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“When you comin’ back?”
“Don’t know.” He cocked his head toward the main house. “Watch her, will ya?”
“I’m a Paiute, Danvers, not a friggin’ jailer.”
“Just make sure she stays put, and no one shows up here and tries to get to her. I won’t be gone long.”
“Woman trouble,” Manny said, his expression unchanging. He drew on the cigarette and smoke shot from his nostrils. “The worst kind.”
“Amen.” Climbing into his Jeep, Zach stabbed the key into the ignition, fired the engine and roared away from the ranch house. What the hell was it with him? First Kat, now a woman who looked so much like her it was eerie—damned eerie.
Somehow, some way, he had to get away from her and break free of this circle of sin that kept spinning around him, trapping him in its dangerous, life-crushing, but oh-so-erotic coils.
They left the ranch the next evening and didn’t say a word on the way back to Portland. That suited Zach just fine. His head was pounding from his intimate relationship with Jack Daniel’s the night before, his only relationship. He’d never gotten past a brief nod of his head toward the blonde who’d shown him so much interest last night. Her easy smile and freckles had been cute, her full breasts obviously restrained by a tight yellow T-shirt, but he couldn’t drown memories of Adria with any amount of liquor. He’d turned down the blonde and she’d found another, more willing cowboy. Zach had nearly drowned himself in whiskey. Manny had sent a ranch hand to town to collect him.
And today he was paying. Shit, was he paying.
He slid a pair of sunglasses onto the bridge of his nose to break the glare of sunlight off the road, but truth to tell, the sun was hidden behind a heavy bank of clouds and his eyes ached from too much whiskey, the sting of smoke, and lack of sleep.
He flipped on the radio, listened to the tinny sound of country music and wished he knew what the hell he was going to do with Adria when he got to Portland. He’d called the police but so far there were no significant leads, at least none they would confide to him. Or Adria.
Adria.
So far she hadn’t told him her plans but he suspected she intended to ditch him. Hell, he couldn’t blame her—he’d been cruel to her last night, but it was the only way he could get away from her, and he had to get away. For both of them. And yet he had to protect her from whoever it was who was stalking her.
As they drove into the city, he said, “I booked a room for you.”
“Let me guess—it’s not at the Orion,” she said sarcastically. She didn’t even glance in his direction.
“You’ll be safe at the hotel.”
Turning hostile eyes in his direction, she silently accused him “Safe? Are you crazy? Safe from whom?” A dark, skeptical eyebrow rose imperiously over her eyes. “The Danvers family? The person who attacked me? You? I don’t think so.” She saw the vexation in his eyes and told herself she didn’t care. “Isn’t staying at the Hotel Danvers like taking a suite in a lion’s den?”
“Not when I have control of the situation.”
“Oh great, you have control,” she mocked.
“All right. You name it then.”
“I don’t know. Just take me to my car and I’ll—”
“Your car isn’t fixed yet.”
“Not fixed? But it was running just fine—”
He snorted. The mechanic had called this morning. “I don’t know what you call fine in Podunk, Montana, but according to a man who knows his way around a Chevy, you need new brakes, shocks
, spark plugs, fan belt, the list goes on and on—”
“Fabulous! Don’t tell me. You authorized him to do it!” She couldn’t begin to imagine how she could afford to get the little Nova out of hock.
“Don’t worry about it. I’ll get you a car. One that’s dependable.”
“I don’t want your help, Zach—”
“But—”
“Or your pity.”
