what? Should I make you stay here?” She waved the scissors toward him, but the expression on her face appeared more desperate than threatening.
Under other circumstances, he might have liked the idea of staying overnight in a deserted cabin with a woman as lovely as Savannah. But she was a fugitive, accused of murdering her ex-husband. And at the moment, another earthquake could hit at any time.
“No thanks,” he said.
“But—I don’t think I’d better let you leave. I mean, well—you own that first responder company, right?”
“First Hand First Responders,” he said. “That’s right.”
“So if I let you leave here—you’ll just go tell your cop friends or associates that you found me. Or—you’re not going to try to bring me with you now, are you?” She suddenly appeared panicked.
And why not? She didn’t know, no matter what he’d said, that he wasn’t carrying a gun or other weapon.
He glanced around what he could see of the cabin in the light he carried. It looked like—well, a regular fishing cabin, except for the area destroyed by the earthquake.
And Savannah? She wasn’t in any kind of jail garb, but everyday clothes of a light-colored shirt over darker slacks. Maybe he was wrong about her.
And maybe not.
“Look, Savannah,” he said. “If what I’ve heard about you is true, then I can understand why you feel threatened by my being here.”
“I assume you heard the worst about me,” she said. “And—well, I didn’t kill my ex-husband.” Looking at him for a reaction, she raised her hand with the scissors even more. He just stayed calm, nodding his head. “I can’t let you arrest me.”
Grayson shook his head. “Let me tell you right now that I’m only the kind of first responder who tries to help people in trouble, both medically and otherwise. I don’t attempt to arrest anyone, or anything like that.”
“But you can get in touch with those who do,” she retorted.
“But I won’t,” he said. “Look, why don’t we sit down over there.” He gestured toward the kitchen table across the room where she had apparently been sitting and eating. “I’ll tell you what I’ve heard about you—and how much of it I believe. Which isn’t much.”
“Really?” Her eyes widened. And even in the light he carried, he could see their lovely greenness glowing, even as her blond eyebrows narrowed in apparent disbelief.
Yeah, she was definitely good-looking—and he’d better be careful. He didn’t want to get too interested in her.
He might not intend to turn her in, but neither did he intend to try helping an accused murderer escape justice.
Did he?
“Really,” he said. But she still didn’t appear convinced. And why should she? “Hey, I see you have a bottle of water over there. I assume a place like this doesn’t have anything stronger, so is there any more?”
“Yes, in the refrigerator, though it’s not cold.” She still looked and sounded wary.
“That’s fine. I’ll go get a bottle for me, then sit down over there.” He gestured toward the table. “Then we’ll talk, okay?”
“Do I have a choice?” Her voice sounded hoarse and he wished he could say something more to reassure her.
But what?
“Not really,” he said with a grin. “Only, I’m really not such a bad guy. Honest.”
“Honest?” she repeated. “Hah.” But when he looked at her, still standing not far from him, her posture seemed at least a little more relaxed. “Okay, let’s give this a try,” she said.
“Great. I’ll go get my water.” And Grayson headed to the refrigerator.
Oh, yes, he intended to talk with her. Maybe get her side of the story, since she had asserted her innocence.
And he didn’t think it was just their unusual circumstances at the moment that made him want to believe in her.
Savannah lowered the scissors as she watched Grayson get water from the refrigerator, then sit down. He placed the bottle in front of him beside his large flashlight.
What should she do? What could she do? She hoped he was telling the truth, that even as a first responder he wasn’t here to arrest her again, or call those in authority at the police station who’d bring her in. But even if he lied, she wasn’t really going to stab him. The best she could do would be to run out the door when he wasn’t looking, then continue running—in the near darkness. But where?
For now she would just remain alert and wary and hold a conversation. If he’d been telling the truth before, maybe it would be okay to talk with him.
But even then, when he was ready to go—well, would she be able to trust him not to turn her in, no matter what he said?
She would just have to see how things went.
Not that she could control them anyway. At least not entirely.
“So tell me what happened,” Grayson said as she sat down facing him, gently placing the scissors on the table before her but within reach. “Tell me how the van was struck and how you got out of it. I assume you’re aware the driver was killed.”
Savannah nodded solemnly. “Yes. His name was Ari. I... I didn’t know him well, but I did check on him when I finally got out of the van and...and...well, I’m not an expert like a first responder, but I tried to help him and didn’t see any sign of life.” She felt herself tear up. Well, she truly was sad about the situation.
Grayson. She had seen him at parties and social events now and then. They were from similar backgrounds, since their families were both among the Mustang Valley elite. She had enjoyed those kinds of festivities, even after she married Zane.
But Savannah hadn’t paid much attention to Grayson—except to notice his good looks. His body tall and slim, yet muscular, beneath the high-end clothing he generally wore at parties, his well-styled dark brown hair and gorgeous blue eyes. He wore his current outfit well, too—a long-sleeved black T-shirt with a neon emergency vest over it. His stubble was trimmed short and added to his sexiness. Of course, she hadn’t been interested in how attractive a man he might have been when she believed she had most recently seen him, although she couldn’t recall exactly when it had been. But she believed now that she had still been married, and though her marriage was ending she certainly wasn’t interested in flirting with someone else. And with Grayson—well, she had gotten the impression he wasn’t thrilled about being at most of those parties, that his family had twisted his arm to come. She knew he wasn’t part of the family business, Colton Oil.
“I assume you found Ari’s... Ari,” she continued, choosing not to use the term “body.”
He
