by Elle Thorne
His phone buzzed against his leg. A text had come in.
Taking out the phone, he swiped his password in.
The message was from his security system. The same system that had alerted him there was an entry to his communications room earlier today when he’d busted Ariadne told him he had another intrusion.
Entry Zone 1
Camera Engaged and Recording.
Why had Ariadne entered his comm room? He’d told her he’d let her use a computer. He tapped on the screen so he could view what the camera was recording and began to walk toward the cabin while he watched the camera’s recording on his phone’s screen.
Sure enough, it was Ariadne, holding something in her hand. She took a survey of the computers in the room, nervously running her fingers through her hair.
He took long strides toward his cabin.
Whatever she had in her other hand wasn’t larger than her thumb. She approached one of his laptops and slipped the item into the USB drive.
A flash drive!
Except that she wouldn’t be able to log into the computer, she didn’t have the password.
He stepped up the stairs on the front porch slowly, avoiding the creaky board he’d set up to alert him to intruders.
He opened the front door slowly.
She booted the system up.
Cross had a plan…
She stared at the screen requesting a password. Her frustration was evident as she closed the lid.
He slammed the front door.
She ran from the room.
He studied the screen carefully, his shifter vision acute.
The flash drive was still in his computer.
Chapter Nine
Ariadne wiped the bead of sweat from her forehead. It wasn't even hot enough to perspire like that.
Damn. Damn. Damn.
That was so close.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
She’d left the fucking flash drive in that room. And now… he was here. She was screwed. She’d have to wait until he fell asleep to get it.
But what if he offered to let her use his computer?
I can’t have him going in there now.
Time to use her feminine wiles.
Feminine wiles? I’m doubly screwed.
She so wasn’t that super-spy, feminine wiles kind of woman.
She’d run into the restroom, and now walked out, hoping he’d buy that and not suspect her of being up to no good.
God, I really didn’t mean any harm. I need to send an email.
She stepped out into the hallway. He was standing by the door, looking in her direction.
Unexpectedly, at the sight of him, the air was slammed out of her lungs. He looked so forlorn it ripped her heart to shreds. Burying baby Buck’s mother had not been an easy task for him.
And I’m such a bitch for betraying his trust by going into his fancy computer room behind his back.
She wasn’t planning anything evil. She just needed to send that email.
That’s it.
His dark eyes speared through her, directly into her soul. There was a hunger in his eyes that called to the very being of her. It was as if a silent siren’s song called to her, bringing her dangerously close to him.
Confused, she shook her head to break the trance of his gaze. She chewed on her lip, wishing he’d say something, yet unable to come up with something to say herself.
This has to be sleep deprivation. Whatever is going on isn’t real.
But it was real. He walked slowly her way, his stride reminding her of a predator’s. His broad chest rose with every deep breath, making muscles ripple.
She was so aware of his body, she became unaware of anything else but the tunnel in which he was the very center. The hunger in his stare called to her, pulling her deeper and deeper.
“It’s done.” He let the words out with the finality of a hammer.
Tears of hopelessness for the fawn sprung to her eyes.
He took a step closer. His body looming, blocking the light from the front living area.
If she were honest with herself, it was more than the fawn.
He took another step, that chest of his expanding with another breath.
It was the lack of sleep.
He took another step.
It was fear.
It was the lack of justice for her father’s murder.
He was almost close enough to touch.
Mostly, it was that she’d lost her father—her very best friend.
Another step and he was so close, the warmth of his body emanated.
A tear she couldn’t hold back, one damned, telltale, betraying tear slipped out from the confines of her eyelashes and trailed its fugitive way down her cheek.
She didn’t even want to swipe at it because she’d rather he didn’t notice it.
Chapter Ten
Cross saw the tear. Of course he did. Shifter vision allowed him to see in the dark. It gave him better vision than a bird of prey.
But her tears weren’t the only thing weighing on him.
His bear’s insistence that they fix what was troubling Ariadne was pulling at him. His inner animal kept pushing against him, harder and harder, insisting on a shift.
That will scare the hell out of her. She doesn’t know what we are.
And yet the bear pushed, insisting that if Cross wasn’t going to find out what was on the flash drive, it would take action. He glanced at the door to the comm room, between the two of them.
I’ll get to the bottom of this, just back off for a bit, he told his bear.
Three strides later he was in front of the door, but still facing her.
He reached for the knob, his gaze still locked with hers.
“Don’t,” she whispered.
He cocked his head. “Why not?”
“Please.”
“Will you tell me what you were going to do?”
A long pause, so quiet that he could hear the drip of the faucet in the kitchen sink. He’d planned to fix that today.
Before his plans were derailed.
Drip.
By a trapped fawn.
Drip.
By a woman in need.
Drip.
By a trip to the vet.
Drip.
By a grave he never should have had to dig.
Drip.
She’d chewed her bottom lip from a pale pink to a tormented red. “I was going to send an email.”
