The Naughty Nine: Where Danger and Passion Collide

by Nina Bruhns

  “No one’s coming. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Mallory ignored that. “You’re going to walk me out of here and then drive me off this mountain.” Her voice quavered and she cleared her throat to force some strength into it. “Now, turn around. Slowly. We’re going into the other room. If you lied to me, if any one is out there, you want to warn them not to try and stop us. I can and will—”

  Before she could finish her sentence, she was flat on her back on the rope rug by the door with one-hundred-eighty pounds of male looming above her.

  He pinned her arms atop her head. “Drop it!”

  When she didn’t comply, he pried her fingers open and the glass hit the floor. Mallory summoned all of her strength and brought her knee up, aiming for his groin. The man shifted at the last instant, saving himself from what would have been a powerful hit.

  His nostrils flared. “Stop.”

  Mallory ignored his command. Heat emanated from him. She could feel his barely leashed anger and his barely leashed control. She bucked to dislodge him, fighting back with all she had in her. But he dropped his weight on her, pinning her with his legs, then he simply held her beneath him while Mallory continued to strain against his hold.

  He clenched his teeth. “Keep this up and I’m going to have to hurt you.”

  Mallory stopped struggling, but only because her strength deserted her. She glared up at him. “I’m sure hurting me is the last thing you want to do.”

  His eyes narrowed and a muscle in his jaw pulsed. “Yeah, I can see where you’d get the idea I mean you harm, taking you in, tending to your injuries instead of leaving you where I found you.”

  “And what would Considine have said about that?”

  “Already told you. I don’t know any ‘Considine’.”

  “Sure you don’t,” she said, making sure he heard her disbelief.

  “My name is Gage Broderick—”

  “Cut the act. We both know what’s going to happen here.” It occurred to her that all the noise they’d made hadn’t drawn anyone to the room. “No one’s come running to check on you so I guess you really are here alone. Considine left you to babysit. What are you, his stooge?”

  “No one’s coming. It’s just you and me here.”

  His words chilled her. She’d been wrong about his role with Considine. If Considine trusted him to interrogate her, this man must be very good at what he did.

  Mallory strained against her captor’s hold once more and his grip tightened, not enough to hurt, but enough to leave her no illusion that she could get away.

  Rage blazed in his eyes. “You’re one hell of a piece of work. You attack everyone who helps you?”

  Breathing hard, she said, “If I’d done it right, I’d be gone from here.”

  “Don’t let the door hit you on the way out,” he snapped.

  Mallory frowned. “You look as if you mean that.”

  He grunted. “I’d like nothing better than to have you out of here. Believe it.”

  She stared at him, trying to read him, wondering what game he was playing. “You can’t expect me to buy that after you brought me here. Took my clothes.”

  “I didn’t bring you here.” He bit down on his back teeth so hard, his jaw cracked. “You brought yourself here. You collapsed outside my door. I took you in to keep you from freezing to death outside. I undressed you because your clothes were soaked. I couldn’t leave you in them and risk hypothermia. That’s the only reason I removed your clothing.”

  She had been wet from the snow. She studied him without blinking. “You don’t know Considine? You don’t know who I am?”

  Fury flared in his eyes again. “Asked and answered.”

  He kept his unflinching gaze on hers. Was it possible he was telling the truth? Some of the tension in her eased as she considered his attitude. This man—Gage—really did look like he wanted nothing more than to be rid of her. That wouldn’t be the case if he was working for Considine.

  “Okay, Gage Broderick, if you really don’t know me, then get off me.”

  He got off her, all the way off. On his feet now, Mallory got her first full look at him. Deep blue eyes, heavy-lidded as if she’d roused him from sleep. The snap was undone on his jeans as if he’d hastily donned them which reinforced her notion that he’d been in bed. The stubble on his cheeks and jaw was the same blond as his hair. He wasn’t wearing a shirt and his body showed that the weight she’d had on her a few minutes earlier was all muscle. She realized her gaze had lingered too long and quickly looked away.

