The pounding was so loud that it seemed like the glass would shatter. Callie, secure in the driver’s seat, woke up with a start, anxiously turning toward the sound. Her seatbelt, still tight around her, stopped her with a jerk, and her tangled hair fell forward, covering her face with an amber curtain of hair thick enough to block the light.
A beam of light shot into the driver’s side window of the car. “Hey, wake up! Open your window!” The pounding came again, less loudly. Someone was tapping the glass.
Callie squinted, putting up her hand to see who was shouting at her. A man, obviously. But she couldn’t discern anything beyond that. She might as well be at the bottom of the ocean for all she could see beyond the car. “Hello?” she said, her voice cracking. She hadn’t spoken to a single soul for over a day, what had turned out to be the worst day of her life.
“Hey, ma’am. You can’t stop on this highway,” the man said through the glass. He took out an object from his back pocket and flipped it open. A glint of metal flashed out, and then Callie saw it was some kind of badge. He held it up to the glass. “Open your window, please. I need to see your license.”
Callie nodded tiredly as she reached for the crank. The car she was driving was so old that power windows probably hadn’t been invented when it rolled off the line. The window creaked open till about halfway down, when it abruptly refused to go further.
“Sorry, it stops there.” Callie said. She felt lightheaded and punchy, uncertain she was really awake. She blinked, still trying to see what the cop looked like. At the moment, he was little more than a shadow, outlined by the slightly luminous night sky. His voice was low and assured, though he could not be much older than she was. She saw the badge, but he was not in a uniform. Instead, he wore jeans and a plain t-shirt. Over that, however, he did wear a jacket that sported a number of official looking patches and pins. She was suspicious.
“You’re really a cop?”
“‘Fraid so, ma’am. I’ll need to see that license and registration, please.”
“I’m not a ma’am, I’m a miss,” said Callie, wondering even as she said it why that would be important.
“I never like to presume,” the cop said with a laugh in his voice. He cast his flashlight beam around the car’s interior in a professional manner, as Callie reached for her bag. He heard her inhale sharply.
“Hey, you’re bleeding!”
Oh, no, Callie thought. She’d momentarily forgotten the awful ache in her left leg, forgotten everything in the last twenty-four hours. “It’s nothing,” she muttered. “Don’t worry. Here.” She shoved her license toward him, hoping to distract him. It didn’t work. He took it, but continued to examine her.
“It doesn’t look like nothing. You bandage that yourself?” He asked, looking at her carefully. He pulled the door open, stepping more fully into her line of sight. Her eyes had adjusted by now, and she figured he was maybe just over thirty years old, tall, dark-haired, and well-proportioned. Just a regular guy, she thought hazily. Except, you know, gorgeous. And the hat…
“Are you a cop or a cowboy?” she asked, frowning slightly.
“Both, if I need to be. But you need to see a doctor about that cut.”
“I’ll be fine,” she insisted, her voice wavering with the effort of staying awake. This guy really needed to leave her alone. “I just needed to rest for a bit. I’ll go find a hotel…” She blinked, realizing that he was no longer in focus. Then she slumped forward in a dead faint.
* * * *
Jake lunged forward and caught the woman just before her head would have smashed into the steering wheel. “What the…” he muttered. The woman was frighteningly pale, and had clearly lost a lot of blood from the wound on her leg. He winced when he saw the deep red stain seeping through the cloth. He had to get her to the clinic. Unfortunately, it was well after midnight. And in this part of Montana, the chances of someone coming by to help him move her were slim to none. “Guess I’m on my own,” he muttered.
Leaning over her, he unbuckled her seatbelt. The woman slipped down further now, and he grunted a little as he pulled her out of the driver’s seat. Once he had her out, it was much easier to carry her. She barely weighed more than his ten-year-old niece, who he could carry for miles.
This woman was no little girl, though. Despite her condition, he was sharply aware of her body as he carried her toward the patrol vehicle, which also happened to be his own truck. Thick red hair spilled out over her shoulders, and her tank top revealed skin so creamy he immediately wondered what it tasted like. Real people just weren’t this perfect. Jake swallowed and shook his head, forcing himself to think about the task at hand—getting medical attention for an injured woman. He got to his car and opened the passenger door with one hand. He placed her on the seat as gently as he could, and she stirred, pushing him away. “I don’t need a ride. I don’t need help.”
“You keep telling yourself that, honey. When the doctor agrees, you can do whatever you want.” He straightened up after belting her in, then walked back to the old heap of a car. Glancing inside again, he saw more red stains on the floor by the pedals, and the tangy, coppery smell of blood filled the air. What the hell happened to this girl? He looked around the seat, finding a small purse and a duffel bag lying on the passenger seat. He grabbed both. Chances were that no one would come by and steal anything tonight. But Jake rarely took chances. He headed back to the truck, where the girl had slid down into the seat, her hair falling over her face.
