Dangerous to Know (5 page)

 

Gemma's heart thudded against her ribs as she pressed Jerome's fingers to her lips and kissed them. His face was only inches away from hers as she looked into his eyes and tried to read the mix of emotions she saw in their dark blue depths.

The sound of a gunshot close by had Jerome scrambling to his feet and out of the tent before the sound of the ricochet had died away. “What the…?”

“Jerome, come back!” Gemma hurried out after him into the rain, her pulse thundering with fear.

Jerome scoured the landscape from a higher point amongst the boulders further up the hillside. Gemma picked her way up the slope and across the rocks as quickly as she could. The mountainside around them was obscured by low cloud and she muttered a light curse under her breath as her feet slipped on the loose scree.

“Jerome, what are you doing?” This is madness, she thought as she panted for breath.

“I'm trying to see what kind of idiot would be out here shooting in these conditions.” His wet hair gleamed blue-black in the poor light.

Another shot rang out around the hillside, sounding worryingly close. Gemma covered her ears and ducked. “Have you ever thought maybe
you
could be the target?” She pulled his sleeve downwards in an attempt to force him to take cover.

A third shot rang out as they ducked behind a rock. A shotgun cartridge whizzed past. It hit a boulder just to the right of them with a metallic zing. Gemma shrieked in terror and closed her eyes.

Jerome cursed under his breath. “Stay here and don't move.”

Gemma opened her eyes to see him lope away, crouching as he ran toward the woods.

“Jerome!” She hissed his name, fearful of alerting whoever had taken the potshots at them.

He ignored her and continued on towards the trees. Gemma peeped out from behind the large rock behind which she sheltered, trying to spot Jerome through the mist. He disappeared from view into the forest.

She heard the sound of breaking branches and another gunshot. Her heart raced and after a moment's pause she launched herself from behind the rock and headed after Jerome. Her palms were sweaty with fear and her pulse thumped in her ears. What if he'd been shot?

“Gemma!” The sound of his shout gave her some direction as she entered the wood. At least it didn't sound as if he were hurt. She looked around the misty tree trunks, straining to see where he might be.

“Over here.”

She hurried towards his voice until she spotted the bright blue flash of his shirt through the low cloud and undergrowth.

“Jerome, are you all right?” Gemma stumbled over the brambles and fallen twigs strewn on the forest floor as she hastened towards him.

As she panted into the clearing she saw that Jerome wasn't alone. A tall, skinny youth who looked about sixteen wriggled in the grip of Jerome's fists. A shotgun lay on a flattened patch of wet bracken. It appeared the sniper had been caught.

She picked up the gun and pointed it down toward the ground, praying it wouldn't go off.

“What's going on?” Her voice was as wobbly as her hands on the stock of the gun.

Jerome continued to grip the front of the boy's green canvas hoodie. He steered the lad backwards till he pinned him against a large tree trunk where the boy wriggled like a fish on a hook.

“The lady asked a very good question. Who are you and what did you think you were doing shooting at us?” Jerome's voice was loaded with menace.

The boy squirmed against the tree. “I weren't doing nothing. I was shooting rabbits then you run in here and grabbed me.”

Jerome hoisted the boy upwards so his feet left the ground. “Who sent you here and how much did he pay you?”

Gemma took a step forward to stand next to Jerome. The boy's eyes flickered towards the gun in her hands then back to Jerome's icy stare.

“I didn't mean nothing. It was just to scare you off, that's all. A practical joke, see.”

Jerome lowered him down a little so the youth's feet were back on the ground. “Do you see us laughing? Who sent you?”

The Adam's apple bobbed in the boy's throat. “Honest, I don't know nothing. Let me go, you're hurting me.”

Jerome growled and pushed the boy back a little harder onto the tree. “Tell me.”

“I dunno his name. He was in the pub, got a flashy car. He gave me twenty quid to come up here and scare you a bit,” the boy gabbled in reply.

Gemma let out a breath of relief. “What did he look like?”

“Sort of self-important, lots of money. I don't know nothing else, I swear.”

Jerome relaxed his grip on the lad's top. The boy immediately spotted his chance and wriggled free. He bolted away through the trees and disappeared from sight before they could stop him. Jerome slumped against the tree trunk and she noticed a cut in his hairline oozing blood.

“You're hurt.” She slipped her arm around his waist. “Come on, let's get this cleaned up.”

