far from his side, unless forced to wait on other customers. They flirted outrageously, exchanging sexual innuendos, until their provocative banterings mellowed to soft, private whispers punctuated occasionally by Stella's low, sexy laugh. The sheriff's hands were never idle, but caressed her unceasingly. Stella never demurred.
Aislinn's hopes had flared with the unexpected appearance of the sheriff, but now she doubted that the law officer even cared whether the escaped convict was captured or not. There were a lot of people, Indian and Anglo alike, who had felt that Lucas Greywolf got a bum rap and had been in sympathy with his cause. This overworked sheriff might be one of them. He might look the other way if Greywolf crossed his path.
Still, the sheriff represented Aislinn's only hope of getting away from her kidnapper. She planned to use him, though she was sure he wouldn't thank her for ruining the evening he planned to spend in Stella's company.
"When the time is right, we're going to get up and walk out, got it?"
"Yes," she agreed. Perhaps a little too quickly.
Greywolf raised his head slightly and, staring down into her eyes, reached beneath the table. Even before she saw the blade of the knife reflecting the dim lights, she realized he had drawn it from his boot. "Don't make me use this, Aislinn. Particularly on you."
"Why not on me?"
His eyes slid down her body suggestively. "Because after spending such a pleasurable afternoon feeling you up, I'd hate to hurt you."
"I hope you burn in hell," she said, pushing each word of the harsh condemnation through her teeth.
"And I'm sure your wish will be granted." He said no more, but turned his attention back to the couple at the bar. He watched them like a hawk, his gray eyes unwavering. When the sheriff's hand made an exploratory pass across Stella's breast, then paused to investigate, Greywolf said, "Now."
Aislinn had expected him to slink out of the booth and through the door. Instead, he jerked her to her feet suddenly, giving him the element of surprise. It worked to his benefit beautifully. She slumped against him to regain her balance. His arm wrapped around her waist, securing her to his side. She pressed her fists against his chest, angling her body away from his, and opened her mouth. All that came out, however, was a short gasp. He slipped the knife up between their bodies.
"Don't." His raspy voice was dangerously calm, cool, and collected. It effectively changed her mind about trying to escape him now.
They made their staggering progress toward the door, his head bent low over hers as though he was drunk.
"Hey, mister."
Aislinn's footsteps faltered, but Greywolf's didn't. He kept going.
"Hey, mister! I'm talking to you, Chief."
Against her cheek, she felt Greywolf's aggravated expulsion of breath before he halted and lifted his head. "Yeah?" he asked of Ray, who had addressed him.
"We got rooms in the back," he said, hitching his thumb over his shoulder. "You and your lady want one for the evenin'?"
"No thanks," Lucas said. "Gotta get her home before her ol' man gets back."
Ray chuckled lewdly and went back to watching the detective series that was now blaring forth from the television. The sheriff, pouring all his romantic passions into the kiss he was grinding onto Stella's receptive mouth, never even looked up. Once she was outside, Aislinn's lungs drank in the pure air. She didn't think she'd ever filter the dank smell of beer and stale tobacco smoke out of her nasal passages. Greywolf wasted no time on luxuries like deep, cleansing breathing, but hustled her into the car.
Within minutes they had put several miles between them and the Tumbleweed. Only then did he breathe deeply. He rolled down the window and seemed to relish the wind beating against his face. "You're becoming very good at eluding the law," he remarked.
"I didn't like having that knife against my ribs," she shot back.
"You weren't supposed to."
He seemed to know where he was going, though Aislinn knew this wasn't a well-traveled highway they were on now. The lanes were narrow. There were few signs. No lights. Shoulders were nonexistent. Other cars were few and far between. When they met them, she held her breath out of fear of crashing head-on.
Greywolf drove fast, but safely. Before long, staring at the white stripes chasing each other down the center of the highway became hypnotic and she nodded off. But only moments later, Greywolf's blistering curse rent the silence.
"Dammit all to hell!"
"Is somebody following us?" she asked hopefully, sitting up and glancing behind them.
"The heat light just came on."
Her spirits sank as low as her weary shoulders. For a moment she had entertained the hope that the sheriff or somebody in the Tumbleweed had recognized Greywolf, but had played it safe and not tried to apprehend him until reinforcements could be called in. "It was doing that this afternoon," she said, slumping back against the seat.
