Читать книгу Appalachian Abduction - Debbie Herbert - Страница 12

Chapter Four

Charlotte reached for her sidearm and felt nothing but bare denim at her hip. Damn. She kept forgetting James had confiscated her gun. Its absence made her feel vulnerable and powerless. First order of business in the morning was to get it back.

But that didn’t help her now.

As if they’d done this together a dozen times before, she and James rose from the table and flattened their bodies against the side wall by the window.

“See anything?” she asked.

“Nothing but shadows.”

“Still think it’s nothing but a shot-happy hunter out there?”

“Getting a little too dark for a regular hunter,” he admitted.

“As opposed to what—an irregular hunter?” she quipped. “Maybe now you’ll believe me when I tell you it’s Jenny’s kidnappers.”

James kept his gaze out the window. “Shooter’s motives don’t matter at the moment.”

“Right. Sorry. So what’s the plan?”

“We wait.”

“That’s it? We wait?”

“And watch.”

To hell with that. “We could get on your four-wheeler and see who’s out there.”

“And what if that shot was meant to draw you out? You’d be a sitting duck. Stop acting like this is your first rodeo.”

He was right. Damn it. This was her least favorite part of the job—stakeouts and waiting for someone else to make their next move.

“There could be more than one, you know. Maybe they’re going to surround the cabin.” Hugging the wall, Charlotte made her way over to the den window on the opposite side of the cabin. “I’ll keep a lookout here.”

Dusk settled on the woods that were wrapped in a gray mist. The outline of her rental truck at the tree line was barely visible. The vehicle was useless to her now that she suspected it had been spotted. If there was time, she’d exchange it for another one tomorrow. Her eyes and ears tingled with focus as she tried to find shifting patterns in the shadows, or the whisper of an out-of-the-ordinary snap of twigs.

“We hear another shot, call for backup,” James commented.

The minutes stretched on in a tense silence, and she shifted all her weight onto her left foot.

“Knee bothering you?” he asked, his gaze still concentrated on the gathering darkness.

How did he know with his back to her? Probably a good cop to be so observant of the slightest shift in details. “Hurts a little,” she admitted.

James stepped away from the window. “Let’s go. If there’s a stalker out there, I believe they’d have made a move by now. No sense standing around all night. We’ll come back at first light and take a look around.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Frankly, she was relieved. Her leg hurt like hell, and there was no way she’d be able to sleep in this cabin again without worrying she’d awaken staring down the barrel of a gun.

“You stay inside while I start the truck.”

“No way. We go together.”

He opened his mouth to speak, but he must have read her determination. “Okay. Anything you need to bring with you?”

She’d almost forgotten. “Yeah, let me grab my stuff. I’ll be quick.”

Charlotte scurried to the bedroom and then stuffed her laptop in the large duffel bag already filled with clothes and toiletries, prepacked necessities in case she’d needed to leave in a hurry. She rushed back down the hall, and a chill draft from the open door blew over her body. A truck engine started outside, and headlights pierced the darkness. How dare he? But the anger was soon replaced by a seed of fear. Was he leaving her alone in this compromised location? An image of a dark alley flashed across her mind—her old partners, Roy and Danny, fading into the shadows as they ran from the drug dealer flashing his small but lethal-looking pistol. She’d run, too, but not as fast. Not near fast enough to outrun a bullet. A quick peek behind her shoulder and she saw the dealer had aimed his gun at her.

She’d turned and faced him then. Better to see the flash of gunfire and take it head-on than be hit in the back while running away.

The drug dealer unexpectedly laughed and dropped his weapon. “Some friends you got there. You ain’t no coward, I give you that.” His arm had lowered to his side. His features had hardened. “Get out of here,” he’d growled. “And don’t ever forget this is my turf.”

She didn’t forget. Not the dealer, nor the partners who’d left her an easy target.

Faster than she’d ever believe possible with a bum leg, Charlotte flew out of the cabin and onto the porch, duffel bag clunking across the wooden floorboards.

The truck engine rumbled in Park. James wasn’t leaving without her. She climbed in the king cab, throwing the bag into the back seat, where it landed next to the gallon jug of sassafras tea he must have grabbed from the fridge.

“You tricked me,” she commented. But her words held no bite.

James shifted the truck into Drive. “I don’t know about the big city, but around here, we try and protect women.”

“I’m a cop, not a woman.”

His brow quirked.

“Well, you know what I mean.”

“I’m well aware you’re a woman,” he said drily.

The air was charged with something other than danger this time—the space between them sparked. Charlotte cleared her dry throat. “And a cop,” she insisted. “Don’t forget that part.”

The truck jostled along the dirt driveway. “Uh-huh, right,” he muttered.

“Wait. I’m not thinking clearly.” She dug into her jeans pocket for her keys. “I can drive my own truck and then exchange it for a new one in the morning. Take me back.”

