Page 29 of Hunted

It was none of her business, though, was it? She barely knew him.

But Lexi had always been drawn to the wounded. The more serious the wound, the more she was compelled to help. It came of that need to be needed, she supposed. It was all twisted up in her psyche, knotted together with the death of her mother when she was only five years old, and with the cold, callousness of a father everyone said was a great man. Mix in the knowledge that she’d never have children of her own, and it was no wonder she was drawn to people she could nurture and heal.

Common sense ought to have some say in the matter, though, and common sense suggested she keep a safe distance from a man with cactus skin. A man who lashed out just to keep her away. A man who’d told her in no uncertain terms that he didn’t want her help.

His wounds were too deep, too dangerous. The darkness inside him was devouring him, maybe already had. And if she got too close it would devour her too. She knew it would. She felt the warnings prickling up and down her spine and dancing over her skin. Stay away, they whispered. Stay away.

If she had any sense at all, she’d heed those warnings.

She would try, she vowed in silence. She would try to keep a cool distance. She’d stop asking about his beautiful, lost family. She’d stop caring about his pain. He was nothing to her; why should she care? She’d force herself not to reach out to him again. She could do that. It wasn’t such an impossible task.

They rode in silence through the small town they’d discovered nearby, pulling in at a used car dealership where Romano went inside.

Alone in the car, Lexi couldn’t help wondering if he’d been a different man before his wife and sons had died. She tried to picture him happy, content, affectionate. But it was a terrible stretch of the imagination.

“Mrs. Jones?”

There was a tap on her window and Lexi jumped, then turned to see the round, friendly face of a salesman staring in at her. She put the window down.

“Mrs. Jones, come take a look. We can’t have your husband making a purchase this important without your input now, can we?”

Frowning, she opened the door and got out, allowing the salesman to lead her around the lot to where Romano was just stepping out of a motor home the size of a tank. He met her confused gaze and smiled … actually smiled at her. The perfect image of the devoted husband. He crossed to where she stood, draped an arm around her shoulders.

“Well, honey, what do you think?” He waved his free hand toward the house on wheels.

His arm felt warm and heavy on her shoulders. She resisted the urge to lean into his embrace, to tilt her head sideways until it rested on his shoulder, to slide her own arm around his waist and give it a squeeze and tell him that he was going to be all right.

The man did not want to be comforted, she reminded herself.

“I … uh … I’m not sure what to think.”

“It has everything. Perfect for our trip. Go on inside, take a look.”

She blinked at him. He’d converted himself into the image of the American sightseer, evoking images of campfires and hot dogs.

Without a word she stepped into the camper, but she wasn’t really looking at it. She just walked around, pretending to check it out, while he chatted outside with the salesman.

When he poked his head inside, he was back to his former, cold demeanor. “Get our stuff out of the car and stash it in here while I finish up the paperwork.”

He said it as if he expected her immediate compliance. So she said, “No.”

“What do you mean, ‘no’?”

His eyes were sapphire chips. His words fell like icy rain, chilling her right to the bone. “I mean, no. You can’t just give orders and expect me to carry them out. I don’t work for you.”

He sighed, lowered his head and pulled the camper door shut. “What do you want, Lexi?”

“I want to know the plan. I want to know why we’re buying a used RV and where we’re taking it. And how the hell you explained the busted-out rear window in the Porsche, or didn’t he even ask about that?”

He took a slow breath and she got the feeling he was struggling for patience. “He did ask.”

“And?”

“And it was a freak accident. Chunk of ice slid off a roof and right through the window.”

“Why are we changing vehicles?” she asked.

“Because White’s seen the car.”

---