He groaned and opened his eyes. The power of his vivid blue gaze pierced her heart.
"Madeline." His voice was little more than a harsh whisper, yet she heard surprise in it. "I'm sorry."
Sorry for what? Sorry for being such a bastard back in the forest, or for landing in a bloody mess on the floor of her bathroom? And just how had he managed to get back here so quickly?
"We need to get you out of these wet clothes," she said, in an effort to organize her scattered thoughts.
He nodded weakly and closed his eyes. "I've got dry clothes inside."
Inside? What was he talking about? She frowned and wondered if, in his delirium, he'd wandered into the wrong room. Yet that didn't explain the broken window or the fact he'd somehow got past her locked door.
"Let's get you off this floor," she said, deciding to tackle one problem at a time.
He nodded weakly, obviously hanging onto consciousness by a thread.
"Stay with me Jon," she said softly.
Again he nodded. Was he fully aware of what she was saying or merely nodding every time she finished speaking?
"Okay, you've got to help me here." She shuffled around to his feet, then reached forward and took his hands. His fingers were long and strong and very cold. "One, two, three."
She rose, pulling back as hard as she could. He lurched forward, teeth gritted, eyes blue slits of pain as he struggled upright. At his nod, she let go of his hands. He caught the edge of the shower door, using it to balance himself.
"Remind me not to do that again," he muttered. His knuckles were almost white with the force of his grip on the shower.
Even so, he wasn't too steady. She quickly slipped her shoulder under his. The last thing she wanted was for him to fall back down. She'd never be able to lift him back up.
He stirred at her touch and opened his eyes, but his gaze was unfocused. She had the odd feeling he wasn't even seeing her, that something else held his attention.
"Don't let them find me." Anxiety edged his hoarse voice.
"Who?" Was he delirious?
"Downstairs," he whispered, then reached up, gently touching her cheek. "They'll hurt you."
His touch was cold, yet it sent fire racing across her skin. She licked her lips and wondered again at her sanity. Here she was, helping a man she didn't know and probably shouldn't trust. "I can take care of myself." Only too well…
"Not against them."
And maybe not against you,she thought, trying to ignore the tingle that raced through her limbs every time they brushed against each other. "Let's worry about the bad guys after you're out of these wet clothes."
He muttered something, his breath warm as it brushed over her cheek. Maddie shifted her grip on his arm. "Walk with me, okay?"
She glanced sideways at him. Even as pale as pastry, he was certainly handsome. He glanced up, a sudden gleam of amusement momentarily blurring the pain in his eyes. She quickly swallowed the thought.
If she didn't know any better, she'd swear he'd read her thoughts. But that was impossible, wasn't it? At least, she hoped it was. She didn't want him to think she was after anything more than help to find Evan.
Anything else could be dangerous, for them both.
"Don't faint before you can get out of those clothes," she muttered, pulling her gaze away from his.
She found herself staring instead at his boots. They were snakeskin, for heaven's sake. And his jeans where so damn tight they looked painted on. As wet as they were, taking them off would be more than an effort and it was not a task she particularly wanted.
"Let's go," she continued, shifting her grip on his arm.
Supporting a good half of his weight, she staggered through the bathroom door and across the room. He dropped down to the bed with a sigh she echoed, and then he fell sideways towards the pillow. That was when she noticed the fresh blood on his bandages. The wound must have opened up when she'd hauled him upright.
A sharp knock at the door made her heart leap with fright.
"Miss Smith?"
Maddie jerked around. The voice belonged to the night manager.
"I can't be found here," Jon croaked softly.
She glanced back at him. In his pain-filled gaze she saw concern, not for himself but for her. Or was she reading more in those bright depths than there really was?
"Why not?"
"It was after I checked into this inn that someone shot me. I can't risk being seen here until I know if it's safe."
She raised a hand to her throat and looked back to the doorway. What if the night manager had a key?
What if he let himself in and discovered Jon lying there?
"Miss Smith? You okay?" Hank asked again, voice louder this time.
"Answer him," Jon urged softly.
She cleared her throat. "Yes?"
"Need to check your windows, Miss Smith."
Damn. She couldn't very well tell him there was no damage and then report the broken window in the morning. She glanced quickly around the room. With Hank checking the windows, the bathroom was out. And the bedroom didn't offer much in the way of hiding places. "The only place to really hide is in the wardrobe."
"Help me up."
She pulled Jon upright, then put her shoulder under his good arm, wrapping her other arm around his back.
"Miss Smith?" Hank called again, his tone sharp.
"Coming!" she yelled back.
She slid the door open with her foot, then helped Jon inside. As he lowered himself down, she reached up to the shelf above and grabbed the spare blankets, shaking them out to drape over him.
Jon touched her hand lightly. "Be careful."
Maddie nodded and covered his face with the second blanket. She slid the wardrobe door closed then ran to open the suite door.
"Miss Smith, are you all right?" Hank asked, as she opened the door.
Maddie pushed the damp ringlets out of her eyes and forced a bright smile. "Yes, of course I am. What can I do for you, Mr. Stewart?"
His dark eyes met hers, and for an instant, delved deep into her soul. She clenched her fingers against the door handle and tore her gaze away. Her imagination was taking a trip again—there was no way on this Earth he could see into her soul. Too many late nights and horror movies for sure.
"As I said, I've been checking for broken windows." The warm tone of his voice belied the coldness in his eyes. "Have you had a chance to look around yet?"
He lied. How she knew she wasn't sure. Maybe it was the twitch near his thin mouth. But what did it matter? She had no choice but to let him in.
She nodded. "I was just getting ready to come down and tell you that the bathroom window's broken."
"I'll have a look at it if you don't mind, and see if I can repair it tonight or not."
Maddie minded very much but stepped back, allowing him to walk past her. She half-turned to follow, then stopped, noticing a smear of blood on the door handle. What the…? She raised her hand and saw her fingers were bleeding again… Oh lord, there's blood on the bathroom floor.
She spun and ran to the bedroom, almost slamming into Hank as he came back out.
"Oh, sorry," she muttered, slipping out of his reach when he tried to steady her.
"In a bit of a hurry, huh?" His eyebrow raised in query.
There was nothing in his tone or his eyes that hinted at suspicion, yet she felt it wrap around her. She squeezed her fingers together and remained silent. It was obvious he wouldn't believe her, no matter what she said.
"Bit of blood on the floor," he continued.
She nodded and held up her hand. "I slipped and fell on the glass. Guess that'll teach me to walk around in the dark."
He looked at her blood-covered fingers and frowned. He knew, as she did, that there was more blood on the bathroom floor than the cut on her fingers would allow.
"I'll get some plastic and cover the hole until morning," he muttered, walking past her.