“No. But you’re right. Kira’s in trouble. You don’t need details. And if you can’t deliver this—” he removed the flash drive from his pocket “—to my tech guys, she might end up in jail or worse.”
Tate grabbed the drive and shoved it in his own pocket. “I better get going before the storm hits for real. This should be an exciting drive.” He tugged his jacket off the back of a chair and headed toward the garage.
“Take Gene with you, please.”
“I’ll pull around front. Wouldn’t want the boss not to have privacy. Text me where to drop it off.”
Dalton should thank him. He needed Tate’s help and probably would have called him if they’d made it to Denver. Providence? Luck? Whatever it was, Tate was here, and as much as he hated Dalton, he’d help. So instead of following, he told Gene he had a ride and then took the clothes for Kira to the first-floor bedroom.
Dalton quickly realized most of them were from a well-known lingerie company. Tate obviously entertained more than one of their models here. That wasn’t utmost in Dalton’s mind. Knowing Kira was a few feet away, enjoying a steamy bath, was the distraction. Picturing her wearing any of the items sent his mind exactly where he didn’t want it to be. There was no way he’d be able to keep his hands off her.
He opened a dresser drawer and yanked out an orange Buckshot’s T-shirt. Nothing remotely sexy about it and it would clash with her eyes. He paired it with flannel pajama bottoms from Tate’s drawer. Then Dalton bolted from the room before his aching body could change his mind to join her.
Straight up the stairs and into the bedroom he and Lauren had shared. He turned to his old dresser and yanked out jeans, underwear and socks. Then he stormed through the doorway and slammed the door behind him.
Every bedroom had its own bath. A cold shower was exactly what he needed. A distraction to clear his foggy brain.
Icy pinpricks numbed his back, cut into his scalp. He could handle the freezing water against his skin. It was telling Kira that her evidence was headed down the mountain with Tate that sent a chill up Dalton’s spine. She’d be safe here, and hopefully, she trusted him to keep her that way.
But he needed to know what was on that flash drive. She didn’t want him to know about it, didn’t want him involved. Thought she could go it alone. But it was becoming clear to him that this Griffin guy was willing to kill for the evidence she claimed to have. Well, now Dalton had it. He was in charge of the game. She’d have to play by his rules. Then why was he standing under ice water instead of facing her fury?
* * *
“Are you sure you aren’t hungry?” Dalton asked, as he joined Kira on the couch.
Of course she was hungry, but not quite hungry enough to eat two of her least favorite foods. Her stomach growled as he shoved a Fig Newton in his mouth. Steam danced along the rim of his coffee mug and he smiled at her before washing down the cookie with a swallow of the stinky brew.
“I adjusted the thermostats on the furnace and water heater. We should have some heat and more hot water in the next hour. Then you can stay in any of the bedrooms.”
“Good.” She loved the fire. Watching the flames dance was slightly hypnotic.
“Are you warm enough?” He leaned toward her and slid a hand underneath the blankets, finding her foot and gliding his thumb across the arch, causing a shiver to race up her spine.
“I’m okay.”
“Willing to share some heat with a coffee lover?”
“Maybe.”
His palm skated past her ankle and lingered on her calf. She shouldn’t be encouraging him at all, and still a smile tugged at her lips.
“Body heat might be the only thing saving us from freezing to death.”
“What about the furnace?”
“It’s sometimes temperamental.” He set the coffee mug aside and pulled her onto his lap.
She shouldn’t have gone so willingly, but rationalized that getting closer to Dalton meant a better chance at retrieving what was hers. He must have had a similar idea because he trapped her hands between their chests and tucked the blankets around her, creating a snug cocoon.
“Comfy?” His voice hummed across her skin, and Kira found she was enjoying their proximity far too much.
She nodded, thinking what it might be like to have his strength keeping her safe beyond the scope of a few hours. The possibility left her grasping for a quick change in subjects.
“Do you ski?” she asked.
“No, I fall. A lot. Never quite got the hang of it.”
“So you haven’t been here for a while?”
He glanced toward the ceiling and shifted her against him, his quick exhalation of breath tickling her earlobe. “No.”
A single word holding a million different meanings. No, he hadn’t been here in a while. No, he wasn’t answering any more questions about his personal life. No, he didn’t want to think about his wife.
Silence wedged its way between them, creating a type of dual solitude. Tension eased from her body in measured increments, along with a giant sigh, which summed everything up.
“You’re safe here.”
“If you say so.”
“Even if someone figures out we’re together, this is the last place they’d look. Trust me.”
Trust him? She shouldn’t have involved him at all, wouldn’t have gone to Wyoming in search of Josh if she’d known Griffin was keeping close tabs on her. “What if Griffin’s men somehow track us here? Then what?”
“We’re miles away from the nearest town and the alarm system is virtually impenetrable. Plus, with the storm approaching, there’s no way for anyone to reach us.”
There is always a way. A muscle in Kira’s cheek danced nervously. Never a good sign, since the same tic had preceded her unplanned pregnancy, her elopement and Brandon’s arrival into an unfriendly world.
