Fugitive Pursuit. Christa Sinclair

      Temporarily, of course. Like he’d do for any friend.

      A dark red stain on her shirt caught his eye. Blood dripped off the edge of her sleeve.

       What?

      “You’re bleeding?” Zack lifted her shirtsleeve. Dark red blood gathered at a gash along her arm. More blood dribbled along her skin. If he hadn’t moved when the man had aimed for him by the tent, he’d be bleeding out. If Jamie hadn’t pushed him down... She’d taken a hit...for him. For a moment, he was paralyzed.

      “I’ll be fine.” She tugged herself free. “I’ve had worse.” Her gaze avoided him.

      Why didn’t he believe her? Sickness rumbled through his gut. “Why didn’t you tell me you’d been hit?”

      “I’m pretty sure it’s just a scratch. Can we discuss this later? I’d like to get away without any more injuries.” She glanced behind them, then forward. “There’s another playground not far from here. You’ll be able to take a bus back to your vehicle.”

      He didn’t miss the fact that she skipped talking about herself. She kept her gaze locked with his, as if daring him to argue.

      So often his job was black-and-white, right or wrong. After the incidents at her camping site, things had never looked grayer, which was the absolute last place he wanted to be. Emotions led to indecision, which led to vulnerability. He’d successfully avoided that for five years. What was he supposed to do now?

      He reached forward to pull a few strands of hair from the corner of her mouth.

      She slapped his hand away. Gone from her eyes was any ounce of fear. Survival guided her movements.

      He wanted to apologize and yet...he didn’t. Instead, he raised his hands in a surrender motion. “If your brother-in-law is such a bad guy, why haven’t you gone to the state police?”

      “He’s got everyone fooled that he’s the perfect sheriff, so no one questions him. By the time we realized what was happening in my sister’s marriage, it was too late. Things kept getting worse. Erin was convinced to try to make the marriage work, especially when my niece came along. Until...”

      “Until what?”

      “Before she died, Erin had left me a message. She started telling me stuff.”

      “About what?”

      Jamie shook her head. “I don’t know.” She returned to their path.

      Oh, she was definitely a bad liar. But getting the truth out of her would have to wait. Escape first.

      As they silently followed the path through the wooded grounds, Zack’s mind whirled with too many thoughts. None of them made sense. God, I know this bounty run has fallen apart, but I trust in Your guidance. If anyone could get Zack out of this mess, He could. Hopefully without Zack having to call in his siblings. Because the latest events would not go over great.

      Birds chirped as though nothing was wrong. A soft breeze took the edge off the heated afternoon. The scent of barbeque reminded him that he hadn’t eaten since breakfast.

      The last copse of trees opened to a large park. An area with slides and jungle gyms sat in the center of a bike and walking trail. Children’s laughter drifted toward them along with a puppy’s bark.

      “Hold up.” He bent over with his hands on his thighs. If his sense of direction was right, they were still in Champlain Park, the Ponahochet County side, nowhere near his truck. Thankfully his knee had held up in the escape, although a twinge of an ache from his surfing accident remained.

      Beside him, Jamie planted one hand on her waist. The other, the one with the injury, hung motionless. The backpack remained slung over her shoulder. Blood continued to drip from under her shirtsleeve. The stain on her shirt had morphed into a mini-explosive pattern. “We need to look at your arm.”

      Should he apologize for getting her shot?

      “Don’t worry about it.” A hint of blond peeked through the strands of her hair.

      “You’re bleeding. You look as white as a glass of milk. I’m waiting for you to pass out on me.” He pinched her shirt fabric.

      She jerked away. “Don’t.” The word bolted out of her mouth with as much force as the steel in her gaze.

      He froze, his fingers a few inches from her. For several moments, they stood at a standstill, but then her gaze softened. “I’m sorry. I know you’re trying to help and I do appreciate it.”

      For the first time, he truly saw the vulnerability of the woman standing before him. The difficulties of being on the run lay across her body, in her choices, through her movements. The bounty hunter in him wanted nothing more than to turn her in. The man in him wanted to tuck her under his arm and whisper everything would be all right.

      No caring allowed. Keep your mind on business. “Head for the bench over there and I’ll take a peek at your wound.”

      After a glance in the direction of the seat, she scanned the park. She remained rooted to her spot.

      “If you run, Jamie, I will catch you.”

      She brushed her fingers against her temple. He almost had her cooperation. He could feel it in his gut. But why was it so important to him?

      “All right.” She nodded and walked by his side to the wooden seat. The backpack came off her shoulder, but she kept a tight grip on it. Once she sat, he crouched down beside her and lifted her sleeve. Closing her eyes, she breathed out slowly. Blood had gathered along a gash about two inches long. “It doesn’t look too bad.” Seared flesh, but no hole. “The bullet grazed your arm. It’s not too deep and it’s not bleeding anymore. How does it feel?”

      “Like someone’s stuck me with a hot poker.”

      He gingerly touched his knuckle to the skin around her wound. She hissed, jerked upright. “Sorry.”

      “Do you have any tissues in your backpack or something to wipe your arm?” No way would he leave her side to grab paper towels from the restroom close by. He had no doubt she’d be gone before he returned.

      “No.” She tugged the backpack closer to her, one arm over it protectively.

      “What do you have in there? Gold? A wad of bills? Weapons?”

      “Some clothes.” Helplessness brought moisture to her eyes. “And things more important to me,” she whispered.

      He almost set his hand on her knee. Almost. “Like what?”

      “Pictures of my family, gifts my sister gave me as we grew up, her and my journals from when we were teenagers, things like that.” She sniffled and swiped her fingers beneath her eyes. “So, what’s the verdict on my arm?”

      “You’ll live.” He released the fabric and stood. “But from the actions of those two guys at your campsite, you’re in a lot more trouble than you realize. Definitely more than I thought.” After he pulled his cell phone from his pocket, he slapped it in his palm while he paced in front of her. No, he didn’t want to call his brothers. They’d probably tell him how foolish he was being, but he needed a clearheaded response.

      * * *

      Jamie’s world had shifted upside down, becoming more dangerous than she’d ever expected. “I’m not strong enough,” she whispered. She glanced at the red marks on her sleeve, then gently lifted the cloth away from her injury. The skin burned. Like Zack said, she hadn’t been shot, but it looked like the piece of metal had singed right past her on its way to a tree trunk. Her brain still shook with the reality of being so close to dying, to breaking her promise to her sister.

      The urge to hug her niece, to hold her close, took life within her. Did Charlotte wonder where Jamie was? It had been two and a half weeks since she’d left the child in another state with someone Charlotte had never met. Did she