Once on the road, he called into dispatch. “Is someone on call for the clinic? I’ve got a patient. Car accident.” Which wasn’t exactly incorrect. She was in a car, and she clearly had some kind of accident.
“Dr. Murphy’s on tonight,” the county dispatcher’s voice crackled on the wire. “I’ll call his cell right now. He lives close by—he’ll probably be there before you. Over.”
“He’d better be. Over and out.”
Jake put the radio back in its holster on the dash. As he did, he glanced over and saw the woman looking at him, her eyes unfocused. In the darkness, broken only by the dashboard lights, he couldn’t see what color they were, but he was struck by how beautiful she was, even in that condition.
“You’re not after me, are you?” She asked, her voice nervous and exhausted all at once.
“Should I be?” He asked, more to keep her awake than anything else.
“No. I didn’t do anything. Promise.”
“But you had an accident, right? Didn’t you have anyone with you who could drive?” Jake wondered briefly if she had been camping or hiking in the mountains. But after another look at her face and outfit, he decided that was unlikely. She was in shape, for sure, but she couldn’t be an outdoors-type, not with that ivory skin.
“It didn’t hurt at first,” she said, putting her hand on the bandage. “Not till…later.”
“Okay, don’t worry. I’m taking you to the clinic to get your leg looked at.”
“Clinic? What clinic?” She twisted anxiously in her seat.
“The one in Hazelton. Montana. You know we’re in Montana, right?” The car’s plates were from California, which was one hell of a drive. No way she had come all this distance in her current state.
“Really? I drove all night,” she said, the words slurring.
Jake pressed the gas, wishing the clinic were closer. “Hang on, okay? We’ll be there in twenty minutes. What’s your name?”
“Who wants to know?” she asked, and he could swear she was laughing. Was she going into shock?
“My name’s Jake, honey. Don’t fall asleep on me, okay? What’s your name?”
“Callie.”
“Okay, Callie. Are you in pain?” God, of course she must be.
“I’m getting kind of cold.”
Shock. Jake frowned and cranked the heat to high, flicking the vents all toward her. “There you go, Callie. Where’d you drive from? Callie?” He glanced over and saw that she had closed her eyes again. He couldn’t tell if she was breathing.
“Christ. Okay, Callie. Remember when I said we’d be there in twenty minutes? We’re gonna be there in ten.” Praying that the mule deer would have the sense to stay out of the road tonight, he hit the sirens, and then flattened the gas pedal to the floor.
* * * *
Hazelton was a small town even by Montana standards. Things quieted down quick after dinner, and by midnight, it was rare to see people on the streets. The light over the front door of the doctor’s office gleamed like a beacon. Luckily, Dr. Murphy was already waiting for Jake outside, ready to help him bring in whatever patient he found on the dark highway. Jake brought the truck right up to the door, and Murphy had the passenger door open almost as soon as it stopped. Jake was out of the vehicle at the same moment.
“This the only victim of the crash?” Murphy asked.
Jake nodded as he unbuckled the seat belt and pulled the woman toward him. She felt warmer now, and he was grateful. “Not really a crash. I’ll explain later.”
Callie’s hair blazed a bright red in the light as the two men carried her inside, but Murphy’s attention was focused on the other red—the dark, rusty stain spreading over the makeshift bandage on the woman’s leg. In the light, it looked even nastier than it had when Jake first saw it, and he hoped it was not too late to help her.
“Who is she?” Murphy asked once they had gotten her onto the examining table in his office. She opened her eyes briefly, but didn’t speak.
“Her license says Calista Reed,” Jake responded. “I found her on the side of the road.”
“Huh,” Murphy grunted as he began to peer at the stiffened, sticky cloth. “What yahoo did this? It looks like a t-shirt held on with duct tape.” He grabbed a pair of scissors and sliced into the thick wadding as if it were paper. Gazing at the mess, he concluded, “Oh, that’s why. It is a t-shirt held on with duct tape. Poor girl.” The cloth was stuck to the wound, forcing Murphy to rip the last of it off. The woman made a small sound, but didn’t open her eyes again. He threw the bloody object away. “She must have had time to do this herself. I wonder how long ago it happened. It wasn’t a car accident, you said?”
“No, the car was in one piece. I think she pulled off to sleep.”
“Good thing. If she lost as much blood as I think she has, it’s amazing she could drive at all.” Then he frowned, bending down to examine the exposed injury. Despite the crusted blood and angry skin, the wound itself was quite small. The doctor began to clean it, carefully swabbing the area clean. What was slowly revealed made Jake’s eyes widen, even before Murphy reached the same conclusion. She hadn’t suffered a cut at all.