James pulled onto the county road. “We’ll worry about your truck in the morning when we come back. For now, I think it’s best we leave it.”

“Okay, then. I can’t argue against your logic there.” Charlotte stuffed the key in her pocket.

Heat blasted from the vents, and she held her hands up against the warm air.

“Cold?” James asked.

She shrugged. “My hands are always cold.”

“No gloves?”

“Somewhere in my bag. I’ll dig them out later.”

James opened the console and pulled out a pair of black leather gloves. “Here.”

“Thanks, but that’s not nec—”

“Go on. No sense suffering.” He laid them in her lap.

Charlotte slipped on the overlarge gloves. They were lined with fleece and felt comfy and toasty against her skin.

The truck sped through the night, and they were in town in ten minutes. Charlotte rubbed the passenger window, scrubbing away the condensation to peer at the street. “What motel do you recommend?”

“Neither of them. There’s only two.”

He turned the wheel sharply, and the lights of the Dixie Diner blazed in front of her. “Why are we stopping here?” she asked.

“I’m starving. I’ll pick us up a couple plates to go.”

She frowned. He could have got his own meal after he dropped her off, but the rumble in her stomach couldn’t argue with the need for food. Real food. Eating nothing but crackers and apples and granola bars for two days had gotten old. Charlotte followed him in, and her knees went weak at the smell of fried chicken. James ordered a meat-and-three plate for each of them, and her mouth salivated. She couldn’t wait to check into her room, eat and then enjoy a long bath with no fear of intruders.

Back in the truck, James turned sideways in the seat and didn’t start the motor. “This Jenny you’re looking for—was she caught up in some kind of pornography ring?”

“You could say that.”

“How about being a little more specific?”

It might have been framed as a question, but she knew it was a demand. Hell, if he knew this much, he might as well know the rest.

“A human trafficking ring. She’s one of many girls who have been caught in its trap.”

James nodded, but he didn’t say a word as he started the truck and backed out of the parking space. He retraced his route and kept driving until downtown was visible only in the rearview mirror. They were far from anyone, on a lonely backroad where anything could happen.

A small frisson of fear chased down her spine. Stop, just stop, she chided herself. If he were one of the bad guys, he would hardly have stopped for fried chicken before doing her in. Or loaned her his gloves. Still, her hand sought the passenger door handle. “Where are we going?”

“My place.”

“Now, wait a minute,” she protested. “If you think—”

James held up a hand. “I have a spare bedroom. It’s just a precaution.”

She studied him—the hard planes of his face and his aura of calm command. Okay, she would feel safer staying with him. But he could have at least asked before assuming she’d follow along.

“I can’t read you,” she admitted. “Half the time you act like there are other explanations for the shootings, and the other half, you’re extremely cautious.”

“Blame my army training. I imagine all possible scenarios and then prepare for the worst.”

Curiosity sparked to learn more about James. “What was it like in Afghanistan?”

His fingers drummed the dashboard as he considered his answer. “Lot of extremes. Hot during the day, cold at night. Periods of boredom followed by bursts of danger.”

“I understand the boredom–danger thing. Lots of that with undercover work.” Charlotte wondered if the experience had left him scarred. “What did you do in the army?”

“IED patrol.”

She gave a low whistle. The man had put his life on the line with every mission. Lucky for him, he’d returned home in one piece. “Must have been tough. Do the memories ever bother you, now that you’re home?” Charlotte bit her lip. This was none of her business. “Never mind. I have no right to ask. I thank you for your service.”

He was silent for so long, she didn’t think he was going to respond, and she stretched her right leg, trying to find a position that didn’t hurt.

“It only bothers me sometimes at night,” James said quietly. “Insomnia’s a bitch.”

* * *

JAMES SHOOK OUT two of Miss Glory’s herbal pills on the kitchen table along with a glass of sassafras tea. “Drink up.”

“I’m fine. My leg’s not—”

“Stop it. I’ve seen you wince whenever you stand up or sit down. The way you favor your right leg. Are you always this stubborn?”

Charlotte picked up one of the pills and held it in her palm, frowning. “I don’t like feeling out of control. Like I could fall asleep and not wake up when there’s a possibility of an intruder lurking.”

“Remember that insomnia I mentioned? I’ll be up all night.” He felt his mouth twitch. “Let my problem at least benefit you.”

She bit her lip, obviously debating the wisdom of taking the pills. “What the hell.” In one swift motion, she popped them in her mouth and washed them down with tea. “I don’t have much faith they’ll be that strong, anyway.”

“Hope they work. Others swear by her herbs and roots.” He knew how to make her see it his way. “Besides, get a good night’s rest, and you can work longer and harder tomorrow.”

“Every day Jenny spends with that ring is torture for Tanya and Jenny. I never forget that. Not for a minute.”

“I don’t doubt your dedication. One night’s sleep will help you think clearer, and means you can bring her and the others home sooner. I saw the photos on your laptop. The ones of those girls for sale.” Disgust roiled in his stomach. Hungry as he’d been, he started regretting the fried chicken and gravy.

