Midnight Run. Linda Castillo
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do you want me to put my clothes?”
Landis jumped at the nearness of his voice. Realizing he’d come up behind her, she spun and thrust the towel into his midsection hard enough to elicit a grunt. “Don’t sneak up on me like that.”
Jack studied her carefully for a moment. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were blushing.”
“I’m not blushing,” she snapped, hating it that he’d noticed. The curse of being a redhead, she supposed. Unable to meet his eyes, she focused on the towel between them—only to notice how large and strong his hands looked wrapped around it. She remembered seeing those same hands on her body, touching her, his palms warm and slightly roughened against her most sensitive flesh….
Disgusted with herself, she stepped back. “Take a shower.” She sniffed. “You need it.”
“You’ll come check on me if I pass out, won’t you, Red?”
Her heart did a weird little roll when his hands went to the remaining buttons of his shirt. Jack had never been shy. He was a boldly sexual creature, and Landis had always felt a little overwhelmed by his intensity. She wanted to snap at him to stay dressed until he was locked in the bathroom, but she knew that was silly. She was a grown woman and had seen plenty of male chests. This particular chest shouldn’t be any different. Especially since she didn’t even like the man it belonged to.
“Unless you want to spend the night in jail, I suggest you refrain from passing out,” she said.
“It’d be hell explaining to the police how an escaped con got in your bathtub.”
She didn’t want to think about that. “Toss me your clothes from inside. I’ll throw them in the washing machine.”
Abruptly, he reached out. Landis tried to avoid the contact, but he was too quick. He brushed his knuckles along her jaw, but she felt the contact like an arc of electricity that snapped through her body and went all the way to her toes. Her intellect told her to pull away, but her body refused the order. Instead she found herself melting and softening, and she had to resist the impulse to lean closer….
“Thank you,” he said.
She swatted his hand away from her face. “Don’t read too much into it. You’re not in jail right now because you’ve led me to believe you’re going to turn yourself in.”
A smile traced the corners of his mouth. “You still have a weakness for strays, don’t you, Red?”
“You’re not a stray, Jack. You’re a wolf, and I only hope you don’t turn on me.” She raised her chin and looked him in the eye. A year of bottled-up pain and anger burgeoned in her chest and began to flow. It was as if he’d reached into her and wrested the plug from her damaged heart. “Don’t assume you’re going to flash that smile, hand me a few tidbits on Cyrus Duke and expect me to help you.”
“The thought never crossed my mind,” he said dryly.
“Don’t insult my intelligence by thanking me for something I would never do for you.”
“I’m going to enjoy proving you wrong.”
“For your sake, I hope you can. Personally, I don’t care as long as you stay out of my life.”
“A couple of hours,” he said. “Until Chandler gets here. That’s all I’m asking.”
“You have no idea what you’re asking.”
“Listen to your heart, Landis.”
“My heart has been wrong about you every time it got involved.”
“Not this time.” His voice was like a caress, so soft and gentle that for a moment, she wanted to believe him….
Never taking his eyes from hers, Jack worked off the shirt and handed it to her. It took all of her discipline not to let her eyes drop, to explore what she knew was a magnificent chest. But she didn’t; control was too important to her. And Jack had always been a threat to that control. He’d always wreaked havoc on her in one way or another. Mentally. Physically. Emotionally. Landis only hoped she could keep a handle on her emotions long enough to get him out of her life once and for all.
Needing to get out from under his discerning gaze, she turned and started down the hall. She could feel his eyes on her as she walked, but she didn’t stop, didn’t even look back. And for the first time since his arrival, she knew she was much more vulnerable to him than she’d thought.
Leaning forward with his hands against the tile, Jack let the hot spray pound away the dirt, the aches and the bone-deep chill. The water felt like a hot branding iron against his shoulder wound, but there was no getting around a shower so he simply endured. He gladly put up with the pain to get clean. The water ran brown with grime and dirt and blood. He’d never wanted a shower so badly in his entire life. Prison had a way of making a man feel dirty right down to his soul.
He closed his eyes against a bout of dizziness, and for a moment the darkness transported him back to the penitentiary. He heard the steel doors banging shut, the locks turning with the kind of finality that could drive a man insane. He heard the crude shouts, listened to the words of hatred and bitterness and felt his humanity slip a little bit more.
Jack had always considered himself a strong, resilient man. But the year he’d spent in prison had come very close to destroying him. He’d tried to adjust to the routine of prison life; he’d tried to accept the reality that he would be spending the rest of his life behind bars. But something inside him refused to acquiesce no matter how impossible the situation.
Back when he’d been a troubled teen, he’d been unable to fight the injustices inflicted upon him by a system that wasn’t perfect. But Jack was a man now. Deep down inside, he was still a cop. And even if that title had been stripped from him, he would draw his last breath fighting for what was right.
Or die trying.
Using a heart-shaped soap, he lathered his body twice, marveling at the feel of being warm and clean. He washed his hair with shampoo that smelled startlingly like Landis. For a moment, he lost himself in her scent and wished for the hundredth time he could turn back the hands of time.
But Jack was through lamenting the past. For the first time in over a year, his fate was in his own hands. He didn’t intend to squander it. He wouldn’t waste one second of that time wishing for things he couldn’t have. The relationship he’d once shared with Landis was over. She’d turned her back on him when he’d needed her desperately. She would do it again if he gave her the chance. The sooner he accepted that, the better off he’d be.
He didn’t have much time. Twenty-four hours. Thirty-six hours tops. He had no idea when the police or the department of corrections would catch up with him. The way his luck was running, capture seemed imminent. He hated to waste time on sleep, but he hadn’t slept for two days. His brain was barely functioning. His body was operating on sheer will alone. He needed food and a few hours in a bed. He needed a clear head for his meeting with Chandler because it wasn’t going to be easy convincing his attorney to look the other way while his client became a fugitive from justice.
He switched off the water and opened the glass door. A fluffy pink towel hung neatly on the rack. Jack stared at it, realizing with mild amusement that he had nothing to wear while his clothes were being laundered. Cursing mildly, he stepped out of the tub and reached for the towel. The fabric felt soft against his fingers. Even before bringing it to his nose, he knew it smelled like Landis.
Pleasure jumped through him as her scent wrapped around his brain. Despite the fatigue, and the pain of his injury, his body responded. Closing his eyes against the hard tug of longing, he whispered her name. “Landis…”
Landis’s hands shook as she tossed sliced mushrooms into the omelet. Cooking usually calmed her, but tonight her battered nerves refused to cooperate. She couldn’t stop thinking about Jack. The way he’d looked at her when he’d proclaimed his innocence. The sound of his voice when he’d whispered