and Wolf somewhere else?
“Let me in. We can talk about what to do in the morning. Devlin won’t try to come back tonight. If he does, he’ll be trapped in this storm.”
With them? No, Devlin or his hit man would kill her and possibly Wolf. Then he could just take shelter in her cabin until the storm passed. The thought of Wolf hurt like that, or dead, made her sick.
Lucas could make it to town before the storm really got bad, but he’d return once the roads were passable again and she’d be hard-pressed to get away before he did. On the other hand, if she allowed him to stay, she could ride the storm out and wait for another opportunity to escape. She could take his keys while he slept. He’d be okay in the cabin until he found a way out. An outdoorsman like him could hike to the road or even town. By then she’d be long gone.
She unlocked the door, pulled it open and stepped back.
Lucas stood with snowflakes covering him, his gun held down at his side and his pack slung over his other shoulder. He looked manly and strong and sexier than she’d ever seen him.
“I knew you’d see reason.” He grinned.
“This doesn’t mean I trust you.” She folded her arms.
He walked inside. “Oh, believe me, I know.” He brushed the snow off himself and stomped his feet. He looked around. “Where is the baby?”
“In bed.”
He looked at her. “Can I see him?” He put his pack down.
Indecision gnawed her. He must be wondering if the baby was Bo’s child—if he had a nephew. What harm would it be to allow him a look?
She led him to her bedroom and the secret door, which she unlocked to allow him inside.
“This is a little overkill, isn’t it?” he asked as he walked to the crib.
“You think it’s overkill after being shot at tonight?” She came to stand at the foot of the crib. Wolf lay sleeping on his back, the blanket up to his chin.
Lucas turned on the light on the side table. Then he used his finger to pull the blanket farther down. He gazed at Wolf for endless seconds. Then his eyes lifted to catch hers. She saw the unvoiced question. Was the baby his nephew? Next she saw the pain of loss and a wish for some kind of link to his dead brother.
Empathy took her by surprise. She met his eyes for a while, flustered and reeling. This felt like a connection, but there could be none because this was her enemy.
To her amazement, Lucas averted his eyes first. “What’s his name?”
“Wolf.”
He returned to his silent and reverent study of the baby.
Demi looked down at Wolf, befuddled over what was transpiring. Could it be that Lucas had come here to help her? Or had seeing his nephew in the flesh confused him?
She folded her arms, feeling uncharacteristically vulnerable. Wolf was the most important thing in her life now. She’d had no way of predicting his importance before he was born. He’d been important as he’d grown inside her, but as soon as he came out into the world and gave that first cry, something had changed in her. When he’d been placed in her arms, she knew she’d never be the same. Every move he made, every twitch of his tiny arms, every shift of his head, was miraculous. When his newborn eyes met hers, she’d melted with love.
This man could take all of that from her.
When he looked up at her, she sensed he’d ask more questions.
“Let’s let him sleep.” Demi moved to the door and waited for Lucas to leave the room ahead of her.
He walked to the door and stopped, meeting her eyes as though guessing she didn’t want to talk about Wolf’s father.
“I’m going to board up the window, then I’ll sleep on the sofa.” He left the room.
Demi’s heart slammed. He’d backed off. Maybe he’d recognized the mama bear in her. Maybe he had decided to table his desire to see and hold the child of his dead brother. Demi could not trust her intuition. With Lucas, she’d been wrong too many times to give in to the primal attraction that had plagued her from the first time she met him. Okay, so she was attracted to him. That didn’t mean he was good for her.
Lucas lay on Demi’s living room sofa, his head on his folded arms, fireplace flickering, staring up at the shadows flickering on the ceiling. He had so much on his mind he couldn’t sleep. Demi’s determination to get away, her protectiveness of Wolf and, most of all, her reticence in talking about Bo. Why did she feel that way? Did she feel threatened? He could see why she’d taken such precautions in fleeing and hiding, and even securing Wolf in his nearly impenetrable room. She must fear his being taken from her and, of course, harmed in some way. Did she also fear that Lucas would take the baby after he turned her in? As a relative, Lucas could get custody of the baby if she were in jail.
What could he do to convince her he had no intention of turning her in? Maybe all she needed was time—to trust him or for him to prove that Devlin had become the prime suspect in the Groom Killer case. He felt obligated to make amends for believing her guilty for so long. He also knew how stubborn she could be.
Hearing her moving in her bedroom, he saw a light turn on. He listened to her open the secret door. How many times did she do that during the night? Maybe she hadn’t until now, when her location had been revealed and someone started shooting at her.
He heard her close and lock the door and then come into the hallway. She walked quietly, as though trying not to wake him.
“I’m not asleep.” He pushed the blanket off and stood to see her frozen in the kitchen.
He had kept his jeans on but was bare other than that. He watched her take in his chest and arms and then lift her eyes. Blinking, she turned and took out a glass from the cabinet. Lucas liked how she stretched her body to reach the upper shelf. She wore a sleeveless nightgown that fell to her knees and inched up her thighs. She was barefoot, like him. The gas fireplace kept it warm in here. The cabin had forced air heating, as well, but on such a cold night with blowing snow, the cabin would feel draftier without the extra heat.
“Nights like tonight I wish I had a television,” Demi said as she put the glass on the counter, the nightgown returning to her knees and her bare heels touching back down on the wood floor.
“I can’t sleep, either.”
Without acknowledging that, she opened the refrigerator and took out a milk container. He leaned against the island, the tree lights and fire the only sources of illumination after the refrigerator closed. He found it amazing that she’d managed to make such a welcoming home while on the run. Then again, as a bounty hunter, she knew how not to be found. Using a false name, plus her disguise, explained why it had taken so long for him to do so. She’d been on the run for a year. He should have known. He should not have underestimated her.
She glanced over at him as she finished pouring a glass of milk, her eyes going down the front of him before turning to put the milk carton away.
“Where’s Queenie?” she asked, in what must be a safe subject for her.
“She’s