“She was shot,” Murphy announced unnecessarily. Jake merely nodded. Gunshot wounds were nothing new to him. He’d been in war zones, and had seen plenty before. But the few words she’d spoken before losing consciousness took on a whole new meaning. Are you after me? His gaze returned upwards to her face, unnaturally pale, but still striking.
“Could have been a hunting accident, I suppose,” Dr. Murphy put out doubtfully, “Not that she looks like she came from any kind of camp. And it’s not the season for it.”
“Her car had California plates,” Jake offered suddenly. “She was awake for a minute. She mentioned driving, but didn’t say where from.” His voice was flat and angry, his eyes still on the woman’s face.
“That so,” Murphy said quietly, still going over the wound. If he had an opinion about the girl or the wound, he gave no sign of it. “No exit wound. That means the bullet’s still in there. That’s probably what kept her alive, since it reduced the bleeding. I’m going to examine her for other injuries and stitch that up. Why don’t you have a seat in the waiting room? This might take a little while.”
Jake nodded and left the room. He was fuming. He couldn’t forget the fear in the woman’s eyes when she’d first seen him. As if he were dangerous. As if any man would be capable of hurting her. He didn’t know who the hell had frightened her so badly, but if it was the same man who had hurt her, Jake could think of several things to do to him that might go a long way to improving his treatment of women. The thought was a satisfying one, and it distracted Jake from the memory of the angry bullet hole in the girl’s thigh.
It must have been a half hour before Murphy opened the door to the waiting room, his coat ominously splashed with blood. But the smile on his face put Jake’s fear to rest.
“Got the bullet out. I imagine you’ll want it for evidence?”
“Yep. At least to keep until I know who needs it.” Jake stood up, stretching. “How is she?” He followed Murphy back to the examining room.
“Stable. I gave her a shot of Dilaudid before sewing her up, so she’ll be asleep for some time.” Murphy paused. “I’m sorry to say this, but she can’t stay here. I have to sleep before I come back for my next shift. And she should be supervised overnight at least, and ideally for the next couple of days. I don’t suppose she knows anyone here…”
“I think she was just passing through. But I’ll take her to my place.”
“That would be good of you.” Murphy exhaled, looking suddenly tired. “She doesn’t need a hospital right now, just rest.”
“I can watch her. Is there anything I should know?” Jake looked down at the girl again, reflecting on how little he did know.
“There’s a risk of infection, especially since she didn’t get professional care right away. Although the wound doesn’t show evidence of infection—yet. If her temperature goes up more than a degree, you call me. Or if she complains about tenderness around the wound, or if there’s any smell to the wound. You know the signs.” Murphy turned to a cabinet, unlocked it, and pulled out a plastic bottle. “Have her take these antibiotics twice a day, morning and night. And I’m going to give you four codeine pills, just in case. She may be in pain after waking.” Murphy grabbed another bottle and quickly found the pills he needed, dropping four into the prescription bottle. “Got all that?”
“Yes, sir.”
“I’m guessing she’ll be extremely weak for the next day or so. The injury, plus sleep deprivation…”
Plus panic, Jake added mentally. He knew from experience how exhausting fear could be.
“But she seems very healthy otherwise,” the doctor continued. “There’s no reason to think she won’t recover completely.”
“I hope so. Someone’s going to pay for what happened to her.” Jake said quietly. He bent over the examining table, slipping one arm under her shoulders and the other beneath her knees, carefully avoiding the bandage. “All right,” he said, lifting her up. “Doc, get the door, will you?” To the sleeping woman, he muttered, “you’re coming with me, honey.”
* * * *
Callie drifted on a cloud, gloriously happy and free of pain. She began humming to herself without thinking about it. From the rumbling beneath her, she realized she was in a car. But she wasn’t driving. How nice, not to have to drive and make all those annoying decisions. Where to turn off, how fast to go, where to run away and hide….
“I like not driving,” she said aloud.
“I like that you’re awake,” the driver responded easily.
Callie turned her head toward the voice. Her eyes widened a bit. The man at the wheel was easy on the eyes, all long lines and quiet manner.
“Are we friends?” she asked, smiling a little. What had she ever been worried about? The hazy cloud enveloped her, wrapping her in pure happiness and calm.
“Not yet,” he said, looking over at her. “But I am trying to help you.”
“I don’t need any help,” Callie giggled. “Everything is fine!” The car—truck, really—was warm, and he wore only a t-shirt over his jeans. She reached out to touch his bare arm, attracted to the lean muscle and bronzed skin. The hazy cloud affected her depth perception, though, so she missed, grabbing at thin air. He saw only a vague gesture.
