Deacon's Touch (8 page)

The silence inside the cab nearly suffocated her as he drove through the darkness. Her fingers dug into her thighs as the frustration pulsed through her. This wasn't what she'd had in mind. “I don't think I want to—"

"I'm going to take care of you, Jess, but not in the damn truck. I want to go somewhere private where I can stretch you out and enjoy every sound I pull out of you."

His words made her core clench. She licked her lips. She wanted that, more than anything. But to be alone with him in an isolated place filled her with sudden unease. She'd only known the man for two days. Not that he'd hurt her, but things were moving fast. “Are you going to let me touch you, too?"

"Maybe."

She barely noticed the car coming up behind them until the glare of the headlights in the side mirror made her squint. She glanced over at the speedometer. Deke was doing at least seventy. He kept glancing in the rearview mirror as the other vehicle drew closer and finally pulled out to pass. A black BMW. The driver accelerated to catch up with them, and something about the way the man looked over at her made her uneasy, but he drove ahead before she could get a good look at him. Weird.

Deke distracted her by taking her hand. She looked at him and smiled. “I never thought I'd meet someone like you on this trip.” Her body still hummed with unrelieved hunger.

He grinned. “I'll bet.” He reached up to tilt something on the rearview mirror when another vehicle's headlights appeared around the curve behind them.

The BMW pulled farther away, until its red tail lights finally disappeared around the next bend in the road. Savoring the feel of Deke's strong fingers wrapped around her hand, she looked out her window at the full moon. Its pale rays painted the ground with silvery streams of light.

His thumb feathered over the backs of her knuckles. “You liked what I did to you.” It wasn't a question.

"I didn't like that you stopped."

Looking at her, he smiled. “That only makes the payoff better for both of us in the end."

She lifted her chin. “Just as long as you don't plan on leaving me hanging the rest of the night."

Raising her hand to his lips, he pressed a seductive kiss to the back of it. “I'd never leave you hurting, sugar."

"I'm hurting now."

His head turned, a flame burning in his eyes. “I'm going to take care of that. Eventually."

Around the next curve, the Beemer appeared in front of them again. Suddenly, it swung around in a tight arc, its tires squealing as it made the erratic u-turn and headed back toward them in the opposite lane. Jessie tensed. “Is he drunk?"

"Dunno.” Deke slowed a bit and moved closer to the shoulder as the other driver approached.

She tried to make out the plate number when the car got closer, but it veered over the center line at the last moment, flying right at them.

She barely had time to brace. A scream got trapped in her throat as Deke jerked the wheel and hit the brakes. They started to skid. The truck tipped as it hit the gravel shoulder. Her hands splayed on the dash in anticipation of the impact, but the BMW hurtled past them, missing them by inches. The vehicle behind them wasn't so lucky.

An instant later, a deafening bang and the screeching of tires ripped through the quiet night. Whipping her head to the side, she caught sight of the BMW's tail lights speeding away into the darkness and the mangled, smoking wreckage behind them. Cursing, Deke slammed the truck into park and shut off the engine. Before she could utter a single word, he jumped out of the truck and ran for the other vehicle.

Fumbling with the strap of the seatbelt, she followed on shaky legs. He was already inside the crumpled cab of the truck, talking to the driver. Jessie swallowed a gasp as she drew near enough to see the woman. The airbag had deployed, but her face was covered with blood, and her eyes were closed. She didn't respond to Deke's attempts at rousing her.

He looked back at Jessie. “There's a med kit in the truck bed."

She ran for the truck, located the heavy duffel, and hefted it from the truck bed. It weighed a ton. What the hell was in there, rocks? Struggling to hold the heavy bag, she rushed back to him. He handed her his cell phone and ripped the zipper open, exposing an oxygen tank. Her eyes widened. He carried an oxygen tank in his med kit?

"Call 911."

Her fingers shook as she hit the buttons, but the call wouldn't go through. “No signal,” she said, trying to calm her breathing as Deke worked on the woman.

"Keep moving around until you get through. She's going to need an ambulance."

