Read Online Trapped (Private Justice Book #2): A Novel by Irene Hannon - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Irene Hannon
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him.
Powerful enough to scare him into retreat.
He yanked his hand back, pivoted away, and snagged his fleece-lined jacket from the hook behind him, buying himself a few seconds to regain control.
Off-limits, Devlin. Get a grip.
Exerting every ounce of his self-control, he managed to suppress the urge to touch her again. But it shouldn’t have been sohard. He’d mastered those types of impulses long ago, and that self-discipline had saved his life—and his heart—on more than one occasion. Only once had his resolve faltered, and that deadly error had reaffirmed what he’d always known: business and pleasure didn’t mix.
He wasn’t going to make the same mistake twice.
No matter how lovely the woman.
“You might want to put some ice on that after you get home.” He tried for a dispassionate tone—and almost succeeded. “Your jaw’s a little puffy.”
“Okay.” Her response came out scratchy. As if she, too, had been unnerved by the simple touch.
He swiveled back, seeking confirmation of that, but she dipped her head to work on her buttons, hiding her face from his scrutiny. “So what do we do now?”
He knew what he’d like to do—but that wasn’t an option. So he shifted gears.
“The storm’s not supposed to let up until tomorrow night. I’m betting we have twenty-four hours, minimum, before Darcy leaves town.” His tone was cool, polished, professional. Better. “In the meantime, I’ll keep calling Rachel in Chicago to see if she’s heard from her.”
“Do you think Darcy might come back here again?”
“It’s possible. That’s why I plan to pay a return visit tomorrow night. If she’s not here, I’ll talk to the volunteers and show her picture around again. If that doesn’t pan out, we’ll set up round-the-clock surveillance at Gateway Station once buses start running again. I’ll also call the other shelters and ask them to review their weekend guest lists, in case Darcy went to a different one under her real name.”
Laura tugged on her gloves and moved toward the exit, leaving him to fall in behind. “It sounds like you have all the bases covered. But I wish we could do more.”
So did he. Trouble was, they had no more leads to follow—yet.
“Brace yourself.” He edged past her at the top of the stairs, turned up his collar, and pushed the door open. A powerful gust of wind rocked her, and he grabbed her arm. “Steady.”
“Thanks.” Head bent, she dived into the storm.
He stayed by her side, retaining a firm grip on her arm as they plodded through the drifts of snow toward the Explorer. The winter mix felt like sandpaper against his cheeks, and he edged closer to the slender woman beside him, using his body to deflect some of the wind—and wishing he could shield her from both the stinging sleet and the wrenching guilt she carried over Darcy’s disappearance.
That wish went deep. Deeper than it should, in view of the fact they’d met mere hours ago. And it was without recent precedent. Years had passed since anyone had triggered his protective instincts in more than a professional capacity.
What in the world was going on?
“Your car is buried.”
Laura stopped beside the Explorer, and he gave the vehicle a quick inspection. She was right. In the hour they’d spent at the shelter, it had disappeared beneath a mountain of white. But he’d come prepared.
“It won’t take long to clean off.” He guided her toward the passenger door. After unlocking it, he pulled it open, holding her back as an avalanche from the roof slid toward their feet. Once the snow settled, he helped her in, circled the vehicle, and took his place behind the wheel. “Buckle up.”
“Top of my list.” She groped for her seat belt and peered through her side window. “Is it getting worse, or am I imagining things?”
“It’s getting worse.” He started the engine and cranked up the defroster, then grabbed the ice scraper with the attached brush from behind the front seat.
Powerful enough to scare him into retreat.
He yanked his hand back, pivoted away, and snagged his fleece-lined jacket from the hook behind him, buying himself a few seconds to regain control.
Off-limits, Devlin. Get a grip.
Exerting every ounce of his self-control, he managed to suppress the urge to touch her again. But it shouldn’t have been sohard. He’d mastered those types of impulses long ago, and that self-discipline had saved his life—and his heart—on more than one occasion. Only once had his resolve faltered, and that deadly error had reaffirmed what he’d always known: business and pleasure didn’t mix.
He wasn’t going to make the same mistake twice.
No matter how lovely the woman.
“You might want to put some ice on that after you get home.” He tried for a dispassionate tone—and almost succeeded. “Your jaw’s a little puffy.”
“Okay.” Her response came out scratchy. As if she, too, had been unnerved by the simple touch.
He swiveled back, seeking confirmation of that, but she dipped her head to work on her buttons, hiding her face from his scrutiny. “So what do we do now?”
He knew what he’d like to do—but that wasn’t an option. So he shifted gears.
“The storm’s not supposed to let up until tomorrow night. I’m betting we have twenty-four hours, minimum, before Darcy leaves town.” His tone was cool, polished, professional. Better. “In the meantime, I’ll keep calling Rachel in Chicago to see if she’s heard from her.”
“Do you think Darcy might come back here again?”
“It’s possible. That’s why I plan to pay a return visit tomorrow night. If she’s not here, I’ll talk to the volunteers and show her picture around again. If that doesn’t pan out, we’ll set up round-the-clock surveillance at Gateway Station once buses start running again. I’ll also call the other shelters and ask them to review their weekend guest lists, in case Darcy went to a different one under her real name.”
Laura tugged on her gloves and moved toward the exit, leaving him to fall in behind. “It sounds like you have all the bases covered. But I wish we could do more.”
So did he. Trouble was, they had no more leads to follow—yet.
“Brace yourself.” He edged past her at the top of the stairs, turned up his collar, and pushed the door open. A powerful gust of wind rocked her, and he grabbed her arm. “Steady.”
“Thanks.” Head bent, she dived into the storm.
He stayed by her side, retaining a firm grip on her arm as they plodded through the drifts of snow toward the Explorer. The winter mix felt like sandpaper against his cheeks, and he edged closer to the slender woman beside him, using his body to deflect some of the wind—and wishing he could shield her from both the stinging sleet and the wrenching guilt she carried over Darcy’s disappearance.
That wish went deep. Deeper than it should, in view of the fact they’d met mere hours ago. And it was without recent precedent. Years had passed since anyone had triggered his protective instincts in more than a professional capacity.
What in the world was going on?
“Your car is buried.”
Laura stopped beside the Explorer, and he gave the vehicle a quick inspection. She was right. In the hour they’d spent at the shelter, it had disappeared beneath a mountain of white. But he’d come prepared.
“It won’t take long to clean off.” He guided her toward the passenger door. After unlocking it, he pulled it open, holding her back as an avalanche from the roof slid toward their feet. Once the snow settled, he helped her in, circled the vehicle, and took his place behind the wheel. “Buckle up.”
“Top of my list.” She groped for her seat belt and peered through her side window. “Is it getting worse, or am I imagining things?”
“It’s getting worse.” He started the engine and cranked up the defroster, then grabbed the ice scraper with the attached brush from behind the front seat.
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