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“I’m
fine,” Clarissa protested, the brisk tone of his voice telling her he didn’t
want to do this, no matter what had gone on before.

Langston
ignored her, settling back down and pulling her into him, moving an arm under
her shoulders to cushion her head while the other wrapped around her waist.

Oooh,
this was nice.

Langston
was toasty warm, and Clarissa couldn’t help but relax her body against his,
absorbing the welcome heat. She wasn’t quite sure what to do with her arms,
though, as their current position squished against his chest wasn’t all that comfortable.
Squirming, she tentatively freed an arm, resting it on top of his. The bicep
under her palm tensed, his fingers digging into her waist. But he didn’t
protest, so Clarissa left it there and he gradually relaxed.

This
close, she could smell the spicy scent of his skin, feel the hard press of his
muscles surrounding her. The sick feeling in the pit of her stomach began to
fade, and with a start, Clarissa realized it was because of Langston. Despite
his antipathy for her, he had kept her safe, killing the wolf who would’ve
ripped her throat out. He’d helped her with the claustrophobia, and now he was
doing what he could to keep her warm.

Despite
what the logical part of her brain was screaming at her, Clarissa knew in her
gut that she could trust Agent Langston. He wasn’t going to let anything hurt
her, of that she was certain.

As
for the prison thing, well, maybe he’d come to see things her way, given enough
time. She should be grateful for the storm. The more time she had, the more
opportunity to convince him she was telling the truth and that he shouldn’t
turn her over to the FBI.

Langston
was a good, decent man. He’d do the right thing once he realized she had no
memory. He just had to. Clarissa had to believe that. She had nothing and no
one else.

The
thought made her scoot even closer to Langston. She didn’t feel so scared and
alone with his arms around her. Clarissa released a pent-up sigh, nestling her
head against his chest. His arms tightened around her, and she smiled.

Erik
felt her sigh, her body pliant and soft against his. What the hell was he
doing? His conscience was yelling at him, but he hadn’t been able to resist
holding her, not when she’d been wracked with uncontrollable shivering. He was
just helping her get warm.

Yeah,
right, that’s all this is, his conscience mocked.

Choosing
not to think about it, or anything else for that matter, Erik closed his eyes,
concentrating on the feel of her in his arms. She was trusting, something he
hadn’t expected of Clarissa O’Connell, and it unnerved him. And that wasn’t all.

He
liked her. Yes, he was attracted to her, that was a given. But he also
genuinely liked her. She had a smart mouth and a comeback for everything, which
kept him on his toes. There wasn’t a dumb bone in her body. Her very soft, very
curvy body, which he only held back from exploring by sheer force of will. That,
and the fact that he didn’t want to abuse the trust she’d placed in him. He’d
used her being cold to touch her inappropriately earlier. Erik wasn’t about to
use the same excuse to cop a feel now.

Against
all logic, O’Connell brought out his protective instincts. Not that she would
probably thank him if she knew. He was curious about her and wished she’d drop
the amnesia thing and be honest with him. Why would she choose this life? How
had it happened?

And
if she could tell him these things while they were both naked and he lay
between her soft thighs, that would be appreciated.

Langston’s
jaw clenched, the image making him choke back a groan. Why? Why did the one
woman who intrigued him have to be a criminal? Where was the justice in that? It
wasn’t fair, but that wasn’t a surprise either. Since when was life fair?

He
should just knock it off and quit trying to play the romantic hero bent on
saving the self-destructive damsel in distress. They’d get out of here and he’d
head to the nearest field office. He’d turn her in and they’d take her away in
handcuffs to meet her fate.

That
thought kept Erik awake long into the night.

When
he opened his eyes, weak light filtered in through the opaque windows, a layer
of snow once again blocking the view outside. The storm had finally passed. Morning
had come.

At
some point during the night, he’d become even more entangled with Clarissa. She
now lay half on top of him, straddling his thigh while her head lay cushioned
on his chest. Her arm was carelessly slung across his stomach, her hair
tickling his chin. Erik could feel the press of her breasts against his chest
as she breathed. She made a slight sound, and he smiled a little. She snored. It
was kind of cute, the little noise she made.

