Taking the Heat

She listened carefully, hoping for some indication of where he was. But she couldn’t hear any movement, just the hushed quiet of a desert in midafternoon, when even lizards knew enough to stay out of the sun. Maybe she was still too far away to hear him. Or maybe he’d changed direction and was slipping among the rocks of the mountain peak. In that case, she might never find him.

Telling herself she’d definitely be smarter to imitate the tortoise than the hare, she resisted the urge to start jogging. Instead, she capped the water jug and resumed moving at the same measured pace. At first the oppressive heat had made her curse the warmth of her uniform. But now she was grateful for her long sleeves and pants. She had sunblock in her purse—she always carried it for Allie—but it was the small “glue stick” kind meant for faces and wouldn’t have gone far. The fabric of her uniform saved much of her skin from the sun, protected her legs from cacti and other spiney plants, and gave her some hope of withstanding a rattlesnake strike should one occur.

The thought of surprising a rattler made Gabrielle shudder, but rattlers weren’t the only creatures she had to worry about. Though not nearly as common, the western coral snake, with its red, yellow and black bands, had a bite just as toxic. Then there were Gila monsters, the large poisonous lizards so common to the Sonoran Desert, and bark scorpions and brown recluse spiders. Even the Sonoran Desert toad was poisonous, although there was little chance of running into one of those.

Checking behind a piece of fallen cactus before stepping over it, Gabrielle thought about picking up a stick—if she could find one of any consequence in this barren place—to use in case she happened upon any threatening wildlife. The small coral snake might not be a common sight, but enough snakes had similar markings to make her nervous about being able to tell the difference.

Sweat trickled down the sides of her face. She wiped it away with one arm as she neared the top of the mountain, hurrying now despite the heat because she was beginning to feel so alone in the vastness. Tucker couldn’t be far. As soon as she saw him, she’d relax…a little. He might be more dangerous than any snake, but he was human, and knowing someone else was within earshot brought her a degree of comfort. Besides, the closer he was, the sooner she’d capture him. Then they could both turn back and by the end of the day, it would all be over. He’d be where he was supposed to be. She’d be safe. No more worrying about snakes or—

Suddenly, Gabrielle stopped. From where she stood she could see part of the valley below. Tucker wasn’t there, but a giant rock stood between her and a full panorama. He could be hurrying down the mountain beyond her sight, in which case she was losing valuable time. Or he could be standing behind the rock that obscured her view, in which case caution could save her life.

She carefully scanned the area, but nothing—no movement, sight or sound—gave him away. Pressing herself to the outcropping that could just as easily be providing him with cover, she pulled out her gun. “Tucker? Are you there?”

No answer. She inched forward, craning her neck to see farther than a couple of feet at a time. “Tucker? I’m not here to hurt you. You know I’ll be as fair as possible. But what you’re doing isn’t right, and it isn’t safe.”

She stopped, listened. Nothing. Was he even there? She was probably making a fool of herself. “Come on, Tucker. We both know I have to take you in.”

She heard the sound of small rocks being dislodged farther down the mountain, and let her breath go in relief. She was jittery, that was all. He’d hurried on.

Shoving her Glock into her holster, she abandoned caution in favor of catching a glimpse of him before he could disappear again. But her forward motion was halted midstride when he tackled her, bringing her down hard on her left side.

The jolt of pain that accompanied her fall stole her breath as Randall Tucker landed on top of her. Blinking to clear the sudden spots from her eyes, she felt panic surge through her body like an electric current as he loomed over her.

“I’m afraid I’m going to have to object to a return trip,” he said, keeping her pinned beneath him while he took her gun.

Every muscle in Gabrielle’s body tensed as she waited to see what he’d do with the weapon. She stared into his eyes, hoping to read his intent so she could formulate some type of defense. But his face remained hard and resolute, his eyes empty. And that scared her more than anything. Until that moment of complete vulnerability, she’d never really believed something this terrible could happen to her.

“What are you going to do?” She gasped because his weight made it difficult to speak. It would be all too easy for him to shoot her and walk away. Or maybe he’d rape her first. She understood how it was with the inmates, how they looked at her, what they said. He was already sentenced to life without parole. A man in that situation didn’t have a lot to lose.