“I'm okay, it's just a graze. Here, give me the gun.”

She passed him the shotgun and he emptied out the remaining cartridges. Water dripped from the green, leafy canopy above their heads as they walked back towards the tents. Her legs shook as she pulled the small first aid box from the tent. Jerome sat down on one of the low rocks near the camp stove and dropped the gun on the grass.

“You could have been killed, chasing off like that.” She cleaned the cut on Jerome's forehead with a piece of gauze.

He winced and moved his head under her ministrations. “Yeah, well, I thought of that at about the same time as I wrestled the gun off him.”

Gemma shook her head in despair and stuck a plaster over the cut. “Do you think he'll come back?”

“I doubt it. Gerald won't risk anything that could be traced to him. I'm surprised he risked sending that kid up here.”

She shivered. Her wet clothes were stuck to her back and the chill from the mist had seeped through to her bones. “You're sure Gerald was behind it?” Even as she asked the question she knew it had to be him.

“Who else?” Jerome stood up and encircled her in his arms. “You'd better get out of those wet clothes before you catch pneumonia.” His mouth closed on hers and heat spread through her body.

“You still need to work on those pick up lines,” she said as he broke the kiss.

He chuckled as she eased out of his embrace and bolted for her tent, her lips still tingling from his kiss. Gemma zipped the canvas flaps shut with the sound of his amusement ringing in her ears.

Her fingers trembled as she peeled off her sodden clothing and scrubbed her cold skin dry with a large towel from her backpack. She dressed in new clothes as quickly as her stiff fingers would allow, pulling on a warm fleecy tracksuit and dry socks.

“Knock, knock.”

Gemma unzipped the tent-flap to see Jerome, dressed in dry clothes and holding two steaming mugs.

“I made some soup.”

She bundled her wet things into a carrier bag as he eased his way inside her tent and handed her a mug. She cradled the soup and felt some warmth creep back into her hands.

“What do we do now? Shouldn't we call the police or something?” She sipped the chicken soup and felt the heat slide down her throat and into her stomach.

“Even if we had some kind of reception for the mobile to contact them, which we don't, that kid will be miles away by now.” Jerome stared into his mug and blew some of the steam from the rim.

“It just feels wrong to let him get away with it.”

He shrugged. “We don't have much choice.”

Gemma chewed her lower lip thoughtfully. “You don't think that maybe we should pack up and go home?”

Jerome continued to gaze into his mug for a long moment before he answered her. “I doubt if Gerald will dare try anything else and besides, I have a job to do. If you want to leave, I'll walk you to the car and you can go and get a room at a B&B down in the village.” He lifted his head and his ice-blue eyes fixed on her face. “I won't blame you if you'd rather leave,” he added in a gentle voice.

Gemma allowed herself a few seconds to think longingly of a proper bed with pillows and a bathroom with porcelain fittings. “No, that's okay. I wanted a more exciting life. I guess I can't complain now, although I would prefer not to be shot at.”

He smiled at her and the last of the chill left her body. “That's my girl.”

Gemma blushed and wondered how it would feel if she really was
his
girl. Okay, so he seemed to enjoy flirting with her and kissing her. Heck, if the shotgun-happy kid hadn't interrupted them she would have enjoyed more than just kissing. Her cheeks glowed hotter at the thought.

On a deeper, more meaningful level, though, she didn't know where she stood. Jerome had quite a reputation as a ladies' man and although she was looking for excitement she didn't want to be just another notch on his bedpost.

“I hope this fog will go so we can go out and do some reconnoitering tonight.” He peered through the flap of the tent. It had grown darker already and the cloud seemed to have thickened still further around the campsite.

“It doesn't look as if it'll lift to me.” Gemma took another drink of her soup and wondered if her bladder would hold out a while longer. She didn't fancy going out to relieve herself in the cold, wet, darkness.

“The weather changes so quickly up here. The locals will tell you that you can experience all four seasons in one day.” He let the flap fall back into place, casting his face into shadow.

Gemma fidgeted on her sleeping bag. “Um, do you think I could borrow the lamp? I need to go to the bathroom.” Her face burnt with embarrassment.

“Sure, I'd better come with you.” He scrambled out of the tent and stood holding the flap up so she could follow him.

“You can't, I mean…”

“Gemma, it's really foggy. If you wander off you could easily miss the campsite. I don't want you lost on the mountain.” He retrieved the lamp from his tent and turned it on. “I promise you'll be nice and private.”

