Shrugging off her wistful thoughts, she knelt on the rug in front of the woodstove to add a log to the fire. When her phone rang, she rocked back on her heels and stared around the room. Finally, she spotted her cell on the end table next to the couch and walked over to answer it. The name on the screen made her hesitate before swiping to connect.
“Hello.”
“I thought I’d never reach you.” Brody’s voice faded in and out. “I left messages.”
“I rarely check them. Is something wrong?”
“I’m not sure.” He hesitated. “We stopped a kidnapping last week, but the man behind it got away. He left a rather cryptic text a few hours ago.”
Arden closed her eyes for a moment. “Why are you telling me this?”
“He said today was just a prelude to the main event if I don’t find a new line of work.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Hell if I know. A relative of this man was killed during the rescue I mentioned, and at the time, he hinted he knew who I was. He promised to make my life hell. When I got the text . . .” He let out a breath. “I was worried about you. Needlessly, I hope.”
Arden sank down onto the edge of the couch. “Why would this person—who is he?”
“Demetrius Thanos.”
“If the cops know who he is, why haven’t they arrested him?”
“The man is a shadow, and no one has been able to locate him. There are warrants out for his arrest for a host of crimes. Even Luna hasn’t been able to come up with anything concrete on his whereabouts.”
She thought about asking who Luna was but pressed her lips tightly together instead. She didn’t really want to know anything about Counterstrike. “What I started to say is why would Thanos care about me, even if he is holding a grudge against you? We aren’t married. We rarely see each other.”
“I’m not close to many people.”
She stared at the fire popping in the woodstove as goose bumps pebbled her arms. “Something did happen.”
He was silent for a moment, and she knew he was trying very hard not to shout or swear or throw something. That wasn’t Brody’s style.
“Are you okay?” His tone was measured, but anger burned behind each word. “Why didn’t you call me?”
“I wasn’t hurt. I thought it was just some drunk poacher shooting at anything that moved. I figured the fact that he nearly hit me was a combination of bad luck and too much beer. I screamed and dived into the trees over on the other side of the lake, and he took off.”
“How close?”
She could picture him clenching his teeth, the pulse beating rapidly in his neck. “The first shot hit a tree a foot from my head. The second one ripped my jacket.”
“Son of a bitch!” Fear for her and frustration boiled over as his swearing continued.
When he finally paused for breath, she spoke, “You think it was Thanos? Not some random poacher?”
“I certainly don’t intend to bet your life on it.”
She gripped the phone so hard her knuckles turned white. “Will he come back?”
“I’m sure he will, but the bastard will be in for a surprise when he does.”
“What are you talking about?” Her voice shook, and her head spun. Nothing made sense. This was identical to the initial panic she’d felt when she’d turned around in the park and discovered River was missing. A prelude to terror she hoped never to experience again.
“He won’t be facing a defenseless woman next time. He’ll be dealing with me.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I’m coming up there. Now. This minute. Until this situation is resolved, you won’t be alone for a second. That animal won’t hurt what’s mine.”
His words slowly sank into her brain. Not just his assumption that she belonged to him. She had experience ignoring his Neanderthal attitude. Looking around her tight living quarters, she tried to imagine Brody’s bulk filling it. The thought rattled her nearly as much as the idea of someone using her for a target.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“I do. I’ll see you in a few hours. Until then, bar your doors, shut your blinds, and stay away from the windows.”
“But—”
Dead air met her protest. He was already on his way.
Chapter Four
Brody pulled up next to Arden’s Jeep in front of the small cabin, turned off the engine, and took a moment to pull himself together. Seeing his ex-wife was never easy. It only reminded him of everything he’d lost. The family he’d never have again since the risk was simply too damn high. Not that he intended to make the current situation worse by bringing up anything personal. He’d be cool and professional. Even if it killed him.
Though it was nearly eleven, a light glowed behind lowered blinds in the front room. Inside, dogs barked. A few seconds later, the door opened and a floodlight illuminated the whole area. Arden stepped out onto the welcome mat wearing a voluminous blue robe that covered her from her chin to the toes of a pair of thick wool socks. Somehow, he doubted the welcome on the mat extended to him.
He opened the car door and waved. “Go back inside. It’s freezing out here, and I have to get my stuff.”
“Whatever you say.” She did as he requested and shut the door behind her with a thump.
He winced. It would be in his best interests to issue directives in the form of polite requests rather than barking orders. He was dealing with Arden—a woman with a mind of her own who had never liked being told what to do—not his team on a rescue mission.
He grabbed a duffle bag containing enough clothes to last a week off the rear seat. Retrieving his holstered revolver and wallet from the glove box, he unzipped the bag and slipped them inside. He’d seen no sign of trouble on the drive from Whitetail Crossing to Tamarack Lake, and he doubted Arden would appreciate him wearing a firearm in her home.
After alarming his car, Brody walked up the shoveled path to the door. A huge woodpile lined the front wall of the cabin to his right. To his left, a large shed stood in the faint moonlight with wooden beehives stacked beneath a protective overhang on one side. Clicking the latch, he pushed the door open and stepped inside.
