Valley of Shadows. Shirlee McCoy
ear, his fingers stroking down her arm and capturing her hand, his palm warm against her clammy skin. His touch much too comforting for her peace of mind. “Everything is all right.”
“No, it isn’t.” She took a deep breath, tugged her hand from his and pressed down on the accelerator. “I’m with a man I don’t know, driving hundreds of miles from home so that I can catch a ride to a country halfway around the world. The police think I’m a murderer. Some drug dealer I’ve never had any contact with wants me dead. My nephew…” She shook her head, stopped herself before her sorrow could take wing. “It’s not all right.”
Hawke figured it would be better not to argue the point. Mostly because Miranda was right. While they might be all right for now, there was no telling how long that would last. “No, but we’re safe for the time being. That’s something to be thankful for.”
She shrugged, taking one hand off the steering wheel and rubbing at the base of her neck, the bicep in her arm firm beneath pale, silky skin. Hawke resisted the urge to brush her hand away and feel the strong line of her neck under his palm, the softness of her hair against his knuckles. That would be a mistake. One he couldn’t afford to make.
“Telling me we’re safe for the time being doesn’t make me feel safe at all.”
“Then what will?”
“Waking up to find this is all a nightmare.” Her voice shook, the hollows beneath her eyes darkly shadowed. For the second time that evening and probably only the second time in a decade, Hawke felt the hard edge of guilt nudging at him, telling him he’d gotten an innocent woman into the kind of danger she might not survive.
“If I could make that happen for you, I would. But I can’t.”
“Then I guess I’ll just have to keep driving and pray we both manage to make it through this alive.”
“You may want to keep me off that request, babe. God might be more willing to answer.”
She glanced in his direction, the curiosity in her eyes unmistakable, but she didn’t ask what he meant. Maybe she already knew. “God doesn’t play favorites. He’ll watch out for us equally.”
“Maybe.” Hawke’s head was pounding too hard for him to engage in philosophical debate. Besides, while religion wasn’t his thing, he’d experienced enough of life to believe there was something more to it than what could be seen; that a power greater than his own will and strength existed. What he had yet to decide was whether or not that equated to a loving God who took a personal interest in His creations.
“Sometimes I have a hard time understanding it all. How He works. Why He answers some prayers with a yes, others with a no, but I guess what it boils down to is faith. Just believing that no matter what happens, He’s there.” Miranda spoke so softly Hawke barely heard the quiet words that seemed more for herself than for him.
This time he gave into temptation and slid his hand under the thick weight of her hair, his palm resting on the silky skin at the nape of her neck. “Someone like you never need worry that God won’t be there.”
She glanced his way, her eyes shadowed. “Like I said, neither does someone like you.”
She didn’t seem to expect a response and Hawke didn’t give one. Instead, he let the silence of the night and the darkness beyond the windows envelop them.
SIX
Home. The word danced through Miranda’s mind as the first glimmer of dawn streaked the horizon. She’d wound her way through the Blue Ridge mountains, stopping only once to get gas with a credit card Hawke fished from his glove compartment. The name on it was unfamiliar and, according to Hawke, untraceable. Miranda supposed she should have found comfort in that, but the longer the night had stretched on, the more the idea of returning home appealed.
Last night, she’d been desperate to escape the empty house and Lauren. Now, she’d give anything to step into the bright yellow kitchen, listen to her sister’s footsteps on the tile.
And she could.
Hawke’s eyes were closed, the gun peeking out from beneath the T-shirt he wore. All it would take was one quick yank and it would be in her hands. She could use Hawke’s cell phone to call the police. Then wait somewhere until they arrived. If she could have imagined a good outcome, she might have attempted it, but all she could picture was a cold jail cell and a quick brutal death.
“What are you thinking?” Hawke broke into her thoughts and Miranda jerked, hoping guilt wasn’t written all over her face.
“That I want to go home.”
“To your sister and brother?”
“They don’t live with me.”
“Then what is home to you? A house? A community?”
“Justin. But he’s no longer there, so I guess my job. My routine. My life the way it was before.”
“Before last night?”
“Before Justin died.”
He nodded. “I think many people have times they’d like to go back to.”
“Even you?”
“Even me.” He didn’t seem inclined to elaborate and Miranda told herself she should let the subject drop. After all, this wasn’t a casual conversation between friends or an intimate discussion with a man she was dating. Hawke was a stranger, a man she didn’t know and wasn’t sure she trusted.
She stole a quick glance at his profile—the hard line of his jaw, the scar that bisected his cheek—and couldn’t keep herself from asking the questions she knew she shouldn’t. “What times do you wish you could go back to?”
His mouth curved in a half smile and he shrugged. “Right now, I’ll just settle for getting back to Thailand.”
“Do you have family there?”
“A brother. I haven’t seen him in almost a year.”
“You must be happy that you’ll be seeing him soon, then.”
“I won’t be happy until I know he’s safe.”
“Do you think he’s not?”
“He should be, but what should be isn’t always what is. The fact that you’re here with me is a perfect example of that. You should be home safe. Instead, you’re running for your life.” He paused, reached for the pack that sat in the backseat and rifled through it, pulling out a bottle of aspirin.
“Still have a headache?”
“If you can call a sledgehammer in your skull that, yeah.” He swallowed three pills dry and recapped the bottle. “But I’ll live. That’s our exit. We’re looking for a church outside of town.”
The switch in topic was so sudden Miranda almost missed it and her turn. She swerved toward the exit just in time, taking the off-ramp too quickly. The car fishtailed, sliding toward the shoulder as Miranda gripped the steering wheel and tried to remember what she’d heard about reacting to a spin. Should she slam on the breaks? Jerk the steering wheel toward the spin? Away from it?
Her sleep-deprived brain couldn’t hold on to a thought long enough to react and she was sure whatever she did would be wrong.
Hawke’s shoulder pressed into hers, his hands clamping over Miranda’s, his stubble-covered jaw rubbing against hers. “You’re okay. It’s okay.”
The car straightened and Miranda let out the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. Her hands were slick on the wheel, her pulse pounding, her body shaking so hard she was sure Hawke could feel the vibration of her fear.
“No, it’s not okay. I’m not okay.” She whispered the words, not meaning for Hawke to respond, but he did, his hand cupping her shoulder, his touch warm and more comforting than it should have