Hunter's Quest

Chapter 4

Chapter Three

Her headache faded out, but anxiety took its

place. She knew nothing about the man in the seat beside her. For

all she knew the two chasing him might have been sheriff’s deputies

or cops or even FBI agents. Except that the message from the Voice

and her gut feeling about those other two men combined to make her

doubt it.

The man in the other seat was taller than

she’d realized, and he had an air of toughness or hardness that was

scary enough all by itself, even tempered by his battered and

exhausted condition.

And there was still the possibility that the

men who’d been chasing him might have seen her pulling away with

him in the car and come after them. For the first five minutes of

the trip she waited to hear a shot come from behind or a car pull

up. It didn’t happen. But even as one worry faded another took its

place.

“Where’s the nearest hospital?” she asked

when she’d put a few miles behind and wondered what to do next.

She’d done her bit to protect him, had stretched her courage almost

to the breaking point in doing so. Enough.

Eyelids that had dropped shut flew up again.

The look in the icy blue depths speared her, drawing her gaze off

the road for an instant. “No hospital.”

“Let your insurance lapse?” How stupid was it

to assist this man, Voice or no? “What about a doctor?

Surely you know one you can trust.”

He shook his head. A strand of brown hair

fell across his forehead and he pushed it back with an unsteady

hand. “No.”

“Care to tell me why not?”

“Scared of doctors.” His tone didn’t ask for

or expect belief.

“Yeah. Right. I don’t suppose you’re fond of

law enforcement people either.”

He drew a deep breath and huffed it out.

“Actually, I think cops are a fine, upstanding bunch in general. I

don’t care for the local incarnations. Not for the reasons you

think.”

“Of course not.” She sighed and checked her

rearview mirror. Still no sign of anyone following, but she didn’t

dare stay on the same road any longer than necessary. At the next

intersection, she turned off onto a badly paved, narrow lane. “How

well do you know this area?” she asked. “I was just passing through

and after the next turn I’ll be thoroughly lost.”

Her words seemed to penetrate the haze of

exhaustion and weakness claiming him. He sat up straighter, while

his lips twisted in a grimace of equal parts pain and an attempt at

concentration. “Don’t know it well either,” he admitted.

“There must be some place I can take you?”

she asked, when he still didn’t say anything. A couple of miles

farther along the road, she came to an intersection with the Blue

Ridge Parkway. She slowed and signaled for a turn.

“Where are you going?” he asked sharply.

“Haven’t got a clue. But if I get on the

Parkway, I at least know how to get back to my hotel. Where do you

want to go?”

Muscles in his face tensed and fingers tapped

on his knee. “Don’t get on the Parkway. We’re better off staying

away from the main roads.”

“You think they’ll come after us?”

“Maybe not Chet and Sid. Others will.”

“Others?” The rhythm of her breathing

wobbled, and the word came out sounding like a croak. Oh, hell.

What had she gotten herself into here?

He glanced at her. “You can let me out

anywhere you want.” He ran his right hand over his face, grimacing

as his fingers touched one of the abraded areas. He held his left

arm stiffly against his body. When the car hit a pothole, he winced

and grabbed at it. “If you wouldn’t mind taking me to a convenience

store, that would be a good place to stop. I need a drink.”

“I need gas anyway.” Two minutes later she

spotted a place and pulled in. “You think it’s safe to stop here?

Where would you go from here?”

He stared blankly, the gray cast of his

features getting more pronounced. “No place is safe. But I think

we’re far enough away for the moment. Right now, the only place I’m

going is the restroom. I’ll think about it after that.”

“What do you want to drink?” she asked.

“Get me a Coke or something,” he suggested as

he got out of the car. “Keep your eyes open. Yell if anything even

looks like trouble.” He turned and headed for the rest room at the

side of the building. He was tall—a couple of inches over six

feet—and built on the lean side, despite strong shoulders. Kristie

got out and pumped gas into the car, looking around uneasily as she

did so, then went inside to pay.

He waited in the front passenger seat when

she returned. He’d managed to wash most of the blood and dirt off

his face. She pulled two plastic bottles of Coke out of the paper

bag she carried, opened both, and handed one to him along with the

sack, which still held a couple more bottles of soda, some candy

bars, and a package of chips. He downed almost half the contents of

the bottle in one long pull. Some of the tension drained from him

as he held the container and stared at it with obvious pleasure. “I

can’t remember anything tasting so good in a long time.”

“Help yourself to whatever you want in the

bag. I just grabbed stuff.”

He took out a chocolate bar and began to

unwrap it, moving his left arm as little as possible. He turned to

stare at her while chewing the first mouthful. Afternoon sunlight

slanting in through the windshield cast sparkling reflections off

his light eyes. “You’re a brave woman,” he said. “I suppose

introductions are in order. I’m Jason Hunter. And I’m in your

debt.”

