was sticking out of her shoulder! Was this some kind of sick joke?
“Get it out of me. Get it out!” She grabbed it, trying to pull it away, but pain seared through her body.
Jack grabbed her wrist. “Don’t touch it. You’ll do more damage.” He swept her into his arms and ran for the door to her houseboat. Every step made the arrow bounce, setting fire searing in her shoulder. She squeezed her eyes closed and clamped her jaw shut to keep from crying out.
“Stay here. I’m going to try to catch the archer.”
She felt the soft cushions of the sofa at her back, then Jack released her and ran for the door. Agony radiated from her shoulder outward, as if a shark had clamped onto her and would not let go. She wanted it out of her. She squeezed her eyes closed as tears ran down her cheeks.
An eternity later Jack was beside her again, his forehead glistening with sweat.
“Did you…catch him?”
“No.” He leaned over her, his blue eyes tight with concern. “Hang on. There’s an ambulance on the way.”
She could hear sirens. They were growing louder. “Did you see who did it?”
“Yeah.” He took her hand, his expression grim. “It was a bald girl, Larsen. A tiny little thing in a Redskins T-shirt.”
She stared at him. Her mouth opened then snapped shut on the metallic taste of fear.
Jack’s expression turned grave and worried. “I don’t know what you’ve gotten yourself into.” He stroked her hair back from her face. “But I think you’re in over your head. Sooner or later you’re going to have to trust someone.”
She blinked, sending more tears sliding down her cheeks. Trust someone. The one thing she could never do.
He had to win her trust.
Jack glanced into the rearview mirror of the police-issue sedan. Tucked into the corner of the seat behind him, hidden behind tinted windows, was Larsen Vale. The answer to his prayers.
Tension tightened his grip on the steering wheel as he maneuvered the roads clogged with morning work traffic. He didn’t remember the last time he’d been this nervous over an assignment. Over anything. But never had anything mattered so much.
She quieted the voices. If he could just figure out how. Hell, he didn’t care how. All that mattered was keeping her close enough to touch.
And the only way to do that was to make her fall for him. To win her as his own. A girlfriend would stay by his side. A wife. He had to make her love him if he wanted to save his sanity. Crazy, yeah, but it was all he could think of.
Unfortunately he also had to get to the bottom of her involvement in this case, but pushing her to tell him what she knew would only earn her anger, if not her hatred. He squeezed the steering wheel until he feared it would snap off in his hands. How could he possibly win both the woman and her secrets?
He had to win her trust. Get her to volunteer the information.
Yeah, right. He’d just wine and dine her for…what? Twenty minutes? He didn’t have time. Every day he didn’t catch the rapist was another day a young woman might lose her innocence…or her life. Someone had died, now. Things were escalating.
The only thing in his favor was the bizarre twist of fate that had dropped the pretty attorney right into his hands. He had one chance to charm her. Once chance to win her over. But he had to move fast. And he had no clue how to go about charming a man-hater.
“This is kidnapping,” she muttered, her words slurred from the heavy sedative they’d given her before they’d dug the arrow out of her shoulder in the emergency room.
He glanced at her again. Her head was back, her eyes closed, a scowl marring the beauty of her face.
“Yeah. So sue me for not taking you back to your houseboat where the little archer could take another shot at you.”
“I want you to take me to a motel.”
“For the time being, you’re stuck with me.”
“I don’t want to be stuck with you. I don’t want to be stuck with anyone.”
Jack sighed. He’d known this wouldn’t be easy. “Your life’s been threatened by a murder suspect, Larsen. You’re under police protection until the captain decides otherwise.”
“I need to go back to my houseboat. I need some things.”
“You can borrow one of my T-shirts and a toothbrush. My partner’s wife can loan you whatever else you need. Try to think of this as a short vacation.”
Her frown deepened. “At your house.”
“Only the finest for D.C.’s most formidable prosecutor.”
“You’re mocking me.”
“You? No. My house? Maybe.”
She didn’t reply. He glanced into the rearview mirror to find her expression had evened out. The pain medication was kicking in.
She’d been lucky. The arrowhead was small and had gone cleanly through her shoulder, doing minimal damage. A few inches and the arrow would have gone through her heart. His own heart lurched at the thought of how easily he might have lost her—his salvation gone in the blink of an eye.
By an arrow. What in the hell was going on?
Somehow, Larsen Vale held the key to this case. How, he couldn’t begin to guess, but he’d stake his life and his reputation on the fact that she’d seen something in that church yesterday. She’d witnessed something that had sent her running from the scene. And someone knew it. All he could do now was protect her—and get her to confide in him before she was permanently silenced.
By the time he arrived at his modest row house apartment, the focus of his thoughts was fast asleep. He carried her inside and back to his bedroom, laying her on his bed. The morning sun shone through the blinds, casting thin rows of bright sunlight across both the woman and the unmade bed.
He pulled the cord, adjusting the blinds, then stared down at his very own sleeping beauty.
“What am I going to do with you?” He slid a thick lock of silky golden hair between his thumb and forefinger, feeling a shaft of desire spear through him. Damn. His own lust was a complication he could do without. But she was beautiful. There was no denying it.
His gaze traveled over her features as he drank his fill, at last. He brushed the pad of his thumb over the softness of her cheek, a fine possessiveness rising inside him. She was made for him, the cure to his madness, the escape from his own private hell.
Determination bordering on desperation fired his blood. He wouldn’t lose her. He couldn’t. He couldn’t return to the building insanity in his head knowing…knowing…the cure was lost to him. If he ran Larsen off now, how would he stay sane when the noise grew beyond bearing? How would he stand it when he knew a single touch of her hand would silence the chaos?
Stay by my side. Silence
