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  Taggart gazed down into her face. He wasn’t sure what he felt, what he thought; so many things were suddenly tumbling through his mind at once that he couldn’t seem to get a grip on any particular one.

  What he did know was that, while he wasn’t convinced Genevieve’s assessment of his actions was correct, she clearly believed what she’d said with every fiber of her being. And because she did, a part of his heart that had been so damn cold since that devastating night on Zari Pass four years ago felt warm again.

  What’s more, as he felt her arms come around him in a fierce embrace, he realized that for the first time since he could remember, he didn’t feel completely alone.

  Standing on the prow of the deck, a steaming cup of coffee cradled in his hands, Taggart raised his face and soaked in the sun.

  Some time during the night, a chinook had blown in. The soft breeze ruffled his hair with warm fingers while it set the surrounding evergreens gently swaying. It was as if, he mused, the immense trees were slow dancing to the music of the melting snow as it dripped from the trees, trickled off the cabin’s eaves, raced merrily along dozens of narrow, winding rivulets toward the creeks and streams murmuring in the distance.

  At the rate the thaw was progressing, the roads should be passable later that day.

  That made it decision time.

  In the past twenty-four hours he’d revealed things to Genevieve he’d never shared with another living soul. And instead of playing it safe and pushing him away, she’d opened her heart even wider and invited him to come closer.

  What’s more, in the wake of yesterday’s painful disclosure, she’d somehow understood that he’d reached the limit of what he could emotionally process and she hadn’t pressed him any further.

  She’d led him back to bed instead, where they’d stayed, except for a brief raid on the kitchen long after the sky had darkened, making love with nothing held back. They’d gone slow, been wild. They’d shared tenderness, urgency, heated whispers, raw cries of passion. They’d kissed, clung, explored, feasted, turned each other inside out and held each other together.

  He might not be in love with her, not exactly, but he felt more connected to her than he had to anyone since his mother died.

  So how the hell could he betray her?

  For the first time since he’d told her that he’d let her go in order to secure his own freedom, he admitted to himself that in the back of his mind he’d been reserving the right to renege on their deal. Every reason he’d cited at the time to justify why she’d be better off in custody still stood, with the added kicker that he felt even more protective now than he had before.

  And yet…He couldn’t stand the thought of destroying her trust. Despite the fact that he had an obligation to his brothers and the client who’d paid for their services, and that he truly felt it would be in Genevieve’s best interest to turn herself in.

  Hearing the door open and the sound of her footsteps approaching, he turned to watch her walk toward him. Dressed in dark jeans and a pale-pink sweater, her hair gleaming like burnished silk in the sun, she was beautiful. He wondered how he could ever have considered her merely pretty.

  “You look far too serious for such a gorgeous day,” she said lightly, joining him at the rail. Like a flower, she raised her face to the sun.

  He shook his head. “It’s the weather. It’s hard to believe it can go from minus zero to fifty plus in less than forty-eight hours.”

  “Nature’s just full of surprises,” she agreed, shifting her gaze to him. “So are you.”

  Just for a second he thought he saw something in her eyes—But no. No way could she know what he’d been thinking, know about the internal battle he was waging over what was right and what was best. “You think so?”

  “Uh-huh. Breakfast was wonderful. If I’d known you could cook like that—” her mouth turned up “—I’d have chained you to the stove instead of the bed.”

  “Huh. I’m not sure that’s a compliment.”

  “No, really, it is. Although, now that I think about it, I take it back.” She leaned bonelessly against him, gave a little sigh of contentment as his arm came around her. “Bed is definitely the best showcase for your talents.”

  He narrowed his eyes. “You do realize you’re skating on really thin ice, right?”

  She laughed, that soft, delighted chuckle that never failed to light him up inside. As the sound of it faded away, they simply stood on the deck together, wrapped in a companionable silence as they admired the day.

  Then Genevieve gave a faint sigh. “The snow’s melting off pretty fast.”

