Promises (3 page)

With a grim frown and a nod, he set about his work.
 

Taking the wet cloth from the bowl of water she’d placed by the bed, she bathed Travis’ fevered brow.
 
His firm grip on her hand loosened as his lids slowly slid shut once again.
 
She breathed a soft sigh of relief that he seemed inclined to let her handle things for the moment.
 
But then what choice did he have?

Ted worked quietly and efficiently and gave him another injection, this one for tetanus.
 
After giving her specific instructions on how to take care of her patient, he packed his case.
 

“Are you sure about this, Jill?”

“I can handle it.”

He let out a long steady breath.
 
“All right.
 
Just make sure he gets plenty of fluids.
 
He’s moderately dehydrated and suffering from shock.
 
If there are any changes, call me.”

She crossed the room and stood before him.
 
“I will.
 
And thanks, Ted.”

His disgruntled frown faded as he reached up and gently stroked her cheek.
 
“I mean it.
 
Call me if you need me.”

She stifled the urge to back away from the unexpected contact.
 
“I will.
 
I promise.”
 

Slowly, he lowered his head toward hers.
 

Oh, God.
 
He’s going to kiss me
.
 

She frantically searched for a delicate way to discourage him, but came up with zilch.
 
She couldn’t think, she couldn’t move, she could only stand there in shock.

Travis groaned.
 
“Jase!”

Jerking away from Ted before his mouth made contact with hers, she rushed to the bed.
 
Hearing Travis yell out her brother’s nickname sent a sickening wave through her body, terrifying her to the core.
 
She was surprised her legs managed to carry her across the room.
 
It was almost as if
—
no, she wouldn’t think it.
 
Jason was okay.
 
He had to be.

She stroked his cheek.
 
“Shh.
 
It’s all right.
 
Go back to sleep.”
 
He calmed somewhat at the sound of her voice.
 

Ted cleared his throat.
 
“You two have been friends a long time, I take it.”

She looked back at him, noting the odd way he studied Travis.
 
The way one opponent studies another, measuring him against some unknown scale.
 
No wonder he tried to kiss her.
 
He thought he had competition and wanted to stake a claim.
 

She stifled a groan.
 
“We go back a long way,” she said, letting him think whatever he wanted, but she really didn’t need this complication.

Her admiring doctor nodded grimly then walked away.
 

Grudgingly, she hurried after him.
 
“Ted, I would appreciate it if you didn’t mention this to anyone.”
 

He paused, half way out the front door.
 

“I mean, well, you know how small town gossip is,” she said.
 
“If word got out I had a male friend staying with me, it would be uncomfortable.”
 

Looking back over his shoulder, he shook his head.
 
“I’m sorry, Jill, but I have to report all gunshot wounds to the Sheriff.”

Her forced smile fell.
 
“Oh.
 
I see.”
 
What was she going to do?
 
They’d be completely exposed and helpless.

“Look, Sheriff Milton is an okay guy.
 
I’ll ask him to keep this as quiet as possible.”

She nodded.
 
“Thanks.”
 

He muttered a goodbye then left.

Bobbi’s shoulders sagged as she leaned against the closed door.
 
Such a nice man.
 
If her life wasn’t so messed up right now, she might consider getting to know him better.
 

Rocky nudged her in hopes of receiving a welcome scratch behind the ear.
 

She rubbed her fingers gently against his fur.
 
“It’s been a busy day, hasn’t it, boy?”
 
Crouching down to his level, she flung her arms around the great mastiff’s neck.
 
“But you’ve been the best.”

His long thick tail thumped noisily against the floor.
 

“Come on, buddy.
 
Let’s go get some dinner.
 
I have a feeling it’s going to be a long night.”
 

She pulled away, preparing to stand.
 
“Oh, Rocky.
 
Yuck!”
 
A long string of drool hung from the dog’s drooping jowls to her shoulder.
 
“You know, that’s the one thing about you that drives me nuts.”
 
His tail merely beat faster at her complaint.
 
As if to say, “You love me anyway.”

With a slight chuckle and a shake of her head, she rose and went to the kitchen, her companion faithfully following in her footsteps.
 

Doing her best to ignore the thunder rumbling around the cabin, she picked up the small hand towel she kept by his bowl for wiping away drool and removed his nauseating attentions from her shirt.
 

“This will all work out.
 
Everything will be fine.
 
Jason is fine, Travis is fine.
 
We’re all fine,” she said, cringing at the faint sound of hysterics in her voice.

The lights flickered and went out.

The sound of rain beating against a window rivaled the pounding in Travis’ head.
 
Slowly opening his eyes, he looked around the dimly lit room.
 
A room he didn’t recognize.
 

Log walls with white chinking surrounded him.
 
An antique mirror hung above a tall dresser standing across the room.
 
He noticed a few personal items on top, but nothing familiar.
 
Nothing of his.
 

In the far corner, a blanket lay carelessly strewn across a large overstuffed chair.
 
The image of a woman sleeping there floated to the surface of his murky memory.
 
A dream?

The covers fell to his waist as he gently levered himself up onto his elbows for a better look around.
 