He turned the knob. “What email?
She gulped, her throat working. Finally, she spoke, “I can’t. I can’t say it.”
He pushed the door open a few inches.
A sob escaped her, sounding like it was ripped from the very bowels of the deepest pain a woman could go through.
He couldn’t do it. Just couldn’t.
He pulled the door, closing it with a soft click.
She was close enough to touch. And there was nothing else he could imagine doing.
He held his arms out, uncaring that he probably smelled like sweat, dirt, and blood.
She needed him.
And deep down, where he didn’t even want to admit it to his bear, he needed to hold her more than he’d ever needed anything.
She crumpled into his embrace. Her body fit against his as if she were made to be there. Every luscious part of her molded against him.
He inhaled deeply, taking her scent into his lungs, letting it sit on his senses while his bear drew in her essence. She smelled like vanilla ice cream on a hot summer day by the lake.
He and his bear processed and analyzed her scent. A faint telling of aroma spoke of attraction and desire. A part of Cross, especially his bear, rejoiced.
Then they took in the other parts of her scent. Those were stronger, they told of the fear she felt. There was something else there—sadness, deep and desperate.
What was on that flash drive? What could create these emotions?
“Ariadne.” He pulled his head back, put his
hand on her chin and tilted her face upward. He trapped her gaze with his, making sure she understood that he meant what he was going to say. “You have to trust someone—sometime. Surely you should know that if Fiona trusts Mae, and Mae brought you to me, I’d mean you no harm. It’s not our way to hurt anyone without cause.”
Her eyes dilated, then contracted, the color like molten jewels. She drew a deep breath in, held it, her body stiffening against his, until finally she released it slowly. “Okay.”
In that one word, Cross picked up the cost of what she was giving up. She had no control, no security, nothing. She was giving it all to him.
I’ll be damned if I let her down.
He already felt like he’d let Buck down. He should have heard shots, scouted for hunters… something.
Yet at the same time, he knew, deep down, there was no way he’d have been able to anticipate what happened to Buck’s mother.
No, he wouldn’t let Ariadne down. If it killed him, he’d keep from letting her down.
“I—I was going to email it while you were digging. I couldn’t because the computer is password protected.”
He admired her for owning what she did.
“Let’s do it now.”
“My flash drive is in there already.” She grimaced, making an I’m sorry face, and made as if to open the door, pulling away from his body.
“One thing.” He held tightly.
She paused.
“No more lies. Promise?”
She nodded. “And you?”
Cross frowned. “Me what?”
A bit more lip chewing. He used his thumb to pull her lip free of her even, pearly teeth.
“No lies?”
“No lies,” he affirmed, inwardly shaking his head at himself.
How the hell will I manage that if she asks the wrong questions?
His bear groused.
“Okay. Let’s do this.” Her stomach rumbled. Her eyes widened, she slapped her hands over her midriff. “Sorry. Haven’t eaten.”
“Damn.” He hadn’t even thought of eating; he’d been so caught up in the day. “Let’s feed you first.”
“No.” Ariadne put her hand on his arm. “I may not be able to do it if I dwell on it much more.”
Five minutes later, they were on the couch, he’d taken the flash drive out of the desktop, grabbed and booted up the laptop. While the processer did its thing, humming to life, he strode into the kitchen and grabbed a loaf of bread, cold cuts, and two bottled waters. He slapped a couple of sandwiches together and headed back
Leaning forward, elbows on knees, chin on knuckles, Ariadne was staring at the laptop on the coffee table, her face a mask of sadness. She glanced at Cross as he handed her the sandwich.
She shook her head. “I can’t. My stomach’s in knots.”
Whatever the hell she was going to show him, it had to be bad.
She put the flash drive in the USB port. Cross sat next to her, his sandwich still on the plate. He didn’t feel right eating if she didn’t. The screen showed the open folder. He glanced at it.
A video?
“You were going to email this?”
She nodded.
“Who were you sending it to?”
“The Department of Justice.”
He did a double take.
She was staring at the screen. Her face an emotionless mask.
He started the video.
A man’s face appeared on the screen. In his fifties, Cross figured. He was in a white shirt, unbuttoned, tie untied, hanging loosely about his neck. Cross would have to guess he was a businessman, after a day’s work.
The man smiled at the camera. From the graininess, Cross supposed it was a computer’s web camera. “Hey sweetie. I realize I forgot to touch base with you last night. These out of town trips get crazy. Mr. Montez has been keeping me busy.”
Cross glanced at Ariadne. Her bottom lip was quivering. He looked back at the screen, giving her privacy during what was surely a rough moment.
“It’s not too bad here. I’ll have to bring you to Chicago some time—” The man looked up from the camera’s eye to something beyond and above the laptop. “Ben. What are you doing here? How’d you get in?”
From off the screen, a man’s voice spoke. “I do security. You don’t think that door would keep me out, do you?”
