He was grateful when night fell and he could no longer see the sparkle of her eyes, the sensual shape of her lips. He only wished the darkness would mute the scent of her, the feel of her body heat radiating toward him, as well.
Leaning his head against the seat, he closed his eyes. The shooting at the motel bothered him, the fact that somebody had gotten that close, missing them only by mere minutes. Had he slept fifteen minutes longer, had Colette taken a little more time in getting dressed, their blood would have been splattered all over the walls of the room.
At least for the moment they were safe. Ditching the car had been a good idea and had probably bought them some time. Hopefully by the time Collier’s men found the car, he and Colette would already be at the safe house.
He hadn’t truly relaxed for months. Now, knowing they were safe for the moment, he felt the last of his tension ebb from him.
He jerked awake, surprised that he’d been able to sleep at all. Looking at his watch, he realized he’dbeen asleep for a little over two hours. The bus was quiet except the occasional cough or throat-clearing of another passenger and the hum of the engine as it carried them along.
He looked over at Colette. Her head rested against the window and she appeared to be asleep, but it wasn’t the kind of deep, refreshing sleep he’d just enjoyed.
She moved restlessly, shifting the baby from arm to arm as a frown etched a wrinkle across her forehead. A stab of empathy swept through him. He wondered if her frown came from the content of her dreams, or from the physical discomfort of wrestling the baby for the last several hours.
He couldn’t help change her dreams, but he could do something to relieve the burden of the baby. Before he’d thought it through, before giving himself an opportunity to change his mind, he reached for the child.
Colette’s eyes flew open, panicked as her hold tightened. “It’s all right,” he said softly. “I’ll hold her for a while so you can sleep better.”
She smiled, her gaze soft as she relinquished the sleeping baby to his arms. “Thanks, my arms are so tired.” Her eyes remained a soft hue of spring grass mixed with a hint of summer sky. “You’re a nice man, Hank,” she murmured, then closed her eyes and within seconds was sound asleep.
Hank wanted to jostle her awake, tell her he was not a nice man. He was a heartless bastard and she’d do well to remember that.
Already he regretted his offer to hold the baby. As she wiggled against his chest, seeking comfort againstthe unaccustomed angles, her powder-sweet scent surrounded him.
Hank closed his eyes, seeking the impenetrable shell that protected his heart, his sanity. Brook snuggled against him as if certain of her welcome, her fingers closing around Hank’s thumb.
Long ago this had been Hank’s dreams, his hopes. A wife, a child, the kind of family he’d never had when growing up. Rebecca had carried the seeds of his dreams when she’d been killed. The drunk had gone to jail on two counts of vehicular manslaughter, one for Rebecca and another for the unborn child she’d carried. He should have had a third charge against him, for on that rain-slick night, a vital part of Hank had died, as well.
Colette had managed to stir the flames of his passion, something he’d never thought would happen again, but she would be crazy to try to breathe new life into his heart. He’d stopped caring five years ago, and nothing and nobody could jump-start a heart irrevocably broken.
He opened his eyes as the baby shifted positions and started to cry. “Shh.” He patted her little back, wondering if she, too, suffered bad dreams like her mother.
“She’s probably hungry. Give her a bottle and she’ll go back to sleep,” Colette muttered, still half asleep.
Hank reached into the duffel bag and withdrew the bottle, then rearranged the baby so he could feed her. As she sucked on the nipple, she stared up at him.
Not blinking, not wavering, her gaze seemed to peer through to his very soul. And even though heknew he was being silly, even though he knew she was just a baby, nothing more, he felt as if he saw judgment in her dark eyes. With the eyes of an innocent, the eyes of truth, she’d found him a coward.
Fifteen more days, he told himself. Fifteen more days and this would all be behind him. Colette and Brook would be out of his life forever.
* * *
“SHE CALLED THE RANCH.” The cowboy waited for Collier’s reaction, proud that he’d decided to sit tight at the ranch, knowing Colette would let her sisters know where she was at the first opportunity.
“And?” Collier said impatiently.
“And she told her sister she’s being taken to a safe house in San Bernardino.”
Collier laughed, the cold sound rippling the skin on the nape of the cowboy’s neck. “Good, good. I’ve got a man on the inside of the police department. He’ll be able to get me the address of this ‘safe’ house. Finally I see the end of this untimely inconvenience.”
“Mr. C. When you get the address, give it to me. Let me be the one to take care of this.”
“And why should I do that? You’ve managed to screw this up a number of times. I won’t go to prison and right now Colette is the only person who can put me there. This matter should have been disposed of months ago. I can’t afford another screw-up.”
“I know, I know.”
“Then I repeat, why should I give it to you?”
The cowboy gripped the phone receiver more tightly. “Because I want her dead as much, if not more, than you do.”
Again Collier laughed. “Okay, call me in an hour and I’ll have the address, but I’m warning you…if you blow it this time, I’ll personally put a bullet in the center of your forehead.”