  “Yeah. But it’s only temporary. Winter’s definitely here. You can feel it in the air. Another few days and the cold and the snow will most likely be back.”

  “I don’t suppose we could hang around for that?” she asked a trifle wistfully.

  “No. I don’t think we can.” Steeling himself, he turned her in his arms, telling himself that the least he owed her was to look her in the eyes when he admitted he wasn’t sure he could just let her walk away. “Listen—”

  “I’ve—” she said at the same time.

  They both stopped. He inclined his head. “Go.”

  “All right.” She swallowed, then visibly steadied herself. “I’ve decided to release you from your promise.”

  For a second he was sure he hadn’t heard right. “What?”

  “If we start packing up right now, we should be ready to leave by this afternoon.”

  Stunned, he took a moment to wrap his tongue around the questions crowding his mind. “Are you sure?”

  “Yes.”

  “But…why? What changed your mind?”

  “I’ve been thinking about some of the things you said. About how I’ve done all I can, and how I’m making things even harder on Seth. And that if I go back now, with you, I won’t be totally alone. That is—” she looked up at him and, for one of the few times he could remember, he could see both fear and uncertainty in her eyes “—if your offer still stands.”

  “Yeah, sure, but—Jesus, Genevieve.” He shook his head with the vague thought that maybe that would help clear it. “I just don’t get it. Yesterday, you were so adamant….”

  Her expression changed, some of the tension draining away to be replaced by unmistakable tenderness. Reaching up, she laid her hand against his cheek. “You’re not quite as inscrutable as you think,” she said quietly. “And the longer I’ve had to think about it, the more I’ve come to realize that I’ve put you in an untenable situation.

  “Besides—” she lightly drew her thumb over the seam of his lips, her throat visibly working as she struggled to hold on to her air of calm “—you trusted me enough to tell me what happened to you. How can I not trust you back?”

  It was too much. At the same time that he felt a huge weight had been lifted from his shoulders, a part of him worried uneasily that she was making a serious mistake, that he wasn’t worthy of such faith.

  “Genevieve—”

  “It’ll be all right,” she said firmly, once more seeming to read his mind.

  “Damn straight.” He’d see to it, or die trying, he vowed to himself. “I swear I’ll do everything I can to expedite this whole thing, try my best to convince the judge to go easy on you—”

  “I know you will. I trust you, remember?” She gave his arm a reassuring squeeze, then dropped her hand to her side and took a step away. “Now, I’m going to start packing things up, before I chicken out and change my mind.”

  And briskly turning away, she left him alone with nothing but the sunshine and his own unsettled thoughts for company.

  Thirteen

  “M y rig is where?” Taggart demanded, jiggling the keys to Genevieve’s truck in his hand. After a very short discussion, they’d agreed his was the vehicle of choice in which to make the drive back to Colorado.

  “In a barn about a mile and a half down the road from where you left it,” she repeated patiently. Pausing in the task of em
ptying the contents of the fridge into a garbage bag, she picked a piece of paper up off the counter and proffered it to him. “Here. I’ve written down the directions and drawn you a map.”

  Taking the sheet from her, he studied it a moment, folded it and slid it into his pocket, then looked back up at her and shook his head. “You walked through the snow, in the dark, just to hide it?”

  She widened her eyes, doing her best to look innocent. “I was keeping it safe for you.”

  “Yeah, right.”

  “Hey, a girl’s got to do what a girl’s—”

  He expediently cut her flow of words by the simple act of tugging her into his arms. “Spare me the pitch,” he murmured, lowering his head to rest his forehead against hers. “Bottom line, Bowen, you’re a menace. How the hell you managed to make it this far—” shifting, he found her mouth and interspersed his next words with a series of erotic, unhurried kisses “—without serious injury—” his hands slowly stroked down her back as he caught her bottom lip between his teeth and bit down lightly “—is beyond me.”

