Honor Bound(19)

It was when she raised her other knee to the sill that she lost her balance. Deliberately, she propelled herself toward the outside. With that much momentum behind it, her body slipped through the open window. As she fell, her arm caught on a nail on the sill. It ripped a seam in her flesh from wrist to armpit.

Miraculously, she landed on her feet below, but the ground was uneven. Grasping her arm in pain, she reeled backward and went toppling down a slope, rolling, somersaulting, only to bump her head on a rock at the bottom.

For a few blinding seconds, she stared up at the fiery orb of the sun, which seemed to be mocking her. Then all went black.





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Chapter 4



He was anxious to get back. His eyes, missing nothing, had memorized the landmarks. He knew he had only a few miles left to go. Three at most. He pushed the accelerator to the floorboard.

Thankfully, the car responded. It was back in prime working condition. Switching out the hoses hadn't been a problem. The difficulty had been running all the way back to the car with heavy tools in his pockets and carrying a gallon jug of water to replace what had leaked out. He was accustomed to running distance. Even in midsummer heat that wasn't a challenge. But carrying the unevenly distributed extra poundage had been.

Greywolf was grateful for the opportunity to think as the car ate up the remaining miles. The hot wind whipped against his cheeks and through his hair. He preferred driving with the windows down; disdaining artificial air conditioning when he could glory in the elements of the desert. Only because of the woman had he left the car windows rolled up in the first place.

The woman.

His conscience pricked him to think of her locked up in that hot, filthy rest room. But what else could he have done? Left her to phone the nearest sheriff's office? Taken her with him? She would never have been able to walk back to the car, and even if she had, she would have added hours to the time it had taken him. Hours he couldn't afford.

How soon before they caught up with him? How soon? Would he make it there in time? He had to.

He had known what the prison escape would cost him, but he was willing to pay any price. He only regretted that it had cost others as well. He hadn't enjoyed knocking unconscious the trustee who had considered him a friend. He hadn't enjoyed frightening the woman either. She represented everything he despised: Anglos in general and affluent Anglos in particular. Still, he wished he hadn't been forced to involve her.

Forced to?

With an aggravated motion, he switched on the radio and turned it up full volume, telling himself he wanted to catch any forthcoming news bulletins. Actually, he hoped the blaring music would block out thoughts of her.

Why had he saddled himself with this responsibility? Why hadn't he just clipped her on the chin and left her house as quickly and quietly as he had come? By the time she regained consciousness and alerted the police, he would have had time to elude them again.

Instead, stupidly, he had stayed and heckled the Anglo woman. He had needed a shower, yes, but that was a luxury he could have done without. He had needed sleep, yes, but he could have found a place less comfortable than her bed with its scented sheets and fluffy pillows.

Even granting himself that much luxury, why hadn't he left before dawn the moment he had awakened? Sure, she would have notified the authorities when she woke up, but that could have been hours later. By then his trail would have been cold.

Instead of doing what he knew he should, he had lain there gazing at her blond beauty. She was too easy to look at, and he had never entertained the thought of resisting the temptation. Eyes starved for the sight of a woman had feasted on her. He had breathed deeply of her scent, treating his nostrils, too long deprived, to the perfume of a woman's body.

Rather than sneaking out as he knew he should, he had foolishly decided that he would take her with him. It was never his intention to harm her.

All right, so why did you threaten her with a knife?

Safety precaution.

Did you have to make her strip?

That was unnecessary, I admit. But I just wanted to look at her.

Like hell.

It's true. I wouldn't have forced her. Besides she's an Anglo. I don't even like Anglo women. I sure don't desire them.

You desire this one.

I've been in prison for God's sake! Any woman would be desirable!

You wouldn't like to make love to her?

No.

You're a damn liar.

Well I didn't and I won't.

He would maintain rigid control over his lust if it killed him. He just wanted the woman near him. That's all. To keep that taunting voice of his conscience at bay, he thought of all the reasons he didn't like his blond hostage.

She was rich and spoiled, no doubt. She had about her that Do-Not-Touch look that Indian boys like him had come to recognize on Anglo coeds. That was one of the first things he had learned when he left the reservation to attend college. Girls like Aislinn Andrews might flirt with you, but they sure as hell didn't want to make it with you. Or if they did let it go that far, it was for kicks, for the novelty of it, to brag to their sorority sisters that they'd had an Indian. "No!" "Yes!" "Just how savage was it?" The next day they acted like they didn't know you and the social barriers were up again.

This Anglo woman had spunk, though; he'd give her that. She could have been a real pain in the ass, whining and crying all the time, but she hadn't been. She'd kept a stiff upper lip no matter what he put her through.