Youre not like any man Ive ever tried to seduce, Dallas Cole.
Is that good or bad?
She cocked her head, a smile flirting with her kiss-stung lips. Both.
In case its not clear, I do want you.
She stepped closer until she pressed against him. I know.
She was damn near impossible to resist, but he made himself ease her away. We have to trust each other.
Yes, she agreed.
And sex complicates things.
It does.
It would be easy to let myself get caught up in you, as a way of forgetting
Comfort sex.
Yes. He stole a look at her. I dont want there to be any doubts between us. I dont want you to ever feel used.
A little late for that, she said in a wry tone, and he realized she was revealing more about her past than perhaps she meant to.
Blue Ridge Ricochet
Paula Graves
www.millsandboon.co.uk
PAULA GRAVES, an Alabama native, wrote her first book at the age of six. A voracious reader, Paula loves books that pair tantalizing mystery with compelling romance. When shes not reading or writing, she works as a creative director for a Birmingham advertising agency and spends time with her family and friends. Paula invites readers to visit her website www.paulagraves.com.
For my readers. Thank you for all your support.
I couldnt live this dream without you.
Contents
Cover
Introduction
Title Page
About the Author
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Epilogue
Extract
Copyright
Chapter One
Sleet rattled against the windshield, a staccato counterpoint to the rhythmic swish-swish of the windshield wipers. Outside, night had fallen in inky finality, as if it planned to stay awhile, the Jeeps headlights the only illumination as far as the eye could see.
Nicolette Jamison forced herself out of a weary slouch behind the steering wheel and concentrated on the curving mountain road revealed in her headlights, well aware of the treachery that lay ahead for a careless driver. The switchbacks and drop-offs in the Blue Ridge Mountains could be deadly if you werent paying attention. Not to mention the occasional reckless deer or coyote
Son of a!
The man loomed in the Jeeps headlights as suddenly as if the swirling mist had conjured him up, a tall, lean phantom of a man who turned slowly to face the headlights as she hit the brakes and prayed she wouldnt go into a skid this dangerously close to a steep drop-off.
The Jeeps wheels grabbed the blacktop and hung on, the vehicle shimmying to a stop just a yard away from the apparition gazing back at her through the windshield. For a second, she had a strange sense of recognition, as if she knew him, though she was pretty sure she didnt.
Then his eyes fluttered closed and he dropped out of sight.
Nickis heart stuttered like a snare drum against her rib cage as she stared at the misty void where, seconds earlier, shed seen the staring man.
Ghost, her inner twelve-year-old intoned, sending her heart rate soaring steeply for a few seconds before her grown-up side took charge. She checked the rearview mirror for coming traffic, saw only the faint red glow of her own taillights, and put the car in Reverse, backing up carefully until she could see what the front of the Jeep had concealeda man lying in a crumpled heap in the center of the narrow two-lane road.
She pulled the Jeep to the shoulder on the mountain side of the road and parked, engaging her hazard lights and trying to calm her rattled nerves. The man could be hurt.
Or it could be a trick. Maybe she should call the sheriffs department and let them handle things.
Except...
Buck up, Nicki. This is the life you chose.
Her weapons of choice these days were pepper spray and sheer nerve, and so far, shed survived on their one-two punch. But something about the man lying crumpled on the road in front of her made her nerve waver. There was still something eerily familiar about him, a memory tugging at the back of her mind, trying to make itself known.
Holding the pepper-spray canister out in front of her, she approached the man, easing into a crouch just beyond reach. She shifted position so that the glow from the Jeeps headlights fell across the mans face.
He was younger than shed thought, in his midthirties at most. His pallor, combined with the sunken cheeks and shadowed eyes that came with illness, had made him look older. He was still breathing, she saw with relief.
Mister?
He stirred at the sound of her voice, his eyelids flickering open to half-mast, then drifting shut again. He muttered something that sounded like a string of numbers, but she couldnt quite make them out.
Gingerly, she reached out to check his pulse. Fast but steady and stronger than shed anticipated. Where are you hurt?
He murmured numbers again. She made out a two and a four before he stopped.
She pulled her cell phone from the pocket of her jeans and tried to dial 911, then realized she didnt have any reception. Damn it. She pocketed the phone and stared at him for a second, considering her options. Leaving him here in the road wasnt an option. And without cell phone reception, calling for help wasnt an option, either. The temperature was right at the freezing mark, and his skin was cold to the touch, which suggested he might already be suffering from exposure.
He was breathing. He was at least semiconscious. His heart rate was a little fast but steady as a rock, so he didnt seem likely to go into cardiac arrest anytime soon. And hed definitely been mobile before he collapsed in front of her vehicle, so he didnt seem to have any spinal issues.
She had to get him warm, and the Jeep was the best bet. The old Wrangler had seen better days, but its heater still worked.
But how was she supposed to haul this man into her Jeep?
Mister, think you can stay with me long enough for me to get you to my car?
He opened his eyes, looking straight at her, and that niggle of recognition returned. Whore you?
My names Nicki. Whats yours?
