by Debra
“I work for a group called the Corcoran Team.”
She didn’t even know what he was talking about. Her mind stayed focused on the gun, the blood, the shots and the fact that a stranger stood in front of her. The combination was all her brain could process at the moment.
“I don’t know who this team is, but you can go find them.” She bit back the tremble in her voice and tried to get the words out as quickly and clearly as possible. “I’ll pretend this never happened, but you need to leave now.”
“I can’t.”
Looked as though logic wouldn’t work on this guy. She mentally measured the distance from her to the gun and wondered if she could get there before he put his hands down. “You mean won’t.”
“I need you to stop worrying.”
That voice, all soothing and calm. It called to her, but she refused to trust it. Not when it promised a one-way ticket to getting injured...or worse. “That’s not going to happen with you standing in the middle of my house.”
“I’m one of the good guys.”
“Says the man who grabbed me and dragged me inside.” Her gaze traveled over him and she thought she made out another weapon tucked into his jeans and outlined by his slim tee. “Were you the one out there shooting?”
All emotion left his face. His blank expression didn’t give anything away. “There was a problem.”
Forget the weapon—with that nonanswer the guy should be a lawyer. “I’ll give you the keys to the car. You can take it and—”
“No.” At his bark, she took a step back and he moved in, closing the gap again. “I’m here on assignment.”
“What are you talking about?” She had no clue.
This was the nightmare that wouldn’t end. She should have stayed in Seattle and let the house stand abandoned. Her father was gone and she didn’t owe anyone on Calapan anything.
“I rendezvous with my team in fifteen minutes.”
Again with the team thing. “Be extra punctual and go now.”
The corner of his mouth twitched. “I would, but I don’t want to be shot.”
She wasn’t sure if he was laughing at her or with her but didn’t like either option. “That makes two of us, Cameron.”
Some of the tension left his shoulders as he nodded toward the couch. “Sit.”
He had to be kidding. “No.”
“I’m at a disadvantage here. What’s your name?”
This guy just kept talking when she needed him gone. “You aren’t going to be here long enough for that to matter.”
“There are some nasty people after me.” He lowered his arms, but his hand didn’t venture near the gun. “I’m just hiding out here for a few minutes.”
“Who?” If there were more people out there with weapons, she wanted to be ready.
His eyes narrowed. “What?”
“Who is after you?”
His gaze went to the rifle and lingered for a second before returning to her face. “Let’s just say some of the people on this island can’t be trusted.”
Yeah, that was a lesson she knew all too well. “Understatement.”
“What?”
She ignored the question because she had bigger problems. Now he knew where all the weapons were. That left knives, and grabbing for those gave her the shivers. “Just so we’re clear, you’re running around the island shooting and being tracked by someone and have no trouble manhandling me—”
“That didn’t actually happen.”
“—yet I’m supposed to trust you.” Her voice got louder as she went on.
He had the nerve to smile at her. “Yes.”
“I’m not an idiot.” Sure, her brain kept malfunctioning and waves of fear crashed over her every two seconds, but she was not letting her world end like this.
“I never said you were.”
“And I have a phone.” She lunged for the landline. It had been disconnected months before, after her father died. But this Cameron guy didn’t know that...at least, she hoped he didn’t. “The police can come and you can explain your problem.”
“That’s not going to work.”
She’d read somewhere that trying to form a bond with an attacker sometimes helped humanize the victim. Since she was the victim, she was willing to try anything. “Tell me why, Cameron.”
“You can call me Cam.”
Apparently the bond thing worked. She shook the phone. “Talk or I’m dialing 9-1-1.”
“That would be a mistake.”
There was something about the way he said it. “Why?”
“The police are the problem.”
A crack shattered the glass behind her, spraying it over the room. She ducked. Probably screamed. Just as she crossed her arm over her head, a heavy weight crashed into her. She hit the floor and skidded across it with Cameron on top of her.
When they stopped, he pinned her down. The second their bodies touched she started moving. She shifted her legs and tried to knee him anywhere it would hurt. He caught her leg and held a hand up as if to tell her to be quiet. The whole time his gaze scanned the room and his gun dug into her stomach.
Through all the kicking and squirming, the silence finally registered in her brain. She picked up his breathing and heard her own hammering in her ears. Other than that, nothing. No more shooting. No yelling.
He leaned up on his elbow and glanced down with their faces only inches apart. “Are you okay?”
“No.”
He lifted his body off her and looked down the slim space between them. “You’re hit?”
“I mean mentally.” When she realized Cam’s body shielded hers, that he was protecting, not attacking, she let the backs of her hands fall against the dusty floor. “I don’t understand what’s happening.”
“That makes two of us.” He shifted his body to the side as he slipped the gun out of its holster.
“Who is shooting at you now?” And why had Cam brought the person to her doorstep?
He crawled over to the one remaining intact family room window, ignoring the broken glass from the previous chaos and the crunching under his knees. “Your police chief.”