A
sound outside alerted him, wiping the smile from his face, and Erik knew that
was why he’d woken.

Someone
was out there.

“W
ait,
Danny! Wait for me!”

The
little girl with an unruly head of fiery hair ran down the street after the
teenage boy. The teenager paused in his rambling, turning to wait as bidden. He
bent down to take her hand as she drew near.

“Keep
up, Rissa,” he chastised her. A thick Irish brogue colored his words.

Clarissa
beamed up at him, her gap-toothed grin one of adoration for her big brother.

“Where
we goin’?” she asked.

“Into
town, o’ course,” Danny replied, resuming his path down the cobbled street. Though
evening was nearly upon them, the air chill and wet, people still bustled
about, hurrying to get one last errand done, drink one last pint, before
heading home.

Clarissa
didn’t care where they were going, just so it was away from home. Dad and
Mary’s constant fighting echoed through the house, up into her small room with
the purple walls. She’d been sitting on her bed absently playing with her dolls
and trying to ignore the yelling when she’d heard the floor creak outside her
door.

Jumping
down and hurrying to the door, she’d opened it to see Danny heading for the
back stairs.

“Can
I come too?” she’d asked, causing him to stop on the top stair and glance back
at her. A crash resounded downstairs, and Clarissa winced, knowing that dishes
had started flying. She looked plaintively at her brother.

After
a moment, he nodded. “Getchyer coat.”

Clarissa
hurried to pull on her boots and grabbed her coat, tugging it on as she walked
behind Danny down the stairs and slipped out the back door.

They
lived on the outskirts of the village, so it was a bit of a hike, but Clarissa
didn’t mind. It was peaceful and quiet out here, unlike at home. She’d paused
to try and coax a stray cat close for a pat and fallen behind Danny. Now that
they were in the village proper, she caught back up.

His
hand was big compared to hers, as was he. Almost ten years older than she,
Danny had taken care of Clarissa for as long as she could remember. She
couldn’t remember her mother, who had died when she was a baby. Her Dad had
brought several women home to stay since then. Mary had been there longer than
the others.

By
now they’d reached the sweets shop. Clarissa didn’t have to say anything; she
just looked up at Danny, who grimaced.

“How
can I say no to that look, Rissa?” he grumbled good-naturedly. He didn’t resist
Clarissa’s tug on his hand to go inside. A few minutes later, they were back on
the sidewalk, a lollipop stick protruding from between her lips.

They
meandered a while longer, peering into windows and whiling away the time. They
stepped inside another shop, browsing the aisles. Clarissa watched as Danny
picked up a pack of fags, looked around, then slid them into the pocket of her
coat.

“What
are ya doin’, Danny?” she asked. She’d never seen him smoke before.

“Hush,
Rissa,” he said firmly, taking her hand.

“But
I don’t want these,” she protested again, pulling the pack out of her pocket.

“Leave
them,” Danny ordered, pushing the packet back inside.

“But—”

“I
said, leave them!”

“What’s
goin’ on here?”

Clarissa
jerked around at the voice, having to tip her head back to see the shopkeeper
looming over her. He was older, his wiry mustache gray, and was frowning as he
looked at them.

“You
best not be thinking of shoplifting, boyo,” he warned Danny.

“I
didn’t take nothin’,” Danny protested. “Search me if you don’t believe me.”

The
shopkeeper eyed him suspiciously. “Better get goin’ then, ’less you be buyin’,”
he said.

Danny
just grabbed Clarissa’s hand and pulled her outside with him.

Clarissa
didn’t say a word. She knew it wasn’t right to steal and didn’t understand why
Danny had done what he did. The fags seemed to burn a hole in her pocket, but
she didn’t dare say anything.

Her
short legs struggled to keep up with Danny’s long strides, and he didn’t speak
to her until they’d gone the length of several blocks.

Finally,
they stopped. The sidewalk was empty around them, night having settled in and
with it, a thick fog.

“Good
job, Rissa,” Danny praised her, sinking down in a crouch. He took the packet
from her pocket. “You did real good.”

