Chaska drew her into his arms, stroked her hair. “I know you’re scared, but he’s on the run with McBride, the marshal’s service, the FBI, and every cop in that county hot on his tail. He doesn’t have a vehicle. He doesn’t have any friends or money or food. They’re going to find him.”
“But you said McBride thinks he might come after me.”
“That’s not what I said. McBride is just being cautious. I think it surprised him that the two were still in the state, and he wants to do all he can to make absolutely certain that you’re safe. He’s not the only one.”
Chaska drew back, tucked a finger beneath her chin, lifted her gaze to his. “The local police are on alert. The sheriff’s department knows. I’m here, too, and I’m not going to let him hurt you. He has no idea where you are, and if he did show up in Scarlet and start asking about you, we would hear about it.”
She heard Chaska’s words, but they couldn’t penetrate the ice inside her. “How am I supposed to sleep tonight? You and Win are upstairs, and I’m down here by myself. Win told me that wolves don’t bark at intruders. If Arlie breaks in, he could slit my throat, and you wouldn’t even know.”
That didn’t sound hysterical at all.
“That’s not going to happen.”
“Do you have an alarm?”
“A burglar alarm? In Scarlet?” Chaska shook his head and was quiet for a moment. “Let’s move you and all your stuff into my room, and I’ll take your room. I think you’ll feel safer up there. Win and I can help you with the stairs.”
“You … you don’t mind?”
“I’d sleep better knowing you feel safe.”
Why was he being so kind to her?
She knew the answer as soon as she asked the question.
He’s a good man.
Hadn’t Megs said that tonight?
“Let’s get you upstairs and settled. I’ll come back down for your stuff.”
“Okay.”
In the blink of an eye, Chaska scooped her into his arms and stood.
She gave a little shriek, threw her arms around his neck.
He chuckled, carried her toward the stairs. “I’m not going to drop you. You’re not heavy. You’re not even a workout. I had to carry Conrad on my back for three miles during rescue training once. He is one big guy—six-four, hairy, and probably two-twenty.Thatwas tough.”
Naomi leaned her head against Chaska’s shoulder, closed her eyes, let herself relax into his strength, the sharpest edge of her panic smoothed by the feel of his arms around her. He made her feel safe, protected. Had any man made her feel that way before?
No. Never.
He climbed the stairs with no difficulty, not even out of breath when they reached the top. He pointed to a closed door to their right with a jerk of his head. “Win is through that door. I’m over here. The bathroom is across the hall there.”
He carried her into his dark room, set her carefully on his bed, and then turned on the light. “I’ll be back with your stuff in a moment.”
He disappeared out the door.
She found herself sitting on a queen-sized bed. She wasn’t surprised to see that his room was neat and clean. The bed was made, covered with a gray quilt with a red, white, and black arrowhead pattern, the rustic headboard constructed of polished aspen logs. A small lamp with a rawhide lampshade stood on a nightstand of pine. There was a tall chest of drawers to her left. A black leather sofa sat in front of a row of windows, an abalone shell with a sage bundle resting in the center of the coffee table in front of it. The gray blinds were already drawn, shutting out the darkness.
The walls were mostly bare. A dream catcher hung above the windows, and there were three wreaths on the wall across from the foot of the bed. They looked like they were made of sage that had been wrapped in bands of red cloth, long ribbons in yellow, white, black, and red hanging dangling from the bottom.
The space was understated, masculine, very Chaska. It even smelled like him—sage and spice.
Then she noticed the photograph of an elderly man on the night stand. She scooted closer, reached for it.
“That’s Old Man—my grandfather.”