Circle Of Fire

Chapter Four

He was alive, she could tell that much from the rise and fall of his chest. But his color was appalling—he was so pale he could very easily have passed for a ghost. She quickly knelt down and felt his forehead.

His skin burned, despite his color.

"Jon?" She ran her hand down his stubble-lined cheek and lightly pinched his chin, trying to get some sort of reaction from him.

He groaned and opened his eyes. The power of his vivid blue gaze pierced her heart.

"Madeline." His voice was little more than a harsh whisper, yet she heard surprise in it. "I'm sorry."

Sorry for what? Sorry for being such a bastard back in the forest, or for landing in a bloody mess on the floor of her bathroom? And just how had he managed to get back here so quickly?

"We need to get you out of these wet clothes," she said, in an effort to organize her scattered thoughts.

He nodded weakly and closed his eyes. "I've got dry clothes inside."

Inside? What was he talking about? She frowned and wondered if, in his delirium, he'd wandered into the wrong room. Yet that didn't explain the broken window or the fact he'd somehow got past her locked door.

"Let's get you off this floor," she said, deciding to tackle one problem at a time.

He nodded weakly, obviously hanging onto consciousness by a thread.

"Stay with me Jon," she said softly.

Again he nodded. Was he fully aware of what she was saying or merely nodding every time she finished speaking?

"Okay, you've got to help me here." She shuffled around to his feet, then reached forward and took his hands. His fingers were long and strong and very cold. "One, two, three."

She rose, pulling back as hard as she could. He lurched forward, teeth gritted, eyes blue slits of pain as he struggled upright. At his nod, she let go of his hands. He caught the edge of the shower door, using it to balance himself.

"Remind me not to do that again," he muttered. His knuckles were almost white with the force of his grip on the shower.

Even so, he wasn't too steady. She quickly slipped her shoulder under his. The last thing she wanted was for him to fall back down. She'd never be able to lift him back up.

He stirred at her touch and opened his eyes, but his gaze was unfocused. She had the odd feeling he wasn't even seeing her, that something else held his attention.

"Don't let them find me." Anxiety edged his hoarse voice.

"Who?" Was he delirious?

"Downstairs," he whispered, then reached up, gently touching her cheek. "They'll hurt you."

His touch was cold, yet it sent fire racing across her skin. She licked her lips and wondered again at her sanity. Here she was, helping a man she didn't know and probably shouldn't trust. "I can take care of myself." Only too well…

"Not against them."

And maybe not against you,she thought, trying to ignore the tingle that raced through her limbs every time they brushed against each other. "Let's worry about the bad guys after you're out of these wet clothes."

He muttered something, his breath warm as it brushed over her cheek. Maddie shifted her grip on his arm. "Walk with me, okay?"

She glanced sideways at him. Even as pale as pastry, he was certainly handsome. He glanced up, a sudden gleam of amusement momentarily blurring the pain in his eyes. She quickly swallowed the thought.

If she didn't know any better, she'd swear he'd read her thoughts. But that was impossible, wasn't it? At least, she hoped it was. She didn't want him to think she was after anything more than help to find Evan.

Anything else could be dangerous, for them both.

"Don't faint before you can get out of those clothes," she muttered, pulling her gaze away from his.

She found herself staring instead at his boots. They were snakeskin, for heaven's sake. And his jeans where so damn tight they looked painted on. As wet as they were, taking them off would be more than an effort and it was not a task she particularly wanted.

"Let's go," she continued, shifting her grip on his arm.

Supporting a good half of his weight, she staggered through the bathroom door and across the room. He dropped down to the bed with a sigh she echoed, and then he fell sideways towards the pillow. That was when she noticed the fresh blood on his bandages. The wound must have opened up when she'd hauled him upright.

A sharp knock at the door made her heart leap with fright.

"Miss Smith?"

Maddie jerked around. The voice belonged to the night manager.

"I can't be found here," Jon croaked softly.

She glanced back at him. In his pain-filled gaze she saw concern, not for himself but for her. Or was she reading more in those bright depths than there really was?

"Why not?"

"It was after I checked into this inn that someone shot me. I can't risk being seen here until I know if it's safe."

She raised a hand to her throat and looked back to the doorway. What if the night manager had a key?

What if he let himself in and discovered Jon lying there?