“Hold tight, Callie. We’re almost there, and you can get some sleep.”
“Where are we going?”
“My place. The doctor says you need someone to watch over you.”
“I’m really fine,” Callie tried to explain. “You don’t have to be so nice.”
“I’m not being nice, Callie. It’s just my job.”
Callie frowned. “What’s your job?”
The man glanced over at her again, concerned. “Remember? I took you to the clinic. You were hurt. Do you remember talking to me earlier?”
He slowed and turned down a different road, this one bumpy and rough. Callie laughed and shook her head. “I never saw you. I’d remember you, because you’re so nice. No one is nice in real life.”
“Some people are,” he disagreed.
“No,” A fog darkened Callie’s vision. “They all want something. What’s your name?”
“Jake. We talked earlier.” He looked more and more worried, but Callie didn’t care. She looked at him again, and smiled at what she saw. He looked in control, capable. Jake caught her gaze.
“What is it?” he asked.
“Nothing,” she said, still smiling. She liked the planes of his face, though she wished he’d smile again. He had a much warmer smile than…who? She remembered being with someone else, someone who didn’t make her feel so warm.
They finally rolled to a stop, gravel crunching beneath the tires.
“We’re in the middle of nowhere,” Callie said, peering outside and seeing nothing. The night was black as pitch, especially to her unadjusted vision.
“Yep. That’s the way I like it.”
Callie felt a little stab of fear, even through the beautiful cloud of whatever had taken the pain away. Something jogged her memory. “You’re not going to kill me and hide my body in the middle of nowhere, are you? I’m so sick of that.”
The guy, Jake, froze in the act of opening his door. “What?”
“You could just be pretending to be sweet. People lie all the time.”
“I don’t,” he said flatly, staring at her with a new expression.
“You say. But that could be a lie.” Callie found the effort of using logic to be exhausting. She heard his door open and slam shut. She was utterly alone, with only the cloud to make her happy and calm. But the cloud wasn’t working as well now…Callie tried to remember how she got so calm. She had been very worried, not so long ago.
Her door opened. The guy stood there, just looking at her for a minute. Then he said, very slowly, “Callie, you’re safe here. I promise.”
She looked back at him through her hazy vision. She wanted to believe him. “Okay.”
He helped her out of the car, bearing most of her weight. Even so, Callie found standing very difficult, and he saw that walking would be impossible.
“I’m going to carry you, okay?” He picked her up with little effort. Callie giggled again.
“You pick up girls all the time?”
“Not hardly.” The thought made him smile a little.
“Well, you’re good at it.” She wrapped her arms around his neck, letting her head fall on his shoulder. He smelled warm, like coffee and spices.
“Thank you.” He got her inside the house, somehow. Callie began to slide into sleep, images of the house becoming fractured, dreamy. Her focus wavered. Dimly, she remembered a voice telling her that she was given something that would make her drowsy. That voice had sure been right.
She was carried into a room. She tried to listen when he asked her something. But she just didn’t know anything. She drifted.
“Callie?” A voice broke in, calling her back. She had no idea how much time had gone by since she was in the car with…who was he? The one who said she’d be safe. “Callie. Sorry, honey, I have to do this. Can you be awake for a minute?”
What was he asking her? Callie opened her eyes, and saw a man standing very close to her, holding her so she faced him. She was sitting on a ledge, or a counter, inches from him. He was gorgeous, and she loved his eyes, so sweet with unnecessary concern for her. She smiled, and leaned forward to kiss him.
Callie felt warmth like a summer’s day spreading through her when her lips touched his. She put her arms around his neck, trying to pull him closer. Dimly, she realized she wasn’t wearing her shirt any longer. Well, that was fine. He was so alive, and beautiful. She should really try to keep him. She opened her mouth when she felt him tighten his grip around her, his hands automatically pressing her lower back so that she rose toward him, hungry for a deeper kiss. She didn’t want it to end.
His tongue tasted her lower lip for a moment, tantalizingly light. His body was simultaneously tense and accepting under her hands, the muscles of his shoulders slowly relaxing, as if he’d been waiting for her. Callie sighed in contentment, so happy.
Then he abruptly broke off the kiss. He stepped away, his arms out full-length to hold her steady, hands still on her arms, but suddenly apart from her. Distant. Callie didn’t know what she’d done wrong.
The man stared at her, his face a mask, but his breathing unsteady. “You’re not…yourself. Go to sleep. I’ll put you to bed.”
“With you?” She smiled again.
“No.” The man reacted almost violently to her question. “Jesus…”
“But…” she protested softly.
“You’re not awake, honey,” he insisted, staying utterly apart from her, even as he held her steady. “For God’s sake, please go to sleep.”