  Genevieve felt her body start to hum. His simplest touch made her feel warm and malleable, like Silly Putty left out in the sun. “John?” she murmured, her eyelids drifting shut as his mouth slid over the curve of her jaw to explore her throat.

  “Hmm?”

  “If you don’t go now, you won’t be going at all.”

  “No?” Nothing happened for a moment, then his hands slowly relaxed their grip on her butt. Sighing, he met her heavy-lidded gaze with a rueful one of his own. “I suppose you’re right.”

  She eased back, forcing herself to step away from his seductive warmth. “Yes. I am.”

  “All right. If you’re sure you don’t want—”

  “Go,” she ordered with a breathless laugh. She watched as he strode across the room and out the door. Feeling mixed relief and regret, she started to turn back to the fridge when she abruptly remembered the distributor cap. “Wait!” she called, dashing after him onto the porch.

  Already down the stairs, he stopped and turned. “What?”

  “Just hang on a minute.” Due to the amount of chopping he’d done the past two days, the wood pile was seriously diminished, which was good since it made her task easier. Leaning over the low stack of logs that were left, she reached down and cast about until her fingers closed over the bulbous piece of metal. Straightening, she twisted back around. “You’ll need this.” With a smooth, underhand toss, she lobbed it to him.

  He snatched the shiny metal cap out of the air, spent a long second considering it, then once more looked up at her.

  “If I’m ever in serious trouble, I want you guarding my back,” he informed her dryly.

  Genevieve smiled. As compliments went, it was first class and she didn’t doubt it showed in her smile. “I love you, John Taggart Steele,” she said softly, unable to stop herself. “Now go, so you can get back.”

  “Count on it.” He headed for the truck.

  It was done.

  Standing with her back to the window, Genevieve took a slow look around the cabin’s interior.

  All of her things, plus John’s modest bag, were packed and stacked neatly to one side of the door. The fridge was clean and unplugged, the few perishable foodstuffs that had been left bagged for disposal. She’d made sure the fire was out and closed the flue, flipped the breaker switch to the water heater and turned off the water valve under the sink. Since the power had come back on shortly after dawn and John had already dealt with the generator, she’d had only to make sure all the lamps and appliances were either turned off or unplugged.

  In a gesture symbolic of her hopes for the future, she’d put clean sheets on the bed, and, in a reminder of the most life-altering week of her life, left the chain neatly coiled atop the smooth expanse of the comforter. She hoped that, when the next few days or weeks or—surely it wouldn’t be more than months?—were over, she’d be able to convince John to return for a long getting-reacquainted weekend.

  That is, if he still felt the way he did now when she got out of jail.

  She wondered if she’d be allowed to see Seth, then realized it was unlikely. Suddenly unable to ignore the fear that had been plucking at her with icy fingers ever since she’d made the decision to turn herself in, she swallowed hard and admitted she didn’t know what to expect. She’d never had so much as a traffic ticket, and, while she’d read countless books where people went to jail, the reality of actually being locked away, completely at the mercy of strangers, felt altogether different.

  She just had to keep reminding herself that she wouldn’t be alone. She hadn’t lied when she’d told John she trusted him. And though she didn’t share his optimism regarding what was about to happen—she’d known since she’d decided to run that the consequences would be grave—she’d get through it. She was young, strong, resilient, accustomed to looking out for herself.

  And it wasn’t as if she had a choice.

  Still, it would certainly help if John would get the lead out and get back before she went from a mild case of cold feet to feeling frozen from the eyebrows down.

  She glanced at the clock. He should have returned by now, she thought with a frown. Since the room felt as if it was starting to close in on her, she decided she might as well take her current book and wait outside in the sun. Just having a plan, however inconsequential, made her feel better, so she snatched up her paperback and the coat she’d laid on the couch.

  She was halfway to the door when the knob started to turn.

