Blank Slate Page 2

  Her last terrified thought was that she was going to die.

  Erik stomped on the brakes, bringing the SUV to a skidding halt. Vaulting from the seat, he watched as the sedan came to a shuddering stop at the bottom of the embankment. The metal was twisted and dented, a telling path of destruction left in its wake.

  His feet slid in the snow as he made his way down to the car, gun in hand. The last thing he wanted was the girl getting the drop on him, though he’d be very surprised if the crash hadn’t done permanent damage to her.

  “FBI!” he shouted, the words immediately muffled by the falling snow. “Put your hands where I can see them!”

  No response. Steam rolled from underneath the hood, the engine exuding a quiet hiss as escaping liquid touched the hot metal. The woods were quite still now, the idling of the SUV a distant purr as Erik cautiously approached the car. Snow squeaked and crunched under his boots as he walked. He never took his eyes from the windows and saw nothing move inside.

  The twin glow of the SUV’s headlights cut through the darkness, the falling snow grabbing the light and reflected into the night. Erik was close enough now to see the glass had shattered in the driver’s side window. Acutely aware that this woman had just shot a man less than fifteen minutes ago, Erik held his gun steady.

  “FBI,” he repeated loudly. Still nothing. Cautiously, he bent to peer into the car.

  The woman was crumpled in the driver’s seat, her head lolling forward on her neck, forehead nearly touching the pristine steering wheel.

  The steering wheel. Completely intact, with no limp airbag hanging from its center.

  Erik pressed two fingers to her neck, underneath her jaw, hoping she wasn’t dead. It would be just his luck to have his hunt for her end with her dead from a car crash. A steady pulse beat under his fingers.

  Making what he hoped wouldn’t be his last decision, Erik swiftly holstered his gun before reaching for the door handle. Though he pulled, it refused to open. Muttering a few choice curses, he put his back into it, but still the mangled steel wouldn’t budge. Well, that really left only one option.

  He reached through the window, feeling his way through the dark to where the seat belt latched, holding the woman firmly in place. As he pressed the button, the seat belt relaxed, retracting as the woman slumped forward against the steering wheel and Erik’s arm.

  Hoping nothing vital had been broken, and not caring overly much if it had, Erik maneuvered until he had grasped her beneath her arms. He pulled her through the window. The fact that she wasn’t wearing a coat helped to get her through the small space. Erik glanced up at the hill he’d just climbed down. Nice. Getting back up to the SUV while carrying her was going to be a complete pain in the ass.

  Hoisting her in his arms, he began the climb. Thankfully, she was a little thing and didn’t weigh much. Still, Erik slipped and slid up the hill, losing his footing and going down to his knees a couple of times. The falling snowflakes coated his lashes, and he blinked them away, keeping his gaze on the ground in front of him.

  He struggled on, the woman in his arms oblivious to the difficulties she was inflicting on him. His foot slipped again, and Erik cursed as his hand shot out to grab a tree to keep himself upright. Clarissa moaned, the sound quiet and pained, as he lost his grip on her legs.

  Erik’s lips pressed into a grim line as he carefully readjusted her in his arms. He was almost there; he just had to be more careful. No more falls.

  As he neared the vehicle, he could see her a bit clearer, the headlights cutting through the shadows. Her hair obscured part of her face, but Erik thought he could see the dark trail of blood. Unconsciously, his steps quickened.

  Finally, he reached the SUV. Sweat coated his skin underneath his thick coat and sweater, the frigid air he sucked in burning its way down his throat and lungs. He opened the back door, easing her onto the seat. Standing back, he took a moment to catch his breath, his back aching from the climb. Looking at her, he frowned. She was wearing that little black uniform, her legs encased in nylons, while her arms were bare against the cold.

  By all rights, he should let her freeze her ass off. That’s what Erik kept telling himself as he dug in the back of the SUV, pulling out the emergency blanket he’d put there, just in case. He tossed it over her still form, giving it a rough tuck under her legs, protecting them from the cold leather seats.

  He slammed the door shut, reminding himself that she could very well be playing him, just waiting for the chance when his back was turned to attack. Just because she was little didn’t mean she was any less dangerous.

