Hard to Hold (6 page)

It took every vestige of willpower she had to pull free from that kiss. For a moment they stared at each other, their breathing ragged. The sleepiness in those black eyes had changed to something else; something hot and raw and full of sensual promise.

Before she could change her mind, she reached behind her head and grasped his free hand, lacing her fingers with his.

“Madeleine,” he rasped, “I don’t think—”

“Shh.” She bent down to brush a searing kiss over his lips, and then lingered for several long, tantalizing seconds. She couldn’t help herself; the taste and feel of him were irresistible. Then, before he could guess her intent, she pushed his hand over his head and quickly snapped the other handcuff around his free wrist. The chain on the cuffs threaded through the slatted arm of the sofa effectively trapped his hands over his head.

“Hey,” he protested with a bemused laugh. “What’re you doing?”

“Just a little precaution,” Maddie said breathlessly.

Avoiding his heated gaze, she straddled his lean hips and then scooted back on his thighs just enough to free his pelvis from her weight. She had seen him put his truck keys in his front pocket. She glanced swiftly at his face. He was watching her with a half smile, uncertain of her intent. With both his arms raised over his head like that, she couldn’t help but notice the impressive bulge of his triceps. She had to fight the urge to slide her hands along the contours of his chest and the undersides of his arms, to fit her hips against his and lean forward until her breasts brushed his chest.

She couldn’t look at him as she slid her hand into his pocket, searching for the keys. The hard length of his arousal was evident beneath the denim fabric of his jeans.

“If you’re trying to get into my pants, I’m more than happy to oblige.” His voice was slow and his words slightly slurred. He made a movement to help her, but was halted by the handcuffs.

“What the—?” He twisted his head and stared in bemusement at his shackled wrists.

Damn. The first pocket was empty. Maddie switched her attention to the other side. Colton jerked at the cuffs, twisting his body sideways in an attempt to wrest his hands free.

“Please, Colton,” Maddie begged, struggling to stay seated on his lean body. “You’ll only hurt yourself.”

He stopped long enough to fix her with a hard glare, his dark eyes beginning to focus with awareness of what she was doing. “Don’t do this, Madeleine.” His voice sounded rough, still groggy with sleep. “Uncuff me right this damned minute.”

Maddie bit her lip, then swiftly shoved her hand into his other pocket. Colton gave a roar and bucked his hips in an attempt to unseat her. With a cry of alarm, Maddie found herself pitched onto the floor. She scrambled away from the sofa, watching in horror as Colton’s violent struggles lifted the piece of furniture clear off the floor.

“It’s no use, Colton,” she gasped, and opened her hand to reveal the set of keys. “I already have them.”

If anything, his struggles became more enraged. Maddie pushed herself to her feet, intent on grabbing her shoes and getting out of there.

“Madeleine,” he said, his voice harsh and his eyes burning into hers. “You can’t run forever, and there’s no place for you to hide. I’ll get free, and God help me, I
will
find you.”

Maddie paused. He had stopped thrashing, and the fierceness of his gaze almost made her believe him.

“Then I guess I’ll be taking this,” she said, and bent down to retrieve the gun from his duffel bag. She tried to hold it with a modicum of confidence, but was so repulsed by the cold slickness of it that she might as well have been holding a snake. “Don’t try to stop me, Colton. Don’t come after me, or you’ll force me to do something I’ll regret. Just let me go.”

“Damn it, Madeleine!” It was obvious that he was struggling to harness his rampant temper. “Please. Just listen to me for a minute. I can help you. But don’t do this. Don’t go out there by yourself. Stay here, just until morning. We can figure this out together.”

She couldn’t stay.

She had to get out of there and fast. He was doing it again; using that compelling voice to cement her feet where she stood, listening to him despite her determination not to. If that wasn’t enough, the sight of him lying on the sofa with both arms handcuffed over his head was almost too enticing to resist. For one brief, wild instant, her imagination surged. How long would he resist if she decided to take advantage of his position? She wondered how much longer she could resist the temptation to find out.

“I—I’m sorry, Colton. I have to go.” She shoved her feet into her shoes and all but ran toward the door, determined not to look at him. With her hand on the broken latch, she paused. “I left the keys to the handcuffs in your duffel bag. I just want to say thanks for everything. I’m sorry, too, that we couldn’t have met under different circumstances.”

Before he could say anything to make her change her mind, she bolted out of the cabin and pulled the door closed behind her. But as she sprinted toward his truck, she heard his bellow of rage and shivered.

He was right.

She could run, but he’d find her. She only hoped when he did, it wouldn’t be too late.

4

C
OLTON
LISTENED
TO
his pickup truck roar away into the night, and wanted to howl with frustration. Drawing a deep breath, he forced himself to calm down enough to analyze the situation he found himself in. The sofa was pretty sturdy. Still, if he could exert enough pressure on the joint where the armrest met the back, he might be able to break it free.

Ten minutes later, he rolled off the couch and dropped the remnants of splintered wood onto the floor. Staggering over to his duffel bag, he fished through his gear until he came up with the key to the handcuffs, and released himself. He felt dizzy. He felt sick to his stomach. He felt as if he’d been poisoned.

