Jake's gut twisted, and a strange tightness wrapped around his chest. He had a feeling it was too late to run from his feelings for her, but he could run from acknowledging them. The two white men he'd caught outside Amanda's door last night were still vivid in his mind. The incident had proved what he'd known all along. As long as she was with him, what happened last night would happen again. And again. Next time someone might get hurt. Next time, that someone might be Amanda.
Any white woman who took up with a breed was considered trash, fair game for ridicule and worse. Jake would rather die than let Amanda find that out the hard way. He would rather die than let her get hurt because of him, because he was too weak to put a stop to something that should have been stopped before it had even begun.
He took a deep drag off the cigarette, exhaling with a long, slow hiss. His gaze turned hard as he watched the curls of smoke waft on the air. They'd been apart less than a day, and already he missed her. His body hungered for her body, yet his mind demanded so much more! Jesus, if he felt like hell now, he could only imagine how he would feel when the separation was permanent.
With an angry growl, he hurled the half-smoked cigarette into the snow-dusted grass. The tip continued to burn hot and red; just like his thoughts.
Somehow... somehow, he was going to have to find the strength to walk away from that lady. No matter how much it tore him up inside.
The white gave a toss of its head and whickered. The sound trickled like icewater down Jake's spine. Cursing inwardly for allowing himself to be distracted—for allowing thoughts of Amanda Lennox to distract him—he reached for his knife.
A split second too late.
A damp twig snapped. Leaves rustled. No sooner had his fingers grazed the wooden hilt when he felt the cold metal barrel of a gun jab at his temple.
"Go ahead, breed. Try it," a gritty voice drawled in Jake's ear. The tone was low and menacing and rough as stone.
Gritting his teeth, Jake sucked in a deep, steadying breath and almost gagged on the stench of sour breath and rancid sweat that assaulted him. A quick glance from the corner of his eye revealed a large, shadowy form crouched close... but not close enough. The glance also confirmed what he had, until now, only suspected: the hand holding the gun was big and causally skilled; the thick index finger curled around the trigger was rock-steady, ready to fire at the least provocation.
The gun nudged Jake's temple. "Well? You gonna pull that knife or what? I don't know about you, but when it's a choice between a bullet or a blade, my money's on the bullet any day. Quicker, more accurate... and messy as hell. Especially at this range." A dry, humorless chuckle was followed by an equally dry, equally humorless, "But, hell, I'm game. Always did have a hankerin' to see if your kind bleeds red. Come on, pull that mean lookin' knife and satisfy this ole boy's curiosity."
The words were uttered with cold, hard precision... and reinforced by the click of a hammer being cocked. The metallic grind of chambers rolling to place sounded loud and grating. That, combined with the raw yet blasé timbre of the man's voice, convinced Jake to stay his hand. Temporarily.
Flexing his fingers, he cautiously moved his hand out of reach of the knife. Resting his open palm atop his thigh, and thinking of how very glad he was that he'd left Amanda behind, Jake drawled, "Your call, ole boy. The knife stays where it is. The question now is, is your bullet going to do the same?"
"Shit. I figured you'd say that, but can't blame a guy for trying, can you?" The man sighed heavily. Jake heard the damp leaves shuffle, and knew the man had shifted his weight. "Tell you what, breed. I'm sporting What say I give you one last chance to pull that knife?"
"Nope."
"No?"
"No."
"Well, guess that settles it then."
Jake tensed, readying himself for when the gun wavered. It was a short wait. The second he felt it shift, he pounced.
The intruder had been expecting such a move and his big body reacted faster than Jake had hoped. The man dodged to the side. Jake lunged in pursuit, his aim not completely off. He felt the fatty waist give, and heard a nice, satisfying grunt of surprise.
Unfortunately, the intruder's surprise burned off quickly. Too damn quickly, Jake thought, as he watched the big man pivot and start to fall backward. Jake didn't see the trunk-like arm lift, didn't see the gun spin expertly in his hand so the meaty fingers were gripping the barrel instead of the butt... until it was too late.
Hand and gun arched down with lightning speed. Jake lifted his arms to deflect the blow, but he wasn't quick enough.
He heard the thump of metal hitting bone a split-second before thunder exploded in the base of his skull. A wave of white pain radiated outward from that core, spreading through his head and slicing down his spine. The earth swam dizzily. Darkness edged his vision, but he blinked it away, fighting desperately to retain consciousness.
A groan—his?—rumbled in his ears. The strength drained from his arms and legs. His eyes rolled back; he seemed to have no control over it. The pounding in his head faded as he felt himself crumple onto the snow-dampened ground.
Everything went black.
"A lady is quietly, elegantly resourceful," Amanda muttered as, for the third time in as many minutes, she leaned to the side and studied the snow-dusted ground from her place in the saddle. She wasn't sure what she was looking for, but she was positive that, whatever it was, she'd know it when she saw it. Of course, there was always the chance that she was wrong.
An icy breeze snuck beneath her hood. Shivering, Amanda pulled the cloak about her and nudged the mare on in what she hoped was still an eastward course. Of course, there was no way to be sure of that, since thick clouds blotted out the sun. She refused to consider the possibility that she'd set out from Junction three h
ours ago... heading in the wrong direction.
Then again, she couldn't not consider it, could she? What if she had? What if she was traveling away from Roger instead of toward him? What if...
"A lady never curses aloud, no matter what the provocation." She thought of Jake's seemingly constant, always imaginative swears. Then she thought of the way he'd left her. Her voice lowered, her jaw tightened. "No matter how badly she might wish to curse a blue streak, she does not do it."