Cowboy Resurrected. Elle James

shrugged. “My name is not important. But you can call me...Sophia.” The woman hesitated over the name, as if she wasn’t used to giving it or using it.

      Thorn didn’t believe that it was her real name. But then, why would she keep her name from him unless she had something to hide?

      Already uncomfortable with the situation, and not sure she wouldn’t stab him in the back, Thorn carried her gun and his rifle to the door and laid them within reach.

      “I’ll take those clothes,” he said.

      Sophia gathered her dirty jeans and shirt and handed them to Thorn. Their fingers brushed, causing a jolt of electricity to shoot up his arm.

      She must have felt it, too, because her eyes widened and her lips opened in a soft gasp.

      Thorn brushed his reaction aside, blaming it on supercharged air from the lightning storm. He flung the door open, welcoming the cold rain that blew in with the fury of the storm.

      With the blanket tied around his waist, he figured he’d get soaked no matter what. He held Sophia’s clothes under the eaves, letting the rush of rainwater pour over the garments. When they were sufficiently free of mud, he wrung them out and closed the door.

      Sophia moved another chair by the stove and hung her jeans across the back, then laid her shirt on the wooden seat. When done, she held her hands to the flames, her face pale, her jaw tight and determined.

      Thorn scooped the gun she’d used to shoot at him off the floor and tucked it into the folds of the blanket around his waist. He leaned his rifle against the wall beside one of the two beds.

      Sophia’s gaze followed his movements, her brows knitted and her arms wrapped tightly around her middle.

      Thorn liked that he made her nervous. She might be less tempted to take another stab at killing him if she was intimidated.

      “Are you going to take me to the police in the morning?” she asked.

      “I haven’t decided.” He crossed his arms over his chest, his brows raised. “Are you going to convince me not to?”

      Sophia shrugged. “You have made up your mind already. Why bother trying?”

      His eyes narrowed. “If you really are an American citizen, where are you from?”

      She glanced to the far corner.

      Thorn could almost see the cogs turning in her brain.

      Finally she faced him, her brows raised. “San Antonio. Sí, I am from San Antonio.”

      “Vacationing in Big Bend, huh?” He raised a hand to his chin and stared down his nose at her. “I’m familiar with San Antonio. What section of town?”

      Her eyes flared, then closed. She turned her back to him. “The north side.”

      “Ah, you must prefer shopping at Ingram Park Mall since it’s closest to you, right?”

      Her shoulders were stiff, and she remained with her back to him. “Right. Ingram.”

      Thorn’s teeth ground together. If she really lived on the north side of San Antonio, the closest mall was not Ingram. She didn’t know San Antonio any more than she knew where she was at the moment.

      She dragged in a deep breath, her shoulders rising and falling with it. “What now?”

      Thorn opened his mouth to call her out on her lie, but stopped when he noticed the dark shadows beneath her eyes and what appeared to be the yellowing remnants of a bruise across her cheek. He’d get the truth out of her, but it could wait until they both got a little rest. “Now we sleep.”

      He unfolded the second bed’s mattress and stretched across it, laying the pistol beside him and lacing his hands behind his head. “You look done in. I suggest you get some shut-eye.”

      Her gaze swept over his naked chest, and lower. She hesitated, her tongue sweeping out across her lower lip.

      The brief appearance of her pink tongue stirred a heated response low in Thorn’s belly. Damn. What was wrong with him? He’d loved Kayla more than life itself. Why was his body reacting so strongly to this woman? Was it the vulnerability in her green eyes, or that she’d tried so determinedly to escape him that appealed to him on a deeper level? Whatever it was, he’d be glad when he handed her off to the authorities tomorrow. He closed his eyes to her image bathed in the glow of the fire in the stove. “I’m not going to sleep until you do, so move it.”

      “I’m not sleepy.”

      He opened his eyes. “Too bad.”

      Her glance darted from him to the bed beside his. “I have enough food for two people. Unfortunately, I don’t have a way to open the cans. Hector—” Her lips clamped shut, and her face paled even more.

      “Hector?” Thorn’s eyes narrowed. He was up off the bed in a second. “You were traveling with someone else.” He closed the distance between the two of them. “Weren’t you?” Thorn gripped her shoulders, his fingers digging into her shirt.

      Sophia, eyes wide as saucers, shook her head back and forth, tears spilling from the corners. “N-no. I was alone.” She cowered, her eyes squinting, ducking her head as if expecting a blow.

      “You’re lying.” He shook her. “Where is he?”

      She gulped, the muscles in her throat working convulsively. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

      With her body close to his, her arms warm beneath his fingers, heat surged, followed by anger. “Damn it, woman, I’m tired of playing twenty questions. Spit it out. Where is this Hector? Do I have to stay awake all night in case he comes in and tries to kill me, too?”

      “No!” Sobs shook her slight frame and her head tipped forward, her damp hair falling over her face. “Madre de Dios.” She crossed herself. “He is dead.”

      The words came out in a whisper. Thorn thought he’d heard it wrong. He bent closer. “What did you say?”

      A sob ripped from her throat and her head fell back, tears running like raindrops down her cheeks. “He’s dead. They shot him. He tried to help me, and now he’s dead! And it’s my fault.”

      Chapter Three

      Sophia swallowed hard, realizing her mistake as soon as the words left her mouth.

      “Who shot him?” Thorn shook her. Not hard enough to hurt her, but enough to wrench another sob from her throat.

      She looked away, the memory of Hector lying in a pool of his own blood far too fresh to erase. “I don’t know.” She choked back another sob, reminding herself that she couldn’t cry forever. After all the time she’d spent as a captive in the compound, she’d learned one thing: crying didn’t solve anything. What would it hurt to tell this man a few details? “Someone in a helicopter fired a machine gun at Hector.”

      His brows rose into the lock of hair drooping over his forehead. “A machine gun?”

      Sophia nodded.

      “Where is Hector now?” Thorn demanded.

      “We were in the canyon. Hector had topped the ridge when the helicopter flew in. I h-hid beneath an overhang.” She looked at him through her tears. “I should have helped.”

      “Against a helicopter?” Thorn’s lips pressed together. “Not much you could do on your own unless you had a rocket launcher.” He tipped his head to the side. “Question is, why did a helicopter fire on you and your friend Hector if you were only out hiking in Big Bend country?” Thorn’s eyes narrowed. “Now would be a good time to tell me the truth.” He dropped his hold and crossed his arms. He waited a few seconds. “Neither one of us is going anywhere until you do.”

      She glanced toward the door. Thunder rumbled, rattling the doorknob. “I told