The Search (20 page)

Read The Search Online

Authors: Iris Johansen

Tags: #Fiction, #Thrillers, #Suspense

BOOK: The Search
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"Right."

Logan pulled the jeep in front of the cabin in less than five minutes and Sarah jumped out. "Go on ahead and open the door beside the fireplace. It leads to a small screened-in back porch."

He limped into the cabin. "Anything else?"

She followed him. "Grab that throw on the back of the couch and put it on the floor of the porch."

He did, then asked, "Next?"

She set the wolf carefully on the throw. "Bring me the bag with the medical supplies in that first kitchen cabinet."

She knelt down and gently stroked the wolf's muzzle. "What a beautiful boy you are. Don't worry, we're going to take good care of you."

Monty settled himself beside the wolf.

"You'll have to get out of the way," Sarah told him. "I'm going to stitch up that cut and set the leg. It's fractured."

Monty laid his head on his paws, his gaze on the wolf. "Here's the bag." Logan fell to his knees beside the wolf. "Tell me what to do to help."

She looked across the wolf's body at him. So far he had taken orders without question, and heaven knows she needed help. "First we have to clean the wound."

"Are you going to leave Monty in there with the wolf?" Logan asked as he followed Sarah from the porch an hour later.

"I don't think I could budge him." Sarah set the medical bag on the counter and washed the blood from her hands at the sink. "Not until he's sure the wolf's okay. Coffee?"

"Yes." He carefully lowered himself into the easy chair and raised his leg onto the hassock. "I could use it. How long will he sleep?"

"I hope another hour or so. And it's she, not he. I assumed it was a male too, until I started working on her. I'm surprised you didn't notice."

"I was preoccupied." His gaze shifted to the fire. "Aren't you a little cold?"

"No."

"Well, neither am I. Will you go put on a shirt?"

She glanced at him in surprise. "I'm wearing a bra. That's no different from wearing a bikini top."

"Trust me, there's a difference."

She inhaled sharply as she met his gaze. She quickly averted her eyes. "Oh, for God's sake. I suppose I should have expected it even in a situation like this. It's a guy thing. I read an article once that said men think of sex once every eight minutes."

"Then I must be a cold fish. I'm sure it doesn't pop into my head more than every ten minutes."

His tone was flippant, and the disturbing moment was gone, she realized with relief.

She went into the bedroom and came back pulling a white T-shirt over her head. "Satisfied?"

"No." He changed the subject. "What are you going to do with the wolf?"

"Get her well and then turn her back over to the Wildlife Federation to relocate." She made a face. "If I can keep my rancher neighbors from busting in here and trying to kill her again."

"Maybe I can help there."

"What are you going to do? Pay them off ?" She shook her head. "These ranchers are independent as the devil and they're not about to be bought. They've lost livestock and they're mad as hell."

"I'll think of something." He drew a quick breath. "I wonder--if I could--trouble you to get out your medical bag again. I may need a little first aid myself. I believe kneeling beside that wolf may have been the last straw."

Her gaze flew to the leg propped on the hassock. A wide dark stain was spreading on the inner side of his thigh. "Dammit, you tore open the stitches." She grabbed the bag off the counter and moved over to the chair. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"You were busy. We were both busy. You seem to live in a constant state of emergency. I'm almost afraid to close my eyes around-- What are you doing?"

"Taking off your jeans."

"You seem to have no compunction about nudity in yourself or others."

"There's nothing shameful about nudity." She wriggled the trousers off his hips and down his legs. "I can repair those stitches--unless you want me to call an ambulance."

"No, you do it." He closed his eyes and smiled faintly. "Just please don't enjoy sticking that needle in me too much."

"I never enjoy inflicting pain." She bent over his thigh. "You didn't break all the stitches. This shouldn't take long."

"That's good. I've never been good at--" He inhaled sharply as the needle went into his flesh. "I should have asked for a shot like our wolf friend."

"I would have given you one, but I have only morphine, and you're allergic to it."

"Oh, shit. I knew that would come back to haunt me."

"Just a couple more."

Actually, it was three more before she was able to rebandage the wound. "That wasn't so bad, was it?" she asked as she pulled up his jeans and fastened them.

"It wasn't good." He opened his eyes. "But since most of it was my fault, I guess I can't complain. Could I have that coffee now? I need it."

"Sure." She moved toward the counter. "I could use a cup myself."

"I can see how you would. It's been a difficult night for you."

She poured the coffee, gave him a cup, and then sat down on the hassock with her own. "And for you. And it wasn't your fault that you broke open those stitches. You were trying to help Monty and then the wolf. If anyone's at fault, it's me."

