Free Night Magic by Karen Robards Page A

had evidently taken refuge under the blanket. Even as she moved back to rescue him another growl sounded.
    “Move it, would you?”
    Clara needed no second bidding to reach down and gatherPuff into her arms. Still nervous from the treatment he had received, he snarled as she picked him up. She paid no attention, nuzzling her face into his fluffy fur and murmuring reassurances to him.
    “Throw it out the door, will you? And grab some of this stuff . Never know what we might be able to use.”
    “Throw him out the door?” Her voice was indignant.
    He looked at her impatiently. “What else are you going to do with it? We can’t take a cat with us. It’ll be fine, believe me. Rostov’s not after the damned cat.”
    “We most certainly can take him with us. And we are going to. I’m not leaving him. So there.” She meant what she said and it showed in her voice. He looked at her for a moment, then shrugged.
    “Have it your own way. You’re the one who’s going to be lugging it. If it slows you down you’re on your own. I’m not going to get my ass nailed over some stupid bleeding heart who can’t bring herself to leave her sweet little kitty cat.” The mincing falsetto in which he uttered the last four words set Clara’s teeth on edge.
    “This sweet little kitty cat saved your life, if you recall,”
    A shrug was his only answer to that. He was crouching in front of the tools again, staring down at the jumble with concentration.
    “Grab the screwdriver and the hammer,” he directed. “And the blanket. Nothing else we can use.”
    At Clara’s look he said, “The handcuffs, remember?”
    Annoyed, Clara picked up the tools and bundled them awkwardly in the blanket, juggling a growling Puff all the while. Finally she managed to tuck the bundle under one arm, while holding Puff, who was squirming like a landed fish, beneath the other.
    “Sure you don’t want to leave it?”
    He sounded as if he was on the verge of laughing. Clara glared at him. If she’d seen the merest hint of a grin she would have stomped on his foot. But his face was expressionless as usual. There was just something about the glint in those green eyes. …
    McClain exited through the rear of the van. Clara followed, her movements awkward because of her twin burdens. Puff never liked being carried at the best of times, and he squirmed and growled threateningly as she lugged him up the hill. Getting crosser by the second, Clara wished she had a free hand to konk the head of the man who was striding so effortlessly ahead of her. Handcuffed or not, he didn’t seem to have any trouble walking.
    “Hurry up, can’t you?” He was waiting for her beneath a tall pine tree near the crest of the hill. In the darkness, with his dark clothing, he was practically indistinguishable from the trees. Clara, puffing as she came up to him, was annoyed to note that he was not even breathing hard. But she refused to complain about being weighed down, because Puff was the major part of the burden.
    “Do you have any kind of plan? Or are we just going to walk until they find us?”
    Sarcasm laced her voice. He started walking again, with long, seemingly effortless strides that made no concessions to the unevenness of the ground beneath his feet or the shadowy darkness of the woods that could have hidden anything in their path. Clara followed, glaring at his back. She had no choice but to keep up with him. In this cold, dark world gone mad, he was the only security she had.
    As the night went on the woods grew denser, the temperature colder, the night darker—and Puff heavier, until she felt as if she were packing an anvil under her arm. Clad in her jeans and tan and brown plaid flannel shirt with only herteddy beneath and boat shoes on her bare feet, she was less than adequately dressed for hiking through a forest on a cold October night. If she had had a free hand or an extra second she would have wrapped the blanket around herself. But in front of her,