thing,” he said. “Come with me.”
She followed him down the hallway. They seemed to be in a basement with low ceilings, but there wasn’t a musty smell. This place was clean, almost sterile. “Where are we?”
Instead of answering, Trevor pushed open the door to a bathroom. “Your clothes are inside if you want to change.”
Though she had a million questions, Sierra also had an overwhelming urge to pee. Bathroom first. Questions later.
She relieved her bladder, dressed quickly and splashed water on her face. When she slipped on her wristwatch, she noted that it was after six o’clock. She’d been here almost four hours. Doing what? She hadn’t been sleeping all that time.
Her purse sat on the counter beside the sink, and she checked the contents. Her lipstick, breath mints and ball-point pen were there. She still had seven dollars in her wallet. The only thing missing was her precise memory of what had happened to her in that interrogation room.
She returned to the hallway, where Trevor was waiting.
“How are you feeling?” he asked.
“I’ve been better.” She braced her fists on her hips. “Now I have some questions for you.”
“Shoot.”
“Let’s start with this—where the hell are we?”
“A good-size cabin with a couple of outbuildings, a barn and a stable in back. It belongs to Cameron Murphy.”
The name sounded familiar, but she couldn’t put a face with it. “Why did you bring me here?”
“I thought you might have information.” He placed his battered black cowboy hat on his head and started down the hallway at a casual saunter. “I expect you’re ready to get home.”
She also wanted answers. And he was being deliberately evasive. “Hold it right there, Trevor.”
Raising one eyebrow, he gave her a look that was about as innocent as that of a mountain lion. “Is there a problem?”
“Damn right! You threw me on your horse, brought me here and tied me up in that weird little room. I want to know why.”
“I asked you some questions.” He smiled calmly, but she remembered his other expression. His shimmering blue eyes could also be hard and angry. He was capable of inspiring fear. And yet when she’d dreamed about that kiss he’d been something else altogether.
“Who are you?” she asked. “What’s your job?”
“I’m a bounty hunter.”
“And you’re after the Militia.” When he opened the door to a root cellar, she balked. “Where are you taking me?”
“This is a back door. I wanted to avoid anybody who might be upstairs.”
Still she hesitated to follow him. “I don’t trust you.”
“I won’t hurt you, Sierra. You have my word.”
“The word of a bounty hunter? That’s not reassuring.”
“We’re on the same side,” he said. “You and I want the same thing.”
“To bring down the Militia?”
“You hate them as much as I do. Probably more.”
“But I’m not going after them.” She wanted to be left alone, to get on with her life. “I want no part of them. Or of you.”
“Will you allow me to take you home?”
She gave a curt nod. “And that will be the last we’ll ever see of each other.”
As she followed him to the doorway and out into the night, her firm decision wavered. Seeing Trevor again might not be the worst thing that ever happened to her.
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