She'd just passed the back of the wrecked truck when a plaintive wail came from inside the cab. Whirling around, she met Deke's grim stare. A baby. That crazy asshole had smashed into this poor woman with a helpless baby in the back seat.

"I can't let go of her yet,” Deke said calmly. “Can you—"

Jessie was already heading for the back of the pickup. In three strides, she was at the door, setting her leg against the truck frame to wrench it open. Her heart knocked against her ribs as the baby's cries grew louder, and when she finally saw it, her throat clenched. It had to be less than six months old. The baby was wedged in its rear-facing car seat, the seat crumpled around it.

"Shh,” she soothed as she climbed in, fighting to stay calm even though she was shaking inside. The seat was pinned too tight for her to get it out of the base. “It's okay,” she told the baby, stroking a hand over the crown of his downy head. “You'll be okay, and Deke's taking care of your mama.” He had a couple cuts on the side of his face, probably from flying glass, but other than that she couldn't see any other obvious injuries.

She looked up at Deke, who'd put a cervical collar on the woman and stabilized her position in the truck. “I can't get the seat out,” she called, trying to stay calm. “He's turning his head and kicking his arms and legs, so I think his neck and spine must okay. Can I take him out?"

"No, just leave him where he is until I can check him."

She maneuvered around until she could see into the baby's face. He continued to wail and thrash around, and just as she climbed deeper into the truck she glimpsed the pacifier lying on the floorboard. She wiped it against her jeans and offered it to him, and his chubby little hands reached out and yanked it to his mouth. In an instant, all was quiet.

Far too quiet.

Talking softly to the baby and dabbing at his cuts with her shirt, she dialed 911 again and set the phone between her ear and shoulder as she soothed him. In the front, Deke was hooking up an IV. How the hell did he know how to do that? And what was with all the equipment in his med kit? She closed her hand around the baby's fist when he grabbed her finger in a shockingly hard grip. Her heart pounded. The mother didn't look good. “She's breathing?"

"Yeah, but not well.” He expertly got the line into a vein in her arm and taped it down. He met her stunned gaze. “You get through yet?"

"Still trying.” Damn, what was with this part of the country? Where was a freaking signal when she needed one? She was eventually forced to leave the baby and stand in the middle of the road to get reception.

"Watch yourself,” Deke said. “That idiot might come back."

What? She turned to gawk at him, but her call suddenly went through. After telling the operator what had happened, she got the info on the woman's specific condition from Deke and relayed it to the woman. He knew enough that he sounded like a paramedic.

"I'm standing in the middle of the highway,” she added, “so I'll probably lose you when you I move.” A moment later headlights appeared around the curve and sure enough, as soon as she moved she lost the signal. She stood beside Deke but kept her eyes on the road just in case. “Ambulance is on its way.” The car slowed to a stop beside them, and an elderly man rolled down the window.

"You folks need any help?"

"Thanks, but help's on the way,” Deke answered, and the man drove away.

Handing her the bag of IV fluid to hold, he bandaged up some of the worst of the woman's cuts and then headed around to the back to check the baby. “Let's see what we've got here, little man."

Extending one brawny arm, he flicked on a pen light and checked the infant's pupils. Jessie held the IV bag, wishing she could help, but he seemed to have everything under control. He handled the baby with an ease that startled her.

"T-Thomas..."

At the garbled voice, Jessie looked down to see the mother struggling to turn over in her seat.

Deke placed a calming hand on her shoulder and kept her in place. “He's okay. He's right here. See him?” He somehow unlocked the car seat from its base and brought the baby closer to her.

The woman lifted a frail, blood-streaked hand toward her child. “C-can't breathe,” she gasped.

Jessie knelt beside her and shared a look with Deke. “Probably a collapsed lung,” he told her. “Do you remember what happened?” he asked the woman.

"No,” she choked. “Was...driving to my...mother's.” The words were wheezy and speaking was obviously a struggle for her.

"What's your name?” Jessie asked.

"It's Stacey,” Deke answered. “She lives on one of the neighboring ranches."

Jessie spared a glance at him. His neighbor lay bleeding on the front seat, but he seemed completely unruffled, in full control of the situation.