“Kristina Sandford.” She fastened her seat

belt. “Most people call me Kristie.” A new twinge of uneasiness

settled in her stomach and drew it tight. Despite the scratches and

swellings marring his features, removal of the grime revealed a man

who was better looking than she’d anticipated, and one, moreover,

who radiated a powerful s****l magnetism. Just watching him made

her pulse begin to speed up. That was a complication she didn’t

need. She still hadn’t decided what to do about him. Common sense

argued she should leave him here, where he could call for help. But

the Voice had suggested he needed her help, and she didn’t think it

would be satisfied with what she’d already done.

He polished off the candy bar and ripped open

a bag of corn chips.

“Long time since breakfast?” Kristie asked,

struggling with confusion and doubt.

He stopped with a chip halfway to his mouth

and gave a sheepish shrug. “Long time. And that was a muffin and a

cup of coffee.” He sighed. “Why don’t you find a shady spot where

we can stop and talk? I don’t think our ‘friends’ will track us

down here.”

“‘Friends’ being those men who were chasing

you. You know them?”

“I know their names. The balding, paunchy one

is Chet; the blond is Sid. Neither is what you’d call a nice

guy.”

“I guessed. Are you?”

“What?”

“A nice guy?”

His eyes widened and for a moment he just

stared at her. “I like to think I am.”

“All right.” Talk should be okay. As long as

it wasn’t some place too isolated.

She started the car and turned out of the

parking lot, looking for a likely place as she drove away. Some

place public. She didn’t trust him enough to be alone with him out

of sight of traffic. But then she didn’t want to be too visible

either if people were looking for him. How did she get herself into

this mess? Where the road crossed a narrow stream on a concrete

bridge, a clearing provided parking room for a car, and beyond that

a grassy area, shaded by large trees at its rim, stretched down to

the edge of the water. Kristie pulled off onto the gravel verge.

After glancing up and down the highway but seeing no traffic

approaching, they got out, carrying drinks and food, and sat on the

grass near the creek.

“So,” she said, when they were settled and he

was reaching into the bag for another chip. “How about filling me

in on what’s going on. Why were those men trying to kill you?”

The hand reaching for the chip paused. It was

a good hand, lean, sinewy, long-fingered, with neatly trimmed

nails. An angry red scrape ran up the back and across his wrist.

After a moment he completed the motion, putting the chip in his

mouth and chewing it with a concentration the action didn’t

warrant. His eyes met hers and he studied her face.

Kristie pushed hair back out of her eyes. The

hair was red, no longer carroty as it had been in her youth, but

darkened to a deep auburn. The freckles had lightened somewhat,

too, but still revealed themselves to a close inspection. Her eyes

should have been green to go with the red hair, but she liked the

way their deep brown color contrasted with her complexion. She

wasn’t beautiful but had been told more than once her features were

striking. Her appearance tended to attract unwanted attention, so

she downplayed her looks by using no makeup and wearing bland

clothing in neutral colors.

His mouth twisted, the well-cut lips pulling

into a frown that drove harsh grooves into his cheeks and a

puckered seam across his forehead. Small lines fanned out from the

corners of his eyes, but his slender build and the hard angles of

his face made it difficult to determine his age. He was probably

around thirty, but he might be anything from twenty-five to

forty.

He drew in a long breath and exhaled slowly.

“You’re better off if you don’t know anything about this.”

He winced again as he tried to settle his

injured arm into a comfortable position.

“Ignorance may be bliss,” she answered, “but

it can be a dangerous bliss. I want to know enough to protect

myself. Your friends, Chet and whatever-his-name-was, will have

guessed by now I helped you escape.”

“You didn’t tell them your name?” Sharp

concern made the words sound harsh.

“No. But they saw my face and car. They could

have gotten the license number.”

“Damn.” He rested his good hand against a

bent knee and tapped his fingers in syncopated rhythm. After some

consideration, he nodded and reached for another chip. His odd,

icy-light blue eyes studied her face while he crunched

thoughtfully. “I guess I can’t blame you for wanting to know.”

He drained the bottle of soda before he

started his story. “All right. You probably know about wildlife

protection laws in this part of the country.” He spoke slowly,

watching her reaction to the words. “But there’s still a thriving

black market in furs. Chet farms the old family place, but he has a

nice sideline in trapping animals and selling the pelts. I found

one of his traps this morning.” Jason shifted position, trying to

settle his arm more comfortably. His lips clamped together as pain

drew the muscles of his face into hard lines.

“They found you with one of their traps and

shot you? What are you—some kind of wildlife officer?”

“Something like that.”

“Then why don’t you want to go to the

hospital?”

He bit his lip and sighed. The skin under his

eyes look dark and bruised. “I...” He hesitated a moment too long.

“I’m working undercover and I’m not ready to come out. Chet thinks

I just accidentally stumbled across his traps.”

Kristie finished her drink, studying him at

the same time. The story wasn’t bad for a spur-of-the-moment

invention by a man not in the best physical condition. He’d managed

to deal with the one loose thread she’d pointed out in a competent

if not scintillating way. His quick intelligence gratified her, for

reasons she couldn’t fathom. Another stupid reaction she tried to

push away. “If you’ve got a bullet in your arm, you’d better have a

doctor look at it,” she said. “That’s not something you can fool

around with.”

