yards out and the terrain leveled off. She found her rhythm and picked up speed, just as she had at the track back at the prison where lifer Mary Beth Jenkins had timed her two-mile run six days a week for the past four months. Between weightlifting and running, Abby was in top physical form. Now, as her feet pounded the earth and she pushed her body to the limit, she prayed all that hard work was going to pay off.
She could hear the horse breaking through brush behind her. Cowboy Cop yelled again, but she couldn’t make out the words and she didn’t slow down. Burning lungs and sore muscles were nothing compared to the agony she faced if he caught her. Abby was running for her life. She’d decided the first time she’d heard her cell door close that she’d rather die than spend the rest of her life behind bars.
Of course, Fate had different ideas. One minute she was running like an Olympian, the next she was perched on the edge of a gulch, fighting to keep herself from falling into a stream where the water ran white and swift ten feet below.
Cutting to the left, Abby resumed her sprint. She knew better than to waste precious seconds looking over her shoulder, but the urge was too strong to resist. The sight of Cowboy Cop astride that big, spotted horse and gaining on her at an astounding rate made her heart jump high in her throat. Good Lord, he was going to catch her!
Spurred by panic, she ran at a dangerous speed, hurtling over fallen trees, ducking the occasional branch. Her breaths came hard and fast, the thin, cold air setting her lungs on fire.
The cop was so close she could hear the squeak of leather, the horse’s hooves pounding the hard-packed earth. Sensing he was about to leap—knowing how a gazelle must feel when a lion’s claws closed around its throat—she pushed harder.
An instant later he came down on top of her like a ton of bricks. Strong arms closed around her shoulders, his sheer weight dragging her down. She stumbled. Her legs tangled. Then the ground rushed up and smacked the air from her lungs.
Abby landed hard on her stomach. She tried to crawl away, but his hand snaked out and clamped over her ankle. Yelping, she lashed out with her foot. Her heel connected with something solid. His curse burned through the air.
“Stop fighting me and calm down,” he growled.
Only then did Abby see her chance. Somehow she’d managed to land a kick just below his right eye. While she hadn’t intended to hurt him, his instant of pain gave her the opportunity she needed to save her life. Leaning close to him, she jerked the radio from his belt and heaved it as hard as she could toward the stream.
Above her, Cowboy Cop went perfectly still.
Abby held her breath.
An instant later the sound of a splash rose over the din of rushing water. And for the first time in a year the thrill of victory gushed through her veins.
But her sense of victory was short-lived. The next thing she knew she was rolled onto her stomach, her hands jerked behind her back and a pair of handcuffs snapped firmly around her wrists. Evidently, Cowboy Cop didn’t appreciate her tossing his radio.
Abby lay still for a moment, catching her breath, gathering her senses, trying to decide on her next course of action.
“Son of a gun.” Rising, he stalked to the steep bank.
She watched as he chucked his boots, yanked off his full-length duster and hurled it onto the grass behind him. Not bothering to roll up his Wrangler jeans, he skidded down the bank and entered the icy water and began the hopeless task of searching for the radio. She could tell by his posture he was angry. She had to hand it to him, the man had exercised restraint so far. Guilt nudged her that she’d put that bruise under his eye. Truly, she wasn’t a violent person. She downright detested violence under most circumstances. But this afternoon definitely qualified as one of Grams’s “desperate” times.
She watched him wade into water that nearly reached his hips. Just the thought of venturing into that icy water made her shiver. “Lady, you are a menace not only to me but to yourself,” he snarled.
“I’m sorry,” she offered.
He shot her a withering look and continued his search.
His eyes were the color of flint, all rigid control and that cool distance cops seemed to specialize in. The man might know how to fill out a pair of jeans, he might even have pretty eyes, but Abby knew better than to let herself be charmed by a cop. She hated the way they looked at her. With suspicion and disdain and that nasty little hint of superiority that set her teeth on edge. Despite his finer attributes, he was a cop where it counted. And she’d be wise to remember that in the coming hours.
“Well, Einstein, it looks like you and I are going to have to ride back tonight without the benefit of the chopper.” He waded through knee-deep water and stepped up onto the muddy bank.
She shouldn’t have noticed the way that wet denim hugged his lean hips and muscular thighs, not to mention another part of his male anatomy she did not want to think about. She shouldn’t be noticing a lot of things about this man, including the fact that he was undoubtedly the most handsome cop she’d ever laid eyes on.
He’d lost his hat at some point, revealing dark hair that was cropped short. His features were angular and lean with cheekbones befitting a Comanche chief. His hollowed cheeks and straight nose lent him a hardened appearance. But his mouth was oddly soft—and sensual enough to tempt a saint.
Abby winced when he reached up and fingered the bruise under his right eye.
“I’m sorry about the bruise,” she said quietly.
“The bruise?” A humorless laugh broke from his throat as he reached for his boots and stepped into them. “You just chucked our only means of communication and you’re worried about a freaking bruise?”
“You should put something cold—”
“If we run into heavy weather or one of us gets hurt—”
“I’m sorry you’re so upset about the radio.”
“You’re damn straight I’m upset! I can’t believe someone would do something so incredibly stupid. Even a convict!”
“I hate to point this out, but I think you’re angry because I got the jump on you.”
He shot her an incredulous look. “What?”
“I nearly got away. That chaps your ego. That’s why you’re so angry.”
“I appreciate you pointing that out to me, but I’m particularly angry because we’ve got over five hours of riding ahead of us and heavy weather moving in.”
“Look, I’m sorry I put you in a tough spot. But I’m sure you’ll get out of this just fine. This isn’t personal. It’s just that…I can’t go back.”
He choked out another humorless laugh. “I hate to be the one to break this earth-shattering news to you, Blondie, but you don’t have a choice.”
“I can’t go back. I won’t.”
He glared at her. “If you’ve got any other quick-escape schemes up your sleeve, I strongly suggest you put them out of your mind because it’s not going to happen. Got it?”
“You don’t understand.”
“I understand perfectly. You escaped from prison. It’s my job to take you back. End of story.”
“It’s not that simple.”
“Look, we can do this the easy way, or I can use force. It’s up to you. But I can tell you, if you choose option number two, it’s only going to make it harder for you.”
“Cowboy—”
“Don’t argue. Let’s go.”
“Please, don’t do this.” Despite her best efforts, her voice quivered with the last word. “I can’t go back.”
He regarded her with those cool,