"Trade places with me,” Deke said, climbing into the front so he could place an oxygen mask over the mother's face. “Don't talk for now. You're going to be fine, and the baby's okay. Ambulance will be here in a few minutes."

Jessie took the woman's hand and gently settled it against the baby's cheek. Stacey's eyes filled with tears, and Jessie felt her own sting. “He's okay,” she reassured the mother. “I think he was mostly upset at having his sleep disturbed.” She looked at Deke. “Can I do anything?"

He took out a blanket and covered Stacey with it. “Just keep doing what you're doing."

She stayed beside Stacey with the baby and talked to her until the police came, then the ambulance. Deke briefed the paramedics and helped them load the woman onto a gurney and into the back of the ambulance and handed up the baby in the seat he'd wrestled from the crumpled interior of the truck.

They pulled away, lights and sirens blaring, and disappeared into the darkness. The police asked her some questions but focused mostly on Deke before leaving. Shivering despite the warm night air, Jessie wrapped her arms around herself and stared after the cruiser. Deke stripped off his latex gloves as he came over and set an arm around her shoulders. She leaned into him, grateful for the warmth. “You sure she'll be okay?"

"Yeah. As soon as they get a chest tube in she'll be more comfortable. Then they'll run a CT scan just to be sure she doesn't have a brain bleed, but her GCS score was good, so I wouldn't worry."

She looked up into his shadowed face. He was so composed, and she felt shaky as hell. She struggled to clamp down on the shivers coursing through her.

He rubbed her shoulder. “You're cold."

She shook her head. “N-no. Honestly, I d-don't kn-know what's w-wrong with me.” Her breaths were coming in gasps, and her heart raced. Usually she was stronger than this, and it embarrassed her to come unglued when he wasn't affected at all by what had happened.

"It's all right. Hey, c'mere.” He brought her in close and wrapped her in his arms.

Locked in his strong embrace, she allowed herself to soften and let the shivers roll through her.

"It's just adrenaline,” he murmured against her hair, keeping her pressed firmly against his hard chest. “It'll be over soon.” She nodded and closed her eyes, grateful for his body heat and the protective way he held her. He made her feel safe.

When her body had calmed, she wound her arms around his back and hugged him. “Thanks. I needed that."

"Anytime. I like holding you.” He tipped her chin up with his hand and kissed her once, igniting a warm glow in her lower belly. “Let's get you into the truck and warmed up."

"Wait."

He looked down at her expectantly.

"In the Air Force. Were you a medic or something?” Because he'd been totally composed, and he knew a hell of a lot more than basic first aid.

"Yeah, a PJ."

PJ?

He smiled at her confused expression. “Pararescue Jumper. A Special Ops trained medic. We work with the SEALs and Rangers and the Delta boys on various missions, and we go in to rescue friendly air crew shot down behind enemy lines."

Holy crap. He really was a hero. No wonder he'd taken charge of everything so easily and had all the special equipment.

"That's all over now, though.” His expression closed up as he looked away.

She snagged his hand and squeezed it. “Maybe, but look what you just did. The paramedics didn't have to do anything but load her into the ambulance when they got here."

His shrug was tight, almost belligerent. “I didn't do anything fancy."

"It was fancy to me.” She couldn't stop the sappy smile spreading over her face. Damn, she felt like crying all of a sudden. “I'm totally impressed."

He grinned and lost his defensive posture. “Yeah?"

"Yeah,” she said huskily.

"Damn, then I should have told you on Thursday night on the way from the airport.” He settled her in her seat and draped his leather jacket over her. “I've got to make a quick call."

"Did you get the plate number for the police?"

"Yep. They're running a search.” He bent forward into the cab for a moment, running his gaze over her face. “I'm just going across the road where you were before."

She waved a hand. “Sure, go.” He was probably worried she was going to fall apart on him or something.

He walked out into the middle of the road, dialing someone on his cell. A Pararescueman, she thought in admiration, imagining the missions he'd carried out and the gruelling training he must have completed. It suited him. And it partly explained the edge to his confident demeanor.

Deke talked on the phone for a moment, but then in the beam of the truck's headlights she saw his expression tighten. Her muscles tensed in response. Even at this distance she could see his jaw flex.