They eased into the hallway, Julie hobbling on her booted ankle. Damn, he'd forgotten about her injuries. "Jules— can you walk?" He mouthed the question into her ear, stilling when he felt a shudder course through her.
"As opposed to staying here and being killed?" Her whispered voice held determination. "I'll try to be quiet."
Sorority Barbie, his ass. He'd seriously blown that call. Instead, steel lurked under the beautiful wrapping. He scooped up the backpack he'd left in the kitchen. "Can you wear this? I need to keep my hands free." She slung it over her shoulders without comment. Re-checking the pistol at his waist, he patted his pockets for the magazine clips he knew were there. Remembering the squeak on the door to the cellar, he gently lifted it. At the last minute, he felt along the peg board for the keys he knew were there. A neighbor's house five doors down. Since his mother's friends hadn't arrived for the season, Maddie had enlisted him to check the house several times a week. They keys might come in handy.
The darkened basement looming before them, he descended first, waiting for Julie to close the door. Plunged into darkness, he used his phone to light the stairs. He'd already texted his situation to Jonas. With any luck, he was on his way. And he'd updated Finn, who would meet them tomorrow— if they made it through the night. Suspecting the worst, Matt had to assume Paul was either neutralized or playing for the wrong team.
Julie's hand on his shoulder halted him. "Did you hear something?" Her arms came around him, her lithe body pressed against his back in a quick, fierce hug that set his nerve endings on fire.
"Please, Matt-" Her whispered plea in his ear sent a gut punch of heat coursing through him. "Don't distract them," she urged. "Let's just get the hell out of here."
***
The temperature had dropped. Her breath huffing out in crystalline puffs, Julie wished she'd dressed in layers. It was the time of night when people rolled over and snuggled deeper under the covers, grateful for the blankets. Stifling a shiver, she clung to Matt's hand as the breeze kicked up, a remnant of the passing storm. At least Agent Barnes seemed to know where he was going.
She needed to be grateful. They hadn't been shot. They hadn't run into killers . . . yet. Her ankle was still holding up. Clenching her teeth to keep them from chattering, she concentrated on each step . . . focusing her terror into something useful— like searching for tripping hazards that might give them away to their unseen enemy. Matt set a steady, silent pace, his movements almost catlike in the eerie stillness of a night so black she was amazed she could see anything. As they neared the boathouse, she sensed it looming up before them— an inky blot in the darkness. Her senses open, she heard waves lapping gently in the distance as the marshy scent of the lake grew stronger.
Matt's steps slowed as he tugged her closer. His mouth against her ear, his voice was barely audible. "Follow the path." His hand firm, he directed her around the boathouse. "Hide near the shrubs. Stay invisible until I come for you."
"But-"
"Jules— I mean it. Stay hidden," he ordered. "I'll be back." Tugging her in for a quick hug, he stilled when an explosion of shattering glass broke the ominous silence. The thunder— of his front door being kicked in. The hustle of feet on the gravel drive— no longer concerned about stealth.
Her breath hitched in her throat. Dear Lord— how many men were after them? Matt reacted instinctively, dodging around the side of the boathouse, his body shielding hers. They reached the water unscathed.
"Okay— it's go time." His voice grim, he held her against him. Her heartbeat accelerating, Julie burrowed closer. "I planted a few traps, but it won't take them long to search the house." Extricating himself from her determined grasp, he squeezed her hands. "Stick to the plan. I'll be back in ten minutes."
"Don't go back." Her terror mounting, Julie prayed with all her heart he would listen.
"I'll be fine." He took a tentative step away from her— intent on heading back into danger. Still staring at him, she was flooded with relief when he turned back. Thank God. He wasn't leaving her.
Matt's stance reminded her of a warrior— providing a momentary measure of comfort. His eyes dangerously intent, he sought her gaze. "Take this key. If I'm not back in thirty minutes— follow the shoreline," he directed. "The lots are big . . . so it's at least a quarter mile. Count the houses. When you get to the fifth one, walk straight up the hill from the water. Hide in the house. It's empty. I'll come to you there."
"Okay." Unable to control her quaking fear, her teeth began chattering.
"I mean it, Jules. Do exactly as I say."