  Gage retrieved the glass shard from the floor by her head while Mallory struggled to her feet. When she turned to leave the room, she glanced over her shoulder, watching him, but he made no effort to stop her.

  Beyond the bedroom, the outer area housed a kitchen and a living room with a desk by the window and a large brick hearth that took up a portion of the wall opposite a black leather couch. The bunched blanket and the pillow on the couch made it a good guess that was where Gage had spent last night while she’d been in his bed. She scanned her surroundings and saw that they were, in fact, alone. Relief left her momentarily light-headed.

  She needed to contact her office immediately. First order of business was to ask Gage to use his cell phone. She hoped there was a signal in these mountains. She had to get in touch with her superior and get the message about the women to him.

  She also needed to get out of the cabin. She had to make sure Considine could not track her to this location and to Gage Broderick. The man was a civilian. Had no business being dragged into this mess. Mallory didn’t want to divulge any information about herself or the investigation. The less he knew, the safer it was for both of them. The fact that she was even with him endangered his life. The sooner she got out of here, the better.

  Behind her, Gage’s footsteps struck the wood floor slowly as he also made his way into the living room. She faced him. “I’d appreciate the use of your cell phone.”

  “Can’t.”

  “Mr. Broderick—Gage—once I make my call, I’ll be out of your hair. I’ll gladly reimburse you for any charges.”

  “The reason you can’t use my cell phone is because I don’t have one.”

  Mallory hadn’t considered he wouldn’t have a phone. “Okay. What do you use for communication? Whatever that is will be fine.”

  “I don’t have a means of communication. No phone. No internet. No carrier pigeon.”

  Mallory ignored his sarcasm as his words penetrated. Her stomach tightened. “I need to get out of here. It’s urgent. What about a vehicle? You must have a means to get off this mountain. For supplies.”

  “I have a truck. If you look out that window, you’ll see that it’s not possible to drive down the mountain now.” He pointed to the window in the living room. “We’re in a blizzard. Visibility is almost nil. The mountain road isn’t plowed. I’d need a snowmobile to get out of here which I don’t have. For the time being, it looks like you’re not going anywhere. We’re both going to have to deal with that.”

  He sounded pissed at that but Mallory wasn’t concerned that he was less than pleased with her presence here. She had more important things to worry about. She went to the window and flattened her palms on the glass. Outside all she could see was white—and she couldn’t see beyond the porch. Considine would have snowmobiles. She thumped the glass with her fist. The small gesture drained what little strength she had left and now that she didn’t perceive a threat from the man standing opposite her, she slumped against the wall at her back, letting the wood take her weight.

  “Why don’t you sit down before you fall down.”

  Gage’s tone was sharp and made her want to defy him. If she’d been capable of it, she would have. But he was right. Though certainly not a gracious invitation, she had no choice but to take it. The desk, with a deep-cushioned arm chair, was a couple of steps away and as she lowered herself onto the chair, she bit back a sigh at how good it felt to be of
f her feet.

  She licked her dry lips. “Could I have a glass of water?”

  Gage went to the fridge and returned with a bottle of the liquid. Mallory uncapped it and drank deeply then pushed back a vinyl folder on the desk top, clearing a space, and set the bottle down. She needed to clear her head. Splashing cold water on her face would help with that. “Washroom is behind the only closed door in here, I take it?”

  Gage nodded.

  A glance in the bathroom mirror showed her hair was wild and matted at one temple where she’d hit her head. Just parting her hair for a closer look caused pain that had her sucking in a sharp breath. Gripping the counter, and letting that breath out slowly, she took stock.

  She was alive.

  She’d survived the ride with Miles and Hugo.

  Survived her frantic trek into the mountains.

  For now, she was safe.

  She allowed herself a moment to take that in but a moment was all she could spare. She needed to think of a way to get in touch with the Bureau and until she could she needed to take steps to protect Gage Broderick and to mount a defense should Considine or his people show up here before she was able to leave.

