Page 2 of Twisted Road

She groaned. Tried to turn her head, but he wanted to see her eyes. Assess the damage.

“Look at me, Wildfire. Open your eyes and look at me.”

“Not yet. I can’t feel my arms. At all. I’m afraid to look.”

“Open your eyes. You were hit in the head, and you’ve been out for a while. I need to know how hurt you are.”

“Suffice it to say my head exploded and my brains have leaked out.” She murmured the words, a whisper of sound that sent a ripple of heat through him. That voice. When she was unguarded, like now, her tone played over his every nerve ending.

“Good to know you’ll rely on my judgment since you’re admitting you have no brain at the moment.”

Her lips did that now-familiar moue he found himself looking for when he was with her. That dimple that made him want to trace it with his tongue. Lately, that had been often—too often. He’d broken every rule his club had to visit her, and he still didn’t have a clue why.

“Why are you on top of me? I can barely breathe. Get off. I can’t breathe, and I can’t feel my arms. They’re trapped under me. With your weight on top of me, I can’t move them.” Her eyes remained tightly closed, as if she knew better than to examine the world around her.

“You can breathe, and you’re unable to move your arms because they’ve gone to sleep.”

The coffin slid to the left and then pitched to the right, hitting the side of the truck’s bed, shaking them both up. The road was even rougher than before. And steep. He felt her breath catch in her throat.

“That hurt you?” He detested that he couldn’t examine the wound on the back of her head.

“My head really does feel like it exploded. And I’m hot. I hate that my arms are trapped, and you have to get off of me.” She whispered it to him like she was embarrassed. “I know this sounds silly, but I have horrible claustrophobia. I don’t like the feeling that I can’t move.”

That wasn’t great news. “I’ll get us out of here.”

“Where are we?”

“At the moment we’re prisoners, and we’re being hauled up a mountain, presumably into the forest, where I believe our captors think they’re going to have fun torturing us.”

She squeezed her eyes shut tighter. “I can’t say as I’m looking forward to that.”

Okay. He didn’t do cute. He didn’t have chest pains just looking at a woman’s expression. He sure as hell didn’t get all protective. He was feeling…murderous.

“I’ll keep us alive. Just don’t try your wildcat-on-fire girlie attack. Let me handle it.”

She drew an outraged breath. “I saved your life.”

“Jury’s out on that, darlin’. Open your eyes. Look at me.” He needed to see for himself just how injured she was.

“I think I’m afraid to.”

“You’re not afraid of hanging off the side of mountains or backpacking trails alone in the wilderness. You just took on five assholes intending to kill me, and you did it with a fuckin’ blow-dryer. I’ll need to talk to you about that once we’re out of this mess. Blow-dryers aren’t the best weapons.”

“Are you seriously trying to give me a lecture right now?”

“Someone needs to take you in hand. You’re totally out of control. I call you Wildfire for very good reasons. Now open your fuckin’ eyes and look at me.”

Why was he always on the verge of shaking her? What happened to his calm? He didn’t care about anything, so why was she able to rile him the way she did?

She squeezed her eyes closed even tighter. “I really don’t want to see our prison.”

“I think you’re afraid of facing me. It’s been obvious since the first time I met you that you can barely keep your hands off me.” Deliberately he taunted her.

The ridiculously long lashes fluttered. He hadn’t noticed those lashes at first because they were as fiery as her hair, but up close they were thick and long and turned up at the ends.

“You could be the biggest liar in the world. Or maybe you believe the crap you tell yourself. Just because you’re a hound dog doesn’t mean every woman in the world finds you attractive.”

“Hound dog?” He feathered his lips over hers, a deliberate enticement. “I can’t help it if women throw themselves at me, Wildfire.”