“I’ll wait here,” she said, looking rooted to her chair.
“Yeah, sure you will,” he agreed sarcastically. “Until I’ve left the room, anyway.”
He held out his hand. “Let’s go.”
Without touching him, she stood, watching him warily. “What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to make sure you don’t go anywhere while I’m resting,” he answered, reaching out to set a hand on her shoulder and turn her toward the bedroom door.
She stiffened at his touch, and stumbled when he gave her a slight push toward the bedroom. “I don’t suppose you’d take my word that I won’t try to escape while you’re sleeping.”
“I don’t suppose I will,” he said dryly. “Either walk or be carried, Page.”
“I could really hate you for this.”
He found her wording interesting, but didn’t try to pursue it “That’s just a risk I’ll have to take, isn’t it?”
With a long-suffering sigh, she finally stopped resisting him and walked the rest of the way into the bedroom without further protest.
He shoved the bed against one wall and nodded toward it. “Lie down.”
“You’re the one who wants the nap.”
He cleared his throat.
She said something beneath her breath he didn’t think he wanted to hear. And then she kicked off her shoes and fell heavily onto the bed. At his command, she scooted close to the wall.
He unclipped the cellular phone from his belt and set it on the nightstand. And then he slipped off his shoes and lay beside her, on the outside edge of the bed, his back turned to her.
“I warn you, I’ve become a very light sleeper,” he muttered, settling into the thin pillow. “If you try to get up, I’ll know it. And I’ll be highly annoyed.”
This time he understood her low-voiced response. It was crude and earthy and physically impossible, but for some reason it made him smile. He kept his inappropriate amusement to himself as he closed his eyes and drifted into a light sleep.
PAGE LAY on her back, staring at the cabin’s dingy ceiling and asking herself what she’d done in her youth to deserve this sort of pain. She’d always tried to be a good person, to do the right thing. She’d obeyed her parents, followed the rules, made good grades, hadn’t smoked or drank or done drugs or been promiscuous.
Her nickname in school had been Mary Poppins, because she’d been so moral and responsible.
And what did she have to show for all those years of clean living? Two and a half years of terror. No family. No friends. No home. No peace.
The only man she’d ever loved lay beside her now, and yet they might as well be in separate states. He was hurt and bitter, and she was too afraid to reach out to him. She still had every intention of getting away from him as soon as possible, even if it meant she had to knock him out and lock him up. And it had to be soon.
She wished he hadn’t kissed her.
Her mouth still tingled. Her body throbbed with needs she’d thought long forgotten. And her heart ached with the knowledge that she’d hurt Gabe desperately. And she’d do so again.
She had no other choice.
She had to get away soon, she told herself again. Blake made her nervous. He was much too good at whatever it was he did. It wouldn’t be long before he’d have the information about Detective Pratt.
Gabe seemed to have implicit trust in Blake’s abilities. For a weak moment Page wished she had Blake on her side. There was a chance that he could help her...
No. That was a gamble she wasn’t willing to take.
No one else would die because of her.
She’d learned, to her lifelong regret, that when she made a wrong choice, she wasn’t the only one who suffered the consequences. She would cause no more innocent bystanders to pay for her sins. Whatever those sins might have been.
Gabe had been sleeping soundly for a couple of hours. He’d turned in his sleep so that he faced her now, though he hadn’t stirred since. His breathing was steady, his lips slightly parted, his muscles relaxed.