couldn’t go to the cops.
Neither could Gina. So now she was at Colts Run Cross, in the last place Trish would have ever expected to send her. But desperation made a person take desperate risks.
Trish stepped outside. It was warm, but not the same kind of unforgiving heat that attacked Dallas so mercilessly in July and August. Credit the wind blowing across the lake for that.
The moon slid behind a cloud, turning the night pitch-dark. The high-pitched chorus of what must have been thousands of tree frogs filled the night, accompanied by the occasional screech of an owl and the rustle of grass as one of the night creatures hunted nearby. Deer, squirrel, raccoon, skunks, armadillos—and snakes. She had lots of company. And she was totally alone.
A mosquito buzzed her face and landed on her cheek. She slapped it away, started to go back inside—then stopped dead-still as a new noise wafted on the breeze. It was a car engine. Fear slammed her senses. The man had found her. He’d make his demands again, and when she couldn’t deliver…
The car came closer. She’d parked her rental at the edge of the wooded area, hidden from view so no one would know she was here. Big mistake since there was no way she could get to it now in time to escape.
Still she had to try.
She rushed in the house to get the keys, then took off out the back door again just as the car stopped in front of the house.
She’d have to go through the woods if there were any chance of not walking right into his hands. The brush hit her in the face and her footsteps sounded like a herd of deer as she raced through the heavy undergrowth. He had to hear her, and he’d be right behind her. The outline of her car was in view when a prickly branch snagged her jeans and sent her crashing to the damp carpet of pine straw. The keys flew from her hands.
She felt for them in the dark, imagining that any second her fingers would rake the body of a slithering snake instead. Only now she could hear footsteps. The man was right behind her. Leaving the keys, she stood and started running again, this time deeper into the woods.
“Trish.”
The moon reappeared and filtered through the trees enough that Trish could finally see where she was going. She tried to run faster, but stumbled. Her fingers scratched and slid along the rough bark of a tree trunk. And then she felt the man’s body as he tackled her and they both went crashing to the ground.
“What the hell are you doing?”
She tried to roll over, but his body was pressing into hers and holding her down. “I don’t have…” Finally she’d wiggled around enough to see the man’s face, and her angry protests turned to cotton in her mouth. Her heart skipped erratically and then slammed against her chest.
“How did you find me?”
LANGSTON STARED INTO TRISH’S eyes, aware of the feel of his body pressing into hers, aware of his hands still wrapped around her waist, his fingers splayed against the bare flesh of her stomach beneath the loose T-shirt. Aware of her hair, in complete disarray with pine straw jutting from the dark curls.
A crazy jolt of arousal shot through him. He pushed away instantly.
She stood and brushed herself off. “What are doing here, Langston?”
“Nice to see you again, too, Trish. You really should work on your greeting skills, though.”
“My greeting skills are fine when I’m expecting company. I wasn’t. And you didn’t answer my question. What are you doing here?”
“Looking for you. Your daughter is frantic.”
“Is she with you?”
“No, she’s at the ranch. What the devil is going on?”
“I’m not sure, but I think the cop who saved me from a carjacker last week is trying to kill me.”
“Why would he?”
“I know it doesn’t make sense, but he wants a video that he thinks I have.”
“A video?”
“See, I told you it doesn’t make sense.”
To say the least. “Let’s go inside and you can give me the full story.”
“I’m not sure it’s safe to be here with me. He could show up any minute.”
“Then you’d better talk fast.”
Not that he was going anywhere. There was no way he could walk away from her as long as she needed him.
But there wasn’t a chance he’d let her sneak back into his heart.
Chapter Four
Trish had been totally unnerved before Langston arrived on the scene. Now it was worse. Langston wasn’t the same youthful, high-flying college guy he’d been that hot, sultry summer in Houston. She wasn’t the same naively optimistic woman she’d been. Still, the past seemed to dominate the situation and sensual tension charged the air.
Langston leaned against the kitchen counter, his piercing, dark eyes boring into hers. “Tell me about the carjacking.”
Trish pulled a sprig of pine straw from her hair, dropped to one of the worn kitchen chairs and propped her elbows on the table. “I’d gone to lunch with one of the sales reps from my favorite jewelry line, but had taken my own car so I could stop by the drugstore on the way back to the boutique. I was still buckling up when some guy opened the passenger side door and jumped in.”
“Buck Rivers.”
“Right. How did you know that?”
“A friend told me, but that’s about all I know. The guy must have been watching you when you exited the restaurant.”
“I guess, but I didn’t see him. If I had, I wouldn’t have thought anything about it. The parking lot was crowded and it was the middle of the day. And he was just a normal-looking guy—except for the pistol he pointed at my head.”
“Go on.”
“He was yelling at me to drive faster and ordering me when and where to turn. At first I thought he was just desperate to get somewhere and thought he might actually let me go after that. Once he forced me to turn on a deserted back road, I got a lot more worried.”
“Did he act as if he knew you?”
“He just referred to me as a rich bitch. When he told me to stop, I panicked and hit the gas instead. He tried to kick my foot off the accelerator. That’s when we left the blacktop. We were headed right for a bridge. I hit the ravine just before I hit the railing.”
Langston joined her at the table. “You’re lucky to be alive.”
She looked up and let her eyes meet his. His gaze was still piercing, but shadowed now. She dropped her eyes and focused on his hands. No longer the hands of a rancher, she noticed. They were smooth. And there was no wedding ring on his left hand. It didn’t matter. She couldn’t let it.
“I
