by Cindy Stark
"Damn it." He raked shaking hands through his hair, drinking in the sight of her standing in the yellow glow of the porch light, her eyes wide with surprise, her breasts heaving from their heated interaction. He took a step back, her surprise turning to confusion. "That can't happen again. That can never happen again."
She watched him for several long seconds, and then without a word, she went into the house shutting the door behind her. He would have preferred it if she'd slammed the door. Her anger he could understand and, therefore, could handle. If she'd even left the door open signaling there might be some sort of reconciliation after they'd cooled, that would have been better.
Instead, a frighteningly cool shield had slipped over her expression, like what they'd done, what she might have experienced meant nothing to her. Was that truly how she felt? 'Cause it meant a lot more than nothing to him.
He'd really fucked up this time. He scrubbed his hands through his soaked hair again and went inside the house to face the aftermath.
* * *
Ariana stayed in bed much longer than she should have. She'd awoken with a startle as usual, but she hadn't been able to make herself get out of bed. Instead, she'd tossed for more than an hour, trying to fall back asleep. Facing Milo required more courage than she had at the moment.
She'd made a complete, unadulterated ass of herself the previous evening. She'd pushed Milo into a corner, forcing him to choose between playing strip poker or seeming like a prude. When he'd gotten caught up in the moment, she'd seduced him, and when he'd tried to cool things, she'd kissed him like there was no tomorrow.
Maybe that's because there might not be a tomorrow for her. Or maybe because too many of her yesterdays were tortured, lonely, or just plain unhappy days. What a disaster her life had become. She'd hoped testifying would be the first step toward improvement, but the trial was taking too damn long to arrive. The more she was left waiting, the worse choices she made.
She'd done too many irresponsible things, enough that Quinn had pulled her from the Marshal's protection and placed her with Milo. Then she'd turned around and created chaos here as well, and she'd only been living with him for two days. Good Lord, somebody stop her.
The sound of a door closing and an engine starting brought her upright in bed. She jumped up and raced to her window to see Milo's truck driving away.
He'd left her alone.
A driving spear of sadness sank deep within her. She shouldn't feel bad. She was perfectly safe. Not a soul other than Quinn knew her whereabouts, and Milo had mentioned going to the store. It's just that she'd really wanted to go. Even if it was only to sit in the car. She'd been forced into seclusion for far too long.
She wallowed in her misery long enough to pour herself a glass of orange juice, and then she gave herself a mental kick in the butt. She had less than a month. The worst was nearly over. A couple more weeks and then she'd be able to move forward. She could do this. She had to.
Milo had left a note on the table letting her know he'd headed to town for groceries and to check on his mother, and he'd be back soon.
Soon. But not soon enough.
She took her juice out and sat on the porch swing. The evening's storm had moved on, leaving only trace remnants of twigs and leaves scattered across the lawn. Morning sun heated the porch. She tucked her legs beneath her, letting the bright light warm her.
Being in the peaceful fresh air helped lift her spirits. With the exception of the little issue she'd created with Milo the previous night, perhaps Quinn sending her to the middle of nowhere had been his best idea yet. She might be isolated, but she wasn't trapped inside a building. Here, she could wander and explore without worry of being found.
No one said she couldn't entertain herself while Milo was gone.
She quickly dressed and strapped on his pistol. The likelihood of her father's men finding her was slim, but she wasn't fool enough to think it was non-existent.
Soon, she was following the same footpath Milo had taken her along the day before. It would do her good to get some exercise. She could walk to the river and be back long before Milo returned.
As predicted, it didn't take her long to reach their spot. The quiet river from the previous day had swelled from the massive amounts of rain they'd received, partially burying the rock she and Milo had fished from. She smiled, remembering her ridiculous dive into the river. It had been a good day. A really good day…until she'd messed it up.
She slipped off her shoes, not wanting a repeat experience of walking home in squishy Nikes. She removed Milo's pistol for the same reason and placed it on her shoes. The river rushed by as she sat on the edge of the rock, the coolness of the stone filtering through her jeans. The water was faster today, more powerful. Leaves and small branches cruised along the surface, apparent victims of the storm. Still, it carried the same appealing sound, the same ability to wash away her stress.
Maybe she'd been wrong about small towns all along. During her previous relocations, the obscure places where she'd been forced to live had stifled her. There'd been nothing to do, nothing but boredom to suck the life out of her. She'd craved going to the theatre with Kenzie or dining at a fine restaurant, the things her father's tainted money could purchase. She'd been torn, wanting to rid herself of that lifestyle, but missing it all the same.
This time was different. Instead of viewing her temporary surroundings from behind a plate of glass, she was actively interacting with nature. Feeling the grass beneath her feet, listening to the rush of the river, and smelling the sweet air.
She dipped a toe into the cold water. This was a place she could heal. Once the trial was over, she'd have vindication for Danny's death. She wouldn't be coming back here, but maybe she could go somewhere similar, somewhere she could finally put the first part of her life behind her and look forward to building a new future, a future she could proudly claim. All she had to do was hold out for a month, and then she'd have a new chance at life.
