His voice grated across her skin. She edged a hand into her jacket pocket, praying that her car keys were still there. Fought back the shivers racing through her as she judged her surroundings. “You’ve got the wrong person. Honest. I—”
“You’ve caused enough trouble already,” the man snarled, giving her shoulder a sharp jerk.
She surreptitiously unzipped her jacket a millimeter at a time, offered a fast, silent prayer, then she slashed at his fingers with the jagged edge of her car key and let her knees buckle.
“Hey!” He clawed at her loosened jacket, his grasp broken. She spun around. Rammed her elbow into his side. He swore, flailing his arms as he stumbled sideways and fell, but he was at her heels in a split second, grabbing for her collar.
She struggled. Slipped free of the jacket. Then she raced back toward the way they’d come, screaming Jake’s name, skidding on the smooth cement as she rounded the corner, her heart thundering and her lungs raw.
Somewhere ahead, she heard Maisie break into furious barking, the sounds coming closer. The dog burst into view around the corner and Emma dared a glance back.
In the next heartbeat she slammed into a solid wall of muscle. Powerful arms surrounded her. Maisie anxiously danced at her feet, whining and jumping up against her.
Emma screamed, fought to escape.
“Emma.” Her captor loosened his grasp. “Emma, it’s me. Listen to me.”
It was Jake. Relief flooded through her, followed by another wave of fear. She threw another wild glance over her shoulder and saw only an empty aisle behind her. “Th-there’s a man. He’s back there. He—he grabbed me.”
Jake held her at arm’s length and studied her face for a second, then looked over her shoulder. “Quiet.”
They both stood still, listening. All she could hear was the uneasy rustlings of the horses she’d just passed.
“He was back there,” she said urgently. “He was. He tried to make me go with him.”
“I believe you.” Jake frowned. “Where’s your jacket? You must be cold.”
“He was grabbing for me. It—it fell off back there.”
Jake reached for a cell phone clipped to his belt. “I’ll call the cops.”
That wasn’t a good idea, and now another kind of fear sped through her.
Too many questions, a deputy’s request to see her ID, and in an instant, her chance to slip into anonymity somewhere in Montana would go up in smoke. Being in police custody back in Chicago wouldn’t guarantee her safety. If the powerful Rodriguez family learned she was there, money could exchange hands and she’d be a defenseless, easy target.
Alarmed, she shook her head. “No—really. Let’s just leave. The sound of patrol cars coming would make that guy disappear into the night anyway. I’m not injured. There’s no proof of anything.”
“I’m taking you out to the truck. Stay in there with Maisie and lock the doors while I take a look around. Do you have a cell phone?”
This option was even worse.
“Don’t go back there. It’s not worth the risk. Please—let’s just go.”
“Don’t worry about it. Now, do you have a cell phone?” His voice was gentle, but laced with steel, and she knew there’d be no point in arguing.
She nodded once, hoping the prepaid, anonymous cell phone she’d bought at a drugstore still held a charge.
“Come on.” He took her hand and headed for the front door. At an electrical panel just inside the entrance, he studied the switches, then flooded the entire interior of the building in blazing lights. Horses whinnied. One of them kicked the side of its stall.
If her attacker had decided to flee the bright light in the building at this moment, any sound had been lost in the racket.
Jake settled her in the truck, with Maisie in the backseat, then he reached across her lap to put a key in the ignition and start the engine. “Stay warm. If you see anything, call 9-1-1, then start honking and keep at it. Nonstop. Don’t hesitate, understand?”
“Please, you’re not armed—what if something happens?”
A wry smile briefly touched his lips as he retrieved a gun from the glove box. “Then your friend will soon have second thoughts.”
She blinked. “But he could be hiding in the building, and he could get you before you even knew where he was. At least take your dog with you.”
“I want her here.” Jake rested a hand on her arm. “Now look at me.”
His voice was low, warm, compelling. She slowly lifted her gaze to meet his.
“I was a deputy for ten years. I’m not a careless man. But I’ve found it’s sometimes better to seek out a rattler instead of leaving it be. Understand?”
She nodded, too numb to answer.
“But don’t go calling 9-1-1 just because I’m not back right away. If I don’t show up in thirty minutes, drive to the nearest well-lit gas station and make your call then. Not before.”
He hit the lock button on the inside of her door and slammed it shut. And then he disappeared into the night.
FOUR
She’d wrapped herself in the blanket as soon as she got into Jake’s pickup, but she couldn’t stop shivering as the minutes ticked by.
Five.
Ten.
Fifteen.
Each interminable minute seemed like an hour, with her guilt and fear over Jake’s safety holding her heart in an icy grip. God, please watch over him. He seems like a nice guy. He doesn’t deserve to get hurt. Not over this. Not because of me.
She gripped her cell phone and peered out into the darkness. She already knew that her attacker was far stronger than she was. For all she knew, he was armed and dangerous, and if cornered might not hesitate to shoot. Getting out of the truck and going after Jake herself fell into the too-stupid-to-live category.
But even if Jake had made it clear that she shouldn’t call 9-1-1 for at least thirty minutes, who knew it would seem like this long? He could be lying on the cold cement floor in that barn, bludgeoned from behind or shot. No matter what happened to her if the police became involved in this, she couldn’t let another moment pass.
She started pressing the buttons. 9…1…
“Emma! It’s me.”
Startled, she look up and quickly scanned the darkness.
“Over here.” Jake stepped out of the gloom at the corner of the building. “And I’ve got someone with me.”
Wary now, she twisted in the seat and tried to make out the features of the person limping beside him. The two of them made their way slowly to the side of the truck.
She hesitated, her finger poised over the window button on the inner door.
“I found your ‘attacker,’” Jake said quietly. “But Tom is a little worse for wear. And if you don’t want the police involved, I think you’d better talk to him.”
She blinked. Then lowered the window halfway.
The man next to Jake was a good five inches shorter and fifty pounds heavier, wearing a well-worn denim jacket and a heavy growth of salt-and-pepper beard. He glared at her as he rubbed his left shoulder with a bloodied hand.
“This—this is the man who grabbed me?”