Chief Kreider wasn’t her anything. The guy had the whole old-boy thing down, all entitled and drunk on power...except for those times he was actually drunk. She was not a fan.
Following Cam, because he seemed like a good guy to hide behind, she sat on the other side of the window and peeked out. Three random men stood out there, armed and dressed in some sort of law-enforcement uniforms. None of them looked familiar and they all wore lethal shoot-first expressions.
That fast, she lost her ability to breathe.
Cam pulled her back down. “Be careful.”
She only caught a glimpse, but... “You said you were fighting the police chief, right?”
“The guy standing in the middle of your yard.”
“None of them is the police chief.”
Cam’s mouth dropped open. “What?”
“I think your problem just got bigger.”
“And I think, since you’re trapped in here with me, I’m not the only one with a problem.” He reached behind his back and took out a second gun. Before she could scream or bolt, he handed it to her. “Do you know how to use this?”
“Yes.” She took it but wished she didn’t have to.
“Good.”
“Not really.” Something collapsed inside her. “I hate this island.”
This time he did smile at her, full and sexy and the exact opposite of threatening. He opened her hand and put the gun in it. “Looks as if we finally agree on something.”
For some reason she didn’t find the look or his cuteness comforting. “Julia White.”
“What?”
“I figure if we’re going to die together you should know my name.” It actually hurt to say those words.
Not that they affected him. No, he winked at her. “You’re not dying on my watch, Julia.”
“You sound confident.”
&nbs
p; “You can consider it a guarantee.”
Chapter Two
Cam slid his body up along the wall and stood up. With his back covered, he peeked outside again. The men outside hadn’t moved, which struck him as pretty bad planning. If he were in charge of the attack party, they’d be surrounding the house and moving in by now.
Thank goodness for amateurs.
His gaze bounced back to Julia. He couldn’t help being impressed with the way she held it together. He’d rushed her, touched her and forced his way inside her house. Acted in a way that he begged to be punched. He’d watched the fear come over her, and before he could calm her, she’d controlled it. Taken the energy pinging around inside her and focused.
It was sexy as hell. So was the long wavy brown hair and then there were those big chocolate-brown eyes. Not that he had the time to notice...but he did.
He reeled those thoughts in because he had no plans to die today. He’d just made a vow to Julia, so now he had to figure out a way out of this mess without too much bloodshed. He’d brought the firefight to her door by accident. Even if it meant taking a bullet, he’d get her out.
She peeked around the windowsill, then ducked her head again. “Why are they just standing out there?”
“Good question.” Cam kept his focus on the men. If he flinched they could move out of his sight, and he could not let that happen. Three of them, one dressed as the police chief and two in flannel shirts, which made them stand out in summer.
“I have another question,” she said.
This time he glanced over at her. Seeing the pale face and the way her hand shook as she brushed the hair out of her eyes sent a shot of guilt through him. Still, he wasn’t used to a lot of conversation in the middle of a shoot-out. “Now might not be the best time.”
She checked the weapon before looking up again. “Why did you think they were police?”
Looked as though she talked when she got nervous. He tried to contain the adrenaline coursing through him enough to keep up the harsh whispering. “The uniform, plus the other two were at the police station. The chief knew I was coming. The usual.”
She frowned. “That’s the usual for you?”
“Uh, yeah.” It all made sense to him, but in hindsight he’d played it too safe in the minutes leading up to his meeting. He could have checked identities through facial recognition, but that wasn’t standard operating procedure for a job like this. It was supposed to be an easy witness pickup, not a death match.
Her attention did not waver. It stayed locked on him. “Who are you and what do you do?”
They absolutely didn’t have time for that discussion. “Later.”
And really, there was no easy way to tell her he worked for an undercover operation hired out to corporations and governments to handle kidnapping and threat situations. It was the kind of line that sounded like nonsense during a pickup in a bar. In real life it meant he lived in a web of secrets, lies and death. Not exactly the kind of information that was going to put her at ease right now.
“I don’t think so.” Her tone suggested she might turn that gun on him at any moment. “How about now or I’ll go out there with them?”
“You think you’ll be safe with a guy pretending to be police?” She’d already proven she was smart and quick on her feet. He didn’t doubt she’d reason this through and agree...at least, he hoped so.
“Probably not,” she mumbled.
“Then maybe we can take care of the attackers before exchanging personal info?” Seemed logical to him. He was about to point that out when the banging started again.
His hand went to her head. He pushed her toward the floor with his body covering hers. Glass shattered and rained over them. Edges clipped the back of his hands, but his long-sleeved shirt protected the rest. Drywall kicked up and a lamp exploded to his left.
The rapid volley gave way to another sharp silence. His head shot up and he took another look. The men outside still hadn’t moved. Other than holding weapons at the ready and the glass shower, nothing had changed. When he looked down, Julia was already moving.
She visibly swallowed as she sat up. “Okay, we’ll talk later.”
He liked her style. “Exactly.”
