Just A Little Bit Dangerous Part 6

"That's ridiculous."

Struggling to sit up, he glanced over at the floor where he'd slipped. A skimpy bar of soap glistened against the rough-hewn planks a few feet away. Jake looked from the soap back to Abby, felt his temper wind up. "Oh, that's real good, Blondie. No wonder the cops love you."

"Now wait just a moment, I didn't-"

"You just happened to leave the bar of soap on the floor, hoping you might get lucky."

"It slipped out of my hand. I-I was in a hurry to finish my bath and planned to pick it up when-"

"Or maybe you set the soap by the door and then took your s.h.i.+rt off hoping to distract me, so I'd break my neck."

"If I wanted to distract you, you'd know it."

Jake didn't want to go there, didn't want to think about just how hard it would be to resist this woman should she decide to test his willpower, so he let the comment pa.s.s.

She looked over at the soap and bit her lip. "I know it might seem like I did that on purpose, but I didn't."

"Well, maybe you just got lucky."

"Maybe you weren't watching where you were walking."

Gritting his teeth, Jake struggled to his feet. d.a.m.n, he was getting too old for this c.r.a.p. "You're a menace, lady, you know that?"

"So, I've been told." She sighed. "Look, I didn't mean for you to fall. And I wouldn't...I didn't..."

He cut her a hard look, decided it was best if he didn't know how she was going to end the sentence. "Never mind."

"Are you...okay?"

"Fine." His b.u.t.t hurt, but he wasn't going to tell her that.

Tossing his duster onto the table, he stalked to the hearth and stuck his hands over the fire to warm them. Behind him, he heard a noise that sounded suspiciously like a snicker. Turning, he glared at her over his shoulder. "What's so d.a.m.n funny?"

She tried to sober, but she wasn't doing a very good job of it. "Nothing."

"Yeah, that's why you're biting your cheeks to keep from laughing."

She pursed her lips, but Jake could tell she was losing the battle with her sense of humor. d.a.m.n it, she thought this was funny. "Go ahead. Laugh," he said peevishly.

The laugh that broke from her throat was a musical sound in the silence of the cabin, rising over the howl of the wind like the cry of a songbird lost in a storm. Jake should have been annoyed that she was laughing at him, but he wasn't. He was too enthralled by the sound of her voice to be annoyed.

"I'm sorry...but...but..." Laughter overtook her before she could finish the sentence.

"But what?"

She put her hand over her mouth, but she couldn't hold back the laughter. Her shoulders shook with it. Tears formed in her eyes. "You looked so...funny."

The situation wasn't funny. This woman, who couldn't weigh much more than a hundred pounds, had wrecked his radio, given him the mother of all s.h.i.+ners, then knocked him flat on his back. Him. Jake Madigan. Ex-Marine Corps officer. Chaffee County sheriff's deputy. Lawman of the Year two years running.

It should have rankled, but it didn't.

It was too d.a.m.n funny to rankle.

A reluctant smile tugged at his mouth. He looked over at her. She was doubled over with laughter, and he felt a reluctant chuckle emerge. He told himself it was the stress of the situation-a combination of keeping close quarters with a way-too-attractive convict and being without radio communication during a dangerous storm-that had him wanting to laugh. But the image he must have made when he'd hit the deck was too much. A full-fledged belly laugh broke free.

"I don't see what's so funny about any of this," she said.

"Me neither," he said between chortles. "It's not a bit funny."

She pressed her hand to her stomach. "You could have been seriously hurt."

"I was."

"You should have seen your face."

"You should have seen yours."

She doubled over again, her hair tumbling wildly down.

Jake watched her, and felt something s.h.i.+ft in his chest. He'd known plenty of women in his time, but he couldn't remember a single woman ever making him laugh like this. Laughter was the one thing he'd never shared with a woman. It felt good, he realized. Laughing with her felt...real. Made him feel human. Connected.

Their laughter echoed in the cabin. He watched her covertly. The fire shot blond sparks through her hair. Tons of hair that was wild and flowed like corkscrews around her shoulders. It was a crazy thought, but suddenly Jake wanted to reach out and touch her hair, just to see if it was as soft as it looked. He wanted to run his fingers through those wild curls, bring them to his face to see if they smelled like her.