  Another trip down the hill to the car and Erik retrieved the two bags he found inside, stowing them in the back of the SUV. His muscles burned from the exertion as he finally climbed into the driver’s seat and shifted the car into drive. His hand stuck slightly to the gearshift. Curious, Erik glanced at his palm.

  It was smeared with blood. Her blood.

  Shit.

  The nearest hospital was two hours away, probably more in this weather. Erik grabbed his cell, only to see that the storm had eroded what slight service he’d had: the display showed no bars. His only choice was to take his chances and try to get her to the hospital as quickly as he could.

  Erik drove, retracing his path through the woods as best he could, though the snow and darkness made it slow and difficult. The switchbacks appeared as if from nowhere, their dangerous curves threatening to send the SUV plummeting to unseen depths. The road grew uneven, the tires dipping into gouges covered in snow. After hitting a particularly rough patch, Erik heard a soft whimper from the backseat. He glanced in the rearview mirror, but the girl hadn’t moved. His hands tightened on the steering wheel.

  After driving for another forty-five minutes, Erik was forced to admit that he was lost. The chase she’d led him on had turned him around, his sense of direction utterly screwed by the snowstorm, the map and cell phone lying on the seat next to him utterly useless.

  Each minute that ticked by seemed to mock Erik. The sticky blood on his hand as he gripped the steering wheel reminding him that he had a responsibility to the girl, even if she was a criminal and cold-blooded killer.

  Up ahead, the beam from the headlights glinted off something metallic. Squinting through the snow, Erik realized it was a mailbox. Wondering how in the hell anyone got mail out here — and his respect for postmen inching upward a notch — Erik aimed the SUV toward it, turning in to the tiny drive that led deeper into the thick woods.

  A few minutes and several rough bounces later, a log cabin came into view. No cheery lights burned from the windows, but it was shelter.

  He pulled to a stop in front of the cabin, noticing no other vehicles or tire tracks. The snow had piled up, and it came to Erik’s shins when he cut the engine and climbed out of the SUV. Deciding to leave the girl in the car while he checked out the place, he grabbed a flashlight from the trunk and headed to the front door.

  The slam of the car door penetrated the girl’s consciousness, her eyes slitting open as the fog slowly lifted from her mind.

  Where was she?

  It was dark, and cold, though she had a blanket over her. She sat up, then gasped at the sharp stabs of pain the movement produced. Her side felt like it was on fire; her head ached as though she’d drunk a gallon of Guinness last night.

  Lightly touching her forehead, she winced, and her fingers came away wet. What happened? Why was she in this condition? Her hair felt funny, and with a quick tug, she pulled off a wig, tossing it aside.

  She seemed to be alone. Whoever had driven the car was no longer there. Had they left her behind?

  Opening the car door was more difficult than it should have been, the pain in her side knifing through her until she was breathless. She kept at it until she stood shivering in the knee-deep snow. Her mind spun in confusion as the icy snow landed gently on her face and arms, the tiny pinpricks of cold unrelenting. Where was she? What should she do? Fear made her breath come faster as she clu
tched her side, struggling to see through the pitch-black woods. A cabin stood not far from the vehicle, a lone lamp burning in a near window.

  A light suddenly danced across the snow. Someone was coming. The flashlight arced across her face, momentarily blinding her, before coming back in an abrupt jerk. She raised her hand to shield her eyes.

  “Hey! Don’t move!”

  The shout broke the silence of the woods, startling her. The light was coming quicker now, the beam erratic as its owner struggled through the drifts.

  Panic hit hard, and the cold rush of adrenaline flooded her veins, temporarily numbing the pain in her side and head. Turning, she ran.

  Erik cursed as he saw her disappear into the darkness. She was an idiot if she thought she was going to escape him. In this weather, clad as she was and obviously hurt, she’d die.

  That thought galvanized him, and he picked up speed, thinking of what he’d like to do to her for making him run through the damn snow after carrying her ass up that embankment.

