When I Find You: A Trust No One Novel by Dixie Lee Brown Page B

as innocent as her picture suggested, and once she offered her cooperation, he couldn’t see her withdrawing it as long as he kept his end of the bargain. Still, it wouldn’t hurt to sleep with one eye open tonight.
    Her chin came up and determination flashed in her eyes as she stepped around him and walked toward the trees that surrounded the clearing.
    His lips quirked as his gaze followed her. “After you.” He fell in behind her.
    T HE FIRE CRACKLED as the flames licked the dry wood and shot sparks into the sky. The heat radiated outward from the blaze and, after hours of freezing, Darcy could finally feel her fingers and toes again. The stranger stood on the other side of the campfire, close to the flames, allowing his wet clothes to dry, and her shirt, pants, and undergarments hung over a nearby tree branch while she snuggled in the warmth of his jacket.
    Something strange had happened after he bundled her in his coat, as she helped him gather wood, and as she basked in the delicious warmth of the campfire he built. Her fear and distrust had receded, replaced by an irrational feeling of safety, which she grabbed onto with all her hope.
    He tended the fire and added to their small collection of dry wood, then sat with his back to the boulder and his feet stretched toward the flames. Was he telling her the truth? Did the U.S. Marshals Service send him to find her? She didn’t know what to believe anymore.
    Putting her trust in a stranger . . . just felt wrong. Didn’t that whole incident with Grant teach her anything? She was sure of one thing, though—she’d be dead now if not for this man. According to him, he stopped Grant from killing her. She had no proof but, foolish or not, she believed him. There was no doubt in her mind she would have drowned if he hadn’t pulled her from the river. So close. A wave of nausea rolled over her, compounded by her throbbing head. She reached up to touch the tender spot at her temple where she’d banged against the rock. It could have been so much worse.
    He pushed himself to his feet and added more wood to the fire before skirting the fire pit to where she stood. “Feeling better?” He reached out to brush his fingers across her cheek. “Not shaking. Not ice cold. I think you’ll live.”
    Darcy resisted her impulse to pull away from his touch, but he must have read her reaction. His hand dropped away and he stepped back.
    “Hungry? There’s some jerky in my pack.”
    “Maybe later. Right now I just want to enjoy the fire.”
    He pulled a silver flask from his pocket, unscrewed the lid, and handed it to her.
    “What is it?”
    “Twenty-year-old Scotch. Nothing warms quite as good.”
    Darcy shook her head and pushed the container back. “I’m not much of a drinker.”
    “A couple swallows won’t hurt you. You can go back on the wagon tomorrow.”
    She still hesitated as he held the flask out to her.
    “This falls under the category of doing things my way. Drink—unless you’d like me to help you.”
    His voice was almost a growl, and she drew herself up straight, tensing for a fight, but when she glanced at him, his eyes sparkled and he surprised her with a smile. Caught off guard, Darcy’s refusal died a silent death. She didn’t know she’d accepted the flask from him until he winked, and realizing she’d been staring, she tore her eyes from his. To cover her embarrassment, she tipped the container to her lips, took two quick swallows, and grimaced after each.
    The Scotch burned all the way down, igniting a fire in her stomach that spread its glow through the rest of her body within seconds. He wasn’t kidding. Warmth enveloped her inside and out. For good measure, she took one more drink before handing the flask back. The firelight reflected off the shiny container as he lifted it to his mouth and took a long swig. Again, she had to tear her gaze away. For a few minutes, she stood in silence and stared into the fire, pondering the strange longing