His gaze swept over her. The state-issue jumpsuit was buck ugly. The material was dirt-smudged and unflattering. But Jake instinctively knew the body beneath would be breathtaking. Even through the thick canvas material he discerned curves and softness and a woman's secret places. Secret places he wanted her to share with him.

The image of her bare back flashed in his mind's eye. He'd seen wet flesh. Feminine lines and soft curves. Fragrant skin lit by firelight and dimpled with gooseflesh. Jake's body tightened with unexpected force. Heat surged low in his groin. The power of his response stunned him, left him incredulous and more than a little disturbed.

What the h.e.l.l was he thinking? He was a cop, for G.o.d's sake. This woman was his prisoner.

The realization of what he'd allowed to happen hit him like a slap. The laugh in his throat turned cold and sour. The weight of his responsibility, not only to the law, but to himself-to his own personal code of honor-sobered him as effectively as a gla.s.s of ice water thrown in his face.

He stopped laughing.

As if realizing what had happened, Abby straightened, used the back of her hand to shove a curly lock of hair off her forehead. Her gaze met his, her smile withering. Jake felt the pull of her gaze, and took a cautious step back.

The moment ended as abruptly as it had started. Breathing a sigh of relief, he cleared his throat. "We've got a long night ahead of us. We'd best get some rest."

Chapter 5.

Abby snuggled into the sleeping bag and listened to the wind claw at the cabin. The floor was hard and cold beneath her and shuddered with each gust. Despite the fire raging in the stone hearth just a few feet away, she was cold to her bones.

She lay on her side, staring into the flames, thinking about fate and wis.h.i.+ng things could have turned out differently. She couldn't count the number of times she'd felt this way, locked away in her cell, lying on her cot, alone and forgotten. The entire time she'd been in prison anger and frustration and a terrible sense of helplessness had tormented her like a painful disease. She'd been demoralized and humiliated by a system that was far from perfect-and downright cruel to those sorry few who were still human enough to feel the fangs of injustice.

A year and a half ago, she never would have dreamed her life would take such a terrible turn. Or that Fate could be so vicious. Sometimes she still couldn't believe it. Couldn't believe she was a convicted killer on the run from the law. If the situation hadn't been so dire, she might have laughed at the absurdity.

The man determined to return her to the hands of justice sat on the floor a few feet away, brooding into the fire, a steaming cup in his hands. Abby wondered what he was thinking about. Wondered if it had anything to do with that crazy moment when they'd both been laughing like a couple of kids. She told herself it was exhaustion and fear that had had her emotions ebbing and flowing like a crazy tide. But in that instant when the laughter had poured out and she had heard Jake's answering laugh in her ears, she'd felt human again. She'd felt alive, as if she hadn't a care in the world. And she hadn't felt so terribly alone.

As she stared into the fire the weight of the world pressed down on her with the force of a car crusher.

"You want some coffee?"

She started at the sound of Jake's voice and risked a look at him. "I'm fine. Thanks."

Rising, he walked over to his saddlebag. "You're s.h.i.+vering. Something hot will help."

She hadn't even realized she was s.h.i.+vering. Physical discomfort in the face of the monumental disaster her life had become just didn't seem very important in the scope of things. Her only hope of clearing her name was quickly vanis.h.i.+ng with every hour that pa.s.sed.

Jake removed a cup from the saddlebag and tapped a small amount of instant coffee into it. At the fire, he filled the cup with steaming water, then handed it to her. "It's instant, but it'll keep you warm."

"Thanks." The warm cup felt heavenly against her hands.

He didn't walk away, but stood there looking down at her. "We need to get some sleep. If the storm lets up, we've got some hard riding to do tomorrow."

Her heart sank when she saw him reach for the cuffs attached to his belt. "Oh, I get it. You need to sleep. Can't do it when you have to worry about me slipping out the door and riding into the sunset, huh, partner?"

"Give me your wrist."

She rolled her eyes. "You don't think I'm stupid enough to run out into this storm, do you?"

"I don't think you want me to answer that."

