Page 27 of Desert Angel

French nodded slowly and headed toward his Jeep. When Dylan limped to the vehicle and climbed in Wayne looked at him. “You need a doctor?”

“No. Does Nikki?” He wasn’t in the mood for easing information from someone.

“I don’t think so,” French said, his tone worried. “She was walking okay.”

Dylan didn’t respond but kept his eyes on the desert as they made their way to the house. The lights were on and another ATV sat outside the front door.

Dylan climbed out of the Jeep slowly, hoping he’d been right. His right knee felt too big for his pants and his shoulder was numb. But if he didn’t have any broken bones, he’d make it, he thought and headed to the front door and Nikki.

Wayne trailed after him and entered the house. Nikki was sitting on the sofa, an ice pack held to her forehead when they entered. She stood and ran to Dylan, her hand going to his cheek before she saw Wayne.

“You okay, Nikki?” Wayne asked, some of his old bravado returning.

“I’ll be fine. Thank you for bringing Dylan home.” She didn’t look at him but put her arm around Dylan and leaned into him. He winced but put his arms around her in return, content to hold her and thank God she was okay.

“I’ll get you—”

“No, thank you. I’d appreciate it if you’d leave, Wayne. And take Mark with you,” Nikki didn’t move her head from Dylan’s chest, didn’t look up at Wayne. Over her shoulder, he spied Mark Williams standing in the doorway between the living room and the kitchen, a hand towel in his hands. He took a step back, tossed the towel somewhere, and then walked toward the door. “Nikki, Dylan.”

When Wayne started to protest, Mark put a hand on his shoulder and gave him a shove. “We’re not wanted, Wayne. Let’s go.”

Wayne shot Dylan a dark look, gave Nikki a softer but still disapproving one, then turned and left. Without a glance behind, Mark closed the door behind them and soon Dylan heard the Jeep’s engine fire up.

He stood there, holding Nikki and trying to find the words to comfort her. She didn’t seem to need any, though, and seemed content to stay in his arms.

After several minutes he pulled away and looked down at her.” You okay?”

She nodded and looked up at him. “I got whacked on the face when I landed.” Sure enough, there was a reddened area just at the corner of her eye and Dylan wondered if she’d have a black eye in the morning. “Anything else?”

“I hurt all over but I don’t think anything’s broken, just bruised. You?”

“I banged up my knee I think, and my shoulder but nothing ice won’t fix.” He limped over to the couch and sat down, rubbing the swollen knee. When she got a look at it, Nikki grimaced. “Can you get those pants off over it?”

He arched a look at her and she blushed. “Well, we might have to cut the jeans at the knee is what I meant. It looks pretty swollen.”

He frowned at the thought of losing a pair of jeans but didn’t relish the thought of pulling the rough denim down around the knee. By the time he’d decided to opt for cutting the jeans, she had her kitchen scissors at the ready.

The process of cutting the pants took longer and was more painful than Dylan had counted on and by the time he had an ice pack on his knee and shoulder, he was ready to throw up. Nikki put a sofa cushion behind his head and left him alone for a few minutes. When he’d tamped down the nausea and realized where she was and what she was doing.

Nikki sat at the kitchen table, her own ice pack lay abandoned on its surface. In front of her lay his pistol and Dylan wondered at its presence. When they’d overturned, he’d surely have lost it. Had Nikki retrieved it, or had Wayne or Mark done so?

“What are you doing?”

“Thinking,” she said and looked up at him. It was then he realized her face was wet with tears. He pulled a chair from the table and set it beside her then sank down. He put his arm around her. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

She nodded, “Physically, I’m fine. I just wonder—”

“What?”

“If I’d had the pistol when we were on the ATV, when it rolled over on you, I’m not sure what I would have done.” She started sobbing and turned her face into his neck. Dylan held her, his own eyes smarting at the thought of losing her.

“I think I know,” he said and lifted her head then placed a slow, sweet kiss on her lips. “I think you would be right here, with me, just like you are now.”

“But I think I hated Wayne and Mark at that moment.”

“And when we were in the living room, after I came back?” he asked.

“I just wanted them gone. I wanted to be here with just you.”