She never knew if she would have been able to push the distasteful words off her tongue. A distant scream robbed her of the chance to find out.
The high, ear-piercing wail sliced through the air; the sound more alarming because it was so easily recognizable.
Roger! Oh, dear God...
Jake Chandler had heard it too. She felt him tense, even as his grip on her loosened. "The kid?" he asked, his mouth suddenly very close to her ear.
"I think so." She turned her head, focusing her gaze on the thick line of trees. "Roger?" she called out, and the single word felt as if it were torn from her throat. "Roger!"
Silence was her only answer.
Amanda twisted out of Jake's hands. When she was free, she tried to struggle from the thick, wet wrapping of blankets. Spasms of pain shot up her injured leg the second she put weight on it. She gasped and went still. Dammit! Even if she could free herself and stand up, she'd never get to Roger in time.
Jake Chandler's curses cut through Amanda as he lifted her from his lap and settled her roughly on the hard, lumpy ground. The instant her pinning weight was removed, he sprang lithely to his feet, towering over her. Reaching behind his back, he slipped something from beneath his belt. Amanda's heart skipped when a ray of sunlight glinted off the long, familiar blade. Her gaze snapped up and met cold, commanding grey.
"Stay here," he growled. "And I mean stay, dammit. So help me God, lady, you move a muscle, you make me go looking for you, and I swear I'll... ah, hell, you figure it out."
He spun on his heel and stalked off.
Like Amanda's recent threat to Roger, Jake's was the more ominous for being left to her imagination. She had quite an imagination. There were several unsavory ways to end a sentence like that, coming from a dangerous man like him. She thought of them all, one by one, as she sat where Jake Chandler had left her, awaiting his return. When she'd run out of gruesome prospects, she turned her thoughts to Roger—and what had caused him to give that blood-curdling scream.
In ten minutes, she'd whipped herself into a frenzy.
Time crept by. Still, Amanda sat shivering beneath the blankets, letting her imagination run riot. More than once she considered disobeying Jake. Only the throbbing in her ankle—which told her she wouldn't get far—kept her sitting atop the sun-warmed grass. It didn't, however, keep her from thinking about dark, mysterious strangers who shouldn't, by any rights, be trusted.
Who was to say Jake Chandler hadn't gotten on his horse and ridden off, never having looked for Roger at all? It would make sense. He didn't know the boy and had no reason to be concerned for Roger's safety. Why bother trying to find Roger when it would be oh, so much easier to just leave?
Maybe she should go looking herself?
Maybe... in a bit.
For all her earlier bravado, Amanda had never considered herself brave. Jake's unfinished threat kept her nailed to the spot where he'd left her. If he really was out there looking for Roger, and he came back to find her gone... well, the man's disposition was savage. Lord knows what he'd do once he found her. And he would find her. Amanda had no doubt of that.
Huddled beneath the blanket, she marked the minutes by keeping a close eye on the sun. Ten more, she decided, compromising integrity for fear. When she estimated ten minutes had passed, she would assume Jake wasn't coming back. Only then would she get up and start looking for Roger herself.
It was the longest ten minutes of her life. When it was over, she was convinced that not only was Roger lying dead somewhere, but that Jacob Blackhawk Chandler was as well.
Disentangling herself from the blanket, Amanda pushed to her feet. Her knees shook beneath the still-damp folds of her skirt. The grass crunched beneath her awkward, limping steps. Walking proved a new experience in pain. She tried to concentrate more on what she had to do and less on the throbbing in her leg that threatened to keep her from doing it.
By the time she reached the first tree trunk, her almost dry body was bathed in sweat. Her breathing came in hard, labored gasps. The pain in her ankle was intense. She leaned heavily against the scratchy bark, and, to occupy her churning mind, cursed all things wild and savage and more cowardly than herself.
"Thought I told you to stay put."
The familiar drawl cut through Amanda like a knife. Clumsily, she pivoted. When she saw Jake Chandler standing only a few short feet away, she leaned weakly back against the tree trunk and sighed her relief. Then her gaze scanned the area around him, and her heart sank. Roger was nowhere in sight. So much for relief.
"He's gone," Jake said. And that, Amanda quickly realized, was all the explanation he was going to offer.
"Gone?" she cried. "What do you mean he's gone? Gone where?"
"How the hell should I know?" He tucked the knife into the sheath attached to his belt, then raked his fingers through his sleek black hair. To Amanda's jaundiced eye, his shrug looked entirely too unconcerned. "Look, I wouldn't worry about the brat too much if I were you. If whoever's got him was going to kill him, they probably would have done it by—Hey, you all right?"
"No," she groaned, her knees buckling, her back sliding down the tree trunk, "I don't think I am." Her bottom made a jarring collision with the ground. It felt hard and cold beneath her—but not as hard and cold as the despair icing through her veins. No, no, no! Roger couldn't be gone. He just couldn't! But Jake Chandler said he was, and Jake Chandler had no reason to lie.
She rested her head against the rough bark and forced herself to swallow—twice, dryly—before asking, "How do you know someone has him? I mean... he could have wandered off, couldn't he?"
"Doubt it. I mean, hell, it's possible. Any thing's possible. But, since I couldn't find a trace of him, and we both heard him scream..." He frowned. "You sure you're all right? You don't look so good. You aren't going to faint, are you?"
"Not just yet." Amanda's lashes swooped down. Fainting would have been a possibility, had her mind not been so busy spinning out of control. Now what was she going to do? She didn't like Roger, but still...