Danny
tore open the cellophane and pulled out a fag. Putting it between his lips, he
lit it and took a long drag. The heavy fog made his cap wet; the tufts of brown
hair sticking out were also damp. He eyed Clarissa as he blew out a stream of
smoke.

“We
make a pretty good team, you and me,” he said. “Would you like that?”

Clarissa
hesitated. She didn’t like the idea of stealing and wasn’t sure what Danny was
asking. Did he mean he wanted her to do that again? If she said yes, did that
mean she’d get to be with him more?

Tentatively,
Clarissa nodded.

Danny’s
lips split in a wide smile, and he took another drag. “Tha’s good, Rissa,” he
said. “No one suspects the cute li’l ginger girl.”

Clarissa
frowned at him. “Danny, you said you wouldn’t call me that anymore,” she
pouted. He knew how much she detested her red hair.

“Sorry,”
Danny said easily, standing back up. “I forget.”

He
pushed his hands into his pockets, and Clarissa did the same as they walked
back to their house.

When
they arrived, it was to see Mary throwing a suitcase into the backseat of her
car. She was muttering to herself, her movements sharp and jerky. When she
caught sight of them, she froze. Clarissa saw a bruise on Mary’s cheek and a
cut on her lip.

“Danny,
Clarissa,” she began, “I’m just…going to a friend’s for the weekend.”

Clarissa
didn’t say anything. She knew Mary was lying.

“Yeah,”
Danny said, his voice flat. “See ya, Mary.”

Mary
winced, then seemed to brace herself before coming toward them. She went to hug
Danny, but he stepped back, thrusting his hand out instead. She stopped and
awkwardly shook it before turning to Clarissa.

Crouching
down, she reached out, and Clarissa couldn’t stop the compulsion to step into
her open arms. Mary was nice. She read stories to Clarissa, baked her cookies
when it was cold outside, and braided her unruly hair into a soft plait that
hung down her back. She’d been here for three Christmases. Clarissa hadn’t
dared to hope Mary might stay forever, but it seemed her insides hadn’t gotten
that message. Her stomach clenched in knots as Mary held her.

“I
wish I could take you with me,” Mary whispered in her ear.

Clarissa
wished that, too.

When
Mary pulled back, her eyes were red and wet. “I love you, Clarissa, don’t ever
forget that,” she said fiercely. An expression of anguish crossed her face
before she abruptly stood. In a few moments, she’d started the car and was
driving away.

It
was then Clarissa noticed how wet her own cheeks were.

“C’mon,
Rissa,” Danny said gruffly, tugging on her hand. “Let’s go in.”

That
night as Clarissa went to bed without a bedtime story, she stared at the
ceiling. She had slipped Mary’s pillow from Dad’s bed — he wouldn’t notice as
drunk as he was — and now she hugged it to her chest. It still smelled of
Mary’s perfume.

She
hated it, the hurt inside that tore her up. What was wrong with her? Why had
Mary left her? She said she loved Clarissa, yet she’d driven away without her. Would
Danny leave her too someday? Tears streamed unnoticed down her cheeks to dampen
the pillow underneath her head.

In
the quiet silence of her darkened bedroom, Clarissa vowed she’d never let that
happen. She’d do whatever she needed to do, be whatever he needed her to be, so
he would never want to leave her.

And
she would never again trust anyone who said they loved her.

“Mary…”

She
wasn’t aware she’d uttered the name aloud until a hand clamped down over her
mouth.

Clarissa’s
eyes flew open. Langston’s face was inches from hers. She realized with a touch
of embarrassment that she was lying on top of him. She tried to pull away, but
his arm tightened around her waist, locking her in place.

“Be
still,” Langston hissed. “Someone’s here.”

Clarissa’s
eyes widened and her heart beat triple time. What if it was more of Solomon’s
men?

“Anybody
in there?” The voice came from outside.

In
one quick movement, Langston rolled, pinning Clarissa underneath him. His hand was
still pressed tightly against her mouth, and Clarissa could taste the slight
tang of his skin.

“Don’t
move. Don’t make a sound,” he ordered, finally releasing her. He reached for
his gun.

“What
about you — ” she began, only to clamp her mouth shut at the look he shot her.