“You sound so sure, but I don’t think Griffin will give up easily.”
“I didn’t say anyone would give up. They’ll just have to dig a whole lot deeper to track you here.”
“I need to have a plan in place. And before you tell me not to worry, save your breath. I got here because I underestimated what someone else was capable of. I won’t make the mistake a second time.”
“I won’t let anything happen to you,” Dalton promised.
She pulled away from him and settled herself at the other end of the sofa, securely wrapping the blanket around her body. “I would rather err on the side of caution. Tell me about the layout of the house and the security system you use.”
He took a sip of coffee before answering. “The house is five thousand square feet, with six bedrooms and private baths upstairs. Downstairs there’s an additional bedroom, two more bathrooms, a library, dining room, kitchen and game room, as well as this living room. There’s also a four-car attached garage.”
“Sounds like a lot of empty rooms for someone to hide in.”
“No one is here.” Dalton shifted his feet to the coffee table and Kira lost her battle against a smile.
“Nice socks.” They were gray, heavy-duty work socks, but the heels and toes were orange, the same color as the ugly shoes she’d briefly worn.
“Bet my feet are warmer than yours.”
She couldn’t allow him to sidetrack her. She had to steer the conversation to their safety within the house. “I want you to show me how to work the alarm.”
“Okay.” He quickly polished off his coffee and exchanged it for the cup he’d previously offered her.
“Um...” She paused until he glanced her way. “Could we do it now?”
“Why don’t you sit tight for another fifteen minutes, give the furnace a chance to catch up, and then I’ll show you the alarms and the downstairs?”
She nodded and surreptitiously tried to see bey
ond the dimly lit room. What if they lost power?
“Is there a generator somewhere?”
Dalton nodded. “Out in the garage. Plus, there are plenty of flashlights around the house and a cupboard full of candles.”
She didn’t like the unfamiliar surroundings, especially since she already felt at a disadvantage. Of course, Dalton had to pick that very moment to renew the questioning.
“I need to know what’s on the thumb drive.”
“No.” She was such an idiot. Why hadn’t she fought harder on the plane to retrieve what was hers?
“This isn’t a negotiation, Kira. You’re in trouble here and you need to tell me exactly what proof you have and where it came from.”
“That’s what you think I need. You had no right to take it from me in the first place. I want it back.”
“Possession is nine-tens of the law.”
“And theft is against the law.” She jumped off the couch, tightly wrapping her blanket around her body.
“So is trespassing. Do you really want to compare which one of us has broken the most laws?”
The chill left Kira’s body, replaced with sudden warmth from the anger racing through her. Why was it so difficult to accept his help graciously? Was it merely because she suspected his only motivation was keeping his family’s name out of the news? Did it matter? Blood was always thicker than water.
“If I tell you what’s on the flash drive, will you give it to me?”
“It’s in a safe place.”
Kira’s breath clogged her lungs. What had he done with it?
“But it’s here, right?” Her gaze swept the room and landed on him.
His lips pressed against the coffee mug, unhurriedly taking another sip.
Had he already gotten rid of it? She glanced to the window, watching the snow steadily increase. Maybe it was on the plane? Then another piece clicked into place.
“Tell me you didn’t,” she demanded, already knowing the answer. “That’s why you got rid of the pilot and your friend. It had nothing to do with wanting to be alone with me. You sent the flash drive away with Tate. To where?”
“Denver.”
Chapter 11
Kira counted to fifty and then started over again. Why had she gotten so angry with Dalton, when in reality she was angry at herself?
She should have demanded that he return the flash drive. But no, she hadn’t done anything after he’d threatened her with security at the airport. She’d never imagined in her wildest dreams that he would have sent the drive to his tech department. “For safety,” he’d said.
More likely it was because he didn’t trust her. He demanded trust from her, but he definitely didn’t trust her. She stopped counting. It was useless to try to fall asleep, especially while replaying Dalton’s expression when she’d told him she’d encrypted the flash drive.
She wouldn’t allow another man to take charge of her life and railroad her into settling for less than she deserved. She’d allowed Josh to treat her badly, without standing up for herself. Allowed one hasty decision to determine her future.
She snuggled deeper into the soft flannel sheets of the queen-size bed and made a promise to herself. No matter what it took, she would see Griffin behind bars. Dalton had merely muddied the waters by removing the flash drive. But he was right, the evidence was safer away from her. If only she had a computer. She could access her online Dropbox and pull a few of the documents she’d collected. It wasn’t as complete as everything she’d stored on the flash drive, but maybe she could gather enough to prove to Dalton she was telling the truth about Josh.
She could still see doubt in his eyes. Whether it was directed at Josh or her, she didn’t know. But she could prove that they’d been married and that Josh had worked for at least two of Griffin’s companies. There was definitely a link and perhaps it would be enough to buy Dalton’s continued assistance.
An hour later, Kira tossed off the covers. She slipped her now toasty bare feet onto the plush bedroom carpet and exhaled in acceptance. Her mind was too full to get any rest, and hiding from Dalton seemed like the chicken’s way out.