Warmth from the woodstove enveloped him as he dropped his bag on the floor, locked the door behind him, and turned off the outdoor light. The room was homey and inviting, decorated in tones of brown and rust. His gaze was drawn to one of his mother’s contemporary paintings. A canvas splashed with bold color that blended with the décor hung above a chocolate brown suede couch. The sofa was over six feet long, he was pleased to note, since he was pretty sure that was where he’d be sleeping.
Arden sat on the middle cushion with a large husky perched on either side of her. The dogs eyed him steadily, and one thumped its tail. A gray tiger-striped cat stood up on the back of the couch and stretched before jumping down and sauntering out of the room.
“Are you going to introduce me to your friends?”
Green eyes that always reminded him of the first new leaves of spring met his and darkened. “Hero and Heidi.” She pointed to each dog. “Henry headed toward the kitchen and his food bowl. You didn’t have to come, Brody. No one’s been around this evening. Maybe you were wrong about the shooter being this man, Thanos.”
“I hope to God I am, but I’m certainly not counting on it.” He walked over to the woodstove and stood with his back to it. “I know you aren’t thrilled to have me here. But I’d rather err on the side of caution.”
She curled her legs beneath her and crossed her arms over her chest. Knowing her defensive posture was directed at him made his heart ache.
“If I really am in danger, I’m happy to have you. But this place is small and you’re . . .”
“Big? I can be inconspicuous if you don’t want company. Give me a project to do outside, and I’ll make myself useful while I’m here. Hopefully, we’ll get some intel soon and nail this bastard before I have a chance to get on your nerves.”
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She dropped her gaze. “You never got on my nerves. Well, not much. If you leave dirty socks on the floor, I’ll make you sleep in the shed with the chickens.”
“That’s reasonable.” He smiled when she looked up at him again. “I don’t want you to be uncomfortable. I just want to ensure your safety because if someone hurt you . . . or worse—” He broke off, his chest so tight with emotion he could barely breathe. “Doesn’t matter since that won’t happen.” He forced a calmness he was far from feeling. “You look tired.”
“I wake up early and am usually sound asleep by now.” She rose to her feet. “I’ll get your bedding. Oh, fair warning. The dogs may try to sleep with you since the couch is their territory.”
“I’m pretty sure I can convince them I’m boss.”
“Good luck with that.”
After Arden walked away, Brody studied his surroundings. In the main room, the front door was centered between two windows, both with blinds lowered. The kitchen ran the length of the east side of the cabin, seemingly doing triple duty as a dining room and laundry facility. He checked to make sure the exterior door near the washer and dryer was locked and pulled the frilly curtain covering the window above the sink completely closed before glancing into a bathroom containing a pedestal sink, shower stall, and a small window. Arden’s bedroom was the only other space in the cabin. He paused just inside the doorway as she came out of the closet carrying an armful of blankets and a pillow.
“Do you need help with that?”
“Nope, I’m good.” She brushed past him, the faint scent of something floral teasing his senses. Honeysuckle. She’d always used shampoo that smelled like honeysuckle.
Her room was pink, although he suspected she’d term the color peach or apricot or something else fruity. A single lamp on the nightstand illuminated a queen-size bed that took up most of the space. It was covered with a quilt he guessed she’d made herself. Arden had always enjoyed sewing those miniscule scraps of fabric together. Two more windows with blinds drawn completed the possible points of entry. Protecting the cabin wouldn’t be much of a challenge.
He left the room before he could imagine her in that bed, minus the robe covering every square inch of skin. When they’d been married—before everything had fallen apart—she’d favored sleeping naked. He was damn sure that wouldn’t be happening while he was here.
Arden had spread a sheet across the couch cushions and was unfurling a blanket when he walked up behind her. The dogs lay on the hearthrug in front of the stove, noses on their paws. Sad brown eyes didn’t make him feel guilty for taking their bed. Not much, anyway.
“I can do that.”
“I’m sure you’re perfectly capable, but I don’t mind.” She added another blanket and a patchwork quilt. “It gets cold in here if the fire goes out. The woodstove is my only heat source. If you wake up in the night, do me a favor and throw a log on the fire.”
“I’ll keep it going.”
“Great.” She turned around and stood looking at him for a second or two. “Good night, Brody. I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Sleep well.”
She walked away and shut the bathroom door with a quiet click.
His chest ached. This seemed so wrong, speaking politely to each other, as if they were strangers. Preferable to fighting, he supposed, but they’d never shouted at each other. Even during the worst of times. Maybe if they had, if they’d both aired their feelings instead of keeping the pain inside, their marriage would have survived. But he’d locked away his hurt and poured all his energy into starting Counterstrike. By the time he realized how alone Arden must have felt, she was gone.
After she finished in the bathroom and went to her bedroom, Brody brushed his teeth and stared at himself in the mirror. Little lines radiated from the corners of his eyes and bracketed his lips. He looked a hell of a lot older than the twenty-four-year-old kid she’d met through a mutual friend a dozen years ago. He’d been fresh out of the Navy after a six-year stint with the SEALs, and she’d still been in college at the University of Vermont. Despite not having much in common, they’d connected on a surprisingly deep level and never looked back.
