Duty To Protect. Roxanne Rustand

      TWO

      Jake took a slow step back and raised his hands, palms up, as he assessed the situation.

       The woman staring back at him appeared slender, late-twenties. Caucasian. Probably not more than a hundred-twenty pounds. Delicate bone structure and pretty in an upscale way. In other words, the last person he’d ever expect to find in his horse trailer in a pile of pungent horse blankets, in the middle of nowhere…during a blizzard.

       She looked more like the type to be heading to Starbucks, rather than a woman who might be on the run from murder charges, but his ten years in law enforcement had taught him more than he’d ever wanted to know about how looks could be deceiving.

       After his ex-wife proved it all over again, he’d become one very jaded man.

       “Tell me you’re not the woman that guy was looking for back in Ogallala,” he said on a long sigh. “I really don’t have time for this.”

       She raised the rifle, ready to sight her target—his chest—and gave him the answer he wanted. “I’m not.”

       A gust of wind-driven snow slammed against him and swirled into the dressing room of the trailer. “Let me rephrase that. Who are you, and why are you in my trailer?”

       She was clearly cold, exhausted and desperate, her wild tangle of hair and the intensity in her eyes suggesting that she just might pull the trigger if he pushed her too far.

       She visibly shivered, and the barrel of his rifle wobbled. “I…I hid in here when you stopped last.”

       “In Sterling?” Not likely. He’d padlocked the dressing room door back in Ogallala. She couldn’t have gained access after that.

       Apparently she realized her error. “I…I must’ve fallen asleep. I don’t remember Sterling.”

       “Why don’t you come on out of there and we can talk about it.”

       She shook her head.

       “You look cold and my dog and I are standing out in a blizzard. My pickup is warmer.” When she didn’t respond, he shrugged. “I’ll tell you what. If you want to thaw, come to my truck. If not, this door is open and you can skedaddle. Far as I’m concerned, this just isn’t worth dying over.”

       “Wh-where are we?”

       “Nowhere close to where I need to be. This here is a freeway rest stop, so there are lots of other vehicles for you to choose from. Tell someone a story about how your car is in a ditch somewhere. If you don’t go pointing that rifle at them, they might think you’re a nice girl and offer you a ride.”

       She huddled farther back into the pile of horse blankets, her eyes huge in her pale face. She looked scared to death. “I—I can’t.”

       “Maisie and I are going to go get warm.” He touched the brim of his hat. “You’re welcome to join me. If you don’t, I’ll just have to trust that you won’t haul off my saddles or my rifle when you leave.”

       He opened the door of the truck and let Maisie into the front seat, then slid behind the wheel and glanced at the clock. Five minutes. Ten. The woman still hadn’t shown up. “What do you think, old girl? Should we see if she’s still back there?”

       The dog gave him a reproving look.

       A moment later, he heard a soft knock on the passenger side. “Maisie, back.”

       The dog jumped into the backseat as the front door squealed open and the woman climbed in, the rifle still in her hands and a big leather purse slung on her shoulder. Her lips were blue and her teeth were chattering so loudly that he could hear them across the seat.

       He nudged the heater up a notch. “Glad you could make it.”

       She huddled into the corner, as far from him as she could get.

       He tapped the insulated coffee mug in the center divider. “It’s cold now, but you could pretend.”

       “Y-you said you stopped in Sterling. Are you going to Montana?”

       “Eventually.”

       She looked up at him in alarm. “Eventually?”

       “Why, are you heading for someplace special?”

       She didn’t answer. Pulling off her thin leather gloves, she blew on her hands and rubbed them together.

       “Maybe we could start with a name. That oughta be easy. I’m Jake Kincaid. And you are…”

       “Emma,” she whispered after a long silence. “Emma…White.”

       If that was her name, he’d eat his Stetson, but at least it was a start. “Okay, Emma White. How come you stowed away in my trailer? All you had to do was ask for a ride.”

       Her answering laugh was bitter. “And you would have picked up some stranger, just like that, and risk being robbed. Or worse.”

       Raising an eyebrow, he dropped his gaze to the rifle in her hands. “Looks like that might be happening anyway.”

       She stared at the weapon as if it had turned into a rattler, then she leaned it against her door. “No.”

       “That man in Ogallala said he was looking for a woman wanted for murder. Despite your first answer, I’m guessing he was hunting for you. Am I wrong?”

       After a long silence, she finally nodded. “If that was who I think it was, he told you a flat-out lie. If he caught me, I’d be the one who was dead.”

       “He said the authorities were after you too, lady.”

       She shivered. “If you think they’re all good people, you’re naive.” She stared pensively through the windshield at the swirling snow, as if debating about what to say. “That was…um…my ex-boyfriend.”

       “Now, why would you be chasing off in weather like this, if you weren’t on the run from some serious charges? Seems to me you’d want to pick a nicer day. And maybe it would have been easier to just tell him to get lost.”

       She flicked a quick, pained glance at him, not quite meeting his eyes, then she looked away. “I know you can’t relate. But tell me what you’d do, if you were a woman and an abusive man was threatening to tear you apart. Randy is a big guy, and when he starts drinking, he gets violent. Once, he even kicked in the door of my apartment. I always tried to stay out of his way. But it never worked in the past, and this time he came after me with a gun.”

       Jake cocked an eyebrow. “How did you get mixed up with someone like that?”

       She shuddered. “It was the biggest mistake of my life. Believe me.”

       “Why didn’t you leave a long time ago?” He’d been involved in far too many domestic calls when he’d worked as a deputy in western Wyoming. He knew the answer already—leaving could be as dangerous as sticking around. But something just didn’t ring true in this woman’s voice.

       “I tried once. He swore he’d track me down and kill me if I tried to leave town.” She visibly shuddered. “And this time he was so out of control that I knew he’d do it if I stayed. I had to run.”

       “Did he hurt you?”

       “Not yet. I…hitchhiked as far as that truck stop, and when I saw he’d caught up with me, I knew my only choice was to run, or die. So I hid in your trailer.”

       Jake had no doubt that she was frightened, but not for the reasons she gave. He could see she was lying in the way she fidgeted and avoided meeting his eyes. Mentally reviewing what she’d just said, he rested a wrist on the top of the steering wheel and studied the falling snow.

       “Sooo…if I make a phone call and check out your story, my sources will back