Re: Outside the Roadhouse: Gwen & Sheriff Martin.
She ran like something was on her heels snapping and Cris dipped his head forward, to see more 'round her huddling corner, just in case. But, there was nothing there—just the newborn night pinned down by light spilling over from the roadhouse's windows. When her gaze snagged on his, his brows lifted and dropped with the rise and fall of a question asked. Not that he was expecting any kinda answer more informative than the thinnessa her soles and the way she moved into the heat.
Helpful, the guy cranked it up, that heat, just as he pulled the car back onto the road with one glance over his shoulder. And even though she was no longer sporting bruising on her neck, no impressionsa IVs, nonea that, she looked worse for wear, Cris thought. Thinner, more drawn, even more distrusting if that was possible. Concern settled like dust to a shelf over the guy's face.
"You in danger?" It was prolly a dumb question, but he asked it anyway. If somebody was active and out to get Gwen, the cabin might not be the best idea. "You been havin' a hard time settlin'?" He nodded toward the bag at her feet. "Food in there. Couplea granola bars, if you're hungry, or we can get somethin'. You tell me."