Safety. Smoke. Dad…

No, this wasn't him. Her father was dead.

God, she missed him…

"Alex, will you try not to jerk?" He held her gaze with his own. "I'll take care of you. I promise you'll be safe. I promise you'll live if you'll only help me."

"Dad… "

"It's not your father, Alex."

Yet her father was here. Acrid smoke, rescue dogs, and

Sarah holding her. Life was important. She had to remember that, or her father would have died for nothing. She nodded and closed her eyes. "Do it."

Agony.

"I need a doctor up here, Galen," Morgan said as soon as Galen answered the phone. "Someone who's good and fast and will keep his mouth shut."

"Why?"

"There's been sort of an accident." "I don't like the sound of this."

"Alex is hurt."

"Oh, shit. Tell me you didn't cause this 'accident.'"

"I can't do that. I think she's going to be okay, but I want to make sure there's no nerve damage. I don't want her crippled. I need a doctor to clean and stitch the wound. One that won't insist on her going to the hospital."

"What did you do to her?"

"Nothing that she won't get over… eventually."

"My God, Logan's going to murder you."

"He'll have to stand in line. So will you get me the doctor?"

"Give me fifteen minutes."

Morgan went back to the bedroom and checked Alex. She was pale, still unconscious, but her pulse was steady. He should probably take this waiting period to go back down to the scene of the accident to clear the road so that the doctor could get to the lodge.

Jesus, she was pale.

Screw what he should do. He wasn't going anywhere right now. He'd wait until he had to leave her.

Judd Morgan was sitting in a chair beside the bed.

She had seen him there before, she realized drowsily. How many times? Five? Six? She couldn't remember. But he'd been there, sketching in that pad as he was doing now.

"What… are you doing?"

He glanced up and put aside his pad. "You must be feeling better if curiosity is raising its head."

"Better than what?"

"You've had a fever for the last two days. The doctor said your body was fighting infection."

"Doctor?"

"You don't remember him? Dr. Kedrow. I dragged him up here to tend that extremely nasty wound in your shoulder." Her right shoulder was swathed in bandages.

A razor-sharp branch stabbing through her flesh.

"Now you remember." His gaze was on her face. "You're okay. The branch went into your shoulder very high up. No permanent damage, but you might have to have plastic surgery if you want to get rid of the scar."

"It… hurt."

"I'd say that's an understatement. You were very gutsy. I was impressed."

"Don't want you to be impressed…" She was having trouble forming the words. They kept drifting away from her. "Want you to let me go."

"We'll talk about that later."

"I want to talk about it now."

"You're half asleep. Later." He picked up his pencil again.

"Just go back to sleep. You're fine. You're safe…"

I promise you'll be safe.

Dad.

Not Dad.

Judd Morgan, who was the last man she should believe or trust…

"What are you sketching?"

He looked up and smiled. "So you're with me again. How do you feel?"

She thought about it. "Better. Stronger."

"And mad as hell?"

"I'm sure that will come. I'm not up to it right now."

"Let me help you in that direction." He lowered his gaze to his sketch as his pencil moved over the pad. "I'm to blame for what happened to you."

"Of course you are. I wouldn't be here if you hadn't brought-" He was shaking his head. "More?"

"I cut that pine down to block the road."

Her eyes widened in shock. "What?"

"I thought it was likely you'd try to get down the mountain. From what I'd learned about you, I knew it wouldn't do any good to try to stop you. You had to discover it was impossible yourself"

"So you tried to kill me by causing me to crash into that damn tree."

He shook his head. "A miscalculation. I didn't expect you to crash into the pine. You should have had time to see the tree and stop. I didn't count on the ice."

"Miscalculation?"

"Now you're mad as hell."

It was an understatement. She was so angry she felt as if even the roots of her hair were on fire. "You bet I am. I'd be in terested to know what you'd have done if I'd stopped the Land Rover in time and taken off on foot."

"Gone after you. I'm very good at tracking."

He was sitting perfectly relaxed, but she could suddenly envision him in the woods, swift, tense, predatory. It didn't defuse the rage she was feeling. "You'd have hunted me down like an animal?"

He didn't answer. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you." "Well, you did, damn you."

He nodded. "Which means I owe you. I find that position very uncomfortable, but it may work to your advantage."

"You bastard."

"I believe this is when I should make my exit. You need a little time to cool down." He rose to his feet. "I'll go get you something to eat."

"And I'll throw it at you."

"That's okay. I've gotten enough down you in the past cou ple days that missing a meal won't hurt."

She had a vague memory of him sitting beside her, spooning something hot and liquid into her mouth. "If I'd had my wits about me, I'd-"

"Shh. I know. You'd have spit in my eye." He moved toward the door. "And I'd deserve it. I don't usually make mistakes this big. But you should use it to get what you want."

"I want to push you off this mountain."

"That would only give you temporary satisfaction. I'm sure you can think of a more long-term goal." He glanced back at her as he opened the door. "It might help you to know that the dominoes are falling in your direction right now."

She stiffened. "What do you mean?"

"I mean I have to make reparations. I have very few codes I live by, but you stumbled onto one of them. It means I have to figure how to give you what you want and still keep you alive."

He was gone before she had a chance to question him. What was he up to? Did he expect her to believe he was having twinges of conscience because he was responsible for this wound? She would be an idiot to be that gullible. He was a kidnapper and a paid thug and she didn't know what else. He was ruthless and cold and without

Yet she did believe him. She didn't know about the twinges of conscience, but he was a complicated man and his moral structure was probably also convoluted. Most strong people had to have some sort of rules to guide their lives. Maybe the fact that she'd been hurt had tapped into some humane reservoir beneath that cool surface.

Or maybe not. Maybe he was trying to find another way to control her.

There was only one way to find out. Challenge him. Test him.

Jesus, she didn't feel strong enough right now to challenge a Muppet.

So get over it. Move.

She slowly, carefully, sat up.

Her shoulder throbbed and her head swam with dizziness. Get to the bathroom. Wash your face.

Yeah, sure.

She held on to the night stand as she got to her feet. Darkness.

It passed within a minute or two, but she still stood there waiting for her strength to come back. She took deep breaths and tried to focus on something besides the desire to fall back on the bed.

The sketch pad Morgan had tossed on the footstool when he'd gotten to his feet. It was lying sideways on the hassock, but she could tell that it was a sketch of a face.

Vulnerable. Frail. Troubled. It was Alex's face.

Was that how he saw her? Well, he had a few things to learn. She was neither weak nor vulnerable. She could feel the energy flow through her as the adrenaline kicked in. She let go of the nightstand and moved determinedly toward the bathroom.

She was back in bed and flipping through the pages of Morgan's sketchbook when he came into the room carrying a tray.