"I will." Acknowledgment flickered in his eyes. When he turned to leave again, her cry strangled in her throat. Covering her mouth, she muffled the sound, but not before he heard it. When he turned again, she choked out her compelling wish. "Stay safe."
Nodding, he was gone. Her eyes filling with tears, Julie walked to the water's edge, finding the path before her vision blurred. Wiping blindly at them, she forced her attention to her task. Find the hedge. Hide in the hedge. Wait for Matt. Her pulse thundering in her ears, she willed herself not to panic. Hide. Hide. Her brain echoed with the word.
A vision floated before her, making her stumble. A warehouse . . . where she'd wanted to hide. Where something terrible had happened. Where she'd seen something terrible. She staggered along the path, her senses prickling as though evil dogged her steps. Like the boathouse, the hedge loomed before her, a darker blot on the landscape, the scent comforting to a mind frozen with fear. Juniper. Christmas. By Christmas she'd be home— she'd be warm. Safe from harm. The seasons would have changed— and her life would have returned to normal. Back to quiet. To mundane.
"I love mundane," she whispered as she wedged around the shrubs, taking care not to submerge her boot in the muddy dip in the path. Scanning the next yard, she noted the similarity to Matt's. Docks, boathouse, barbeque pit. House sitting higher on the hill. It was dark, slumbering. But she experienced the intuitive prickle of occupancy. Where to hide? Her gaze locked on the barbeque pit. It was fireplace height with flowers and shrubs planted at the base. Far enough from the hedge— but not so far she couldn't see someone coming. Hobbling across the lawn, her ankle wrenched. "You're a liability," she muttered, relieved her only job was hiding in the flowers and hoping no one found her.
She prayed for Matt's safe return. He'd taken on the crazy risk of protecting a stranger. From certain, serious danger. With little in it for himself. Viewing it that way, Barnes had the right to be suspicious. What if he were injured— or worse. How would she live with herself if she caused him harm? Sinking to the ground, she burrowed into the lilies, pressing herself against the fireplace.
How long had it been? She was mentally calculating the time when she heard a shot ring out— followed rapid-fire by three more. Startled, she scraped her head against the mortar, her insides liquefying. Bolting up, she was nearly lightheaded with panic.
Her fear intensified two excruciating minutes later, when lights began turning on in the house further up the hill. Her cover wasn't exactly blown, but light spilling from the windows increased her exposure, deepening shadows and heightening visibility. "Time to go."
Hoisting herself up, she realized dampness had seeped into her clothing— magnifying the chill settling over her. Moving deeper into the shadows, she belly-crawled across the lawn to another set of hedges. It might be safer to burrow through them, rather than hobble back down to the lake again. The path between the properties was too open— too exposed. As she reached the shrubs, she rolled under, relieved to discover an eighteen inch gap at ground level. Each time her scattered thoughts turned to Agent Barnes, she envisioned blood. Bullet holes. Then her fear would cause her to stumble. She couldn't afford to worry about him yet.
The fifth house. "Once you're inside— you can cry," she muttered. "Until then, shut the hell up."
***
Matt wasted valuable minutes searching the Coopers' backyard. But Jules wasn't where he'd ordered her
to wait. The slumbering house was dark again, any sound drowned out by a cacaphony of sirens. Lights had flickered on fifteen minutes earlier when all hell had broken loose. The shots would have caused her to panic, his logic leapt to reassure him. Unless she'd used his diversion as rationale for escape. Suspicion flaring, he crossed the yard, breaking into a sprint once he cleared the hedges. It had been forty-five minutes, he reasoned. Maybe she'd actually followed his orders. Damn it, she'd better be at the McCready's. Or the next time he found her— and he would, he vowed, working up a lather of anger over the possibility he'd been played— Jules would pay.
Still jacked up when he reached his destination, Matt forced himself to wait, for his breathing to slacken. His temper to cool. Despite his impatience to get inside the house— to find Julie and read her the riot act-
He reined in his emotions. Her fear had appeared genuine. She could be cowering inside, waiting for him to arrive. Or she could be ready to pounce. To end the trail. To get rid of him before making a clean escape. Paul had died in the driver's seat of his squad car. Surprised— or overcome by Matias' thugs. At least an hour earlier— maybe longer. The cop hadn't slept through his check-in. He'd likely already been dead. Someone else was sprawled in the backyard— unidentifiable in the dark. One of Jonas' crew would get the pleasure of identifying the unlucky bastard at first light.