  Bending over the sink, she washed her face. She found clean towels in the cupboard beneath, dried her face with one, then left the bathroom. The aroma of coffee brewing drifted to her but didn’t spark any interest. She wasn’t a coffee drinker. Gage had donned a shirt and stood sipping from a mug to the hum of the microwave. Boxes from two frozen breakfasts were on the counter. Though the smells coming from the heating food were dubious, she hadn’t eaten since lunch yesterday. At the prospect of being fed, her neglected stomach growled.

  As if on cue, the microwave beeped. Her water was on the desk where she’d left it. As she made her way across the room to retrieve it, she suppressed a cry. She was feeling the affects of the accident and every part of her hurt.

  Her gaze strayed to the window. The blizzard showed no sign of letting up. Her stomach tightened as she thought of the twelve women and she released a sharp breath, ripe with fear and frustration.

  She picked up the water and struck the folder beside it, knocking it off the desk. It hit the floor with a thud and a checkbook slid out. Damn. She went down slowly on one knee to retrieve the items. As she reached out to the book of checks, her fingers curled into her palm. The name on them was Mitchell Turner. Not Gage Broderick. Her breath caught.

  She’d been duped. The man had given her a false name. Given her a false sense of security. Why go to that bother? Did he want to keep her docile until Considine arrived? Keep her from making a fuss or giving him trouble? Whatever his motive, his ruse had worked. He’d been believable all right with his I want you out of here routine. Cold sweat broke out on her spine.

  Her thoughts raced. She had no weapon. She scoffed at the letter opener on the desk. She’d already proven that in her current state she couldn’t overpower this man.

  He was still at the counter. He didn’t know that she was on to him. It was the only advantage she had.

  She joined him in the kitchen where he’d begun his meal. Though there was a table a few feet from him, he remained standing to eat. An additional breakfast waited on the counter for her. The cellophane covering the food had been peeled back, presumably so it could be heated in the microwave. Steam rose from the bacon and egg combo. It crossed her mind that he could have tampered with her food, but she dismissed the thought. Why would he drug her? As far as he knew, she didn’t suspect him. Added to that, he wanted to know what she’d learned about Considine’s organization and who she’d told about that. She’d be no good answering his questions if she were unconscious.

  A drawer that held cutlery was partly open. She got a fork and took her meal to the table. Now that she knew the truth about Broderick—ah—Turner, she felt sick to her stomach. She forced herself to eat, to appear as if nothing had changed between them, but her stomach had knotted and the food sat like a lump.

  They ate in silence. He was obviously in no rush to begin her interrogation which reinforced her thought that he was waiting for Considine to arrive. The bitter thought tasted like bile. Her grip on the fork tightened. She forced herself to relax her hold so he wouldn’t notice that she was coiled as tight as a spring.

  He didn’t appear to notice anything had changed with her. In fact, he hadn’t even glanced her way. The man seemed lost in his own thoughts. She could relate since she was scrambling to come up with a way to make use of the set of keys hanging on a hook by the fridge. Specifically of the one with the SUV logo.

  Her fingers itched to snatch the key, but it was still mid morning. Hours before nightfall when he would sleep and, snowstorm or not, she could try to make her getaway.

  He finished eating then dumped his tray in the trash and the fork in the sink. He rubbed the night’s growth of beard on his chin and without a word, left her alone in the kitchen and went into the washroom. A few minutes later, she heard the shower.

  Mallory froze, listening to the water flowing through the pipes. She waited a moment. When the water continued, she pushed off the table and got to her feet. Heart pounding, she snatched the SUV key. Her boots were in a plastic tray by the front door and with her gaze fixed on the closed bathroom door, she put them on. As she eased the door open, she snagged her captor’s thick parka from a peg on the wall.

  Outside, the bright snow was blinding. She slipped on the jacket. It dwarfed her, falling to her knees. She pushed the sleeves way back to uncover her hands. With no time to waste on the zipper, she clutched the ends of the parka, and headed for the SUV.