Without
a word, Langston grabbed the sleeping bags and folded them over her, enveloping
her in darkness and completely concealing her from view.

She
heard the car door open, and Langston call out.

“Hey,
yeah, I’m here.”

Then
the door shut and she could only make out muffled words as he spoke to whoever
was outside.

Clarissa
chafed with impatience and dread. What if they hurt Langston? Killed him?

She
waited, sweating under the blankets and feeling as though she were slowly
suffocating. Okay, she’d count to ten, and if he wasn’t back, she’d find some
kind of weapon and go after him. One…two…three…

“Oh,
screw it,” she huffed, unable to take another moment with the walls closing in
around her. She threw off the sleeping bags just as the door jerked open. Clarissa
instinctively jerked back, then let out a breath of relief when Langston
appeared.

“You
listen well,” he said dryly.

“And
this is a surprise?” Clarissa replied breezily, concealing her relief that he
was unharmed. “So who’s the guy?”

“Nobody
we have to worry about, but he’s offered to lead us out of here.”

“That’s
great!” Clarissa forced a smile even as her heart sank. She’d hoped to have
more time to convince Langston she was telling the truth, but now it seemed her
time was running out fast.

Langston
caught her gaze and paused, looking like he was going to say something. Clarissa
waited, hoping, but he seemed to think better of it, turning away and rummaging
for a scraper.

Clarissa
put on her shoes and coat before emerging from the SUV. Langston had started
the engine to warm it up while he pushed snow off the glass.

“I’ll
just be back in a few,” Clarissa told him.

“Wait,”
he said, making her pause.

Oh
lord, please don’t say he’s coming with me, she thought. Even after the wolves
last night, she’d still rather take her chances on her own for this particular
chore.

Langston
dug around the back of the SUV before emerging.

“Always
be prepared,” he said, handing her another roll of toilet paper. His mouth
tipped up slightly in a faint smile.

Clarissa
laughed outright, her breath a puff of white in the frosty air. “Langston,
you’re my favorite Boy Scout ever,” she said, grinning at him.

Erik
was struck speechless for a moment, which was not a frequent occurrence. O’Connell’s
smile transformed the angular lines of her face, her eyes twinkling with mischief.
Her laugh was warm, inviting him to share the joke. She was simultaneously
someone he’d love to have a beer with and a woman he’d strip naked at the
slightest invitation. The dichotomy was as perplexing as it was intoxicating.

Erik
watched her disappear among the trees, waited impatiently for her to return,
and didn’t relax until she had. By then, the SUV was dug out and ready to go,
thanks to some help from the off-duty forest ranger that had happened upon
them.

Erik
hadn’t told the man that he was FBI, hadn’t explained that he was transporting
a prisoner. He didn’t know why. When the man had asked what they were doing out
here, Erik had told him they were on vacation and had gotten lost trying to get
into town. The lie had sprung easily to his lips, which was a strange thing for
someone who made a habit of always telling the truth.

A
few minutes later, they were following the ranger’s jeep through the Colorado
backwoods.

Erik
observed O’Connell out of the corner of his eye. She hadn’t said much once
she’d returned and now seemed lost in thought as she gazed out the window.

He
wanted to talk to her, find out what she was thinking, but didn’t know what to
say. That was a bit disconcerting. Erik certainly didn’t consider himself a
smooth operator, but he usually didn’t have problems knowing what to say to
women either.

“There’s
some more jerky in the back, if you’re hungry,” he offered, when he could think
of nothing else.

She
looked at him, wrinkling her nose slightly in distaste. “I’m not that into
jerky,” she said. “Maybe you can buy me a proper breakfast once we reach
civilization? We did just spend the night together, after all.”

The
mischief in her grin made Erik squirm uncomfortably in his seat, remembering
too much about last night. He quickly returned his gaze to the road before
clearing his throat.

“Yeah,
sure, I can do that,” he replied. She had to be starving. He certainly was. A
hot breakfast of eggs and bacon with a side of pancakes and about a gallon of
coffee sounded fantastic.

Erik’s
attention was drawn again to her as she picked up a manila folder resting on
the dash.