seriously hurt. But his EMT training—and the ever-present threat of lawsuits against police departments by disgruntled suspects—told him it was always wise to rule out the serious stuff first. “Roll over for me, okay?”
Grunting with the effort, she rolled slowly onto her back. “Ow. Oh, Jeez.”
Jake’s heart rate spiked when he found himself looking down into violet eyes framed by thick, black lashes and a whole lot of attitude he had absolutely no desire to deal with. He’d had his fill of women with attitude and didn’t much like the idea of another helping—especially the con and liar variety.
“Anything hurt?” he asked.
“My hip hurts. And my elbow. Jeez, it feels like I landed on a rock.”
“You just got the wind knocked out of you,” he said.
“Yeah, well, I don’t know about you, but I just happen to be partial to keeping oxygen in my lungs. Makes breathing a hell of a lot easier.”
“You should have thought of that before you climbed that tree. That was a damn fool stunt.”
“For the record, I’m an expert on the damn fool bit, so you may as well get used to it.” Pulling a stick from her hair, she tossed it at him, then sat up.
The prison-issue jumpsuit didn’t do much for her figure, but Jake couldn’t help but notice the body beneath it. She was long and athletic and the material fell over curves he was a fool for noticing at a moment like this.
“What the hell were you doing up in that tree, anyway?” he asked.
She gave him a that’s-a-really-stupid-question glare that was hot enough to melt snow. “Well, I wasn’t building a tree house.”
“Running from the law isn’t very smart. You always get caught sooner or later.”
“Yeah, that’s exactly what I was thinking when you rode by the first time.”
Jake shoved down a rise of annoyance. He could do without the smart mouth. He could damn well do without the way he was responding to those eyes of hers. Eight years in the Marine Corps had taught him discipline, and he’d lived by that code ever since. Twelve years of law enforcement had taught him control, and he’d adopted that code into his personal life, as well. The ethics came from inside the man. Jake prided himself on all those things, characteristics that defined who he was. He wasn’t about to let a siren such as this lure him into the shallows so he could crash on the rocks and die a watery death.
“Are you alone?” Jake stood and stepped back.
She rolled her eyes. “You don’t think there’s anyone else stupid enough to go tromping through this godforsaken countryside for six hours with me, do you?”
“Stand up,” he said.
Grumbling, she struggled to her feet and began brushing the dust and dry grass from her jumpsuit.
Unable to help himself, Jake’s gaze swept the length of her. The instinctive need to do so surprised him—and disturbed him more than he wanted to admit. He wasn’t a gawker when it came to women, no matter how good they were to look at. He’d never had a problem with keeping his male tendencies in check. He wasn’t even sure why he was reacting to this woman now—but he was—and it was starting to tick him off.
“Lace your hands behind your head and turn around,” he said.
Sighing in annoyance, she reluctantly obeyed.
Only when her back was to him did Jake notice the tear in her jumpsuit. It started at her backside and stretched halfway down her thigh. The sight of velvety flesh and the white cotton panties beneath shouldn’t have made his mouth go dry, but it did, and for several long seconds he couldn’t take his eyes off that small, dangerous stretch of flesh.
She must have felt the draft because an instant later she craned her head around and spotted it. “Oh, great.” She lowered her hands. “My pants are ripped.”
“Put your hands up,” Jake said.
“Damn cheap—”
“Put ’em up, ma’am. Now.”
“But my pants are ripped and my—”
Jake cursed.
Compromising, she put one hand on her head, clutched the torn fabric together with her other.
He sighed. Well, wasn’t this a hell of a mess?
Easing his eyes away from the flesh in question, he looked her in the eye. If he’d thought her gaze would be any less mesmerizing than her thigh, he was mistaken. He felt its impact with the force of a hammer striking the head of a spike and driving it deep.
“Probably caught your pants on a branch on the way down,” he offered.
“No thanks to you.” Awkwardly she kept one hand behind her head, the other clutching the tear. “I need a safety pin.”
“Ma’am, I don’t have anything like that.”
“Yeah, you don’t look much like a safety pin kind of guy. I’m sure it would be totally stupid of me to ask if you have a needle and thread in that saddlebag of yours, wouldn’t it?”
Jake watched the color rise into her cheeks, felt his own discomfort grow. He wasn’t sure why her request bothered him, but it did. Probably because he couldn’t fault her for being modest, even if she was a criminal. “I’ve got some sutures we might could use. I’ll have a look in my pack as soon as I get you settled. Maybe we can rig something to get you by.”
Her eyes narrowed. “What do you mean by ‘settled’?”
Jake didn’t like the way the situation was shaping up. Procedure dictated he search her next. By no means did he want to get his hands anywhere near that body. Male officers normally didn’t search female prisoners, but during the briefing the team had been warned that this woman should be considered armed and dangerous. If he’d been in town, he could have radioed for a female officer to assist to do a quick preliminary search for weapons or drugs. But he wasn’t anywhere near a town, and there wasn’t a female officer within fifty miles, so he was going to have to do the deed himself.
Oh, boy.
The thought shouldn’t have rattled him; he’d searched plenty of prisoners before transporting them. Quick. Impersonal. Half the time he found something illegal. But for the first time in the course of his career, Jake felt as if he were out of his element. Man, he needed this like he needed a kick in the head by his mule.
“I’d like for you to step over to the tree and put your hands on the trunk for me,” he said.
She rolled her eyes. “Don’t tell me you’re going to—”
“Ma’am, just do as I say.”
“I know the drill.” Clutching the material of her torn jumpsuit, she stalked over to the tree—and put her one free hand against it. Jake swore softly, but didn’t ask her to let go of the tear. He figured he’d be better off if he just didn’t think about