She never should have kissed Milo. As amazing as he'd been, kissing him had only provided a temporary distraction and had definitely muddied the waters between them. Not fair to either of them. If she messed things up with her protector, she'd have nowhere to go. Quinn would kill her figuratively, and if she came out of deep cover, her father might kill her literally.
The sound of approaching male voices jerked her from her reverie. She slid Milo's gun from the holster and tucked it in her waistband, covering the weapon with the hem of her shirt.
* * *
"I can't do this, Quinn." Milo sat in his truck along the side of the road, just a mile from his house. He'd been to the grocery store, but had forgone stopping at his mom's house. She'd know in a second something was wrong, and she wouldn't stop until she had the truth. "I can't remain objective and focused where Ariana is concerned. I don't think I'm the one who should protect her. It's not fair to her."
A laugh came through the speaker on his phone.
"This isn't funny."
"I know she can be a bit of a firecracker."
"Quinn, I'm trying to have a serious conversation with you. This is her life we're talking about."
His friend cleared his throat. "You want a serious conversation. Then here you go. You are her last chance. I thought I made this clear before. There are no other options. She's been compromised too many times to be put back into the system. Her father has long-reaching arms, and somehow, he's infiltrated the Marshals. My most recent reports state he's trying to get the trial postponed again in an effort to give him more time to find her. He wants her, Milo. He wants her dead."
"I understand this, but having Ariana in my home is more difficult than I thought it would be. Before long, they'll call me back to work. Maybe she could stay with you for the next couple of weeks."
"Your work situation has been handled. There's been a glitch in the investigation, and it will take a couple more weeks to get back on track. And no, Milo, she can't stay with me. I'm being watched. Why do you think
I sent her to you in the first place?"
Milo sighed. "She's a beautiful woman, Quinn."
"I'm well aware."
"Did she flirt with you? Tempt you and tease you like this is all a big game?"
A silent pause came across the phone. "No. Is she flirting with you?"
"She took her shirt off last night during strip poker. Picture her, man. Popping buttons open, inches from your body, flirting with you like crazy." He couldn't bear to talk about the sizzling kiss they'd shared. "How am I supposed to remain professional?"
"Explain to me why you were playing strip poker in the first place."
Milo scrubbed a hand down his face. "I don't know. There was a big storm. She was bored. It was supposed to be regular poker, but she somehow convinced me to play."
"Seriously? She was bored? She convinced you? Do you realize how moronic that sounds?"
Ah…shit. He did. "You don't understand. She's very…distracting." He knew the moment he'd muttered the words they wouldn't help his case.
"What happened to the cold-blooded soldier I knew in Afghanistan? The guy who could stay completely focused on a target despite the chaos raining down around him?"
He drew his brows together, now wondering the same thing. He wasn't some weak-ass kid out of high school. He had skills. He had training. Why the hell wasn't he using them? "You're right. I let her mess with my head." She'd slipped under his radar when he hadn't been paying attention, but he had her in his sights now. He'd figured out her MO, and he could deal with this.
"So you're good then? I'm counting on you, man. If not you, I've got nothing."
"I'm good. I can handle her." Hell, she was just a woman. He'd been up against insurgents and rebels. People who wouldn't give a second thought before killing him.
He'd manage Ariana.
"Thanks for setting me straight."
"Any time. Don't let her get to you, Milo. She needs you to be strong. She may not show it, but she's under a tremendous amount of emotional stress right now. This has dragged on for many months. I think she can sense the end is in sight, and she's starting to fray a little at the edges."
He was an idiot. He should have been able to figure this out for himself. He'd allowed her to get under his skin, and he'd reacted instead of anticipating and planning ahead. That wasn't like him at all. "You're right. Sorry for the call. I'll take good care of her, Quinn."
He shut off his phone, disappointed in himself. When had he ever had a job he couldn't complete? Never. That's all protecting Ariana was. A job.
Keeping that reminder at the forefront of his thoughts was all the armor he'd need.
She was a job.
* * *
Ariana could barely breathe as the male voices drew near. She'd run, but she couldn't be certain where the men were, and she'd likely end up running right into them. The other side of the river was banked by a fairly steep bluff, and she couldn't see anyone up there. She glanced across the grassy fields behind her and couldn't see anyone there either. But the voices were coming closer.
She snatched her shoes, but before she could get them on, two fishermen appeared at the bend in the river. They walked along the edge of the riverbank, poles resting on their shoulders. She stuffed her feet in, prepared to run if necessary.
Both were tall with dark hair peeking from beneath baseball hats, one sporting a goatee. They continued to chat, still unaware of her presence. She wished desperately she could sink into the river and go unnoticed, but they were too close.
"We should have driven here, Luke," the goateed one said. "I'm sure Milo's still in Las Vegas. He'd never know we were checking out his honey hole."
"Yeah, I don't know. Lily swore she saw his truck pass through town a couple days ago."
"Must have been someone else with a similar vehicle. Milo would have called—"
The man with the goatee stopped mid-sentence when he caught sight of her. His brows shot upward. "Good morning."
