Page 51 of Hide My Heart
“I lost the baby,” she says. “Dropped him and I can’t find him.”
“You lie.” I jab the muzzle of the rifle into her ribs.
She winces and blinks, her eyes darting toward my abandoned truck.
“He’s in there, isn’t he?”
“No, no, he’s not.” Fear laces her voice. “Come on, Hunter, let’s hike back downhill. I’ll go back to your place. No baby, see? I told you, I dropped him and he fell down a ditch. He’s probably dead.”
“Liar!” I roar. “Show me his body.”
“Over there,” she points to the truck, too quickly. “He’s sleeping in the truck.”
“Well, then, let me check and make sure you’re not lying.”
She rolls her eyes and whistles like she doesn’t have a care in the world. “I’m ready to go home with you, Hunter. I want to get into that warm bed of yours and sleep. I’m hungry and tired, and all I want is to go home.”
“Not until I tie up all loose ends.” I can’t help grinning. I know I’m irresistible. Amber probably got sick of Nate and his brat.
Women.
They’re always like that.
Grass is greener on the other hill.
Relaxing, I amble toward my truck.
“It doesn’t turn on,” she says. “Dead battery. Sorry.”
I laugh to myself. The battery’s not dead. I disconnected the terminal when I found my truck earlier.
“You stole my truck and my furs,” I growl. “Why? Don’t I give you enough to eat? Don’t I provide for you the way a man should?”
“I’m sorry,” she says. “I brought the fur back. Look.”
We reach the truck and she points to the foot area of the passenger seat.
Sure enough, my pelts are piled up on the floor.
“My wolf. My big, black wolf.” I reach for the passenger door before remembering I rigged a trap for Nate. It was a chance I had to take—that Amber would drive. She knows how to handle a truck in the mountains. But if she turned out to be the passenger, she would have sidestepped my trap.
Oh well, I don’t need it anymore.
“Let’s get back up to the cabin and grab the rest of your stuff,” I say. “Get in from the driver’s side.”
“Why?” She walks around the back of the truck.
“No!” I yank her back and force her through the driver’s door and into the cab, sliding her across the bench seat. She pulls her feet onto the seat, not stepping on my wolf.
Good girl, I praise her silently.
“I told you, the battery’s dead.” She pouts like a child not getting it.
“Don’t you worry about a thing.” I set my gun down on the ground and unlatch the hood release. “I’ll fix this in a jiffy and we’ll be on our way.”
“Okay, suit yourself,” she huffs. “I tried cranking it and nothing happened. Not even a click.”
I crack my knuckles, lean over and rope her face toward me for a deep, passionate kiss, promising her more fireworks when we get home. Heck, maybe I’ll break her in at the cabin. It’s not like Riley’s in any condition to stop me.
