“I never thought a pissed-off woman could be hot until I met you.” He blew out a stream of air and unfolded his arms to reach for her hands.

Hot? He thought she was hot when she was ticked off? Why did he have to say things that knocked the legs out from under her anger?

He took her hands in his and studied the scratches across her wrist. And a cut on her palm. That didn’t improve his mood one bit. He scowled. “Sure you didn’t break anything?”

“Yes. So don’t start in on me.” She would have added some heat to that order if not for the way he gingerly handled her damaged hands, carefully wiping off dirt and barely touching the cut that trickled blood.

“We’ll get you cleaned up back at the cabin.” He looked up, eyes searching the terrain.

“Aren’t you listening to me?”

“Tough to avoid.” He released her hands and fixed her with a green stare hard as malachite. “Did you really think you could escape?”

“I did escape,” she pointed out, sure that had to rub on his James Bond ego. “In case you forgot I’m in a bit of a time crunch. I mean, what’s going on? Am I a prisoner or what?”

His lips moved with unspoken words. He cupped a hand over his eyes, his fingers rubbing his temple for a second before he lowered his hand. “Where did you think you were going?”

She was out of patience. “Answer my questions first.”

Hunter took her in from head to toe and back with a wry frown. “The idea of gagging and hobbling you is tempting, but, no, you’re not technically a prisoner.”

“‘Technically’? What kind of crap is that?” She crossed her arms at her waist. “You kidnapped me. I thought you were some kind of law enforcement. Was that a scam? Who the hell are you?”

“I’m with a branch of law enforcement you’ve never heard of and I can’t disclose. I have not kidnapped you or taken you prisoner, but you’re connected to Gwen Wentworth’s shooting so technically you’re in protective custody.”

“I want my lawyer.” Shock from the scare had settled in to foster a serious chill she couldn’t hide when her teeth chattered.

“Do you even have a lawyer?” He shrugged out of his jacket. “Put this on.”

She opened her arms to put on the jacket, because warm beat cold any day. Her fingers didn’t appear. The bottom of the coat hit her midthigh. She looked up with a begrudging “Thanks,” then added, “I’m still not through discussing this.”

He zipped the front of her jacket, jerking the tab up with a quick flick that telegraphed his waning tolerance. “You’re not getting a lawyer and if you try another unauthorized attempt to leave here I will consider handcuffing you. You can’t get off this mountain without me. Where did you think you were going?”

No point in lying since she didn’t have any other answer. “To find the truck, then I was hoping to find a neighbor. I was going to tell them I got lost hiking and ask them to help me get to Chicago.”

His eyebrows dropped severely in what she saw as a prelude to lecture mode, so she added, “I wasn’t going to say anything about you or that you’d brought me to your cabin… against my will.”

She waited for him to say something, to give her any indication they were back on speaking terms. But no. He just stood there pulsating with unspent words. “I am not going to sit here doing nothing, Hunter. I’m tired of waiting for you… to…” She lost her thought when he leaned forward, cramping her space.

His voice dropped to a dangerous decibel. “Listen closely. The truck is so well hidden you’d never find it. The nearest structure is a fire tower that isn’t manned. The first residence is twenty-six miles away through country that would test the best outdoorsman. You triggered a security device from the wrong side that could have caused you to break your reckless neck. And-” his voice had started to climb, reaching for a shout “-if by some unimaginable chance the next booby trap hadn’t stopped you, there’s a mountain lion den on this path. They’d have been thrilled at lunch showing up.”

She swallowed. Mountain lions?

What he’d said before that sank in. “You set booby traps out here? When I asked you where we were going last night you said you couldn’t tell me, that no one knows about this place. Not like you should have unexpected company.”

“It’s to prevent unwanted company, like the kind you had yesterday in your apartment.”

Point taken. She tried to push hair out of her eyes and only managed to swat a sleeve at her face.

“Lift your hands.” He rolled one sleeve until her fingertips stuck out.

“Aren’t booby traps illegal, or don’t you care?”

“The traps are meant to detain, not kill,” he muttered, and worked on the second sleeve. “But they were never tested for going downhill from the cabin.”

Her gaze fell to his worn jeans, where a banged-up silver karabiner hung from a belt loop. The thing looked professional quality but bent, which would render it useless, right?

Couldn’t someone with Hunter’s money buy a good one?

He took her hand, careful of the scratches, and waited until she looked up at him. “I’m trying to keep you safe. Don’t go outside the cabin without me. Got it?”

“Got it, but you should have told me this place was booby-trapped.”

“Now you know.” He turned, surveying the area as though choosing their direction. “I’ll take us back on an easier trail-”

“I don’t think so.” She planted her foot, unwilling to move another step until she got some answers.

“What now?”

“Stop snapping at me. I haven’t done anything to be stuck here in the first place. What’s got your jockstrap in a wad?”

Hunter wished counting to ten really worked.

Abbie glared at him in silent defiance. Hair wet and tangled from the fall. A scratch on her chin marred her creamy skin. She could have died.

Hell, he could count to a thousand and still not calm down. She’d fallen like a rag doll bouncing along the mountain. He hadn’t been that scared in a long time and didn’t like the feel of it one bit. Now that he knew she was going to be okay his body was screaming for her in a primal way.

The need to feel her alive beneath his hands.

More than just assuring himself she was safe. He fought a rush of lust that burned through his veins. Every whiff of her drove that lust like oxygen feeding a fire.

If she caught a hint of what he had on his mind she’d go racing away again like a crazy woman. Didn’t she have any survival instincts? What had she been thinking to strike out on her own with no map, no weapon, no supplies…

She’d been rattled in the woods last night.

Had she thought the threat of animal attack was any less in daylight?

He had to stop thinking about all the ways she could have been severely hurt or killed. Every one of them would have been his fault.

“Hunter?”

“We’ll talk back at the cabin.” If she didn’t like the surly edge in his voice she needed to stay put in the safety of the cabin and follow directions.

“Do you have any other tone than pissed-off?”

“I used to.” Before I ran into Abigail Blanton again and she turned me into one big frustrated dick. Drawing a long breath he hoped transmitted his short patience, he said, “Make it quick.”

She crossed her arms again and lifted two soft eyebrows, giving him a to-hell-with-you look. “I am done with blindly following you. I want answers.”

“I already told you there are a lot of things I can’t share. You’re just going to have to trust me.”

“Trust you? The last man I trusted shared my bed with another woman after he put a ring on my finger. Taught me just how naïve I had been to believe in words alone.”

How could he argue with logic he shared? He’d heard his mother say, “I love you,” to him and his brother many times, but she’d proven him naïve for believing those words the day she sold her children for bonus money.