“No bullet in my arm. Sid’s not that good a

shot. It just grazed me.”

“It still needs to be looked at. If you don’t

get it cleaned, you run the risk of infection.”

“I’m not going to a doctor. Not anywhere near

here anyway.” The words didn’t sound as definite as he intended,

but she got the message. His eyes narrowed as they watched her.

“Can you clean it up?”

“I’m not a medical type. I could drive you to

a clinic or a hospital in Asheville or Morganton. Should be far

enough away that no one would trace you there.”

He sighed and shook his head. “Can’t risk it.

I don’t know— The blood doesn’t seem to bother you and you were

pretty cool earlier, dealing with Chet and Sid.”

Kristie watched him, wondering what he’d

started to say and fighting the appeal in the sharp blue eyes.

Whatever charisma was, he had plenty of it. The potent combination

of attractiveness and vulnerability in the man touched her in a

disturbing way. Still, she’d be a fool to offer further assistance

to someone who’d used her to escape his enemies then lied about the

reason. “You’re asking a lot and not offering much in return.”

Surprise washed away the appeal from his

face. “I suppose so. What do you want?” Suspicion colored the

question and muscles tightened all along his lean body.

Kristie straightened and met his eyes. “The

truth.”

He stiffened even more. For a moment he just

stared at her before he looked away, toward the stream, and

muttered, “Oh, hell.” He sighed and added, turning back to her, “I

can’t give you that. I don’t dare.” The words were quiet. They

didn’t blame or accuse, just stated facts.

She watched him closely, trying to guess what

was going on in his head. Something seemed to drain from him as

they sat on the grass, surveying the landscape around them. Hope,

confidence, anticipation—she wasn’t sure what it was, but its

depletion left him looking older and troubled, his face weary and

tired. Not defeated, necessarily, but fighting fear, burdened, and

braced to meet a challenge he didn’t anticipate with any

enthusiasm.

There was no appeal in his eyes now, nor any

censure. Nothing to make her feel so guilty. Jason admitted the

justice of her request and accepted the consequences of his

refusal. “This is probably as good a place as any to leave me,” he

suggested. “It’s far enough away that Chet won’t find me, and there

are places to hide. Water handy, too.”

He reached out with his right hand to hold

her arm in gentle appeal. Warmth spread from the site of contact.

Bad news. She wasn’t doing this.

He swallowed hard. “I don’t have the right,

but I’ve got to make one more request. For your own safety as much

as mine. Don’t tell anyone what’s happened here or that you’ve met

me. Get as far away from here as you can and forget the whole

thing.”

The hand tightened around her arm to

reinforce the appeal. His left arm hung close against his side. He

seemed to read her conflict, though he mistook the source.

“Please,” he added, “it’s the only safe thing to do.” He released

her and pushed himself to his knees. He swayed as he got to his

feet. Kristie reached out to help him but changed her mind. The

pinched grooves at the corners of his mouth deepened as he held

himself erect.

She gathered the wrappers and empty cans into

the bag and stood next to him. Pressure was building in her head,

that warning headache again, pushing her toward something she

dreaded.

“You’d better get going,” he said, looking

around again. “They’ll be out searching.”

“For you.”

He nodded. Using only his right arm, he

clasped her hand and drew her close enough to let him lean down and

press a gentle kiss on her forehead. “Thanks for saving my hide up

there.” He drew back and grinned lightly, fingering the abraded

area at his temple. “It may not be in pristine condition at this

point, but it’s the only skin I’ve got, and I’m attached to what’s

left of it.”

That attempt at lightness cost him an effort

that showed in the deepening lines of strain around his eyes and

mouth. It was the last straw. You’re nuts, she told herself.

It’s damned crazy to help him. But when he turned away and

started to walk off, heading for the woods farthest from the road,

she reached out for him. She grabbed at his uninjured arm, forcing

him to stop and face her again. “Are you running from the law?”

Surprise washed over his features, followed

in rapid order by shock, comprehension, and amusement. The blue

eyes shone with a peculiar silvery glow in stark contrast to his

dark skin. “Not exactly,” he said, looking down at her. He was at

least eight inches taller than her own five-foot-five.

“You haven’t done anything illegal?”

The amusement deepened. “In my entire life?”

He shrugged and winced. “Can’t say that. I run red lights late at

night. Ignore speed limits. Got into a fight in a bar once.”

“Are Chet and... whatever-his-name-was—”

“Sid.”

“Are Chet and Sid into something ugly?”

The amusement fled his face, and she saw

another sort of depth in the expression replacing it: hard and

determined, even violent, if necessary. Her breath caught and

chills crawled along her skin. This could be a dangerous man. Her

head throbbed so badly she was afraid it would explode.

“I think so,” he said.

Kristie sighed and nodded. She wanted to

ignore the pressure, leave him, and drive off. But the knowledge

pressed on her and its weight rolled over any rational objections.

He was the man her message had referred to, and danger hung around

him like a coiling snake. This was going to be the stupidest thing

she’d ever done in her life.

“I have a room in a hotel down near

Asheville,” she said. “Do you think that’s far enough away to be

safe for the time being?”