Dallas.
For a brief second, she wondered if hed misunderstood her question. Then the memory that had been flickering in and out of the back of her mind popped to the front, and she sat back on her heels, almost toppling over.
Dallas. As in Dallas Cole, missing for almost three weeks now and presumed by most people as either dead and buried somewhere in the Blue Ridge Mountains or wintering somewhere on the coast of Mexico, a cerveza in hand and a pretty girl by his side.
The last place shed figured on running into the missing FBI employee was on Bellwether Road in the middle of Dudley County, Virginia.
Now she could see the resemblance between the man lying in the road in front of her and the missing man whose disappearance had caused a stir all the way from Washington, DC, to the little town of Purgatory, Tennessee, where a man named Alexander Quinn ran a security agency called The Gates.
Oh, hell, she murmured.
A frown furrowed his brow. Where am I?
Ever heard of Rivers End, Virginia?
His voice rasped as he answered. No.
Not surprising.
He struggled to sit up. Not quite sure she could trust him yet, she let him do so without her help, her gaze sweeping over him in search of injuries. She spotted healing bruises dotting his jawline and the evidence of old blood spotting the front of his grimy gray shirt, but no sign of recent injuries.
Mostly, he looked exhausted and cold, and while she was no doctor, she could help him out with those two ailments. Think you can stand?
He pulled his legs up and gave a push with his arms, wincing as his left arm gave out and he landed on his backside. Somethings wrong with my shoulder.
Could be a trick, her wary mind warned, but she ignored it, following the demands of her compassionate heart. He couldnt fake the unmistakable look of ill health. Something had happened to this man, no matter what crimes had led him to this place, and the least she could do was get him somewhere warm and dry before feds came swarming into Rivers End.
She started to reach for him, planning to help him to his feet, when her last thought finally penetrated her brain.
She pulled back, staring at him with alarm.
Whats wrong? he asked, slanting her a suspicious look.
Nothing, she lied, even as her mind started scrambling for a solution to her unexpected dilemma. There was no way she could leave him to fend for himself out here in the sleet. There was supposed to be snow before midnight, and the temps were going to plunge into the midtwenties before morning. Dressed as he was, without even a coat to ward off the chill, hed never survive the night.
But if she took him to the hospital in Bristol...
She couldnt. Theyd call the FBI, whod want to talk to her. Thered be a lot of terribly inconvenient questions and all her work for the past few months would be out the window.
Or worse.
But how to explain that to the hypothermic, battered man sitting in the road in front of her? Look, I tried calling 911
No. His gaze snapped up sharply, catching her off guard.
No?
I dont need medical help. His lips pressed to a thin line. Im okay. I just need to get warm.
Well, she thought, that wasnt exactly a comforting reaction.
Are you sure? Not that she wanted to contact authorities any more than he did, but his reluctance didnt exactly fit the picture of a man wrongly accused, did it?
Maybe that was good, though, considering the dangerous game she was playing herself. Dealing with bad guys was less complicated than dealing with good ones, shed discovered. Their motives were easier to glean and usually involved one sin or another. Greed, gluttony, lust, hateoh, yeah, she definitely knew how to deal with sinners.
Saints, on the other hand, were a cipher.
Lets get you out of the cold, Dallas. She pushed aside questions of his particular motives. Thered be time to figure him out once she got him back to her cabin, where she could provide the basic comforts anyone in his condition needed, whether sinner or saint.
Avoiding his bad shoulder, she pulled his right arm around her shoulder and helped him to his feet. He stumbled a little as they made their way across the slickening blacktop to the Jeep, but she settled him in the passenger seat with little fuss and watched with bemusement as he fumbled the seat belt into place. Sinner or not, he apparently took seat belt safety seriously.
She circled around, slid behind the Jeeps steering wheel and cranked the engine. Next to her, Dallas sighed audibly as heat blasted from the Jeeps vents.
Good? she asked, easing back onto the road.
Heaven, he murmured through chattering teeth.
He couldnt have been out in the elements for long, she realized as his shivering began to ease before theyd gone more than a mile down the road. So where the hell had he come from?
Should I be worrying about pursuit? she asked.
His gaze slanted toward her. Pursuit?
Anybody after you?
He didnt answer at first. She didnt push, too busy dealing with the steady buildup of icy precipitation forming on the mountain road. Thank God she didnt have much farther to travel. The little cabin she called home was only a quarter mile down the road. Theyd be there before the snow started.
There might be, he answered finally as she slowed into the turn down the gravel road that ended at her cabin.
Are they nearby?
Probably, he answered.
Great. Just great.
What did you do? She glanced his way.
His mouth crooked in the corner. Because people in trouble usually got there under their own steam?
She shrugged. Usually.
I broke a rule. I thought it was for a good reason, but as usual, the rules are there for a reason.
He was beginning to sound more like a saint than a sinner. What kind of rule?
I skipped steps I should have taken, he said obliquely.
But she knew enough about his situation to know exactly what he was talking about, even if she didnt let on. Thats cryptic.