"Miss Smith? You okay?" Hank asked again, voice louder this time.

"Answer him," Jon urged softly.

She cleared her throat. "Yes?"

"Need to check your windows, Miss Smith."

Damn. She couldn't very well tell him there was no damage and then report the broken window in the morning. She glanced quickly around the room. With Hank checking the windows, the bathroom was out. And the bedroom didn't offer much in the way of hiding places. "The only place to really hide is in the wardrobe."

"Help me up."

She pulled Jon upright, then put her shoulder under his good arm, wrapping her other arm around his back.

"Miss Smith?" Hank called again, his tone sharp.

"Coming!" she yelled back.

She slid the door open with her foot, then helped Jon inside. As he lowered himself down, she reached up to the shelf above and grabbed the spare blankets, shaking them out to drape over him.

Jon touched her hand lightly. "Be careful."

Maddie nodded and covered his face with the second blanket. She slid the wardrobe door closed then ran to open the suite door.

"Miss Smith, are you all right?" Hank asked, as she opened the door.

Maddie pushed the damp ringlets out of her eyes and forced a bright smile. "Yes, of course I am. What can I do for you, Mr. Stewart?"

His dark eyes met hers, and for an instant, delved deep into her soul. She clenched her fingers against the door handle and tore her gaze away. Her imagination was taking a trip again—there was no way on this Earth he could see into her soul. Too many late nights and horror movies for sure.

"As I said, I've been checking for broken windows." The warm tone of his voice belied the coldness in his eyes. "Have you had a chance to look around yet?"

He lied. How she knew she wasn't sure. Maybe it was the twitch near his thin mouth. But what did it matter? She had no choice but to let him in.

She nodded. "I was just getting ready to come down and tell you that the bathroom window's broken."

"I'll have a look at it if you don't mind, and see if I can repair it tonight or not."

Maddie minded very much but stepped back, allowing him to walk past her. She half-turned to follow, then stopped, noticing a smear of blood on the door handle. What the…? She raised her hand and saw her fingers were bleeding again… Oh lord, there's blood on the bathroom floor.

She spun and ran to the bedroom, almost slamming into Hank as he came back out.

"Oh, sorry," she muttered, slipping out of his reach when he tried to steady her.

"In a bit of a hurry, huh?" His eyebrow raised in query.

There was nothing in his tone or his eyes that hinted at suspicion, yet she felt it wrap around her. She squeezed her fingers together and remained silent. It was obvious he wouldn't believe her, no matter what she said.

"Bit of blood on the floor," he continued.

She nodded and held up her hand. "I slipped and fell on the glass. Guess that'll teach me to walk around in the dark."

He looked at her blood-covered fingers and frowned. He knew, as she did, that there was more blood on the bathroom floor than the cut on her fingers would allow.

"I'll get some plastic and cover the hole until morning," he muttered, walking past her.

She watched him leave then walked into the bedroom. Nothing appeared to have been touched. She moved across the room and opened the wardrobe. Jon pulled down an edge of the blanket and looked at her, but she held up her hand. At least he was still safe. Not that Hank could've disposed of Jon in the short space of time he'd been out of her sight. There was no way out of the room except through the front door where she'd been standing.

So how had Jon gotten in here in the first place? Even she, as slender as she was, couldn't get through the bathroom window.

She closed the door then turned and smiled as a cat sauntered through the bedroom doorway.

"Hi kitty," she said softly, walking over to it.

She bent down and held out her hand. Did the sleek black creature belong to the inn or to Hank?

Somehow, she couldn't imagine the night manager with a pet, although the cat must have followed him into the room.

The cat stopped. The look in its jewellike green eyes was oddly contemptuous. Maddie frowned. The cat in the forest had had eyes just like that, eyes that could chill a person's soul.

The cat regarded her for a moment longer, then snarled and lashed out. Maddie snatched her fingers away and stood up. "Be unfriendly then. See if I care."

Hank came back into the room, carrying plastic and tape.

"Don't mind Lennie," he said, continuing on into the bathroom. "She just doesn't like women."

Or men, Maddie would have bet. As if reading her thoughts, the cat flicked its tail in disdain and sauntered past, heading straight for the wardrobe door.

"Oh no, you don't." She stepped in front of the cat and tried to scoot it away with her foot. The sleek creature hunkered down and hissed, its eyes green slits of anger.