“When did you look at my laptop? How did you—”

“When we were back at the cabin.”

“Seems like I’m not the only one with a suspicious nature.”

“Comes with the territory in our line of work. Never know when it might save our ass.”

She shook her head, a bemused smile lighting her green-blue eyes. “Next you’ll have me thanking you for doubting me.”

“Good. Now let me use my influence to get you to shower and then let me take a look at your injuries.”

A tinge of red crept up her neck and face. “I can take care of myself.”

“A little late for modesty. The first time we met, you weren’t wearing pants.”

Charlotte groaned and lifted her hands to her face. “I forgot about that.”

He hadn’t. Sure, at the time, he’d been a little distracted by the gun she’d aimed at him, but yeah, he’d noticed the bare, shapely legs. James rose from the table. “Go on. I’ll see to cleaning up.”

Charlotte rose, and again a slight wince crossed her face.

“I’ve got aspirin,” he noted. “You don’t have to strictly rely on Miss Glory’s home remedies.”

“Might as well give them time to work. I’ll see how I feel after a bath.”

Head held high, Charlotte left the kitchen, and then paused by the den’s fireplace mantel. “What’s this?” she asked, picking up a wooden carving of a deer and examining it closely.

“Something I whittled,” he admitted, feeling self-conscious. “It’s a hobby, kind of relaxing.”

“This is beautiful,” she murmured. “How long did it take you to make this?”

“Hard to say. I whittled on it here and there in the evenings.”

“It would take me a lifetime,” she said with a laugh, placing the wooden deer back on the mantel. “Besides having zero artistic talent, I’m never accused of being a patient person.”

Charlotte headed to the hallway. Despite the stiff set of her back and shoulders, it was obvious that the injury bothered her.

Whether she was willing or not, if the cuts showed infection, he was taking her to a real doctor.

James stacked the paper plates and napkins, pausing at the sound of running water. Right now, Charlotte was stripping. In his house. Just down the hall. He pictured her curvy body stepping into the steamy tub and groaned. It had been way too long since he’d been with a woman.

All his nights were long, but this one might be the longest yet. Resolutely, he put up the leftover mashed potatoes and green beans. He’d get through it. He’d been through much worse.

James settled on the couch and fired up his laptop. Five minutes later, he’d confirmed that Charlotte worked for the Atlanta PD. By the time she emerged, he’d flipped on the television and attempted to watch a basketball game, but his mind was focused elsewhere.

Charlotte cleared her throat and entered the room. “This is silly, but if you must, you can see that the cuts are fine. And my knee’s only a little swollen.”

Her skin was damp and pink, and she tugged at the bottom of the oversize T-shirt that barely covered her underwear. James stifled his amusement. How could such a hard-ass cop be so shy?

“Come here,” he said hoarsely.

She advanced to within a couple of feet and turned to the side. Slashes of jagged crimson marred the otherwise smooth, pink flesh of her leg.

James swallowed hard. “Doesn’t appear to be infected. Have a seat. I’ll apply some of Miss Glory’s balm and put a bandage on it.”

“I can do it myself.”

He didn’t bother arguing, just picked up the antiseptic from the coffee table and applied some to a pad of cotton. “I’ll be gentle.”

“You’d better be.”

She sat down beside him and angled her body on her left hip, leaning her elbow on the sofa’s arm. Although she hissed as he applied the antiseptic to her head wound and cuts, she didn’t say a word in protest. He opened the jar of balm from Miss Glory and dabbed it on with his index finger, barely grazing the torn flesh. Quickly he put on the gauze bandage. “All done.” Damn if his voice wasn’t several octaves deeper.

Charlotte nodded and sat up straight. “Thank you,” she said simply. “I feel better already. I can’t believe it, but those herbal pills really work.” She gave a lopsided, loopy grin. “I’m getting drowsy.”

He wished he could say the same. Instead, every cell in his body pulsed with energy, acutely aware of the beautiful woman who stared at him with such gratitude.

“Not too early to go to bed,” he suggested.

Bed. More images played in his head of Charlotte sleeping across the hall in his guest bedroom.

She scooted sideways and lay down. “I could fall asleep right here,” she murmured, wiggling her toes. Even her pink-painted toenails were adorable. As if of their own volition, his hands wrapped around her arches and he massaged her feet.

“Um, that’s so nice.” Her voice was husky and deep, and her eyelids fluttered.

“You must be wiped out.”

“That and the pills.” Her eyes widened, and she struggled to a half-seated position. Her thin T-shirt twisted, revealing a pair of lacy panties.

James reached for the afghan and covered her bare legs. A man could only take so much temptation, but he hadn’t sunk so low as to take advantage of a half-drugged stranger. Hard to believe he’d known her only a day. Charlotte Helms had stormed into his life like some badass angel of justice, shaking up his quiet, orderly world.