He took a few minutes to climb into the Jeep and radio the state troopers. But even if they came rushing right out, by the time they got here, Boone would be long gone. Boone knew the back country trails and logging roads like the palm of his hand. He could come and go at will without being seen. And sooner or later, he would be back, looking for Emma.
* * *
Knowing he wouldn’t sleep, John sank onto the porch steps and watched the cloud bank roll in from the west. Sheet lightning danced across the dark sky. Thunder growled a muted warning.
You’ve fallen head over heels . . .
Boone’s taunting words played like a loop in his head. Why couldn’t he just dismiss them? Was it because they’d struck a note of truth?
John muttered a curse. He was too old and cynical for a teenage crush. True, he liked Emma. He admired her spunk and courage. And she’d become important to him. Keeping her safe had become an urgent priority. But falling? That would be crazy. Boone’s words were nothing more than an attempt to rattle him.
Emma would need to know that Boone had been here. He didn’t want to terrify her, but she had to understand that she was no longer safe in this remote cabin. Not even with him. For now he would let her rest while he kept watch. He could tell her first thing in the morning.
By the time he went inside, the stars were gone and a soft rain had begun to fall. The gentle sound pattered on the porch roof above his head. Not wanting to wake Emma, he opened the door softly.
The room was dark, the fire almost out. As he crossed the floor to the hallway, he saw that the love seat had been turned partway toward the front door. Something stirred against the cushions. It was Emma, huddled in the blanket.
“I hope you aren’t going to say there was a bear outside,” she said. “I don’t want to hear a lie.”
John walked toward her, pausing to lay the gun on the side table. “No, it wasn’t a bear,” he said. “Go back to bed. You’re safe. We can talk in the morning.”
“We can talk now,” she said. “I’ve been awake since I heard you go outside. I couldn’t go back to sleep if I had to.”
“Fine.” He walked to the fireplace, stirred the glowing coals, and added another log, along with a few sticks of kindling. Then he pushed the love seat back to face the fire and settled on the end opposite Emma.
“I heard voices,” she said. “It was Boone, wasn’t it?”
“It was. He’s gone.” John watched the log catch fire.
“You couldn’t stop him?”
“I stopped him from coming inside. But no, short of shooting the bastard, there was nothing I could do to stop him from leaving.” He turned to face her. “He’ll be back, Emma. And after what I saw and heard tonight, I know he’s not going to give up until he punishes you in the worst way.”
“What did you see?” Her eyes were large in the firelight.
“You didn’t just burn the trailer. Boone was burned, too—right here.” He indicated the extent of Boone’s burns with his hand. “He says that, given the way he looks, no woman will ever want him again—and he’s determined to make you pay for what you did to him.”
“Pay?” The quiver in her voice betrayed her fear. “He stole seventeen thousand dollars from me. That old trailer was nothing but junk. What can he be thinking?”
John turned away to gaze into the leaping flames. “Knowing what Boone’s capable of, I don’t think either of us wants to find out,” he said.
In the silence that followed, he sensed that she was breaking under the stress. She’d begun to tremble. A low sob escaped her lips. What he’d just said to her was frightening, but she needed to hear it. Growing up, he’d witnessed Boone’s cruelty to small, weak creatures unlucky enough to cross his path. Emma needed to understand that the danger to her was all too real.
“I didn’t mean for that to happen.” She was crying now, her shoulders heaving with deep, heartfelt sobs. “I didn’t want him hurt. I only wanted to get away.”
Heartsick, John watched her. Lord, she didn’t deserve this. She’d come to Alaska full of hope and trust, eager to begin her own loving family. Instead she found herself stalked and hunted by the revenge-hungry monster she’d chosen to be her husband. It was the ultimate betrayal.
Not knowing what else to do, he reached out and gathered her close, cradling her against him. “I’m sorry,” he whispered against her soft hair. “Damn it, girl, I’m sorry.”
He felt her quivering as she struggled to control herself. Little by little her crying eased and her shaking slowed, but she made no move to push away. Instead she clung to him, as if he were the only solid element in her crumbling world. Where his hand rested on her back, John could feel the pounding of her heart. Where her head rested in the hollow of his shoulder, his shirt was damp with her tears. He cradled her gently, his free hand stroking her tangled hair. “It’s all right,” he murmured. “I’m here. I won’t let anything happen to you. . . .”
Only then, when she failed to reply, did John realize that she’d fallen asleep in his arms.
CHAPTER 6
Emma opened her eyes to gray dawn filtering through the windows of the cabin. John was standing over her, his black hair flowing over his shoulders. The barest hint of a smile tugged at his lips. “Good morning,” he said.
Stirring, she blinked herself fully awake. Only then did she realize that she was on the love seat, wrapped in the wool blanket with pillows under her head.