Realizing he wasn’t wearing any clothes, he turned his head quickly to the side in search of his pants, regretting it immediately as pain slammed against the back of his eyes.
   

Groaning, he leaned forward and held his aching head.
 
His fingers brushed against a bandage at the corner of his brow.
 
When and what had he smacked his head against?
 
He moved to rest his forearms on his knees and cringed at the sharp stab of pain running up his leg as he shifted.
 

He yanked the covers away with a snap, exposing an expertly wrapped bandage around his thigh.
 
Lifting the gauze, he found fresh sutures, also expertly done.
 
But by whom?

Vaguely, he recalled stumbling deeper and deeper into the woods, growing wearier with every step before finally collapsing into a pile of wet leaves.
 
Then he remembered a soft voice and someone holding his hand.

“How did I get here?”
 
He rubbed the back of his neck, willing the answer to come.
 
“And where the hell is here?”

A low rumbling came from across the room.
 
He lifted his head and froze.
 
A gargantuan dog with a mouth big enough to take off any one of his major appendages with very little effort sat in the doorway growling at him.
 
He’d never had much luck where dogs were concerned.
 
They didn’t like him, and he never got any warm fuzzies about them either.
 

Shifting his gaze, he slowly surveyed the room for some sort of weapon, preferably his gun.

The beast growled again then stood, warily studying his next victim.
 
Him.

“Easy, boy.
 
I’m just visiting.
 
I think.”
 
He assumed he wasn’t a prisoner, but then his four-legged friend made a pretty good jailer.
 

Slowly resuming his scan of the room, he said, “I’ll be on my way as soon as I find my clothes.”

“Not likely,” a voice replied.

He clamped his eyes closed against the wave of pain echoing in his brain.
 
“Great, you’re not only ugly, you talk too.
 
I must have hit my head harder than I thought.”
 

“Rocky is not ugly,” the voice spat.

Travis slowly peeled open his eyelids.
 
A kid stood behind the gold speckled beast wearing a dripping wet raincoat three sizes too big with a floppy hood that concealed his, or was it her face?
 

“I’ll be back in a minute.
 
Do
not
move.”
 
Droplets of water spattered the floor as she stomped out of sight toting several pieces of damp firewood.

A girl.
 
A very bossy girl.

Gingerly, he tried to lift his leg again only to succeed in falling back to the bed in pain.
 
It appeared he wouldn’t be going anywhere anytime soon.
 
Just as well.
 
The beast, although no longer growling, sat once again in the doorway, totally blocking his only means of escape.
 

Lying there staring at the ceiling images of how he’d ended up in someone’s cabin faded in and out like bad reception on a television set.
 
Travis had the distinct impression he shouldn’t be alive.

“Move Rock, you’re in the way,” the girl said.
 

He was surprised by the sight of the tiny woman standing behind the beast holding a tray.
 
She was definitely not a kid, and if his deductive powers were still intact, he would say she hadn’t been a kid for quite some time.
 
Twenty-seven maybe, give or take a year, and a very nice twenty-seven at that.
 

The lightweight sweater she wore clung to her shapely body, and her faded jeans looked as if the seams were about to rip apart with age.
 
As she nudged the monster with her knee, muttering something about moving his rear-end, Travis noticed a patch of dark blue where a back pocket used to be.
 
Where his hands instantly itched to be.

Wonderful.
 
I’ve been shot, taken prisoner, stripped naked, drooled over like an entrée, and what do I do?
 
I get the hots for the warden
.
 

Driving the annoying thoughts from his mind, yet relieved they proved that all his parts still worked, he watched the beast lift his massive head and big drooping eyes to his attractive keeper.
 
The woman nudged him again, and with a grunt the great hulk shifted.
 
As she slipped by, she gave the dog an order to stay.
 

That pleased Travis immensely.
 
The further away he could be from the man-eating beast the better, yet he couldn’t help marveling at her power over the dog.
 
Although nicely rounded in all the right places, she was still a very tiny woman, and if the dog chose, he could swallow her up in less than three bites.
 

Well, maybe four, he thought as she stepped closer, and he got a better look at those delicious curves.

Nix it, buddy.
 
You’ve got a job to do
.
 

She stepped next to the bed and placed the tray beside him on the nightstand.
 

“Who are you?” he asked.

Her hand stilled on the pitcher.
 
“A friend.”

She’d said that before, he recalled, and she had slept in the chair across from the bed.
 
At some point, she’d even held his hand.
 
But why?

“Sit up,” she said, pouring a glass of water.

Silently grimacing against the pain, he wriggled his body into an upright position, one eye on the dog, the other on her hands.
 
He’d get the answers sooner or later.

“Here.
 
You need to drink this, but not too much at once.”
 
She handed him the glass then turned back to the tray and opened a bottle of aspirin.
 

Alarms went off in his brain, clanging against one whopper of a headache.
 
He had always been a good observer, a talent that served him well in his profession, and right now he was observing an extremely nervous woman.
 
Her hands shook, her eyes constantly avoided his, and she made sure not to touch him when she handed him the glass.
 