  He followed where he’d seen her disappear, his foul mood turning more disagreeable with each passing moment. Icy water dripped from his wet hair down under the collar of his sweater, his legs practically numb from the knees down as the stiff, cold denim of his jeans abraded his skin. The boots that had seemed impenetrable in the store proved even they couldn’t withstand a Colorado snowstorm, and his feet squished inside their damp socks.

  “I am not chasing you through the damn woods in the middle of the night!” he called out. No answer. He played his flashlight through the trees, grudgingly admiring how quickly she’d hidden herself, though it had been a stupid move. “Come out,” he demanded. “You’ll die out there otherwise.” Not that he cared overly much at this particular moment. His toes were numb now.

  Erik waited. Still no answer. He tried again. “I’ll give you to the count of five to come out. I know you’re hurt. You won’t make it far, and there’s nothing and no one for miles.” Silence.

  “One…two…”

  Nothing. The flashlight illuminated no movement among the silent trees.

  “Three…four…”

  The thought occurred to him that maybe she was unconscious again, unable to come out because she was even now collapsed in the freezing snow. That image had him moving forward again.

  “I’m here.”

  Erik spun around, wondering how the hell she’d gotten behind him, only to see something dark hurtling through the night. He dropped the flashlight, but was still too late to stop the heavy tree branch from landing hard in his gut, knocking the breath from his lungs.

  The branch fell to the ground as Erik’s temper ignited. The girl turned to run, and he launched himself at her, tackling her to the ground. He rolled as they fell so he wouldn’t land on top of her, but didn’t ease the tight hold he had on her arms.

  She struggled in his grip, managing to get one arm free and scramble to her knees in the snow. Erik latched his arm around her waist, yanking her back down.

  A strangled cry of pain made him freeze. The girl didn’t move now, curled on her side with her knees drawn up, her eyes squeezed tightly shut. Her breath came hard and fast, the puffs of cold air visible in the night.

  Erik’s anger drained away, and he got to his feet, grabbing the flashlight and slipping it into his pocket. His eyes adjusted to the ambient glow from the snow as he bent, pulling her unresisting body into his arms. She shook like a leaf, her skin like ice and her clothes wet through.

  Without a word, Erik carried her into the log cabin.

  CHAPTER TWO

  The inside of the cabin was cold, but not like it had been outside. Erik turned on a lamp and put the girl down on the couch in front of the fireplace. She didn’t speak or open her eyes, her lips pressed tightly together, and Erik got the impression she was trying to not make a sound, though she had to be in pain.

  He shut and locked the front door before shedding his wet coat. The absent owner had thoughtfully left a stack of wood in the corner, and Erik spent the next several minutes building a fire in the grate. Once that was done, he searched through the bathroom cupboards, turning up some rudimentary medical supplies, and grabbed a blanket from the nearby bedroom before returning to the huddled form on the couch. She hadn’t moved.

  Now he could see her properly and realized he’d been right about her injury. She had a nasty cut on her forehead and a livid red mark that was already darkening into a bruise. Dried blood crusted the wound and trailed down her starkly white face. Erik saw he’d been wrong about her hair; she must have been wearing a wig earlier, because the brunette locks were gone, replaced with deep, rich, red strands pulled back into a haphazard bun.

  Erik reached down and pulled off her shoes. Her eyes flew open, the brilliant green of her gaze pinning him.

  “What are you doing?” she asked. He could hear a touch of fear and panic in her voice.

  “You’re hurt and soaked. The wet clothes have to come off so you can get warm and I can see your injury,” Erik answered.

  It scared her, the matter-of-fact way in which the unknown man spoke about undressing her. Did she know him? She struggled to remember, but drew a blank.

  “Who are you?” she asked, scooting away from him as he grabbed some scissors from the nearby table and started cutting the hem of the dress she wore.

  “Special Agent Erik Langston,” the man replied, ignoring her attempts to get away from him as he cut through the thick fabric.

  “Special Agent?”

  He looked up then, his eyes a clear, pale blue. “FBI.”

  Her eyes widened. FBI. That sounded ominous. What did he want with her? And he was still cutting. “Stop that,” she ordered, pushing his hands away. The movement pulled at the wound in her side, and she sucked in a breath at the stab of pain. She was so cold. Part of her really wanted to get the icy dress off, but she didn’t want to do it with this man watching.

