So what the hell was he thinking letting those big violet eyes of hers get to him like that?
The woman was a menace. Not only to society, but to his own rock-solid discipline. She was serving a life sentence for murder, for God’s sake. If that little side note wasn’t enough to persuade his libido to take an extended vacation, the corrections official’s briefing that morning should have been, especially the part about Abigail Nichols’s history of mental instability. Jake had seen firsthand that she was self-destructive; he’d watched her toss his radio into the stream, putting them out of communication with RMSAR headquarters and the Chaffee County Sheriff’s Office dispatch. Such an act was not only foolhardy, but dangerous.
Now, on top of those man-killing eyes of hers and feminine charms he had no right to be thinking about, he also had the blasted weather to contend with.
Damn crazy woman.
The snow was coming down sideways now. Not only was Jake wet and freezing from the waist down, but he was starting to get worried. The weather had deteriorated at an alarming rate. Visibility had dwindled to less than a quarter mile. They wouldn’t be able to travel much longer. The snow was already a foot deep and getting deeper by the minute. The wind had kicked up to a brutal speed and howled through the trees like a keening ghost. The drifts forming now would be large enough to swallow a man in a few hours. As much as he didn’t want to admit it, they were going to have to find shelter and camp for the night.
Jake definitely wasn’t going to be home in time to watch the hockey game.
Cursing the weather—and his crafty prisoner—he huddled deeper into his duster and brooded.
“Hey, Cowboy, I’m not sure if you’ve noticed yet, but it’s snowing like the dickens.”
Turning in his saddle, he looked at her, felt a quiver of an emotion he refused to name kick through him at the sight of her. Her cheeks and nose were pink from the cold. That wild mass of blond curls was damp and blowing in her face and glittered with a frosting of snow.
“Put your hood up,” he said.
Raising her cuffed hands, she tugged the hood over her head. “My hands are cold.”
“I was wondering when you were going to get around to complaining,” he rumbled, hoping to keep her mind off the cold. Even from four feet away he could see that she was shivering. Her hands were bright red. Serves her right, he thought. But deep down inside, he didn’t like seeing her shake with cold. Damn it, he didn’t like the way things were shaping up at all.
“I’m not complaining,” she said. “Just pointing out a fact.”
“You wouldn’t know a fact if you stepped on one and it stuck to the bottom of your shoe.” He stopped his horse. Rebel Yell took a couple more steps, then pulled up next to Brandywine. Jake frowned at the woman. “And if you hadn’t done away with the radio, we would be warm and dry by now.”
“Correction. You would be warm and dry. I’d be sitting in a cold jail cell, contemplating spending the rest of my life behind bars for a crime I didn’t commit. That’s not my idea of a good time.”
Jake wanted to believe it was that body of hers that had his hormones chomping at the bit for the chance to sell him out. But the truth of the matter was he’d seen something honest and true in the depths of her gaze. Something that belied her cavalier attitude and smart mouth and let him see the uneasy vulnerability beneath.
He knew better than to expect honesty from a woman like Abby Nichols; Jake hadn’t been born yesterday. This woman was about as innocent as Lucifer. He knew firsthand how easily lies and deceit came to some people. Still, it didn’t make it any easier to look into her eyes and wonder how she’d made such a mess of her life.
Taking off his gloves, he pulled his horse up next to her mule. “Give me your hands,” he said.
She looked at him warily, but held out her hands.
Without looking at her, Jake worked her hands into his gloves. “This will keep you from getting frostbite.”
“What about you?” Her gaze met his.
Jake stared back a moment too long before clucking to his horse and moving ahead of her.
“Where are we going anyway?” she asked after a moment.
“There’s a hunting cabin a couple of miles from here. If it’s still standing, we’ll stop for the night.”
“That sounds promising.”
“It’ll keep us dry, keep the wind off us. If we’re lucky the weather will clear by morning.”
“Yeah, I was looking forward to getting back to my nice, cozy cell. Tomorrow’s my lucky day, huh?”
He shot her a sour look over his shoulder.
“The warden and I are tight, you know.” She crossed her index and middle finger. “Like this.”
Jake didn’t want to get in to the dynamics of her plight. He wasn’t buying her claim of innocence. Not even close. He’d heard too many lies over the years not to recognize a con when he heard one. He’d heard so many lies—from inmates and criminals and suspects—he could spot one in a dark room with his eyes closed. He’d heard lies from people he’d thought were decent. People he’d trusted. Worse, he’d been lied to by a woman he’d trusted with his heart.
That had cost him something he hadn’t been able to get back. Something that made him a little less human. Elaine’s lies had sucked the trust from his soul. The worst part about it was that Jake wasn’t even sure he wanted it back.
Chapter 3
Jake couldn’t help but worry that he’d overlooked the cabin. That he’d passed right by it and hadn’t seen it because of the poor visibility. Or because he was cold to his bones and shivering uncontrollably. He couldn’t help but think he was leading this woman directly to nowhere—or to a slow and excruciating death.
He couldn’t get the thoughts out of his head as they rode into the driving snow. They’d been traveling at an agonizingly slow speed for two hours. He was wet and tired and growing increasingly uneasy about the situation. He could only imagine how his prisoner must be feeling. She wasn’t dressed for heavy weather. She hadn’t eaten or rested. Her hands were cuffed, to boot. Yet she hadn’t complained. Either she was one tough cookie—or more stubborn than anyone he’d ever met.
If his memory served him, they should have passed the old hunting cabin an hour ago. His compass told him they were headed in the right direction. If so, then where the hell was it? Alarm quivered in the pit of his stomach. He wasn’t one to panic—he’d been in worse predicaments in these mountains and survived. Only this time he wasn’t alone. His unwilling traveling companion might be an escaped convict, but her safety was his responsibility. Jake took that responsibility to heart. With weather conditions worsening by the minute—and nightfall closing in fast—he knew it had become imperative for them to find shelter very soon or else find themselves facing a life-or-death situation.
Wind stung his eyes as Brandywine took him through snow deep enough to scrape the underside of her belly, deeper where the wind had whipped it into drifts. His face was wet and ached with cold. His hands were beyond numb.
“You okay?” he shouted over the roar of wind.
“You mean aside from the fact that I’m wet and cold and hungry beyond belief and my life is wrecked? Hey, Cowboy, I’m just peachy over here. Don’t worry about me. I mean, who needs their fingers and toes when they’re going to be spending the rest of their life in prison?”
Even though she was less than three feet away, he could barely make out her silhouette through the driving snow. “We’ll be there in a few minutes. Hang tight,