Cluck, cluck, cluck.
She moved the window drapery to one side and watched the wind whip the heavily falling snow in every direction. The quiet emptiness of the house surrounded her as she opened the bedroom door a crack and peered into the hallway. No sound met her ears. It was almost as if she was alone in the house. A dim light beckoned her to move toward it.
The gourmet kitchen was straight from the pages of Architectural Digest. Gleaming stainless steel appliances and dark granite counters circled the room, which boasted a restaurant-style cappuccino machine and an array of glass coffee canisters.
What was so great about coffee, anyway? Stinky, bitter tasting and too expensive for her budget. If she was going to spend five dollars on anything covered in whipped cream, it would definitely be hot chocolate.
Buckshot’s probably didn’t even offer anything aimed at non-coffee drinkers. Kira stomped to the cupboard above the coffee canisters and climbed on the counter. There had to be a tea bag somewhere up here.
“What are you grumbling about?” Dalton asked.
It wasn’t really her fault the counter was slick or that she jerked sideways and toppled toward the floor in a very unladylike fashion. But instead of landing on the hard ceramic tile, she found herself pressed against Dalton’s broad chest as he broke their fall.
It was very wrong to enjoy having her hands on him again.
Very, very wrong to sigh when she inhaled his scent.
And far worse to forget why she was in the kitchen in the first place.
“Do you notice that when we’re together, there’s a lot of falling involved?” he asked, both arms wrapped around her as he stared up from his vantage point.
“I’ve noticed,” she responded, her voice barely audible. She moved to the left, attempting to slide off him, but he held her tighter.
“Where are you going?”
“I’m getting up and off the cold, hard floor.” Honestly, her body wasn’t touching any part of the floor. But being pressed against the warmth of Dalton’s hard frame was a hundred times more uncomfortable. Damn him for making her feel alive again. Was she ready to be that optimistic person with her whole life in front of her?
His arms fit snugly around her waist, then one large hand slid lower, to cup her butt and stop the squirming. “I want to talk to you.”
“Yeah? How about we wait until we’re vertical again?”
“Because I’m not chasing you all over the house. I’ve got your attention, so why delay?”
He had more than her attention. Tingles of awareness crept over her skin while she tried slowing the gallop of her unsteady heart. Surely he could feel the thumping against his chest. She squelched the desire to squirm beneath his hands as well as his gaze and forced herself to relax.
“Okay.”
“Kira, I need for you to trust me on this.” His previously playful tone turned to stoic seriousness.
“Well, my definition of trust doesn’t include someone else controlling my life. Or making me feel confined.”
“I’m not.”
“It sure seems like it. Can’t you give a little?”
He started to smile.
“Not a sexual innuendo, buddy.” If her arms weren’t trapped between them, she might have pointed an accusing finger in his face. She settled for raising her knee against his obvious arousal and holding it there long enough for him to receive her message.
“Whatever you say,” he said, loosening his hold.
She shouldn’t have smiled or given him any encouragement at all, but she was pressed against all his interesting parts and not putting up much of a fight.
“You have the
most kissable mouth.”
Whenever he said the word kiss, her lips were ready to comply, even though her brain was chanting absolutely no kissing.
“No kissing,” she insisted, sounding as if she’d be willing to do way more than touch her lips to his. The proximity threw her off-kilter. She had to get out of his arms and up off the floor before hormones prevailed.
Dalton didn’t seem to have the same dilemma. “Not a very convincing protest. Try again.”
“Do you treat all your guests this way?”
“You are so good at dodging a topic. Who’d you learn the delay tactic from?”
“Let me up,” she demanded.
He released her and rolled the opposite direction, then jumped to his feet. Retrieving a chair from the nearby dinette set, he placed it beside her. “Then let’s get you—what was the word you used?—vertical.”
She smiled, in spite of the chill currently numbing her toes, and allowed Dalton to raise her onto the padded seat. For the first time she noticed his appearance. He was wearing a pair of gray flannel pajama bottoms and a bright orange Denver Broncos T-shirt. He could have diverted traffic through a road construction zone or maybe taught a hunters’ safety class.
“Promise me something.” She licked her lips and glanced up at Dalton’s face.
“I hesitate to say I’ll promise you anything. Who knows what your wicked mind is cooking up?”
“Wicked, huh?” Her brain did a quick rewind to their time in the camper and her toes immediately warmed. “Promise me when all this is over, we’re torching every orange T-shirt you own and having a giant bonfire with s’mores.”
“Bad?”
“The lighting isn’t helping.” She squinted for emphasis and then released a sigh. “I only wanted a cup of tea.”
He crossed the room and filled a teakettle with water before placing it on the stove. The click, click, click of the gas burner coming to life was a welcoming sound. It felt like home, like a lazy Sunday afternoon when she’d settle into her recliner with a cup of Earl Grey and a good book.
“I hope you aren’t a purist.” He leaned against the center island and shot her a high-wattage smile.
Protecting His Brother's Bride Page 13
