noticed those bloodstains.”
Maybe it was the influence of too many movies, but the possible significance of his words made her go numb with fright.
That same fear must have addled her reason, she decided, judging from her next comment—which surprised her at least as much as it seemed to surprise him.
“You deceitful bastard!” She spat the words at him with a contempt unmitigated by her fear.
Bastard…the word had a B-movie feel in her mouth, yet it came out automatically from the depths of her anger and indignation. If she had been burned by a dishonest fiancé, this was infinitely worse. So far as she knew, Doug had never sunk to the level of holding a gun on someone.
However, even more surprising than her comment was his reaction to it.
The impact on him was visible and startling. Something desperate and frightened flashed in those variable eyes of his. Not anger, precisely, but somehow she had touched a very raw nerve.
“No,” he told her. “No. It’s…”
His voice trailed off, and he waved his free hand in a dismissive oh-what’s-the-use gesture. “It’s not what you think,” he finished, offering no more.
“Mr. Henning, please, I don’t—”
“It’s Quinn Loudon, not George Henning.”
“Well who ever you are, I don’t understand. You say it’s not what I think it is. I assure you, I don’t know what to think.”
He still stood outside in the newly gathering darkness. Instead of answering her, Loudon cast a nervous glance back toward the road. The temperature was going down with the sun, and she saw him shiver in his business suit.
“Come with me,” he told her.
Alarm made her pulse race. “Where…where are we going?”
“Look, just get a grip, would you? We’re not going anywhere. I’m not a rapist or a killer, and believe me, I don’t want you here any more than you want to be here. Right now I just want to hide the cars behind the cabin, and I want you in my sight while I do it, all right? Do you think both vehicles will fit back there?”
“I really couldn’t tell you,” she said cautiously. “Hiding cars from the law isn’t my specialty.”
“Who said I’m hiding anything from the law? Maybe I am the law.”
She looked at the gun in his hand. “No you’re not. You’re just a criminal swaggering around like a big man, frightening unarmed women. What’s next, a raid on a daycare center?”
Now anger did indeed spark in those compelling eyes of his. But he slipped the gun back into its holster under his jacket.
When she still refused to move outside, he seized her under one elbow and tugged her out into the yard. His grip felt strong as a steel trap and intimidated her into passivity. He could do plenty of damage without a gun, she had to admit to herself with a chill inching down her spine.
“Get in,” he ordered her, opening the passenger door of the Jeep.
The moment she did, she remembered the keys were in the ignition. By the time he’d limped around to the driver’s door, she had managed to lock both doors and scoot behind the steering wheel.
She keyed the ignition and the engine coughed to life. She ground the gearshift into reverse just a moment before he smashed out the driver’s window with the butt of his gun.
She went nowhere. The parking brake held. His hand like a warm vise pressed into her throat.
“Don’t test me,” he growled in a low, rough voice. “I’m a very desperate man, Miss Adams.”
Only one question looped through her mind: Would he really hurt her?
One part of her didn’t think so—some things about him just didn’t seem to tally up as criminal—a violent criminal, at any rate. His speech, for one thing, and his appearance.
Then again, she recalled bitterly, he wouldn’t be the first callow man who fooled the decent with good tailoring. Doug, too, had been a natty dresser with impeccable manners. And face it, she admonished herself. He’d played her like a piano.
Closing her eyes, she surrendered the need to fight. The crime playing out now wasn’t about credit cards and sweet lies of love. She knew nothing about the man before her. The only thing she did know was that he was at least giving her a warning—something Doug had never done. If she was a fool and underrated the man’s evil capacity, she could end up dead. So she had to take heed. She had to.
He leaned one meaty shoulder through the window and took the car keys. She moved over into the passenger’s seat as if he burned her.
Noticeably favoring his hurt left leg, he climbed in and drove the Jeep around back. He parked as close to the cabin as he could.
“Should be just enough room for my car,” he muttered, thinking out loud, his face lean and pale.
“You’re not really an investment advisor, are you?” she asked as he pushed her in front of him as they went around the cabin for his car.
He shook his head. “I’m a lawyer. I’m with the U.S. Attorney’s Office out of Billings. Or at least I was,” he added in a bitter afterthought.
A great cover, she told herself, for a criminal to pose as the law.
On the other hand, she did note he had the serious lawyerly type down pat.
Except for the hole in his leg.
They got into the Lexus and moved it to the rear of the cabin. In the ensuing silence, she finally asked the question she feared she already knew the answer to. “So what’s wrong…what happened to you?”
“I was shot,” he told her bluntly. “About three, four hours ago. At the courthouse in Kalispell.”
She ratcheted up her courage a few more notches and asked, “By whom?”
“I couldn’t tell you the gentleman’s name. He was one of these rude assholes who shoot you without introducing themselves.”
She said nothing. There was no point in tossing back a retort, such as maybe he was shot because he was doing something he shouldn’t have. By the tight expression on his face, she wasn’t going to get any more information out of him. For right now at least.
When he did finally say something, mostly to end the painful silence between them, he was still evasive.
“I understand how all this must appear to you, but the process of observation defines only one reality. Others you haven’t observed are just as real.”
“Well, you certainly can talk like a lawyer.” Or his guilty client, she thought pointedly.
He surprised her by smiling, although there was no mirth or playfulness in it. “I suppose I do. But I don’t put the noose before the gavel.”
He