Methodically, Matt checked his Glock. He watched the house for several minutes, searching for signs of movement. But the McCready place was quiet. Hand on the knob, he hesitated. Julie was likely nearby, waiting to open the door when he announced himself.
Instead, he slipped off the deck and rounded the house. One of the benefits of spending his youth hanging out with Tommy McCready— he knew the best place to break in. Five minutes later, he'd scaled the tree next to Tommy's room. Their way in— and out most nights. Fifteen years earlier, they'd been able to make the climb with a bottle of Johnny Walker in one hand.
Now, he was grateful to have both hands on the branches as he stretched to Tommy's window and tugged it open. Dropping inside his friend's bedroom, carpet muffled the thud as he released a sigh of relief. Finally mature enough to realize the danger he'd stupidly exposed himself to, Matt questioned his teenaged intelligence.
Moving to the upstairs hallway, he paused to absorb the sounds of his friend's house. A ticking clock downstairs in the living room. The refrigerator whirring softly in the kitchen. And pacing. The careless brush against an end table that suggested Tommy's grandmother's ugly, rose painted lamp might finally bite the dust. A muttered curse as it was steadied. And then mumbling. Matt strained for the words. Julie was talking— to herself or someone else.
He took a careful step, aware he held the element of surprise. But if they caught him on the stairs, he'd be screwed. His gun tense at his side, he mentally prepared to engage.
"Where is he?"
Jules' frayed voice reassured him. He released the breath he'd been holding. She was alone. Taking the stairs more quickly, he realized she wouldn't have heard him anyway. She was making too much noise on her own.
At the window, she peered cautiously around the drapes. "Damn it, you better not be shot."
Sidling up behind her, he grinned. "No such luck." His hand ready, he covered her mouth to muffle the scream. Catching her around the waist, he steadied her when she launched into his arms. "Sorry to scare you."
"You're not h-hurt?"
Anxious hands left a burning trail down his chest, as though searching for an unseen injury. Her frantic voice heated his collarbone as he cradled her against him, trying like hell not to enjoy it too much. She looked so damn fragile, yet she'd held it together. She was resilient. Brave— despite her fear. Burying his tortured nose in her hair, he sighed. He'd never wanted a woman with the ferocity he wanted this one. But touching Julie would break every rule he'd ever established for himself and several of the Agency's as well. Her sobs eventually quieting, she slackened in his arms.
"I heard s-shots."
"I'm fine," he managed through clenched teeth. If she had any clue how he was feeling, she'd keep her damned hands to herself. Their faces inches apart, Matt heard the sudden jangling of warning bells in his head. Not a good idea, Barnes. When he took a reluctant— but increasingly necessary step back, she captured his face in her hands.
"Jules-" Meant as a warning, it sounded more like a plea. For her to be stronger. Her eyes questioned him— shadowed green depths he could lose himself in.
"We're safe," she whispered. Blinking back tears, she smiled. Tugging him closer, she brushed her mouth against his cheek.
His body jerked as though she'd blasted him with a live wire. Something deep in his chest tightened into a knot of desperation. He nodded. "We made it."
He captured her roaming hands. Time seemed to slow . . . stretching out between them in an endless abyss of tortured wanting. Her beautiful eyes locked on his, she swayed almost drunkenly, as though she could no longer control the magnetic pull.
"Jules," he ground out. Her name would erupt from his throat as a shout when he exploded inside her. Of that he had little doubt. Sex with Julie would be— legendary. Life altering. Addictive. With a defeated groan, he pulled her against him.
***
When she brushed his mouth with hers, Julie absorbed the shock jolting through him— felt Matt battle to resist. And experienced the bone-melting heat of ignition when he failed. For a desperate moment, she'd thought he would deny her. And she would feel colossally foolish.
Instead— they could blame it on relief. He was unhurt. They were temporarily safe. If she were honest, she'd known the nagging attraction— of wanting him— even when he didn't like her. Hell, he still didn't like her. But when he held her in his arms, she no longer cared. Matt Barnes could lock her up and throw away the key.
