"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.