Free Manhunt in the Wild West by Jessica Andersen Page B

back at the hideout, working on getting Muhammad to trust him. Instead, he was following a lead he didn’t have nearly enough manpower to do justice to, one that would most likely threaten Chelsea’s job, if not her life.
    He’d tried to talk himself out of the plan a few times over the course of the day. Okay, more like once every ten minutes or so, which was about how often he’d thought about her.
    He’d thought of how it had felt to kiss her the night before, and he’d thought of doing it again, of working his way down her body, tasting every inch of creamy skin. Of losing himself inside her.
    He’d thought of her as he’d helped Lee and Muhammad set up the small cabin they were using, located high on a ridge that overlooked Bear Claw Canyon and led up to the mountain used by the city’s main ski resort. They’d outfitted the cottage with the supplies he’d stolen, along with boxes of other essentials that’d appeared out of nowhere, reconfirming that al-Jihad’s reach remained long, his subjects loyal.
    And he’d thought of her as he’d looked in the terrorist leader’s eyes and seen the cold sanity there, the murderous rage, the desire to kill the whole country, and the American way of life.
    This was far too dangerous a situation for Chelsea. It was too much to ask of anyone, never mind someone like her. She was sweetness and innocence, America and apple pie. She was all the things people like al-Jihad wanted to wipe from the face of the earth.
    It wasn’t right. Unfortunately, he still hadn’t been able to reach Jane—the lines of communication had gone dead, and the very nature of his cover meant that he didn’t have access to the information he’d once had at his fingertips. He was going to have to do things the old-fashioned way, through hands-on investigation.
    Even worse, based on a few things Muhammad had let slip, he suspected that they didn’t have much time left. Whatever al-Jihad was planning, it was going to happen Sunday morning, which was less than seventy-two hours away.
    If Fax thought there was a chance that turning himself in and leading the authorities to the escapees’ hideout would prevent an attack, he would’ve done just that. But logic and experience said that the plan was already in place, and the underlings had their orders. Even if al-Jihad and the others were back in custody, the attack would be carried out on schedule.
    Fax needed to know who else was involved. He needed to take them down all at once. That was the only way he was going to save lives. And for that, he needed more information on Rickey Charles. Which meant he needed Chelsea.
    When they reached the dark bulk of the car, he used the keyless remote to pop the locks and got her door open for her.
    He caught the flash of surprise in her eyes. “Thanks.”
    “My mother taught me well.”
    Once he was in the driver’s seat and they were headed down the road into town, she said, “Does she know…you know. What you’re doing?”
    “She knows I’m in jail for murder,” he said shortly, wishing he’d never mentioned her. This wasn’t the time or place for getting-to-know-you chitchat.
    The slip was just another sign of how Chelsea’s involvement was messing him up, blurring the line between the man he’d been and the one he had to be now.
    He glanced over and caught her looking at his profile.
    When their eyes met, she looked away. “In other words, you don’t want to talk about your family.”
    “What’s the point?” When that came out sounding far harsher than he’d intended, he muttered a curse, took a breath, and forced himself to back it down a notch. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be a jerk. It’s just I don’t want—” He broke off, not sure anymore what he did and didn’t want. “Damn it.”
    “I’m the one who should be sorry.” She looked away, so her voice was slightly muffled when she said, “This isn’t a date. There’s no reason for us to get to know each other