He knew he needed to go after Madeleine, but first he needed to clear his head. He stumbled through the dark bedroom and into the adjoining bathroom. God, he felt wretched. Under the fluorescent light, his normally bronze skin had a sickly hue to it. His mouth tasted like cotton and his head throbbed. Turning on the faucet, he scooped handfuls of cold water onto his face, and then opened the small medicine cabinet in search of something to relieve his headache.

His eyes narrowed as he picked up the small prescription bottle on the first shelf. The cover was missing. There were three capsules inside. Bending down, he tipped the small trash basket toward the light and peered inside. There, at the bottom, lay the crumpled shells of at least five capsules, possibly more.

He couldn’t help himself; he leaned weakly over the sink and started to laugh. The little witch had slipped him a Mickey Finn. Luckily for him, the prescription was outdated, otherwise he might find himself in serious trouble and miles from any hospital. At least it explained the misery he was feeling now. But his laughter lasted less than thirty seconds as he considered the ramifications of what Madeleine had done.

She had taken his gun.

Jesus.

The whole situation had just escalated from serious to seriously bad. And all because he’d been duped by a pair of shimmering gold eyes. He groaned at the memory of how he’d reacted to her tears. He’d held her, comforted her. Christ, it had taken every ounce of self-control he had to send her to bed alone. When he’d awakened later to find her bending over him and looking as if she might devour him, he’d assumed she’d wanted to pick up where they’d left off. Kissing her had seemed as natural a response as breathing. He just hadn’t been prepared for the effect it’d had on his senses. He’d wanted her. Badly.

Now he couldn’t help but wonder how much of her behavior that night had been genuine, and how much had been an act in preparation for ditching him. It didn’t matter now. He had to find her. She had his service revolver. Even if she had no intention of using it, just the fact she had it made her dangerous, and any law enforcement officer would be well within his rights to shoot her if she so much as made a move for the weapon.

He braced his hands on the edge of the sink and groaned, cursing himself. He was a complete idiot. He had allowed his emotions to influence his actions. He’d underestimated her desperation. Even knowing she was in trouble, he hadn’t thought she would act so rashly, and had let his guard down. As a deputy marshal, he knew better.

He should never have let Madeleine leave the diner. He should have contacted the local authorities and had her taken into custody right there in Lovelock. Instead, he had violated protocol and bucked every rule in the law book. And now the woman he’d thought to help was out there, armed and dangerous, and more vulnerable than she realized. He had no choice but to contact the authorities and let them know she’d stolen his gun.

He’d lose his badge. At the very least, he could find himself suspended. Ironic, really, since the one thing he’d always prided himself on was that he always got his man. The guys in his district would get a good laugh when they learned he’d been outsmarted by a woman toting a toy gun.

The craziest part of all was that he still felt a compulsion to help her. The urge had nothing to do with her golden good looks, or even with the way she made his body respond to hers. Instead, it had everything to do with the real fear and desperation he had seen in her eyes. She reminded him both of the fox that had been trapped in his cabin and the boy in the courthouse. He hadn’t been able to help the kid, but he could help Madeleine. He
needed
to help her.

He rubbed his hands over his face and drew in a deep breath, willing the lingering nausea to subside. This wasn’t over yet. His truck was running on fumes, and she didn’t know about his reserve tank. He doubted she’d make it back down the mountain before she ran out of gas. If he headed out now, he could still overtake her.

* * *

C
OLTON
CAME
ACROSS
the abandoned pickup truck about three miles down the dirt road beyond the cabin. He checked the cab, but there was no sign of his keys, his gun or her backpack. He fished his flashlight out of the back and examined the area around the vehicle until he picked up Madeleine’s footprints. She was heading down the far side of the mountain, and she was running.

She’d been gone less than an hour. Colton estimated she might have made it to one of the secondary roads, but there was no way she could have made it out to the main highway. With luck, he could still catch up with her.

Reaching under the rear fender, he retrieved his spare ignition key. Inside the cab, he flipped a switch for the reserve gas tank, grateful now that he’d invested the extra money for that added feature, and even more grateful that Madeleine hadn’t known about it. The engine sprang to life, and he roared down the mountain.

Keeping one eye on the uneven road, he reached over and opened the glove compartment, relieved to see his backup revolver was still there. At least she hadn’t discovered that one. He grabbed the handheld radio that was stashed beside the weapon and made a call to the local dispatcher, giving her only the briefest information about what had transpired. Then he waited. Less than five minutes later, his cell phone began to ring. He looked at the caller ID; it was his boss, U.S. Marshal Jason Cooper.

“Deputy Black,” the familiar voice growled without preamble, “would you care to tell me what in Sam Hill is going on?”

“Sir, all I’m asking for is twenty-four hours. Just twenty-four hours to bring this girl in. I went willingly with her from the diner, and I’ve spent the past twelve hours with her. She’s not about to hurt anyone, and I’ll stake my life on the fact she won’t use that gun.”

“And if she does? She’s already committed a class D felony in taking that weapon, Deputy Black.”

“I take full responsibility, sir. But she won’t use it.”