“Now what?”
“That was a warning shot.” If they wanted to do real damage, to shoot their way inside, they would have. For some reason they stalled out there, and Cam couldn’t figure out why.
He’d deal with that later. Now he needed an exit strategy, and the options appeared pretty limited. Running out the back door might work if she hadn’t been wearing a bright red shirt. That would stick out with her streaking through the woods. Which led to the other issue—she lived in the middle of nowhere.
This part of Calapan consisted of lush greenery, dirt roads and little else. Her cabin sat with the water on one side and towering trees on the other three. That made running for help problematic. So shooting their way out won as the best scenario. And that was not good news.
“What exactly did you do to them?” The hand with the gun fell on her lap as some of the color seeped back into her cheeks.
Anger and blame—good. He could handle those. “My job.”
“Could you be more specific?” The demand for information was right there in her tone and the flat line of her mouth.
He ignored both. “No.” When she started to talk again he put a finger to his mouth. “Do not move.”
“Where would I go?”
He decided to wait until later to explain hand gestures and go over the definition of the word quiet. Making sure he was dealing with three men and not more trumped everything. He could take them down one by one, but only if another line didn’t loom behind this one.
Crouched and keeping out of sight, he shifted with quick movements around the cottage. Checked the side yards and the one in back where he’d found her a few minutes ago. It took about a minute thanks to the size of her place.
By the time he made it back to the window with Julia, he knew they were in serious trouble. “They’re getting smarter.”
She shifted her weight and sat up with her knees tucked under her. “Meaning?”
“They’re spreading out.” They’d finally mobilized. There was no reason to do that unless an attack came next. Cam still didn’t know what was happening on this island, but it wasn’t good. “They’ll likely come in firing.”
With her palms on the hardwood floor, she leaned forward. “You brought these guys to my door. Take them away.”
If only it were that simple. But he did have a plan, and it involved taking her out of the cross fire. “Is there an attic?”
She made a face. “What?”
“Julia, I need you to focus.” She could be angry and frustrated later. Now he needed her with him, because when the quiet broke this time he sensed it wouldn’t stop until bodies littered the floor. “An attic?”
She shook her head. “There’s only a crawl space.”
He’d make that work. “We need to get you in it.”
“Where will you be?”
He liked that she didn’t balk or question what he wanted her to do. “You go up and I’ll cover the downstairs.”
“One against three?” She sounded appalled at the idea.
“I’ve beaten worse odds.”
“Cal—”
“Cam.” His temper flared unexpectedly. For some reason her not remembering his name dug at him, but he pushed the feelings aside. “Do you really know how to shoot?”
He’d handed her a gun, which was a risk. Now he needed to make sure she wouldn’t shoot him in the head by accident.
“Of course,” she said.
“Anyone but me comes near you, you shoot.” He heard a noise. Faint but there. The attackers were closing in. No question about it. “That attic space?”
“Right.” She crawled on her hands and knees until she cleared the sight line from the window, and he followed.
Smart woman with skills. She became more intr
iguing by the second.
They got to the short hall leading to the bedroom and bathroom and she pointed up. No string, but there was a small handle. He rose to his feet, nice and slow, while waiting for a new round of shooting to start. When that didn’t happen, he went the rest of the way. He lifted his hand and felt nothing but air. On the second try, he jumped and his fingers brushed the handle. Grabbing it, he brought the door down.
Before she could argue, he took her by the waist and lifted. Her feet left the floor and she let out a half yelp before clamping her mouth shut again.
With only the rustling of clothing as noise, her body and then her legs disappeared into the dark hole above. A second later her face popped into the space. “Be careful.”
He shut the door before she could say anything else. Now to bury the obvious entry. After a short mental countdown, he jumped, using the wall as leverage, and grabbed the handle. The yank pressed the hard metal into his palm but didn’t come off. He only managed to knock the handle loose.
The second lunge cut his palm but did the trick. With a crack the handle fell off. He stuffed it into his pocket and hoped the shadowed hallway would do the rest to provide cover.
Then he moved. The corner at the end of the hall qualified as the perfect place. He could squat down and wait for the inevitable. Problem was, Julia sat right above. A stray bullet could ricochet and hit her, and he couldn’t let that happen. That meant moving into the open, being more vulnerable, but he’d take the chance.
The kitchen worked as an alternative. He pivoted around the edge of the small island and hunkered down by the stove. Now began the game to see who would flinch first.
These guys didn’t disappoint. One kicked in the front door and another stormed in the back. With the size of the house, they could have run right into each other if they hadn’t stopped their momentum. They whispered and traded theories on his location. Cam heard it all.
Not seeing them, he had to concentrate on the voices and the footsteps to plot their positions. He had two in the small family room and one unaccounted for. Close enough.
When one came within range of the kitchen, Cam still held his position. Not moving. The preference was to take them alive. Much easier to question a breathing man than a dead one. Then the one who acted like the sidekick almost stepped on Cam’s hand.