He’d swear she hadn’t aged a day, but he knew she’d never be that lighthearted girl again. His fault because of his family’s damn money. At least he was currently using his vast wealth constructively to bring victims home to their loved ones. A losing battle to keep the guilt over River’s death from eating him alive.
After flipping off the light, he cautiously made his way to the stove and knelt between the two dogs to add a log to the fire. Once he’d stripped off his clothes and settled on the couch, he closed his eyes, but sleep wouldn’t come. It rarely did. Tonight, he thought about Arden, the only woman he’d ever loved. She’d crushed his heart when she left him, but he hadn’t tried to stop her. Knowing he’d caused the pain in her eyes had been more than he could live with.
Instead, he’d moved on. Or made an attempt to. He often wondered if she’d succeeded any better than he had . . .
Something landed square on his chest, awakening him from fractured dreams. As the weight shifted, Brody swept an arm in front of him and touched something furry. The cat lashed out, claws extended, and hissed.
“Mother fu—” He bit off the curse as blood ran down his hand. Swinging his legs off the couch, he tripped over one of the dogs and went down hard. “Jesus. This place is freaking boobytrapped with animals.”
“Brody?” Arden’s voice came from the direction of the bedroom as a door opened.
He pushed up off the floor when the dog licked his hand. “Sorry I woke you up.”
“What happened?” Her question came at him through the darkness.
“The cat landed on me, and I tripped over a dog on the way to the bathroom to wash off the blood.”
“Blood?” She ran smack into him and swayed.
He gripped her tightly against his chest to steady them both. The scent of honeysuckle enveloped him, and he was in no rush to move away. Arden was soft and familiar in his arms.
“How did you cut yourself?” When she pushed against him, he finally let her go.
“The cat scratched me. I’m probably dripping blood all over you.” He reached the bathroom and turned on the light, blinking in the brightness.
Arden stepped up beside him, and their gazes locked in the mirror. She wore a long T-shirt that molded her breasts. All he had on was a pair of briefs. A hint of color rose in her cheeks as she turned on the faucet.
“Let’s see how badly you’re hurt.”
He raised his hand where the cat had dragged its claws across the back in a set of parallel lines oozing blood. “The bleeding is slowing down. I’ll probably live.”
“I’m sure you’ve suffered worse.” Taking his hand, she held it under the stream of water before handing him a bar of soap. “Clean it while I get some antibacterial ointment and Band-Aids. You don’t want it to get infected.”
“True. That beast has probably been digging in a litter box.”
“Henry is actually very sweet. You must have startled him.”
Brody’s brows shot up as she opened the medicine cabinet to take out supplies. “Unlike the way he jumped on my chest and woke me from a sound sleep. The cat’s lucky I didn’t clobber him.”
She handed him a towel to dry his hand and then squeezed ointment onto one finger. “I’ll make the menagerie sleep in the bedroom with me.” After rubbing the salve over his scratches, she applied a large bandage. “That should do the trick.”
“Thank you.” He turned around in the small space, and his bare chest brushed against the tips of her breasts covered by soft cotton. When her eyes dilated, he touched her arm.
“No.” She shook her head and backed away, her gaze dropping below his waist. “This is complicated enough already.”
He released a harsh breath and glanced down at his straining erection behind the briefs. “Sorry. I guess the attraction between us never went away
.”
She closed her eyes and held tight to the doorframe. “Just . . . don’t.”
“I won’t. You don’t have to worry about that.”
Finally, she opened her eyes again, keeping her gaze level on his. “I’m not worried. I just want you to know nothing is going to happen just because we’re occupying the same space.”
He nodded. “I get that. Go back to bed. I’ll put more wood on the fire and try to get some sleep. Next time the cat decides to join me, I won’t make any sudden moves.”
“Good idea.” She backed out of the room and disappeared around the corner.
He gripped the edge of the sink and swore silently before finally turning off the light.
Two hours later, Brody gave up the battle to sleep, dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt, and headed into the kitchen. He pulled back the curtain over the sink as the first hints of dawn lightened the sky to the east. After poking around in the fridge, he found a bag of coffee and filled the carafe with water. Once he had the coffee brewing, he chose a half dozen eggs, broke them into a bowl, and whisked them into a froth. Arden seemed to be out of bacon. With a shrug, he searched the pantry for a loaf of bread to toast and discovered a container filled with homemade blueberry muffins. Jackpot! His stomach growled.
“You’re making breakfast.”
He swung around, holding the frying pan he’d pulled out of the cupboard like a weapon. When she raised a brow, he set the pan on the counter. “Henry isn’t the only one creeping in on little cat feet.”
Her lips stretched into a broad smile. “What can I say? I move like the fog.” Taking the kettle off the stove, she skirted around him to fill it with water and set it on a burner.
“What, no coffee?”
“I mostly drink tea now. The ground beans in that bag have probably been around for six months.”
Imminent Danger (A Counterstrike Novel Book 3) Page 5