“What are you doing with that?” The man in front of the camera said. His face had turned an ashen color.
“It’s been brought to Mr. Montez’s attention that you’ve been talking to the feds.”
“No. Wait.” The man raised his hands, as if in surrender. “Put that away, Ben. You can’t do this. You’re marrying my daughter. For God’s sake.”
Off the camera’s eye, the man called Ben scoffed a laugh. “I won’t have to with you gone. There’s only so much I’ll sacrifice for my mother’s husband. Marrying your daughter shouldn’t be something I should have to suffer through.”
Fuck.
Cross had a bad feeling about this video.
“Ben, don’t do this. Wait.”
A sound Cross knew only too well came next.
A silenced shot.
And another.
Crimson bloomed in the front of the man’s shirt, spreading quickly.
Then the man collapsed, his head close to the camera. The only thing that was visible was his hair, where it seemed to be touching the web camera’s glass eye.
A muffled sob came from Ariadne.
Cross had never been good at emotions. He’d always held his in check, hidden them from the world, and didn’t even acknowledge them to himself. He hadn’t the foggiest clue how to help the attractive brunette next to him.
He was pretty sure about one thing, though. “That’s your father?”
She sniffled and nodded.
Fuck.
Exactly what he’d been afraid of.
“Who—what was—why was he talking to the feds? Who was that guy?”
Yeah, he had an idea who that guy was.
She took a deep breath, rubbed her palms on her thighs for a lot longer than it would take to wipe sweat off. “My fiancé shot my father. Ex-fiancé.” Her voice was laced with poison.
Not that he could blame her for that.
“And you’re on the run?”
A nod.
“From your ex-fiancé.”
Another nod, followed by, “He works for the same man my father did.”
“And I’m guessing these aren’t good guys.”
“Have you ever heard of Matthew Montez?”
He nodded. Anyone on the East Coast had. And he’d been recently assigned to that very area.
“That’s who your father worked for?”
“Yes. And so did my ex.”
“Seems your dad was going to turn in evidence? Or testify?”
“He never knew what he was getting into when he was hired, years ago. He worked for another company that didn’t have Mr. Montez’s name on it.”
“And when he found out…” Cross prompted her.
“He was in too deep to just walk away. So he decided to became a witness for the prosecution. He was going to go into the protection program. He’d just told me two days before he went out of town. This was his last trip. He was going to get all the evidence he could, then we’d vanish.”
Something niggled at Cross. “And your fiancé?”
“Ex. I thought he loved me.”
Rage, and a smidge of jealousy struck a chord in Cross’s chest. That meant she thought she cared for him too.
Unexpectedly, her face crumpled into an ugly cry. She made sloppy, wet sounds as she sucked air in. “I told Ben that we’d have to move. I didn’t know. I had no way of knowing…” More deep, slurpy breaths.
Her ex turned her father in. Was it the ex’s idea to let him kill her father? Or was that Montez’s decision?
“So how did…” What was he supposed to say? How did it unfold? How did she find out?
"My dad and
I always sent each other video grams. I found out he was dead and then saw this in my email. I couldn’t watch it.”
He glanced at the time stamp on the video’s file name. Not quite a month ago.
“And then one day, you watched it?”
“I thought I could handle it. I missed him. I needed to hear his last message to me.” A torrent of tears streamed down her face. What a fucked up way to find out her fiancé killed her father.
Then again, was there any good way to find that out?
“So how do you get from seeing the video to being on the run?”
He had a feeling he knew that answer to that. She was a spitfire.
“I confronted him.”
Just as Cross had figured. He shut down the laptop. Ariadne didn’t need to view that pain any more.
“He tried to kill me. I got away from him. Hit him across the face with the fireplace poker. Left a huge gash. Had to leave town after that. But they have traces on my credit cards. My bank accounts are frozen. Ben’s been on my trail. I’ll never have peace.”
“And Mae brought you here.” That was all he could think of to say.
Mae brought her here, not knowing her history or the danger she was in. Better Ariadne was with him than at the hair salon. There was no way Cross wanted to think of the women in Mae’s shop having to deal with mob thugs.
Someone would have to take out the ex-fiancé.
Guess that someone is me.
Not that Cross wasn’t familiar with this line of work. It was what he was trained to do.
But someone needs to get Montez under control, and it was unlikely that Montez left the comfort of his New York home to come chase a girl down who was a witness to something someone else did.
I can’t very well be in New York handling Montez while I’m trying to figure out where the ex-fiancé is.
He glanced at the dark computer screen. The image of her father’s murder fresh in his mind. “I can help.”
Her thigh was pressed against his on the couch, the spot where their flesh touched, even though separated by fabric, felt like it was giving off sparks of electricity.
He looked at their legs, marveling at the chemistry between them. He wondered if she felt the attraction, if her human side could appreciate how the bear in him had zeroed in on her as his mate.