He swiveled his head around and glared at her. His face was illuminated only by the lights on the dashboard. They lent it a greenish cast, making it look even more fearsome. His eyes were pale, silver, furious. "You mean the engine was actually overheating this afternoon?"
"Didn't you hear me tell that to the highway patrolman at the roadblock?"
"I thought that was just part of your act," he shouted.
"Well it wasn't."
"So why didn't you say something before I pulled onto this abandoned highway?"
"You didn't ask!"
He ended the shouting match with a curse she couldn't possibly champion for fear of being struck by lightning. Her lower teeth almost went through the roof of her mouth when he suddenly steered the car off the highway. "Where are you going?" she asked fearfully.
"I have to let the car cool off or the engine will burn up completely. I can't do anything to repair it in the dark anyway." He drove the car several hundred yards off the highway. The terrain was so rough that Aislinn had to brace her hands against the dash to keep from getting jostled onto the floorboard. When they finally came to a standstill the motor was hissing like a boiling teakettle. Greywolf pushed his door open and got out. He leaned his back against the car and bowed his head.
"Damn! I've wasted so much time today. First in that godforsaken tavern. Now this." He appeared to be extremely upset over the forced delay. He walked toward the hood of the car and viciously kicked one of the tires, cursing expansively.
Aislinn got out on her side and stretched her cramped muscles. "Are we under some kind of deadline?"
"Yes. We're under a deadline." His grim tone advised her to hold her peace and not pursue the subject. After a while, he shook his head and heaved a sigh of resignation. "As long as we're stuck here, we might just as well make use of the time and get some sleep. Get in the back seat."
"I'm not sleepy," she said sullenly.
"Get in the back seat anyway."
His voice rolled over the desert like ominous, distant thunder. Aislinn gave him a murderous look, but she obeyed him. Leaving all the car doors open save one in the back seat, he got in behind her. Settling himself into the corner against the door, he spread his thighs wide and, before she knew what he was going to do, pulled her between them.
"Let me go," she demanded, outraged. She squirmed against him, but since that only served to better acquaint her bottom with the fly of his jeans, she stopped.
"I'm going to sleep. And so are you." He situated her back against his chest and wrapped his arms around her. They felt like bands of steel crisscrossing just beneath her breasts. It was an extremely unnerving position, though not painful. Not even uncomfortable, if she would let herself relax against him. Which she wouldn't.
"I can't go roaming off in the desert, Greywolf. Let me go."
"Not a chance. Unless you'd rather be tied to the steering wheel."
"Where would I go if I escaped?"
"If I've learned one thing about you, it is that you are a resourceful lady."
"We're in the middle of nowhere. It's dark."
"There's a moon."
Yes, she had noticed. And there were stars, the likes of which she'd never seen. They were huge and bright and close, not city stars at all. At any other time, she could have admired this night, savored it, let its magnificence embrace her, and enjoyed her smallness when compared to it.
But she wanted nothing about this night to be beautiful. She wanted to remember only the horror of it later. "I'd be a fool to strike out on my own, even if I knew where I was and could get away from you."
"Which I'm making certain you won't do. Now, for your own good, be still."
The tenseness underlying his warning alerted her to other things as well. Like the tremors vibrating through the arms that supported her breasts. Like the pressure at the small of her back. She swallowed, denying to herself what that could mean.
"Please don't do this." She was willing to swallow her pride and plead with him, because she didn't think she could stand to be this close to him all through the night. Not because she disliked it so much, but because she didn't dislike it nearly enough. "Let me go."
"No."
Knowing that it was useless, she stopped trying to change his mind. But she refused to relax. Her back was as stiff as a board against his chest. Before long her neck began to ache from the tension of maintaining the small distance between them. Not until she thought he was asleep, did she let her head fall back onto his shoulder.
"You're very stubborn, Aislinn Andrews."
Aislinn closed her eyes and gnashed her teeth, knowing that he'd been privy to her stubbornness and her final surrender. He'd probably waited her out deliberately. "If you'd loosen your arms I could breathe easier."
"Or reach for the knife." They lay in silence, then he said, "You are one of few."
"Few what?"