“You need to take these, too,” she said, holding out two small white tablets.
 

“No thanks.”
 
Just because they looked like aspirin, didn’t mean they were aspirin.

She propped one unsteady hand on her hip.
 
“You’re running a fever and are no doubt in a lot of pain.
 
Don’t be a hero.”
 
Her eyes remained fixed on the tablets, her long lashes hiding them from his view.

He didn’t answer nor did he take the pills, but he continued to study her, searching for clues.
 
Her determination to not look him in the eye bugged the hell out of him, yet he found her pert little nose and bow-like lips fascinating.
 

“Fine,” she said with a weighty sigh.
 
“Don’t take them.”
 
She dropped the aspirin on the tray and turned to leave.

Who was this woman and why the hell couldn’t he remember how he got here?
 
He needed to learn more.
 
A lot more.

“You got a name,
friend
?”

She stopped amid the shadows across the room.
 
Turning back around, she propped her fists on her hips.
 
“Jill Proffit.”

Her suddenly tight voice made it obvious she didn’t want him there anymore than he wanted to be there, but that didn’t explain half of what bugged her.
 

Not wanting to make matters worse, he kept his voice smooth and low.
 
“Do you mind telling me where I am, Jill Proffit?”

“You’re in my house.”

“Uh-huh.
 
And that would be?”

She let out an exasperated breath.
 
“Francis Marion National Forest.”
 

As though someone flicked a switch, the events that brought him to the little cabin in the wood played out in his mind.
 

Steele’s men had caught up with him.
 
He’d been so sure he lost them in Charleston, but they’d tracked him to Gator Creek, a speck of a town inside the national forest.
 
Following his last lead, a crazy idea really, he hoped to learn more about Barbara’s disappearance.

Travis cringed at how easily they’d snagged him, taken his gun, and tossed him in the back of their car.
 
Preoccupied with Jase and his sister, he’d lost his edge.
 
And it damned near got him killed.
 
He remembered the trees whizzing by as the sedan sped deeper into the forest while they outlined their plans for him.

“You’re going to tell us, eventually.
 
You might as well make it easier on yourself, Reid.”
 
Frank Ballard, Phillip Steele’s number one man, smiled.
 
It wasn’t a pretty smile, by any means.
 
“Of course, I wouldn’t mind a little work.”
 
He pressed a delicate but dangerous knife against Travis’ neck barely breaking the skin.
 

“Go to hell,
Francis
.”
 
The slime hated his given name, but Travis figured it really didn’t matter since he was already a dead man.

Ballard whipped the knife away and brought his elbow up swiftly, making direct contact with Travis’ mouth.
 
His head snapped back against the seat, and he tasted blood.

“Tell me what I want to know!”

Travis spat in his face.
 

With an eerie calm, Ballard sat back, removed a handkerchief from his pocket, and wiped away the bloody spittle.
 
“Regret is an interesting emotion.
 
One you’re going to become vastly acquainted with.”

Little did the bastard know, he already had regrets.
 
He’d failed his best friend and failed to protect his best friend’s sister, Barbara.
 
He hoped somehow, they would forgive him.
 

Regret lay heavily on his chest.
 
He’d never get the chance to meet her, face to face, all grown up.
 
Something he’d wanted to do, but had avoided since he saw her college graduation picture.
 
A guy wasn’t supposed to want his best friend’s sister the way Travis wanted Barbara.
 

“She can’t hide forever, Reid.
 
You’ll tell me where she is, and when I find her maybe I’ll let you watch me work.”
 
Ballard snickered and the other thugs laughed with him.

Confusion spiked in his brain.
 
What was he talking about?
 
Who did he mean?
 
What did
—
God, Barbara?
 
Jase’s sister was alive?
 
That’s what this was about?

All these months he thought her dead or held by Steele and his cronies, but she was alive and out there somewhere.
 
He had to find her before Ballard did.
 
He had to keep the last promise he made to Jase.

“What the
—
”
 
The driver jerked the car to the right.

A flash of a white tail deer caught the corner of Travis’ eye as they barreled into the woods.
 
Bouncing and floundering in the back seat, he smacked his head against the side window.
 
He thought about Ballard’s knife and hoped it was safely sheathed, or better still, sticking out of the slime’s gut.
  

The car slammed into a fallen tree, throwing him against the front seat.
 
Shaking off the fog clouding his brain, he surveyed the damage to his unwanted companions.
 
The guy in the front had been thrown into the windshield and was out cold, maybe even dead, while the driver’s head lolled to the side, the wind knocked out of him by the airbag.
 
Ballard, unfortunately, appeared to be only dazed and was coming around fast.
 

Taking his only chance for freedom, Travis summoned every ounce of strength he had and rammed his fist into Ballard’s face.
 
The crunching sound of bone breaking and the spurt of blood satisfied him as the SOB slid down in the seat.

“Pleasant dreams,” he muttered, then scrambled out of the car.

His head swam as he ran deep into the woods.
 
He had to get away.
 
He had to find Barbara and protect her.
 
Somehow he’d been given a second chance.
 
He couldn’t fail Jase again.