Free Maggie's Man by Alicia Scott Page A

ideas?"
    "Turn yourself in? Let me go?" She
smiled hopefully. "I'm just going to slow you down, I've never been
particularly fond of Idaho, and you still don't know how to manage the bathroom
breaks."
    He turned into the parking lot, shut off the
engine and looked at her. "True. Let's think about this." He gazed at
her steadily, his green eyes sharp. After a moment, he nodded to himself. That
worried her.
    "How much money do you have?" he
quizzed.
    She instinctively clutched her purse against
her.
    "Now, Maggie, we've come this far
together, don't back out on me now."
    "I'm not exactly rich," she half
lied, hoping that might sway him.
    "Consider it a loan." Cain wiggled
his fingers impatiently. "How much?"
    She reluctantly opened her purse and took out
her billfold. At least she never carried much cash on her. "Five dollars
and … sixty-seven cents."
    "Five dollars?" he said
incredulously. "Five dollars! You're walking around with only five
dollars on you? How are we going to outrun the entire state police force with
five dollars?"
    "I didn't 'walk around' with only five
dollars in my purse," she said stiffly. "I had fifteen dollars. You
already spent ten."
    "Maggie, you can barely fill a gas tank
with fifteen bucks."
    "I know. And I took the bus." She
smiled grimly, her hands folded on her lap very prim and proper. "Besides,
it's not safe for a lone woman to travel with too much cash." And then her
blue eyes did flash piercing flames at him.
    He glared at her a minute longer, then shook
his head. "Of all the people in the world," he muttered, "how
did I manage to kidnap a poverty-stricken shrink?"
    "I don't know. Why don't you return me and
try again?"
    He scowled, contemplating her for another
moment. He was starting to feel strung too tight, and that would get him
nowhere. If there was ever a situation that required logic and rationality,
this was it. It was only his freedom, his life at stake. And now that you've
kidnapped her, is her life at stake as well? Do you think Ham would hesitate to
harm her?
    The thought came out of nowhere and floored
him. For a minute, he could only sit there and blink. He stole another glance
at her. She sat quietly, her hands folded on her lap as if she didn't want to
draw any attention to herself. Her tangled red hair was torched by the bright
spring sun, shimmering a deep burning red. Her skin was alabaster perfect and
her lips a rose petal pink. She was beautiful in her own way. If he'd met her
under any other circumstances, he might have nodded politely at her, but he
still would have walked away.
    He preferred sophisticated and experienced
women, ones who wouldn't expect things from him he couldn't give. Ones who
considered great sex to be its own reward. This woman before him … she looked
as if she still slept curled in a ball, her hands clutching the satin edge of a
thick blanket, her dreams searching for a happily-ever-after that had never
quite found her.
    A marriage counselor. A woman hell-bent on
saving the world when God knows she didn't look as if she could even save
herself.
    He glanced at her again, and her bright blue
eyes seemed vulnerable.
    You got her into this, Cain. What do you do
now?
    Nothing, he decided resolutely. Just a few more
hours of her assistance and he'd be in Idaho. Once out of the immediate range
of the Oregon state police, he'd let her go. She'd call her brothers. She would
be safe. If Ham did hunt her down and ask questions, she certainly wouldn't
tell any stories. As far as she was concerned Cain was a murderer, and he was
best off to keep it that way. As long as she thought the worst of him, she was
safe from Ham. Cain owed her that much, and if there ever came a day when he
was a free man, he would find her and thank her for the small part she played
in helping him uncover the truth.
    Cain didn't know if he ever would be a free
man, though. The cops would hunt him until he cleared his name, and to clear
his name he needed to confront Ham. Confronting