"Glare all you like, sweetheart, you're not getting in my wardrobe."

"Maybe she just smells a mouse or two," Hank commented.

Her pulse jumped, and she glanced up quickly. Hank leaned against the bathroom door, arms crossed as he studied her. This time there was definitely suspicion in his bright gaze.

"Mice I can handle. It's cat hair all over my clothes that I can't stand. I'm allergic to it."

"Perhaps you'd better let her check it, all the same. Lennie's a pretty good little hunter."

Lennie looked mean enough to pull down a bull, but there was no way she could open the wardrobe door with Jon inside. Though Maddie wasn't sure if this odd pair was the threat Jon had referred to, she certainly didn't trust Hank one iota.

"If I hear any mice running around, I'll let you know." And what sort of manager advertised the presence of mice, anyway?

Hank nodded, though she could see he was far from happy. "I've taped plastic over the window. I'll come back tomorrow and replace it for you."

By which time, Jon should be long gone. She hoped. Maddie nodded and watched Hank walk out the bedroom door, then glanced down at the unmoving cat. She'd throw the thing out if she had to, but she'd rather it just followed Hank of its own accord. The claws it kept flexing looked sharp enough to tear concrete to ribbons.

The cat continued to glare up at her. Maddie blinked, unnerved by the almost human intelligence in the animal's bright gaze. You haven't seen the last of me, foolish child, it seemed to say.

And I really have to learn to control my imagination.The cat finally rose and sauntered away. At the bedroom door, it hesitated and looked back. The warning was clear in its bright gaze.

It knew Jon was in the wardrobe. And it would be back.

Maddie clenched her fingers and followed the creature out of the room. She locked the suite door, closed her eyes and leaned against it for a moment. It was at times like this, when her imagination got the best of her, that she really needed a drink.

She licked her lips, pushed away from the door and walked back into the bedroom.

"Jon?" She opened the wardrobe.

His gaze met hers, and again she thought she saw concern in the rich depths of his eyes. "You okay?"

A chill ran over her. Sometimes he almost seemed able to read her mind. She held out her hand, and he took it, his skin rough against hers. At least his fingers were warmer than before. She helped him back to the bed, noting that his body was still icy through the damp shirt.

He practically collapsed back onto the bed. She studied him for a moment then walked around to get her carryall. Clothes had to be a first priority, then she'd re-bandage his arm.

She dug out her baggy old sweat pants and a T-shirt, and held them up. They'd go damn close to fitting him. He might not be too pleased at the jade coloring, but at least they would keep him warm until his own clothes dried.

She bent across the bed and lightly shook him. "Jon?" There was no response, so she shook him again.

"Don't," he muttered. "I need to rest."

So do I, buddy, and you're in my bed."You have to change first. Put these on while I go see if I can find some fresh bandages."

He pushed upright. She dropped the clothes next to him and walked into the bathroom. The soft rustle of clothing told her he was at least attempting to change. She hunted around in the bathroom cupboards, but couldn't find any bandages. She'd have to go back out to the car and get the first aid kit. Maddie glanced at her watch and gave Jon a few more minutes before she walked back in.

The clothing was a whole lot tighter on him than it was on her. The T-shirt strained across the width of his shoulders, and the pants… well, they were tighter than his own jeans—if that was possible. She shook her head slightly. Where the hell was her mind? Jon was a stranger, a complete unknown. Yet she'd given him her bed and her clothes, and placed trust in the fact that he meant her no harm. Had she learned nothing from the past?

His head came up suddenly, his eyes meeting hers. There was no deceit in that slightly unfocused gaze, no lies. And none of the contempt that had been all too evident in her husband's gaze.

Jon reached out and gently caught her hand. His fingers were a warm, suntanned brown, and his palms slightly callused. Totally the opposite of Brian's… why did she keep thinking of him? What was it about Jon that dredged up a past she'd much rather forget?

"Trust me, Maddie. I mean you no harm."

Trust me, trust me.How often had she heard that? How frequently had it been the warning of trouble heading her way?

"I'll have to go out to the car to get some bandages," she said, jerking her hand out of his.

His gaze narrowed slightly. "Be careful."

She gave him a tight smile. "I always am." Too careful, too cautious. Because when she wasn't, people died. "You rest. I won't be long."

She turned and walked quickly from the room.