Only he wasn’t acting as though he had any interest in raping her. He didn’t even seem particularly interested in shooting her. He looked as though he was going directly for…the water!

Tossing the gun almost carelessly out of reach, he eased himself up and began to slip the strap of her purse over her head. That was when Gabrielle made her move. Suddenly bucking and writhing, she managed to knock him off balance just enough to twist out from under him. He grabbed her with his right hand—an instinctive action, she guessed, judging by the expletive that came out of his mouth when his injured hand couldn’t hold her. By the time he corrected his error and tried to anchor her with his left, she had the gun.

“Get up,” she said, scooting farther away and aiming the muzzle at his chest. The hot ground had burned her back through the fabric of her shirt, and she’d taken a few cactus spines in her hand when she’d lunged for the gun, but adrenaline was pumping through her body by the gallon and she could hardly feel a thing as she forced her shaky legs to support her.

Her purse, and the water in it, lay between them. Fortunately, the cap was the screw type and had survived their little tussle.

She watched Tucker’s eyes flick toward the jug as he got slowly to his feet.

“Take a short drink, then shove the water over here,” she said.

“No problem.” He shrugged, but his gaze was watchful, and Gabrielle didn’t trust his nonchalance. He closed his eyes in apparent relief as he drank, then capped the jug. But instead of pushing it her way, as she’d told him, he settled it in her purse as though it was as precious as a newborn baby and slung the strap crosswise over his body. Because of his size, the bag hit him between the shoulder blades and looked funny resting so high—and being carried by someone so masculine—but Gabrielle knew from experience why he’d want the purse to tote the water.

“Give me the water and the rest of my stuff, or I’ll shoot,” she warned. “It’s over. We’re going back now.”

He seemed to take her measure, then shook his head. “I don’t think so, Hadley.”

Gabrielle’s heart started beating so loudly she had trouble hearing her own voice over the steady thrum in her ears. Sweat mixed with sunblock dripped into her eyes, stinging them, causing tears. She blinked rapidly to clear her vision and told herself to stay calm. She had him right where she wanted him; she just had to convince him she was in charge.

“Do as I say,” she insisted. “I don’t want to use this, but I will.”

His gaze locked onto the gun. “Have you ever killed anything before? Anyone?” he added softly.

“I’ve never had to. But I will.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Oh, yeah?” She knew she needed absolute credibility now. Pointing to a prickly pear cactus sprawled to the left of him, she squeezed off a shot. The tip she’d been aiming at instantly disappeared, but the only acknowledgment she received from Tucker was a casual glance at the evidence of her marksmanship and a slight lift of his brows.

“So you’ve killed a cactus. Nice shootin’, Tex, but I’m afraid that isn’t going to change my mind. Whether or not you can hit me isn’t the question. Not at this range, anyway. I’m more concerned with whether or not you will.”

“I will,” she said, fighting to keep her voice steady.

“No, you won’t.”

Perspiration poured down Gabrielle’s spine, beaded on her top lip, wetted the hair at her temples. “Are you willing to bet your life on that?”

“I guess I am,” he said.

She told herself to aim for a foot and pull the trigger. A violent felon stood facing her, eyes sparking with challenge. Arizona State Law authorized deadly force in two instances: when human life was at stake and/or to prevent an escape. She was within her rights.

But he wasn’t exactly attacking her, which made it feel unprovoked. Out here, even a small wound might kill him. She couldn’t drag a two-hundred-pound person across the desert for three hours to the highway. Neither could she get help in time to save him if the bullet did a little more damage than intended.

She imagined the recoil of the gun traveling up her arm, pictured his blood spilling onto the hot, parched earth, and knew he was right. She couldn’t do it. She’d never killed anything in her life, and she wasn’t about to start now, regardless of who or what he was.

They’d reached a stalemate. He wasn’t going to come with her; she wasn’t going to shoot him. Now what?

“You’re not thinking,” she said. “You could easily die out here even if I don’t shoot you.”

“Maybe. But it won’t be here and now.” He squinted at the horizon. “It’ll probably be out there somewhere. Tomorrow. Or maybe the next day.”

At least he knew how precarious his situation was. Maybe she could reason with him. “That’s exactly my point. You need water and medical treatment—”