There was a long silence. Colton respected Jason Cooper, who had a reputation for being unflappable and making sound decisions. Jason and he had worked together for over five years, and Colton considered him a friend, but right now, he couldn’t guess which way Cooper’s thoughts might be going. He only knew he had to reach Madeleine before Cooper loosed the authorities on her. If Colton didn’t find her first, she’d get herself killed. He was sure of it.

“All right.” Cooper’s voice was low, and Colton could hear the reluctance in it. “I’ll put a hold on the APB for the next twenty-four hours, but no longer. I’m only doing this because it’s you. If it had been anyone else making this kind of request, the answer would be an unequivocal no. And this doesn’t mean you’re off the hook—I still want answers. Just remember, if you don’t have her in custody within the next twenty-four hours, it’s out of your hands.”

“I understand, sir. Can you do me a favor and run a background check on her? I need to know what she’s involved in.”

“Already in progress. I’ll have it to you shortly.”

“Thank you. She’ll be in my custody soon.” He hung up the phone and leaned harder on the accelerator.

There was a small gas station at the base of the mountain, just as Madeleine had said. The lights were off, but there was a mobile home on the property behind the station and adjoining general store, and Colton could see a light burning in one of the windows. He needed gas, and he doubted he’d come across another station before his reserve tank went empty.

He parked the truck and pounded on the door of the trailer until it was opened by a white-haired man with a grizzled beard and sharply assessing eyes.

“Where the hell’s the fire, son? Whaddya mean by hammering on my door in the middle of the goddamned night?”

Colton withdrew his wallet and held up his badge for the man to see. “My apologies, sir. I hate to disturb you at this time of night, but I need some gas.” He opened his wallet and withdrew twice the amount of money he knew would be required to fill his tanks. “I hope this will compensate you for your trouble.”

The old man squinted at the money and then chuckled. “Well, son, I guess that might just make me feel a little less put out.”

Colton followed him over to the gas station and waited as the old man turned on the pumps and the overhead lights. He peered at Colton as he inserted the nozzle into the gas tank. “A U.S. marshal, you say? What’re you doing out here at this time of night? Tracking down an escaped felon?”

Colton grimaced. “Something like that.” He fished in the back pocket of his jeans and withdrew the photos he had pilfered from the cabin. Selecting the most recent one of Madeleine, he held it out to the old man. “Have you ever seen this girl?”

The man took the photo and peered at it, tipped it toward the light and looked closer, before a bark of surprised laughter escaped him. “Well, I’ll be goddamned!”

Colton tensed. “You recognize her?”

He chuckled and continued to stare at the photo. “I guess the hell I do. That’s Maddie Howe and her son of a bitch, no-good, wastrel grandfather.”

“Maddie Howe?”

“That’s right. Short for Madeleine, or some such nonsense. ’Course, when she was growing up, we always said her name shoulda been ‘Maddie-Howe-are-you-going-to-get-yourself-outta-this-mess?’” He handed the photo back to Colton with a derisive snort. “If that’s who you’re after, it don’t surprise me none. That girl was never nothin’ but trouble.”

Colton frowned. “How so?”

“Hell, she was a liar and a scam artist from day one. Used those pretty looks of hers to rob folks blind. ’Course, we all knew what she’d been through, so we wasn’t gonna turn her over to the law. Figured she’d end up there soon enough on her own, with or without our help.” He shook his head. “Guess we was right, after all.”

Colton’s curiosity was more than just piqued. “What had she been through?”

The old man shrugged. “You name it and that girl’s been through it. Lost both her folks early on. She was raised in them hills by her grandpa, but to my mind that weren’t no excuse for takin’ advantage of people who jes wanted to help her.”

Colton’s lips tightened. He knew how that felt. “When did you last see her?”

The man sighed and scrunched his face up, considering. “Aw, shoot, I dunno. Maybe ten or twelve years ago. She and her brother were sittin’ right here, scamming some tourists out of their money, and they got caught.” He gave a gap-toothed grin of recollection. “Last I saw, she was hauling that pretty little backside of hers into the hills, dragging the boy with her and cryin’ her heart out.” He snorted. “Her tears might’ve worked on some, but they never fooled me. Not for a damned second.”

Privately, Colton had his doubts. Despite the scornful remarks, he wondered if the old man didn’t secretly harbor some affection for Madeleine. Colton wouldn’t blame him if he did.

The man pulled the gas nozzle out of the tank. “Well, that ought to do it, son. Now, if you don’t mind, I’m goin’ back to bed. Good luck with your manhunt. If you do see Maddie Howe again, you be sure and tell her old Zeke says hello. But don’t forget to add that if she’s thinkin’ I’ll post bail for her, she can damned well think again.” He gave a hoot of hoarse laughter and shuffled inside the gas station to turn off the pumps and the lights.

Colton nodded after the man’s retreating back. “Yeah. I’ll do that. Thanks for your help, Zeke.”

He waited until the old man was safely back in his trailer before he climbed into the truck and headed in what he hoped was the direction Madeleine—Maddie, he mentally corrected—had taken. He would find her.

There had never been any question about that.