Shadow Hawk

She couldn’t help it. Maybe once she’d been brave, but all that courage had left her, and she covered her eyes.

“Abby?” She felt him shift closer, and then his big, callused palms slid up and down her limbs in a gesture that was somehow soothing, yet made her want to leap right out of her skin. “Hey,” he whispered. “Don’t give up on me now.” Up and down. Down and up.

The cold she’d felt only minutes ago had deserted her entirely. What was the matter with her? She opened her eyes and found her vision filled with his torso, the light from the lamp behind him blocked out by his broad shoulders. She had no idea what it was about a naked male chest that spun her wheels, had no idea such a shallow thing even could, but there it was. Lust, pure and simple, buzzed through her system and made her punch drunk.

“We’re so close,” he murmured, apparently clueless to what his hands were doing to her.

Yes. Yes, she was. Close to orgasmic bliss.

“After a quick catnap, we get your laptop,” he said. “And then we draw out Gaines.”

She dropped her gaze. Took in the scar over one pec. Without thinking, she ran a finger over it, eliciting a low sound from him.

“Abby.” His voice was hoarse. “What are you doing?”

She had no idea. “Just standing here.” She jerked her hand away from him.

“You were touching me. Looking at me. Like you wanted a bite of me.”

“No.” Yes.

Backing away, he lifted his hands in the air, then turned from her, once again shoving his fingers in his short hair. His unbuttoned jeans had slid down, revealing a line of black cotton and a sleek spine that was as edible as the rest of him.

Hawk headed to the bathroom, popping open that last button as he went. “Just…say you’re going to be here when I get out.”

Eyes glued to the seat of his jeans, which had slid to an almost indecent level, she couldn’t quite have answered the age-old question of briefs or boxers, but any second now-

“Abby?”

Her gaze jerked up as he turned. Oh, God. And caught her staring. Eyes narrowed, he lifted a hand and pointed a finger at her. “That.” He sounded more than a little off his axis. “What the hell was that? ”

“N-nothing.”

Walking back toward her, he let out a sound of disbelief. “No, that wasn’t nothing. That was…heat. That was lust.”

She covered her face. “I’m sorry.”

A low laugh escaped him. “Abigail Wells, were you just lusting after me?”

“No.” She winced. “A little, maybe.”

He stared at her for one long beat. “Maybe or most definitely?”

Again she bit her lip.

“Look, you were just looking at me as if I was a twelve-course meal and you’d been fasting for two days. That, or you’re plotting my slow, painful murder.”

“A little of both, I think.”

“Okay, I really need to go now.”

“Hawk-”

But she was talking to his back. And as he walked into the bathroom, he kicked his Levi’s to the floor.

Knit boxers.

Then the door shut, leaving her standing there, knees a little bit wobbly. Her kidnapper had just flashed her the best buns she’d ever seen.

HAWK CAME OUT OF THE SHOWER with some trepidation. He’d faced war, he’d faced gangs, he’d faced a whole hell of a lot just in the past twenty-four hours alone, but now his stomach actually hurt as he opened the bathroom door and waited for the steam to dissipate, because this time he had no idea what was waiting for him.

Utter silence and pitch blackness.

Clearly Abby had shut the shades, but he couldn’t even hear her breathing, and he had some damn fine hearing.

Not. Good. “Abby?”

Nothing.

Christ. She was probably halfway to Cheyenne by now, with the police on their way here to take him to jail for a whole host of crimes he hadn’t committed.

He’d trusted her. He’d trusted her and she’d stabbed him in the damn heart. God, he really was an ass. Pissed, and more hurt than he cared to acknowledge, Hawk stepped into the dark room and tripped over the bed, then nearly had heart failure when someone lurched off the mattress and hit the floor with a small cry.

Abby.

“Oh, God. I’m sorry.” Rushing forward, hands out to find her, he felt a soft, curvy form and dropped to his knees at her side.

She was doubled over, hands on her knees, gasping for breath.

“Abby-” Eyes adjusted, he reached out to touch her, but was not surprised when she jerked back with another small cry, an animal sound really, that caused a sharp pain in his chest.

He’d felt pretty damn small several times in the past eight hours but that moment topped them all. It was the way he’d brought her here, of course, against her will. “Abby.”

“Don’t.”

Don’t what? Don’t touch? Don’t look? Don’t do any damn thing, likely enough. “You were sleeping.”

She didn’t answer, just panted as if she’d been running.

“I startled you,” he murmured.

“Not you,” she said with only a hint of that bravado he loved in her. “You didn’t scare me.”

“Okay.” Sitting back on his heels, Hawk studied her outline in the dark. She was still breathing heavily. “You were dreaming. Badly.”

She lifted a shoulder. The only admission he was going to get most likely.

“Tibbs called.” She said this so quietly that he had to lean in to hear her. When the words soaked into his addled brain, he froze.

Shit. “So should I expect to get my ass hauled out of here any time now?” He asked this with remarkable calm, given that his life was over.

She didn’t respond.

“Abby?”

She sighed, and he shook his head. Perfect.

13

“ABBY,” HAWK SAID AS CALMLY as he could, which wasn’t all that calmly. He wondered how much time he had. Ten minutes?

Less?

He should probably get dressed in more than just a damn towel. Because no way did he want to go to prison in only a towel. But before he could move, someone knocked on the door, and pretty much took five years off his life.

In the dark room, Abby drew a deep breath. A sound that held a good amount of guilt.

Damn. He gripped his towel and wished for clean clothes at least. He couldn’t even go out the window, they were on the second floor-