His friend who had been studying the river as they walked swiveled his gaze toward her, a similar expression on his face.
"Morning," she replied, wondering if she should pull out the gun or wait.
The two men exchanged glances and then searched the surrounding area.
"Are you out here alone?" the one named Luke asked.
Wariness crept through her veins. "Is there a problem if I am?"
"Well, no."
"You're scaring her, Scott," Luke replied. "Sorry, miss. We're not used to running into people we don't know in this area. It's kind of hard to get to without crossing private property."
Trespassing like they were, she wanted to remind them. "I have permission to be here." Sort of.
"You know Milo?" Scott narrowed his eyes as though if he looked hard enough, he might recognize her.
She stood, brushing the dirt from her backside, praying the gun didn't show through her shirt. "I do. Do you?"
Luke laughed. "Apparently not as well as we thought." He extended a hand. "Luke Winchester. This fool is Scott Beckstead."
Scott shook her hand as well, the friendliness in both men's expressions putting her a little more at ease. "We've known Milo since we were kids."
"I'm Anna." Ariana smiled. "Must be nice growing up in a small town."
"Can be," Luke answered. "I can't quite place your accent."
She swallowed, not sure how to answer. "Midwest." A vague reply was good. "But I've moved around a bit, so there's some intermingling going on." This was bad. Milo was going to kill her.
Both men nodded.
Scott glanced around again. "So, Milo left you all alone out here? I can't quite picture him doing that."
"He went into town for groceries and then to stop and see his mother."
Luke cocked his head. "I guess I was thinking you might have been on a date with him, and he went back to his house for something. But he's at his mother's? Interesting."
Good Lord, she was digging a deeper hole by the second. Perhaps the truth would set her free. "We're actually living together." Or incarcerate her, if she could judge by the expressions on the guys' faces. "And I put in a load of laundry that's probably ready for me. It was very nice meeting you, Scott and Luke, but I should go." She snatched the holster from the ground without explanation and kept walking.
She rolled her eyes in disgust at herself as she turned and headed back toward Milo's house. It took a tremendous amount of willpower to keep her gait at an even pace instead of sprinting, although running would not save her now. She'd given the men a questionable story, told them both where she was staying, and now Milo would hear about it for certain. She never should have ventured from the house.
As soon as they were out of sight, she strapped on the pistol and started running. From what or to what, she didn't exactly know, but suddenly, she wanted to be back inside, out of the glaring sunshine that rained down on her like a spotlight, exposing her to the world. She wished she'd never backed Milo into a corner the previous night, and she was starting to wish she'd never turned in her father to the police. Her life had been a series of nightmares ever since.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Milo pulled into his drive feeling like a new man. His little talk with Quinn had straightened out his head, gotten him back on track. He wasn't sure why he'd allowed Ariana to have such an effect on him in the first place.
He retrieved the groceries and glanced about his yard as he walked to the house. It was a gorgeous day after the rainstorm. The air carried a fresh smell, and the warm sun coaxed an earthy scent from the ground. He'd have to get out later and clean up the branches the storm had knocked down, but it was a good day to do it. If the grass dried out, he'd mow the lawn, too.
He unlocked and opened the front door, ready to greet Ariana with his new arsenal. "I'm back," he called into the quiet.
Barbed tendrils of tension snaked through him when he didn't get a reply. "Ariana?"
He dropped the groceries on the kitchen table and hurried down the hall
toward her bedroom. He doubted she'd still be asleep this late in the morning, but he didn't really know her that well.
He knocked and then opened the door, finding her bed made and her gone. It took him less than a minute to rush through the rest of the house. She was not there.
Back in her bedroom, he threw open her closet. Her clothes were still there, so she hadn't left like she'd threatened the previous night. But where the hell was she? Had someone gotten to her? Could her father's men have found her, and she was dead already?
A cold sweat enveloped him. Flashbacks from his previous failure to protect threatened his composure.
He checked the front and back doors, but no signs of forced entry. The front entrance had been locked, but the door to the kitchen hadn't. He glanced at the porch swing and the rest of the backyard. No sign of her.
"Shit," he hollered into the empty house as he hurried to retrieve his weapon from the hook in the pantry.
When he found the gun missing from the hook on the pantry door, certain fear gripped his insides with icy fingers. Beyond target practice, there was no other reason for her to take the gun.
"Damn it!" He slammed the pantry door shut. Where the hell was she?
He had to force himself to take a calming breath so he could think rationally.
He needed a weapon. He hurried to his bedroom and dug his father's service handgun out of the closet and checked it for rounds.
"Don't panic," he reminded himself. Ariana was a decent enough shot she might be able to protect herself. Fuck, he was an idiot. He'd done nothing but screw up since he'd taken on her case.
If the mob had found her, there would be some sign of a struggle. Maybe they'd come upon her outside. He hurried to the back door, wishing he could find a clue, but praying he wouldn't find anything bad.
* * *
Ariana topped the last little bluff, grateful to see Milo's quaint house not too far in the distance. She increased her speed, wanting to be inside and lock the doors. Her pulse kicked up another notch when Milo emerged out the back door.