  She fought the wind as it pushed her back one step for every two she took. It really had to be the wind that was strong; she couldn’t be this weak.

  The SUV was parked on a short driveway on one side of the cabin, and was covered in snow. She swiped the sleeve of the jacket across the windshield but there wasn’t time to clear the side windows or to dig out the tires. She could only hope that the four wheel drive was up to this challenge.

  She got in the driver’s side. Despite the wind, out here, without other traffic sounds, the engine would sound like a bomb when ignited, and she’d have only a few seconds before the man in the shower came after her. She stuck the key in the ignition.

  Her door flew open. Her captor, dressed in a T-shirt and jeans that were already dusted with snow, yanked out the key. His blond hair was plastered to his head, dripping water into his eyes. Shaving cream lined his jaw. It would have been comical if not for the angry glint in his eyes.

  Mallory scrambled over the console and out the passenger door. From where she now stood, she saw a window in the shower that had given him a view of her leaving. Her heart thudded. Her last chance at getting away had been blown.

  They stood facing off across the hood of the truck.

  “What the hell are you doing?” he shouted.

  “Getting out of here. What does it look like?”

  His expression was fierce. “You have a death wish, wait till you’re back wherever you came from to fulfill it.”

  Anger cut through her fear. “Cut the shit! I’m on to you!”

  “On to what?”

  “You lied to me!”

  “What are you talking about now?” he demanded.

  “You lied about who you are.”

  “You’re back to that?”

  “I saw your checkbook, Mitchell Turner.” Her strength was fading fast. Her words were becoming too spaced out. Being out here and talking to him was taking a toll. She only hoped he couldn’t hear that as well.

  His eyes bore into hers. “Guess I shouldn’t be surprised that you went through Mitch’s things.”

  “I’m getting out of here.” Her heart thumped harder. “Back off, Turner.”

  “Mitchell Turner is a friend of mine. This is his cabin. I’m staying here. I am Broderick.” He withdrew his wallet from a back pocket and flung it to her over the hood of the SUV. Without waiting to see if Mallory ca
ught it, he turned and strode back into the cabin.

  She missed. The wallet landed in the snow at her feet. She fished it out then wiped off the snow and opened it.

  The man in the photograph was dressed in a suit and tie. His blond hair was shorter, but there was no mistaking that he was the man from the cabin.

  He was Gage Broderick, all right. Captain Gage Broderick of the Washington PD.

  Snowbound: Chapter Three

  Mallory stood staring at Gage’s ID. Her grip on the wallet tightened. The man was a cop. A Cop.

  She was no longer clutching Gage’s jacket. It was open to the wind. At this moment, she needed nothing more than the heat of her own body to warm her. Rather than telling her he was a cop, and allaying her suspicion and her fears, he’d left her in the dark. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been this angry.

  She fought her way through the wind and blowing snow back to the cabin. Gage was at the kitchen counter when she entered, a towel slung around his neck, coffee pot in hand. Gone was the snow from his hair and the shaving cream from his jaw.

  Gage met her gaze. His eyes were dark with anger.

  Mallory slammed the door. “You’re a cop. Why didn’t you tell me that? We could have been spared a lot of trouble.” She shouted the words as she strode to where he stood, leaving damp trails of melted snow in her wake.

  “Find that reassuring do you?” His eye lids lowered. His eyes became shuttered. “Shouldn’t.”

  She’d thought she was as angry as she could get, but unbelievably, her anger climbed another notch. “What is that supposed to mean?”

  He didn’t respond.

  Mallory crossed her arms. “Well, Captain Gage Broderick of the Washington PD, I’m Special Agent Mallory Burke, Federal Bureau of Investigation.”

  His gaze slitted. He didn’t look happy about her introduction. Well, tough. She wasn’t happy with him either. “Aren’t you going to ask me what I’m doing here?”

  “No.” His jaw clenched. “All I’m interested in is getting you out of here.”