He shook his head. "No, my responsibility."

"You said that before. You're big on responsibility."

"It's one of the few codes I never break. Whatever I do, I shoulder the responsibility for my actions."

She took a sip of coffee and was silent a moment. "Why did you come here, Logan?"

"Why do you think I came?"

"I don't know. I thought it might be the medication that caused you to stumble here from a sickbed. But I can't see you being that woozy even under drugs. So it was something else."

"Go on."

"Tell me."

"I'm enjoying watching you work it out. Did I ever tell you how much I admire that fine brain of yours?"

"Don't flatter me, Logan."

"I wouldn't presume. We may have had our differences, but I've never underestimated you."

"Just used me."

"That's done. I'll never use you again, Sarah."

She studied his expression.

"Believe me."

She did believe him. "If that's true, then it narrows down the reasons you'd show up here. You made me a promise about Madden, but you wouldn't have thought it necessary to drag yourself here to keep it."

"I would if you'd told me you wanted it done immediately."

"But I didn't tell you that." She tilted her head, thinking. "And you were more scared than I was when Monty ran out of here tonight. You were afraid something would happen to him."

He was silent, waiting.

"Responsibility." She met his gaze. "You were afraid someone would hurt Monty."

"Or you. You nearly gave me a heart attack when you took off running. I knew I'd never catch you with this bum leg."

Her eyes widened. "Rudzak? Why?"

"He had to have seen you when you jumped out of the helicopter after Monty."

"And that's enough to target me?"

"More than enough. You helped me, and no one believes more in revenge than Rudzak. He'll regard his defeat as a humiliation, and you both participated in and witnessed that humiliation."

Her hands clenched into fists. "I thought I was out of it."

"Will you come back to Phoenix with me?"

"No, I think you're off base about any threat to me, but if there is, I'll take care of myself."

"I thought that would be your response. I told Galen to get some security out here, but it would be much easier if you go back to Phoenix."

"I want my life back. I don't want to make it easy for you."

"Then if you're going to stay here, let me stay too. I'll be chief cook and bottle washer. You have your hands full with the wolf and Monty."

"I told you I don't want you here."

"Just imagine me humble and at your beck and call. Doesn't the picture appeal to you?"

"Like a dream come true. But you'd probably break open the stitches again and I'd be waiting on you too."

"I trust your stitches." He grimaced. "They hurt too much not to be tight as a drum."

"And you'd be more danger to me here than behind those gates in Phoenix. Rudzak would probably crawl up to my cabin and blow it up just to get you."

"No, my presence will actually make you safer. Rudzak doesn't want me dead yet. He wants me to suffer first."

"What the hell did you do to him?"

"I took away fifteen years of his life. I should have killed him, but things didn't work out." The words were cold and the tone without feeling. Then he smiled. "But that's the past. We have to worry about the future. Just let me stay until you get the wolf in shape. Maybe by that time we'll have located Rudzak. And I have some strings I can pull to get the IRS to persuade the ranchers not to go after the wolf again."

"I wouldn't sic the IRS on my worst enemy."

"Just a mild attack? To save the wolf?"

"Maybe." She stood up. "I've got to check on her."

"Don't you think we should give her a name? Something exotic, perhaps. Ivana or Dest--"

"I hate cutesy names." She headed for the porch door. "Her name is Maggie."

"Margaret will be flattered . . . I think."

"It's not about her. I just like the name."

"Sarah."

She glanced over her shoulder.

"I'm making sense," he said soberly. "I know Santo Camaro seems far away and unreal. But it's not. Believe me, Sarah."

He was right. The threat from Rudzak did seem completely unreal to her. "You could be wrong."

"I'm not wrong. Let me stay. Let me help you. I promise I won't be a disturbance." He made a face. "And just think how you'll love ordering me around."

"It might almost be worth it."

"Then think about it."

She was silent a moment. "I will."

He watched her disappear to the porch. Had he been persuasive enough? He had laid the facts out before her with complete honesty; anything else would have been the height of idiocy. She would never accept deception in herself or anyone else. She had a directness he had seen in very few women and a passionate caring for the helpless he had never experienced. She had worked over that wolf as if it were her child, stroking it, talking to it, soothing even though the animal couldn't hear her. There had been something beautiful about Sarah Patrick in those moments. Fine-boned hands that were gentle as well as deft, tousled hair that she'd had him push back once so she could better see what she was doing. Strong shoulders, breasts lifting and falling with the intensity of her emotion . . .

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