"Give me a break, Cowboy, will you? I've had a tough day, and I'm not up to doing anything crazy, all right?" She tried to a.s.sume an annoyed countenance, but it wasn't working. In reality she had been thinking about trying to slink away during the night. If he cuffed her, she could forget it. And she'd rather face the elements anyday than a knife in the shower room back at Buena Vista.

"I'm not going to run away," she said, stalling.

His jaw flexed. "Your wrist. Now."

Shaking her head in disgust, Abby set the coffee on the floor next to her and proffered her right wrist. His hands were warm and encompa.s.sed hers completely when he took it. Without speaking, he closed the cuff around her wrist, then snapped the other end around the lowest rung of a straight-backed chair.

"I'm sorry if that's going to be uncomfortable for you, but it's for both our safety," he said.

"I appreciate you thinking of my safety," she said sarcastically. "How selfless of you."

He went back to his sleeping bag and sat.

Abby sat up and tested the cuff. It was secure, d.a.m.n it. Her arm was going to fall asleep. Her hand was going to be very cold by morning. It was going to be a very long and uncomfortable night.

"You going to tell me how you ended up in prison?"

She slanted him a look, trying to gauge his sincerity. "You mean, how did a nice girl like me end up in Buena Vista serving a life sentence for second degree murder?" Abby had stopped trying to keep the bitterness out of her voice a long time ago. She'd never given up hope that the truth would prevail, that she would clear her name. But the more months that pa.s.sed, the more impossible the task seemed. "It's a long story, Cowboy. You wouldn't be interested."

"I wouldn't be asking if I wasn't interested."

It had been a while since Abby had talked to anyone about what had happened. Her lawyer had abandoned her shortly after the trial. She hadn't had the money for another one and most of the public defenders a.s.signed to her put little energy into the appeal phase. They'd asked her all the topical questions, made all the expected legal maneuverings. But Abby had known by the looks in their eyes that they hadn't cared that her life was on the line, or that she was slowly dying with each and every day she had to spend locked up like an animal. The sense of hopelessness had been almost too much to bear some days. She didn't want to reawaken those feelings now by talking to Jake. Not when they were already pressing in on her with the same force as the storm outside.

"Do you mind if I ask why you want to know?" she asked.

"I've seen a lot of murderers in my time." He shrugged. "You don't fit the profile."

The comment shouldn't have meant anything to her. But it brought hot, stinging tears to her eyes nonetheless. Abby couldn't remember the last time someone had said something nice to her. Or truly meant it.

"Don't say things unless you mean them," she whispered.

"I don't ever say anything I don't mean."

She gazed into the fire, taking a moment to compose herself, and the memories swept over her. Before her arrest, she'd been young and carefree and full of hope for a future that was bright and promising. She wondered if she would ever feel that way again.

"I was a nurse at Mercy General in Denver," she began. "I worked in the emergency room. Third s.h.i.+ft."

"What happened?"

"A year and a half ago, a patient...died during my s.h.i.+ft. A patient I was responsible for."

He contemplated her with those smoke-gray eyes, his face grim. "How did he die?"

"It never made sense to me. I mean, he was brought in for st.i.tches. He'd fallen and received a nasty cut." She paused, remembering, and took a deep, fortifying breath. "The next thing I knew he was in a coma. I didn't find out until later that he'd been injected with a fatal dose of Valium."

"You gave him the-"

"No." She looked down at her hands. "I didn't. I gave him a teta.n.u.s injection. That's standard procedure with a serious cut or puncture wound."

"But the police believe you did it?"

She nodded.

"Could you have made a mistake?"

"There's no way I could have gotten the two confused. The Valium and teta.n.u.s are stored in different areas of the supply pharmacy."

"If that's the case, why were you arrested and convicted?"

She paused, knowing how it sounded, frustrated that she didn't have any solid proof to back her up. "Someone falsified the chart to make it look like I gave him that injection."

"Why would they do that?"

The logical side of her brain knew she was wasting her breath. This cynical lawman wasn't going to believe her. Her theory was wild at best-downright crazy if she wanted to be truthful about it. The information she'd pieced together from the prison library was just as far-fetched. No one would ever believe her. Some days, she didn't believe it herself.

"Someone framed me," she said after a moment.

"Why?"