She would likely be embarrassed later— given time to weigh her actions. But for now, she pulled him closer. Just for a moment, she wanted to experience the comfort and safety only he could provide. His chest was broad and sturdy and seemingly invincible, heating her palms where she touched him. She tore her lips from his incredible mouth. "Matt, please. . ."
Afraid of breaking the spell, she didn't wait for his rejection, instead using the opportunity to trail the warm column of his throat. She tasted the salt of his sweat, the scent of outdoors. His jaw tightened where her lips grazed. Sharp, rasping breaths suggested he wasn't capable of complaining— at least not yet.
Her heart was still thundering when he finally groaned. Losing the battle he'd waged with himself, Matt set something on the table before he jerked her closer. Lowering his mouth to hers, he slid capable fingers through her hair, cradling her head in his hands. Helpless to move, she stared up at him, reading the intensity of a passion he likely wouldn't want to remember. She could use this, she thought hazily. Against him. Use it to-
He deepened the kiss, his tongue parting her lips before beginning a lazy assault on her mouth. Her thoughts incinerating, Julie had trouble recovering from one kiss before he sank into the next.
Either she hadn't had sex in a really long time, or Agent Barnes was just that good. As his mouth made love to her, strong hands stroked her body, making their expertise known through her bulky sweatshirt. If sex with Matt turned out to be as good as kissing him, she might not survive it. His body thrust against hers, she felt the hard length of him against her stomach.
Dissolving into a heated puddle of pliant wax, Julie kept a fleeting grip on her sanity as she ignited in his arms. Making short work of the borrowed sweatshirt, his hand slid under the t-shirt below. His muttered curse caught in his throat as he found her breast. "Please-" Julie released a ragged moan that sounded foreign to her ears. Her nipple tightened, pebbling under his expert hand, sending heat scorching through her.
His body still pinned against hers, he teased her slowly, madly out of her mind. With all her might, she wished for more. Her fingers searched frantically for his chest. Impeded by his shirt, she whim
pered her frustration, tugging it up his body.
Until Matt came to his senses— and exploded away from her, nearly colliding with the back of the couch.
Julie sagged against the wall, her body throbbing with the need for release. His breathing labored, Matt remained safely out of reach.
"Jules— we can't. . . I can't." His husky voice rasped over still sensitized skin. "Jesus— I . . . never should have-"
Shock rippled over her as a ferocious disappointment set in. "It was me," she admitted. "I . . . attacked you." His chuckle sent a trickle of warmth through frozen limbs.
"Well, that sure as hell wasn't me fighting it," he acknowledged. Hearing the amusement in his voice she felt a tiny bit better.
"Jules— honestly. . . I'm seriously attracted to you. And honestly . . . I just can't be." Agent Barnes released a ragged breath as though he didn't quite trust himself. "I can't allow personal— to interfere."
"I wasn't thinking." She knew he heard the resignation in her words. And was deeply grateful for the darkness. "It's my fault. I was afraid."
"It's no one's fault," he corrected. "We just survived a stressful situation. One that isn't over yet," he reminded. "We need to stay focused." He hesitated, seeming to select his words carefully. "I can't compromise an investigation."
"Of course. You're right." Weariness crashing over her, Julie was left with the sensation she'd lost something important. Something she hadn't known was missing.
"Until you're cleared-" He floundered. "I can't-"
She'd behaved foolishly. "I might be guilty." Matt walked to the table where he scooped something up. She heard a click and stilled. "What's that?"
"The safety on my gun."
A gun? Of course he had a gun- Idiot. He'd likely used it. Hell, before this was over, he might have to use it again. As passion ebbed away, the chill of fear stole over her once again. "What happens next?"
***
Chapter 5
"That's a great question." His phone vibrated, breaking the awkward silence. Grateful for the distraction, Matt glanced at the screen. Jonas was on scene— asking where the hell was he. Debating his next move, he ignored the text. The last hour had changed everything. Making time to cooperate with the locals on this investigation could get them killed. The less phone traffic, the better. They'd be safer going to ground for the next several hours until daylight. He turned his phone off.
Out of the Mist (Can't Help Falling Book 1) Page 6