  Even as she felt a rush of relief that John was finally back, she faltered in midstep, a small alarm going off in her head as she realized that she hadn’t heard him drive in.

  In the next instant, the door crashed open and a tall, dark-haired stranger burst into the room.

  Her heart seemed to stop as she found herself staring down the barrel of an enormous, dull-black gun. “On the floor! Now!” the intruder shouted at her. “Keep your hands where I can see them!”

  She was so terrified she couldn’t speak, much less move so much as an eyelash. Yet in the midst of her paralysis, time seemed to slow dramatically to the point where she registered every minuscule detail going on around her, from the pounding of more feet and the harsh cries of other male voices screaming at her to get down, to the striking features of the man now gripping her shoulder.

  In the same instant that he spun her around and forced her to the ground, she realized he bore an uncanny resemblance to John. Same inky hair, same height, same strong, straight nose and startling green eyes. His were a darker shade, however, and his features were more refined. Dressed as he was, all in black, including a long leather coat that hung to midcalf, he exuded a dangerous, fallen-angel sort of elegance.

  Or would, she thought numbly, as he yanked her arms back and slapped a pair of handcuffs on her wrists, if he weren’t scaring the wits out of her. Her state of mind didn’t improve as she heard a swift double click of sliding metal a second before an un-chambered bullet dropped with a ping on the floor inches from her face. She squeezed her eyes shut and the next thing she knew, he was patting her down, his hands skimming efficiently and impersonally over her.

  Apparently satisfied she was unarmed, he rocked back onto his heels, dragged her to her knees and yanked her around to face him. “Where is he?” he demanded. Holding her upright with one powerful hand, he caught her chin in the other. “Talk to me, Genevieve. What the hell have you done to my brother?”

  “John?”

  His brows rose just for an instant. “That’s right.”

  She tried to dredge up enough saliva so she could actually form an entire sentence. “He—” She had to stop, swallow, start over again. “He went to get his SUV.” She forced herself to meet those intense emerald eyes without flinching. “He’s fine. I swear. He should be back any minute.”

  The stare he sent her was lethal. “For your sake, you better be telling the truth.”

  “I am.” For the first ti
me, she started to get just the slightest bit angry. “If you’ll just be patient, hold on a minute, you’ll see for yourself—”

  “Oh, you can count on that, sweetheart,” he said grimly, effortlessly hauling her with him as he stood.

  For the first time, she took note of the two other men in the room and her heart sank even lower. Unlike John’s impeccably dressed brother, they were wearing uniforms that identified them as local sheriff’s deputies.

  Then to her horror, he gave her a slight shove toward the waiting officers. “Get her out of here,” he instructed them. “Like I told your boss, somebody with the proper papers to take her back to Colorado should be at the airport by now. You can tell them I’ll check in with them later.”

  “What about your brother?” the younger of her two guards asked. “You sure you don’t want us to stay?”

  “No. If he doesn’t turn up in the next hour, you can bet you’ll hear about it,” he said, voice clipped.

  Sending her one more frigid look that warned he’d meant what he’d said about her paying a steep price if John didn’t turn up soon and in one piece, he turned his back and dismissed her with a single flick of one graceful, long-fingered hand.

  Taggart tossed the tire jack next to the flat currently occupying the cargo hold of his rig. Closing the lift gate, he impatiently snapped the empty tire mount back into place and walked around and climbed behind the wheel.

  He supposed he ought to be glad the damn tire had blown now, on a deserted mountain road where he’d been forced to keep his speed down, rather than later on the freeway when he’d have been going considerably faster.

  But right at the moment, it didn’t feel like much of a blessing, he reflected, as he restarted the SUV’s engine, cranked the wheel and pulled back onto the road.

  This entire excursion had already taken a ridiculous amount of time. While Genevieve’s map had been fairly detailed, he’d still managed initially to miss the narrow track cut through a grove of sagging aspens that had eventually led him to the ramshackle barn where his SUV had been stashed.