She followed him across the scree back towards the trees. It had been years since she'd felt this embarrassed, probably not since she'd been at high school and had accidentally come out of the bathroom with her skirt tucked into her knickers.

“Here, take the lamp and I'll wait for you,” he said once they had reached the edge of the forest. He handed her the light and she set off into the undergrowth.

* * * *

Jerome turned his back and leaned against a tree while he waited for her to return. He rubbed his face to clear his head, wincing as he caught the edge of the cut on his hairline.

Maybe he should have insisted on Gemma going back to the village. What was supposed to have been a nice relaxing weekend of camping and picture-taking had already turned into a nightmare. He lifted his chin and squinted at the cloud swirling all about him. Even the weather was against them.

He heard twigs snapping underfoot and turned to see Gemma's lantern bobbing back towards him. His heart lifted when she smiled at him. She really was amazing. He didn't know one woman in a million who would have gone through a day like today and still be smiling. Most of the women he knew would have run down the mountain screaming even before the gunshots, and that was the very few who would have agreed to come with him in the first place.

“I'm glad you came with me,” she said as she fell into step beside him and they made their way back toward the tents. “It's a bit spooky out here now.”

The rain had ceased but the air swirled moist and cold around them, obscuring their vision, leaving their faces clammy and damp.

“I'm really sorry you've been dragged into all this. So much for a fun weekend, huh?” He glanced at her face, pale in the misty light.

“Oh well, I love being shot at, soaked and frozen on my weekends off.” She looked back up at him, the corners of her lips curving upwards as she spoke.

Jerome swallowed. She looked so small and cute in her heavy waterproof coat with her hair curling around her face. “You can't say I don't know how to show a girl a good time.”

She shook her head in disbelief and laughed. Jerome halted next to the boulder they had sheltered behind earlier. The earlier flirting games he'd shared with Gemma seemed childish and inconsequential now. He wondered what would have happened earlier if the kid with the gun hadn't interrupted them.

“If you'll chance another weekend away with me, then I promise I'll take you somewhere special to make up for this.” He pictured Gemma in a large, comfy four-poster bed in some luxury country hotel and his body hardened with desire.

She looked up at him, her mouth quirking. “Will wherever you take me have a real bathroom?”

Jerome wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her closer. “Does that mean you'd say yes and come with me?”

He waited for her response, willing her to agree to another date. To his surprise she took a small step backwards out of his arms.

“I don't know, Jerome.”

“I see.” Although he didn't see, not really. Disappointment stabbed at his ribs.

“Everything's always been fun between us, you know, messing about, but…”

“There's always a ‘but'.” He made the quip but his tone was serious.

“I just came out of a relationship that I thought was going to be for keeps, and I don't want to get hurt like that again.” She wrapped her arms protectively across her chest, the lamp dangling from her fingers casting an eerie yellow light in the fog.

Jerome dug his hands deep in the pockets of his jeans. “You know I'd never hurt you. I just thought you were up for some fun.”

“Yeah, well, so did I. I guess we were both wrong.” Her eyes were sad. “I'll be in my tent.”

Jerome heard the sound of the zip being fastened. Alone in the mist he thought about what Gemma had said. He kicked one of the small stones near his boot, sending it bouncing into a wiry clump of grass.

A faint glow came from a crack in the entrance of Gemma's tent. He'd spent years avoiding emotional entanglements. His lifestyle had been too unsettled for any kind of long-term relationships. Not too many women would be prepared to put up with him disappearing for weeks on end into dangerous places to photograph wildlife.

He'd resigned himself to being alone and until just lately it had suited him.

Until Gemma. He moodily kicked another pebble as he tried to work out his feelings towards her.

Gemma was everything he'd ever wanted in a woman. She was smart, sexy, had a good sense of humor… Heck, she'd even come roughing it in a tent without complaining! He sighed and scratched his head as he puzzled over what to do now.

He couldn't blame her for backing off, because he was well aware of his reputation with women. To an extent he'd encouraged it, figuring that if the women knew he wasn't in the market for the long haul they could hardly complain that he'd deceived them.

Now, though, he had to work out what he
did
want. Nathalie had warned him that Gemma was an all-or-nothing kind of girl. He glanced again at the tiny ray of light spilling from the tent and knew he couldn't bear it to be nothing.