man had exercised restraint so far. Guilt nudged her that she’d put that bruise under his eye. Truly, she wasn’t a violent person. She downright detested violence under most circumstances. But this afternoon definitely qualified as one of Grams’s “desperate” times.
She watched him wade into water that nearly reached his hips. Just the thought of venturing into that icy water made her shiver. “Lady, you are a menace not only to me but to yourself,” he snarled.
“I’m sorry,” she offered.
He shot her a withering look and continued his search.
His eyes were the color of flint, all rigid control and that cool distance cops seemed to specialize in. The man might know how to fill out a pair of jeans, he might even have pretty eyes, but Abby knew better than to let herself be charmed by a cop. She hated the way they looked at her. With suspicion and disdain and that nasty little hint of superiority that set her teeth on edge. Despite his finer attributes, he was a cop where it counted. And she’d be wise to remember that in the coming hours.
“Well, Einstein, it looks like you and I are going to have to ride back tonight without the benefit of the chopper.” He waded through knee-deep water and stepped up onto the muddy bank.
She shouldn’t have noticed the way that wet denim hugged his lean hips and muscular thighs, not to mention another part of his male anatomy she did not want to think about. She shouldn’t be noticing a lot of things about this man, including the fact that he was undoubtedly the most handsome cop she’d ever laid eyes on.
He’d lost his hat at some point, revealing dark hair that was cropped short. His features were angular and lean with cheekbones befitting a Comanche chief. His hollowed cheeks and straight nose lent him a hardened appearance. But his mouth was oddly soft—and sensual enough to tempt a saint.
Abby winced when he reached up and fingered the bruise under his right eye.
“I’m sorry about the bruise,” she said quietly.
“The bruise?” A humorless laugh broke from his throat as he reached for his boots and stepped into them. “You just chucked our only means of communication and you’re worried about a freaking bruise?”
“You should put something cold—”
“If we run into heavy weather or one of us gets hurt—”
“I’m sorry you’re so upset about the radio.”
“You’re damn straight I’m upset! I can’t believe someone would do something so incredibly stupid. Even a convict!”
“I hate to point this out, but I think you’re angry because I got the jump on you.”
He shot her an incredulous look. “What?”
“I nearly got away. That chaps your ego. That’s why you’re so angry.”
“I appreciate you pointing that out to me, but I’m particularly angry because we’ve got over five hours of riding ahead of us and heavy weather moving in.”
“Look, I’m sorry I put you in a tough spot. But I’m sure you’ll get out of this just fine. This isn’t personal. It’s just that…I can’t go back.”
He choked out another humorless laugh. “I hate to be the one to break this earth-shattering news to you, Blondie, but you don’t have a choice.”
“I can’t go back. I won’t.”
He glared at her. “If you’ve got any other quick-escape schemes up your sleeve, I strongly suggest you put them out of your mind because it’s not going to happen. Got it?”
“You don’t understand.”
“I understand perfectly. You escaped from prison. It’s my job to take you back. End of story.”
“It’s not that simple.”
“Look, we can do this the easy way, or I can use force. It’s up to you. But I can tell you, if you choose option number two, it’s only going to make it harder for you.”
“Cowboy—”
“Don’t argue. Let’s go.”
“Please, don’t do this.” Despite her best efforts, her voice quivered with the last word. “I can’t go back.”
He regarded her with those cool, gray eyes. “You should have thought of the consequences before you murdered someone.”
Even after nearly a year of being called a murderer, the word still made her shake inside. “I didn’t kill anyone.”
“Lady, do you have any idea how many times I’ve heard that?”
“I don’t care how many times you’ve heard it. I’m innocent.”
“A jury says you did it. The warden wants you back. That’s all I need to know.”
Abby knew her claim of innocence fell on deaf ears. She knew what it sounded like—a murderer’s desperate ploy to buy time. She would never convince this man that she was innocent. The only person who could do that was Dr. Jonathan Reed at Mercy General Hospital in Denver. A man who’d held her heart in his palm—and crushed it right before her eyes.
“I’d rather die than go back to prison,” she said after a moment.
He frowned at her. “You keep pulling stupid stunts like the one with the radio and that can be arranged.” His boots sloshed with water as he stalked over to her. “Get up. We’ve got some ground to cover.”
By the time they reached the mule a few minutes later, it was snowing. Abby had always loved snow. It made the world look fresh and new and untainted by life’s problems. It reminded her of home and those endlessly long winters she and Grams had spent on the farm back in Calloway County, Kentucky, before Paps passed away.
She wondered if life would ever be that simple again.
A few feet away, looking miserable and cold in those wet jeans, Cowboy Cop shrugged into his duster. Scooping his hat off the ground, he brushed at the dried grass and set it on his head. “Come here.”
Warily, she stepped over to him and stuck out her chin. “If you’re thinking of brutalizing me because I tossed your stupid radio, I should warn you I have a really good lawyer. Jackson Scott Sargent specializes in police brutality and he’s won every case—”
“Shut up and turn around.” Frowning, he extracted the handcuff key from a small compartment in his belt.
Realizing with some surprise that he was going to remove the cuffs, she turned her back to him and offered her wrists. “Oh, well…thank you.”
He removed the cuff from one wrist. “Don’t thank me because I’m just letting you wear them in front because you’re going to get up on that mule—”
“Wait just a—”
“And you’re going to need to hold on to the horn with both hands because she’s got a gait like a truck
