State Of Emergency. Cassie Miles

dressing the wound on his arm, his flesh warmed beneath her hands. When she’d inadvertently brushed against the black, springy hair on his chest, the texture enticed her. For a moment, her fingers yearned to stroke that hair, to glide across his muscled body. With a jolt, she’d returned to her senses.

      Emily couldn’t allow herself to entertain fond thoughts about Jordan Shane. He was an escaped convict, a criminal. Her duty was to return him to police custody.

      She snapped, “You can put on your shirt now.” He did as she ordered though his injured left arm was somewhat inflexible. He left the bloodstained, prison-issue workshirt unbuttoned.

      Her gaze lifted to his face. She had covered his stitches with a white antiseptic dressing, but she could still see the angry red swelling on the left side of his face.

      “I need you to come with me,” he said, “because of the roadblocks. I can’t use the car. I’ll have to escape on foot.”

      “Are you crazy? It’s mid-September. The temperatures at night are below freezing. It might even snow.”

      Casually, he reached down to pat Pookie who had taken up a position on the floor beside Jordan. “That’s why I need you. I don’t know how to survive in the mountains. I’m just a computer nerd from Florida.”

      He certainly didn’t look like a nerd with those broad shoulders and darkly handsome features. But he didn’t look like a murderer, either. Appearances, she reminded herself, could be deceptive.

      He rose to his feet, towering over her. “Pack your gear. Plan to be gone for a week.”

      “A week?” Her voice rose to a squeak. “But who’ll take care of Pookie?”

      At the sound of his name, the puppy bounded to his feet. His head whipped back and forth, glancing between Emily and Jordan. “Murfle, moof.”

      “We’ll bring the dog along,” Jordan said. “Let’s move.”

      Because she was always ready for an emergency call from S.A.R., Emily was quickly able to assemble two backpacks with sleeping bags, climbing equipment, medical supplies and freeze-dried food for herself and Jordan as well as puppy chow for Pookie.

      “Do you have maps?” he asked.

      “In the top left drawer of my desk.”

      “I don’t suppose you have a G.P.S. unit.”

      “What’s that?”

      “G.P.S. stands for Global Positioning Satellite. A signal bounces off satellites and triangulates on your position. It gives longitude and latitude, accurate within ten meters, then references area maps.”

      He’d lost her after the word “triangulate,” but Emily nodded as she always did when someone explained technology. “I don’t have one of those.”

      While she completed her packing, Emily plotted an escape of her own which didn’t involve satellites or triangulation. Simple was better. If she could break away from Jordan, she’d make a run for her car which was parked less than thirty yards from the front door. One fast sprint and she’d be behind the wheel. She’d drive away and not look back until she’d contacted the sheriff’s department.

      She had to go now. Once they got out on the trails, escape would be far more difficult. A dash to the car was the best solution, quick and decisive. Yet, she heard a whisper of remorse, echoing quietly in her conscience. Jordan had begun to trust her. He’d tucked the .22 automatic into the waistband of his Levi’s. Somehow, it seemed wrong to betray him.

      “I’m finished.” Fastening the last straps on her pack, she sat back on her heels. Escape plans loomed foremost in her mind, and she didn’t dare look directly at Jordan. He might guess what she was planning. “I should go to the bathroom before we leave.”

      “Emily?”

      Her gaze darted nervously to his face. Did he know what she was planning? “What?”

      “Are you okay?”

      “Peachy keen.” She masked her tension with sarcasm. “This is my favorite way to spend a Saturday, being held hostage and kidnapped into a forced mountain trek.”

      “I didn’t intend for this to happen.”

      The ring of sincerity in his softly accented voice irritated her. “Oh, please! What were you planning to do when you left here? You couldn’t just leave me here. You knew I’d call the sheriff.”

      “Believe this, Emily. I don’t want to hurt you.”

      “You have a strange way of proving that.” She stood and confronted him. “You grabbed me around the throat when I walked through the door.”

      “I needed to get your attention.”

      “What if I’d struggled? How would you have subdued me?”

      “I was pretty sure you wouldn’t make a fuss,” he said. “You’re not that kind of woman.”

      “Not like your wife?”

      He recoiled as if she’d slapped him. Though his expression remained unchanged, his eyes flared with suppressed anger. “I’m only going to say this once. I didn’t kill Lynette.”

      “Then why are you afraid to stand trial?”

      “Innocent men and women are convicted every day.” His shoulders straightened. He stood over six feet tall, and he seemed to grow stronger by the minute. “I won’t go back to jail. I’d rather die.”

      “You can’t live outside the law, Jordan.”

      “Let’s go.”

      This was it. Her best chance to make a run for the car. “I’ll be with you in a minute.”

      She left the back bedroom and hurried toward the bathroom. She shoved the door closed with a loud slam, hoping he’d think she was inside, and palmed her car keys from her jeans pocket. Quietly, she eased toward the front door. In her heavy-soled hiking boots, total stealth was impossible, but she only had a few steps before she was outdoors. Was it enough of a headstart?

      As she stepped onto the porch, Pookie bashed open the screen door. The dog bounded down the three stairs. “Moof, moof.”

      From the back bedroom, Jordan called out, “Emily, what’s going on?”

      Now or never! She leapt down the porch steps and raced toward the stand of Ponderosa pines where she’d parked her ancient Land Rover. Please, God, let it start on the first try!

      She heard Jordan behind her but didn’t look back. Would he shoot her? The muscles between her shoulder blades tensed, expecting a bullet.

      Her boots skidded on the loose gravel, costing her valuable seconds. She had to make it. The Land Rover was only ten feet away.

      Her arms stretched out, reaching for the driver’s side door.

      Before she touched the handle, she was tackled from behind. Jordan fell on top of her. She hit the ground hard.

      With the wind knocked out of her, she couldn’t breathe. She was stunned. A tingling darkness danced in her peripheral vision. Jordan’s weight pressed down, heavy as the tons of snow in an avalanche. She was suffocating. Air. She needed air.

      In an instant, he was off her. He rolled her onto her back, and she gasped. The first breath burned her lungs. She exhaled, then gulped down another breath. Her blurred vision cleared. She looked up at his face, silhouetted against overhanging pine boughs and blue sky.

      He leaned over her. Closer and closer, he came. His mouth was almost touching hers. Instinctively, she wanted to close her eyes and welcome the taste of his lips joining with hers. Instead, she shoved at his chest. “What are you doing?”

      “Mouth-to-mouth,” he said.

      “Don’t need it.”

      She