Wanted by Patricia; Potter Page A

“Know thine enemy,” he observed, a curious half smile on his face.
    That hadn’t been the reason for her comment. She had simply become intrigued by him during their conversation. She’d always been able to draw people out, with her keen ability to listen. Listening was the key, her father had always told her. But this time listening had trapped her, too. There was an intensity in him that somehow spoke to her in a way nothing else ever had. Equally as interesting was that quality of aloofness about him, a sense of isolation that touched something inside her, even as she told herself she had to hate this man. Trick him. Use him. Even shoot him if necessary.
    She tried not to let her own feelings show, her sudden reluctance to leave. “Know thine enemy,” she confirmed as she stood and went back to where her bedroll lay. She felt her brother’s eyes on her, even though he lay in the shadows. He had been still. Too still.
    Lori covered herself with the blanket, wrapping it tight against her. She felt chilled. Chilled and alone. She would no longer try to keep from sleep. He wouldn’t sleep. She knew it now. But he would be tired tomorrow.
    Very tired.
    Nick clenched his teeth as the Ranger unlocked the cuff chaining him to the tree. The lawman’s eyes were weary, but he seemed just as cautious as he had been the day before. He had lost none of that sharp edge that seemed a primary part of him.
    Nick fought the urge to swing a fist at Morgan Davis for those brief seconds his hands were free, but he was still sitting, and he knew he couldn’t move fast with the leg irons. Still, he itched to wipe every feature of his own face from the Ranger’s. His fists clenched into balls as he recalled the way Lori had sat with the man last night, at the way they had talked for so long. He knew exactly what Lori was doing, and he was helpless to do anything about it.
    He could damn well fight his own battles. He didn’t want her involved in this, nor did he want her to think she could charm someone like Davis. Nick had met few men like him before, but he recognized the breed: hard, unbending, and so damn sure they were right.
    Nick kept his face empty as the handcuffs were again locked around both wrists, now protected, thanks to Lori, with scraps of his bandanna. He rose awkwardly, unable to do much more than shuffle along in a humiliating gait.
    The Ranger already had a fire going, a coffeepot on the coals. Lori had brought some freshly baked bread with her, and she broke off a piece for Nick and herself, ignoring the Ranger. She was clearly challenging the Ranger with every move. Nick damn well wished he knew what she thought she was accomplishing. Morgan Davis wasn’t like all the other men who swarmed around her, and Nick already sensed her fascination with someone who wasn’t taken in by that damned breathtaking smile of hers.
    But now the Ranger ignored her, taking some jerky from a saddlebag and eating it without comment. He poured himself a cup of coffee and then two more, handing one carefully to Nick, who took it with both hands, and one to Lori. Then he rose and went to lean against a tree, watching silently as he had since the first moment he had encountered Nick.
    Watching. Waiting. Nick understood that. He understood a great deal about the man apparently committed to taking him back to hang. From the first moment he’d faced the Ranger, an eerie recognition had flashed between them. It was more than their physical resemblance; it was an internal familiarity, a sense that they had met before, though he knew well they had not. Nick hadn’t had time to explore those mental ramblings; his concern for Lori and his own well-honed sense of self-preservation had shoved them aside, but now as he watched Davis watch him, the thoughts returned, and he realized he knew exactly what Davis was thinking.
    Davis was the kind of man, Nick knew with certainty, who never swerved