  The self-proclaimed FBI agent wasn’t a little guy. The sweater he wore couldn’t conceal his bulk. The thickness of his biceps was apparent even through the fabric. The muscles in his thighs pulled the denim of his jeans taut as he sat beside her on the couch, her nylon-encased legs pressed against the back cushions. She felt uncomfortably small next to him.

  “Despite the fact that you hit me with a tree trunk,” Agent Langston said wryly, “I’m trying to help you.”

  “It was a branch, not a tree trunk,” she corrected him, warily watching as he handed her the blanket.

  He gave her a look, then resumed cutting. She pulled the blanket to her chest, trying to get warm. Shivers were making her hands shake.

  “You were chasing me,” she accused. “What was I supposed to do?”

  The cold metal of the scissors slid against the skin of her hip as he cut the formfitting uniform.

  “If you weren’t a criminal, I wouldn’t be chasing you,” he responded.

  The girl stared at him in shock before finally finding her tongue. “Are you crazy? I’m not—”

  A cry of pain left her lips as he parted the cut uniform, the fabric pulling at the bloody wound. The skin was torn, and blood still oozed sluggishly from the gouge in her side. She couldn’t tear her eyes away, even as the image swam and blurred.

  Erik’s lips twisted in a grimace as the girl passed out. Some deadly villain she was, fainting at the sight of blood.

  She had collapsed against the cushions, her eyes rolling upward, and Erik took the opportunity to get the wet fabric off her. His movements quick and efficient, she was soon divested of her wet uniform and mangled nylons. After a brief hesitation, he left intact the scraps of black satin and lace that preserved her modesty.

  Erik examined the wound, which looked like a bullet had caused it. The girl was extremely lucky. It had just grazed her and taken a chunk of flesh from her side. He cleaned and tightly bandaged the wound, though without stitches it would leave a nasty scar on her soft, perfect skin.

  Erik shut down the trail those thoughts l
ed to, uncomfortably aware of her nakedness. Petite though she was, her body was perfectly formed to please a man. Slim ankles led to curved calves, indenting sweetly at her knees. Her thighs were smooth, flaring to hips that would fit nicely in his hands, before yielding to the deep dip of her waist. A soft, flat abdomen begged to be touched, and her breasts made his mouth water.

  Abruptly jerking the blanket, he covered her, feeling like a sick voyeur, ogling her while she was unconscious.

  Not to mention that she was wanted by the FBI, he reminded himself.

  Getting a washcloth, Erik gently cleaned the blood from her face. She wasn’t classically pretty so much as she had an interesting face. Her eyes had been clear, intelligence shining from their green depths. Her nose, small and tipped up at the end, was covered with a smattering of freckles. A strong, square jaw led to a pointed chin that seemed to advertise a stubborn nature.

  Telling himself he was only making her more comfortable and not trying to ease his own curiosity, Erik reached over, removing the pins holding her hair until it framed her face in a fiery tangle.

  Her picture hadn’t done her justice.

  After bandaging the cut on her forehead, Erik decided he’d had enough of wet clothes. He heaved a tired sigh as he got up. Taking his keys and gun with him, no sense leaving temptation within her reach, he took a shower in the master bath. The hot water went a long way to easing his mood.

  Searching the closet, he was able to find a pair of jeans that fit him, but the shirts were too small. The closest he found was a T-shirt that was still tighter than he usually wore, the material stretched to its limits to cover his shoulders and upper arms. It would do while his clothes dried.

  It appeared the owner lived alone, as there were no clothes for a woman anywhere to be had. Erik grabbed another T-shirt for her to wear and a pair of flannel pants that would likely swallow her. It didn’t matter. At least she’d be covered.

  The warmth from the fire had chased away the chill when he returned, though the girl still appeared to be asleep. He searched the kitchen, unearthing a few bottles of liquor. Choosing one filled with whiskey, Erik poured himself a healthy shot and tossed it back. The liquid burned a welcome trail of fire down his throat.